Despite the unshakable attraction between them, Maeve and Lucian are uninterested in love and marriage; especially since they hate one another and couldn't think of a worse match.
• • •
London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
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The Langston house impressed Lucian. He knew the Dukedom of Leeds was a prestigious title, and he had expected some opulence. But what he had around him wasn't just opulence. It was downright royalty. The residence was more like a small palace, and everything was detailed with meticulousness, moldings, columns, chandeliers, railing, fireplace... And that was only the architecture. They had decorated the rest of the place with the most exquisite paintings, tapestries, statues, mirrors...
Lucian's parents had always enjoyed displaying their opulence, arrogantly showing the world how prosperous the family was. He was used to being surrounded by riches, but this... this was a whole new level.
He now understood Maeve hadn't grown like most mortals. No, she had been raised like an actual princess, enjoying the most luxurious settings, with dozens of servants to satisfy her every need. It was not exactly her fault if she sometimes came across as superior. She actually was, in every possible way.
He looked at her, sitting in a chair near Miss Schwarz, and he felt like he was seeing her in a new light. Considering all this lavishness, she now seemed admirably down to earth and accessible. Looking around, he searched for Delawney, who had abandoned him once more.
"Worthington," said a masculine voice behind him.
Lucian turned around and ended up facing Maeve's father. "Your Grace."
"You may call me Langston. I feel you and I might see a lot of each other."
"What do you mean?" Lucian asked, confused.
"Well, your friend, Delawney, just talked to me. He wanted my permission to court Maeve." The duke paused and looked at his daughter. Lucian greeted his teeth, wishing John had spoken to him before talking to the duke. "Even if this won't get anywhere, I think you and I will cross each other's paths more often. So, Langston from now on."
Lucian frowned, curious as to what the duke meant. "May I ask why you think this courtship won't go anywhere?"
"I have known my daughter for nineteen years, Worthington, and Delawney is not what she needs."
Lucian shook his head, bitter. So, everyone knew John wasn't right for her, except John? It seemed that only the lady in question could open his eyes and make him realize this was never going to happen.
"No offense to your friend," the duke continued, "but he doesn't have the backbone to withstand her. She needs someone whose tenacity equals her, or she will be unhappy for the rest of her life."
Lucian didn't understand why the man was telling him all this, but he agreed nevertheless. "That is what I told him. But he wouldn't listen to me. Maybe if it came from you, he would believe it."
The duke let out a small laugh as if the proposition was absurd. "I, young man, have learned a long time ago not to interfere in the lives of my daughters. My wife and I have raised them to be wondrous adults, and I trust their judgment." The duke turned to Lucian, planting his hand on his shoulder. "I know that no matter what, Maeve will make the right choice in the end," he added, making a point to look him in the eye. Lucian realized he was familiar with those eyes. He knew this shade of blue. Maeve's eyes were almost identical.
