His Wicked Seduction novel Chapter 40

Lucien would never forget that moment when he'd brought Horatia home after the accident. Cedric had taken two steps towards the door and his legs gave out, sinking to his knees. Lucien had seen to Horatia's care then went back to the accident to see to the care of the bodies.

The bodies...no longer were they Lord and Lady Sheridan. He couldn't allow himself to think of them as such. Not until later.

When Lucien had returned, he found Cedric sitting in the drawing room on a brocaded couch, a favorite place of Lady Sheridan's when she used to embroider or read. He held a tiny, ten-year-old Audrey in his arms. She'd said nothing, would say nothing to anyone for a full three months after. The light in her little brown eyes had dimmed so much that they'd feared daily she might slip away.

He would never forget holding Horatia in his arms. She cradled her broken arm, which had been splinted and bandaged. She cuddled up to him, and would not let go of him until Cedric began to whisper to her softly to comfort her. Horatia had never told him from that day to this what had happened in the carriage before or after the accident. Some memories should never be remembered, and Lucien hadn't pushed her.

Cedric had been lost himself, so young to become the head of his household. He knew nothing of raising children, and poor, sweet Horatia had abandoned her childhood the day after her parents' funeral to help Cedric raise Audrey. Lucien had been at Cedric's side, helping him get his father's estate in order and taking over the title and the responsibilities. No one else save his sisters had ever witnessed his grief. He'd borne it well to his other friends, but Lucien had seen Cedric cry as though he were a boy barely out of leading strings. That bond, that strength of their friendship had to withstand everything. If it couldn't... He would not entertain such dark notions.

Lucien's thoughts returned to the present, though not to the game. "Horatia has grown up these past few years."

"She's not the child she once was," Cedric agreed. "Not for a long time now." The melancholy note in his voice made the air in the room heavier.

"She's certainly not. Old enough to consider marriage. Has no one asked for her?" Lucien attempted the casual question and lined up and took his shot, sinking a red.

Cedric's head shook. "No. There were a few at first, but she has that quiet way about her, you know. Most men find the idea of a woman with her own thoughts off-putting. They didn't continue to court her. I didn't have to scare them off as I do with Audrey's. I know too many men who prefer agreeable chatterboxes for wives. What about you? I know you haven't asked for a woman since Melanie Burns. Have you given up?" Cedric abandoned his cue and turned his full attention to Lucien.

Lucien cleared his throat. "You know... After September..."

"After Emily Parr, you mean?" Cedric supplied with a low amused chuckle. "We should mark a new calendar with that date-Before Christ, Anno Domini, and now After Emily Parr."

"Quite. But after watching Emily and Godric fall in love, I realized that I had never loved Melanie. We simply played our parts exceedingly well. The charmed and the charming. I think I loved the idea of being in love with her. Does that make any sense?"

Cedric laughed, fixing his brown eyes on Lucien, eyes that reminded him so much of Horatia just then. It was more than familial resemblance alone. Both Cedric and his sister often smiled with their eyes, it was in their natures.

"All too much sense. You were besotted with an ideal, a woman raised on a pedestal. One can worship women on pedestals, but those women can never love one back the same way. A flesh and blood woman on the other hand is another matter entirely, or so I'm told." Cedric's wry chuckle spoke volumes.

Lucien nodded. "Once I realized that, it occurred to me that perhaps I ought to be more thankful to Horatia for her timely interference."

Cedric grinned. "That is perhaps quite the most intelligent thing I've heard you say."

The two men finished their game in companionable silence. It was one of the things Lucien liked best about Cedric. He was not a man who over-talked. Charles was prone to narrating fantastical tales, Ashton always waxed the philosophical. But Godric and Cedric were more often quiet, either lost in whatever game was being played, or consumed by thoughts of their own. Lucien valued that, the gentle support of good friends. One did not need to be wining and wenching to enjoy oneself. Those days were long past and he was glad. He was grateful to have such good friends.

A commotion from the hall alerted them to the presence of others.

"It seems the shopping party has returned," said Lucien. "I daresay we should make ourselves scarce." But before either man could scamper to a more hidden location, Audrey came barging in, with a disgruntled Linus in tow.

"Cedric! You must correct Linus and tell him that my new bonnet is fetching. He says it looks like a poorly constructed bale of hay." Audrey pointed to her rather broad brimmed hat that used a most peculiar style of thatch work.

"I believe my exact words were 'a hastily gathered haystack.'" Linus grinned at Audrey's flabbergasted expression, but his amusement was short lived. Audrey grabbed the pool cue from Lucien's hands and jabbed the fat handle into Linus's ribs, causing him to double over.

"And that is my cue to leave." Lucien chuckled and slipped out, leaving Cedric to handle his sister and Linus.

"That's awfully rotten of you, Russell, to abandon me to death by billiard cue!" Cedric called out as he dodged the stick Audrey swung around, attempting to impale Linus with the pointy end.

"I encountered Miss Burns after the accident in the gazebo. Linus saw her and began to tease her with an empty bucket. She struck him, Lucien. She struck your brother, and it was not the first time she'd done this. I informed her that she was to refuse to marry you or I would make sure she would regret it. She was unkind to those beneath her and especially cruel to children. I would not tolerate such a match, nor such a woman to bear my grandchildren. I am telling you this now because I've only just discovered that you've blamed an innocent party all these years."

Lucien felt as if he'd been shot as her words sank in. You've blamed an innocent party all these years. Miss Burns had rejected him, told him if he couldn't stand up to a mere child to defend her, then he wasn't a man worth marriage. He'd been furious at the time, but he'd seen the truth of Miss Burns's character later when she'd married Waverly.

He couldn't tell his mother that Miss Burns barely mattered anymore. He dared not confess it was a convenient excuse to keep him away from temptation, though one that had become ineffective as of late. The pain his mother's words struck was entirely his own fault. He'd only just begun to try to undo the wrongs he'd done to Horatia and to have his mother throw his sins back in his face was worse than he could have imaged.

"I can see that you need some time to come to terms with what I've said." She got up. "I will leave you now. But Lucien, do not postpone your apology to her."

Lucien looked up at his mother. "What could I ever do to make right seven years of coldness?"

Lady Rochester's eyes were softer and more motherly than he'd seen in years.

"A kind word to begin with. Despite your attempts to drive her away, she has clung to the memory of your kindness like a piece of driftwood in a storm. The fight has worn her down, but some tenderness will ease her suffering and strengthen her faith in you again."

Lucien realized, not for the first time in his life, that his mother was well and truly wise. For all her obsessions over the latest fashions and horrifying attempts to marry off her children, she was a woman of great understanding and intelligence.

"Thank you, Mother," he whispered.

Lady Rochester inclined her head, put a soft hand on his cheek and then left him alone. Lucien collapsed back into his chair. What was he to do? Where was he to start? But before he could ponder his course of action he was arrested by a distracting and ludicrous sight out the nearest window overlooking the expansive gardens.

"What in God's name?" he muttered and stepped closer to the window.