The Third Duke's the Charm Read Free

true, but beauty was not necessarily defined by symmetry of features or the color of a woman’s hair. In Vivian’s case, it was an inherent femininity despite her unorthodox hobbies.
    “I beg to differ.” Lucien’s father’s voice was brittle. It wasn’t a secret that Charles’s defection was not just a betrayal but a source of personal embarrassment. “My youngest son rarely displays responsible behavior, but at least my oldest has a sense of honor.”
    He was not exactly a saint either and there had been quite a number of women in his past, but he was more discreet by nature than Charles ever dreamed of being, not to mention being a ducal heir inspired a certain level of caution when it came to the opposite sex.
    Maybe that was part of Vivian’s appeal. She would never marry his title or his fortune. Actually, he thought wryly, she might not marry him at all the way it stood at the moment.
    Vivian seemed at a loss more than ever and perhaps it was time to come to her rescue and employ a little persuasion. He’d stayed quiet long enough. He drawled in a detached voice, “Is it possible Vivian and I could discuss this alone?”
    Under any other circumstances, he doubted her father would ever agree, but in this case, Sir Edwin nodded, looking somewhat grateful. It was Lucien’s own father who sent him a quelling glance, but then he rose. “Maybe that would be best.”
    And Lucien read the unspoken message:
Do what you can to clean up this mess; beguile her, seduce her into agreeing, but just make sure this wedding is going to take place
.
    Once they’d exited the room, Lucien regarded his possible future bride with an assessing look, waiting until she glanced up as the silence lengthened to speak. He said mildly, “I assume that as you and Charles have been friends since almost the cradle, were incorrigible playmates, and saw each other regularly since the engagement, you knew full well this was going to happen. Where did they go? Gretna Green?”
    Vivian stiffened. “Of course I didn’t . . . I wouldn’t . . . I mean, well . . .”
    Lucien lifted his brows, still negligently propped against the mantel. She wasn’t a good liar. He favored that attribute in a person, actually.
    She stopped and then exhaled audibly. “Very well, yes, I
knew
. Please don’t tell my mother.”
    As always, he found her candor endearing. His reply was dry. “You are safe there, for your mother and I do not have private conversations.” He didn’t add that while he admired Sir Edwin very much, he thought Vivian’s mother was overbearing and not a little misguided when it came to her daughter. Truth be told, he avoided the woman as much as possible.
    Vivian laughed. It was short and a bit muffled, but a laugh nonetheless. “No, I don’t imagine you do. All she wants to talk about is the latest gossip and I can’t quite see you having an interest in that, my lord. You are far too practical to waste your time that way.” Still sitting primly in the chair across the room, her lustrous hair unruly enough a few strands had escaped her chignon to frame her face, she gazed at him in open question. “So you are trying to gloss over this scandal for Charles’s sake. I think I understand now.”
    That was not exactly the truth. Lucien straightened and his smile held a tinge of irony. “My motives are very rarely that pure, though Charles is certainly a consideration. If I had to encapsulate my purpose, I think I would say that if our engagement became public, it would save both our families a great deal of embarrassment and allow the elopement to be retired as not quite as sensational as it might be otherwise. Tell me, how did he talk you into helping him?”
    After a moment, Vivian compressed her soft lips, her pale skirts draped around her, the expression on her face both vulnerable and resolute. “He told me about Louisa the very evening he met her. Quite frankly, I have never seen him so . . . so euphoric. It was