Page 59 of The Earl’s Hoyden

He hissed out a slow exhale, hating being trapped in such a position. “I’ll think on it.”

“You have one minute.” Lady Alison arched a curved brow. “I’m not a patient woman.”

If he agreed now, it didn’t mean he still couldn’t go to Hannah and explain the situation. Perhaps if he could make her understand how very deep his feelings were, she would agree to marry him. In such an instance, her reputation would be salvaged, and none of the ugliness need come up again.

“Very well,” he replied stiffly.

A saccharine smile adorned Lady Alison’s lips. “I’m so pleased to hear you’ve been convinced to see reason. We should return together. For appearance’s sake, of course.”

He wanted to decline, to stalk away from her and find Hannah that instant.

She tilted her head at his silence. “I’m sure you meant to offer me your arm.” Condescension dripped from her tone.

Lucien extended his elbow toward her. She held onto him with a possessive grip that made him immediately miss the delicate caressing manner in which Hannah had cradled her hand in the crook of his arm.

They returned to the pavilion, but he managed to keep Lady Alison from the line of sight of Lord Langston’s supper box, where Lucien could see Hannah and her friends.

Thankfully, they left within the hour, and he could finally give in to Lady Alison’s plaintive pouts to be in a position where they could be seen by all.

It was a horribly miserable night, and Lucien was only too glad to be released from Lady Alison’s clutches to return home finally. However, upon entry into the house, his mother was waiting for him, a cup of tea at her side. No cream. No sugar. As strong and bitter as possible.

Like her.

She studied him with a shrewd demeanor as he entered. “Who were you with this evening?”

He sighed, weary from the night’s events and in no mood for an interrogation. “Good evening, Mother. It’s late, and I intend to retire.”

She stiffened. “I did not wait up for you to be so readily brushed off. I know you were with that Bexley chit.”

“Miss Bexley,” he corrected.

“You are to stay far from her, do you understand?”

He shook his head. “I’m not a child to order about as you please. I happen to hold Miss Bexley in the highest esteem and refuse to stand by as you speak of her in so degrading a manner.”

“Degrading?” Her head snapped back with obvious offense.

“Yes, degrading.” He squared his shoulders and faced her. “The gossip is unseemly. I will choose a wife based on my discretion. It is a grandchild you want, and I will do all in my power to deliver it. But whomever the lady of my choosing is, she will be accepted by you or I will retire to the country this instant and delay marrying.”

His threat hung in the air between them.

“You know your role, Lucien,” Lady Brightstone said archly. “You must have an heir.”

“And I’ll fulfill my role,” he replied. “But it does not mean I have to do it while you are still alive. I refuse to subject my wife to you, whoever she may be.”

His mother sucked in a breath as if he had struck her, and it almost made him feel ashamed of his words. Almost.

She had shoved and bullied everyone in her path, forcing them to conform to her will. He was not such a pawn.

“Old men wed young wives and have children all the time,” Lucien continued. “I have no qualms with waiting, but I do very much protest your belief that you have a say in the matter regarding who I will spend the rest of my life with.”

“Well.” She folded her arms over her narrow chest, blinking in surprise at the affront.

“I would also suggest you keep your strong opinions to yourself lest you find yourself weighed and judged. I wager you would not like the assessments.”

Her mouth fell open. “Lucien,” she hissed, appalled.

He stood in place, his stance wide, waiting for retaliation. Lady Brightstone pushed off the couch to her full height. In the candlelight, her face appeared wizened, lined with exhaustion that dulled her eyes. For the first time in Lucien’s life, his mother appeared truly aged.