Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

That Night, The Duke of Grovemont’s Bedchamber

L ucian paced in front of the fireplace across from his bed. No sooner did he reach the far wall than he’d turn on his heel and stalk back. His shoulders were tense, and he couldn’t sit down. He’d just sent Gemma a note asking her if she would do him the honor of accompanying him to the Chadworths’ ball this evening. He knew she already intended to go because he’d inquired after her plans with her maid.

Normally, Lucian would have told Gemma that he was escorting her to the ball. But after learning that she wasn’t a scheming liar this morning, he’d vowed to himself that whatever his inclination toward Gemma, he should do the exact opposite. Because clearly everything he’d done since becoming a husband had been incorrect. Woefully incorrect. So, where he’d been ordering her about before, he now intended to secure her agreement.

He’d begun this morning after his return from the club. She’d been home playing the pianoforte. He’d paused outside the music room and listened for a while, enjoying the strands of the melody echoing in the corridor. She was a truly talented musician. After enjoying the sound for a bit, he’d stepped inside the room.

Gemma had immediately been suspicious of him, of course. Her face gave away her every thought. She’d stared at him with narrowed eyes as if she expected him to tell her to stop playing, almost daring him to order her to stop. Instead, he’d calmly watched and waited until her song came to an end.

He’d expected her to mention the divorce again, and she had. Which is why he’d asked for a sennight to think about it. He needed time to decide upon the best course of action. He did not want to argue with her. Telling her again that a divorce was out of the question would only rile her. In their short time together, he’d already learned that Gemma did not take kindly to being told what to do.

On the contrary, she liked to feel as if she had the option to do as she liked. Which was why asking for a reprieve on the divorce discussion made the most sense. It would give Lucian time to determine the best way to handle the situation.

He needed to talk her out of wanting the divorce in the first place. Simply telling her that he would endeavor to be less of an arrogant, pompous, holier-than-thou ass would not convince her. He was certain of it.

He needed to show her his behavior had changed. He needed to charm her. Which, of course, was easier said than done. No one had ever accused him of being particularly charming. Handsome? Yes. Rich? Undoubtedly. Eligible? Indeed. But charming? No. Which meant he must learn how to be charming. He had to.

It couldn’t be too difficult. God knew he had friends who excelled at such things. Like Ashford Drake, the Marquess of Trentham. Ash was a charming bastard.

“ Your home is your domain. Everything belongs to you. Everything .” Lucian’s father’s words echoed in his head. He shook it. His father had been the definition of an arrogant, pompous, holier-than-thou ass. One who was preoccupied by the way things looked to everyone else, completely ignoring the feelings of the people he loved. His father had died with a wife and a son who didn’t particularly miss him. Of course, to Lucian’s knowledge, Mama had never requested a divorce. Which meant…Lucian was worse than his father. What a comforting thought. But Lucian was also clever and determined. Determined to act completely opposite from how he had acted toward Gemma to date. And he’d already had a modicum of success.

If he didn’t mistake his guess, he’d succeeded in disarming her this morning. Surprise lit her eyes when he’d used the word please , for example. But Lucian was no fool. Paying her a compliment and asking for the sennight to think about the divorce would not be enough to change her mind. He had a great deal of work to do.

And he would begin tonight. If she agreed to allow him to escort her to the Chadworths’. For all he knew, she’d tell him to go to hell, or she’d tell him she’d changed her mind. Either way, he’d —

The knock at his door nearly made Lucian jump. He smiled to himself. Jesus, was he that nervous? He was never nervous. His new wife had him in knots.

“Come in,” he intoned.

By the time Warwick stepped into the room holding Gemma’s reply on a silver salver, Lucian was at the bookshelf in the corner, thumbing through a tome in an effort to look as if he’d forgotten the errand he’d assigned the butler. As if he’d hadn’t been anxiously awaiting his wife’s answer.

“Your Grace,” Warwick intoned as he stepped toward him, bowing his head. “Her Grace’s reply.”

Lucian moved to meet him halfway across the thick rug. “Thank you, Warwick. That will be all for now,” he said in his most unaffected tone. He forced himself to wait for the servant to close the door behind him before he ripped open the sealed vellum.

I’ll see you in the foyer at ten .

Short. Not particularly sweet. But not a rejection either. It would do.

Lucian smiled to himself. It was time to woo his wife.