Page 18 of An Orphan for the Broken Duke

Her heart started to race. Her stomach flipped. And once again, she wondered if this was not the worst idea she had ever had.

“Leave the arrangements to me,” he said to break the silence. “I will organize the license. I will settle the adoption. I will see to your estate and finances. All you need to do, Miss Violet, is arrive at the ceremony on time.” He chuckled. “And not go back on your word.”

“I would never,” she said. “Unlike you, I can be trusted.”

“You still do not trust me?” he frowned.

“Not until you give me reason to,” she fired back.

He looked amused by the statement. “Lucky then that we have the rest of our lives to fix that. This is a good thing, Miss Beaumont. In time, you will see it as so.”

I really do hope so… for Lucy.

Six

By the time that Rhys arrived home that evening, the adoption of Lucy had been arranged. While Miss Wilks was surprised, and a little incredulous, she recognized and agreed how perfect the situation was for Lucy. She was happy to accept the adoption when the day came.

It was as Rhys signed those papers that the true weight of what he was doing finally hit him. Oh sure, he had thought long and hard over it, and he had accepted that it was what he wanted, but now that it was done…

Am I making a terrible mistake?

Too late now! And besides, even if Rhys wanted to change his mind, he knew that he could not. Mostly, that was because of Lucy. But strangely, Miss Beaumont also factored into his reasoning. The woman did not trust him, and Rhys felt a burning desire to prove himself to her. Not that he should have cared, but he did.

What Rhys really needed was a night to himself. One to unwind. To consider. A night to unpack all he had done and what this would mean for him and his future.

Typically, he was denied such a desire.

“Your Grace!” a footman greeted him in the foyer. “I am so sorry, Your Grace, but you have a visitor.”

Rhys groaned. “Whoever it is, tell them… frankly, I do not care.”

“It is His Grace, the Duke of Eastmoor,” the footman said with a grimace. “He awaits you in the drawing room, and I have the sense that he will not leave without seeing you.”

“Sebastian…”

Rhys looked across the foyer as if he was able to see his best friend sitting in the drawing room, likely helping himself to a glass of brandy.

Sebastian Vale was not only Rhys’ closest friend, but he was also his cousin. They got along well, almost like brothers, and few knew Rhys as well as Sebastian did. Often, that was a boon, as the man was good to speak with, to expand on ideas, and tell Rhys what he needed to hear. However, when considering the circumstances of Rhys’ current life, he shuddered to picture just how Sebastian was going to take this news.

I am sure he is going to have a few things to say… none of which I will want to hear.

With no choice, Rhys trudged across the foyer and made for the drawing room. And sure enough, there waited Sebastian, sitting by the fire, with a glass of brandy in hand. He saw Rhys coming, he took a purposeful sip, then he put down the glass and stood.

“Not the expression I was expecting,” Sebastian said when he saw Rhys’ glower. “I thought I’d find you with a smile on your face, a glaze to your eyes, and whatnot?”

Rhys scoffed. “Do you really think so highly of your own company?”

“Me? Not at all,” Sebastian dismissed. “But for a man recently engaged…” He flashed his dark eyes. “Is that not how one should behave when captured by the throes of love?”

“What…” Rhys reared back. “How did you hear about that? Who told you?”

“This town is not so big that such secrets can be kept,” Sebastian said. He turned and scooped up his glass of brandy again, taking another sip. “And while the marriage itself is rather unexpected, you can imagine my surprise when I learned who it was to.”

Rhys grimaced.

“Not that I recognize the name,” Sebastian said. “What was it… Beaumont? A damn member of the gentry! Worse still, a name that has attached to it no wealth, no reputation, and no —”

“Are you quite done?” Rhys stalked across the room, heading straight for the liquor cabinet. There, he snatched the bottle of brandy and started to pour his own glass. “If you have come here to mock me, I ask that you get it over with and leave.”