A Necessary Husband by Debra Mullins Page B

already had Meg’s measurements, so most of the afternoon had been spent looking over styles and selecting materials.
    In accordance with their agreement, the duke had also arranged for Lucinda to have some new gowns. Much fewer than Meg, but it was enough. She would wear the dresses proudly to London, and perhaps she would attract a suitor or two.
    Unfortunately, she would probably attract Malcolm as well.
    The thought of her brother-in-law threatened to steal her enjoyment of the beautiful sunset, and she fought not to let that happen. But the memories came anyway.
    Malcolm was a handsome man, and as a young girl, Lucinda had been taken in by his blond good looks and impressive pedigree. Innocent of how predatory men could be, she had been lured by him into the conservatory one evening, where he had attempted to seduce her. He would no doubt have taken her innocence as well, had her father not come upon them. To avoid scandal, marriage had been proposed. However, it had not been Malcolm that Lucinda married.
    And she thanked God for that every day.
    Ah, how young she had been, and how naïve. In the early days of her marriage to Harry, Malcolm’s brother, she had fancied that she and Malcolm were tormented, star-crossed lovers. Malcolm seemed to feed her fantasies with the smoldering looks he would send her way whenever no one was looking. At first she had thought his love was as unrequited as hers, and that his father’s high standards were to blame for their unfortunate circumstances. But she soon learned the truth.
    Dutifully, she had tried to make her marriage work, but after the first few months it became painfully clear that she and her new husbandwere not well suited. By mutual agreement, they decided to live their own lives. While Harry went off with his mistresses, Lucinda quietly tended the gardens at their country home in Surrey and filled her time with local social events, haunted by the knowledge that she did not possess whatever quality it was that made men desire women. Then Malcolm started to come to visit her whenever Harry was away, and for a brief time she had believed that he still loved her.
    Silly, naïve girl. Malcolm soon made it clear that he only wanted to bed her, and not even because he particularly desired her. It was only because he had been thwarted in his seduction that fateful night that he wanted to complete what he had started.
    He had never loved her. He had never intended to wed her.
    Disillusioned, Lucinda had refused him, and continued to refuse him all through her lonely marriage to Harry. And then Harry had died…Dear Lord, she could see the scene as if it were yesterday.
    She’d been sitting in her parlor, dressed in her widow’s weeds, reeling from the knowledge that Harry had run up extensive gaming debts. One lord had even dared approach her at her husband’s funeral to slyly suggest an alternate method of payment, should she not have the funds Harry owed him.
    Numb with shock, humiliated by the gossip associated with her husband’s death, she hadn’t even begun to contemplate how she would pay off the notes. And there were so many of them! Dozens of gaming debts for staggering amounts. Bills from the tailor and the jeweler. And the rent was overdue on his mistress’s townhouse.
    Then Malcolm had arrived, looking exceedingly handsome in mourning black.
    “Dear sister-in-law,” he had crooned, seating himself without invitation on the settee, “I have recently received the sad news that my brother was quite under the hatches when he died. Allow me to help you in this time of need.”
    She had stared at him warily, even though, traditionally, an honorable man would step in and pay his brother’s debts. “He gambled away my widow’s pension,” she said dully. “I have nothing but this house and my mother’s pearls.”
    “Scandalous,” Malcolm agreed, shaking his head solemnly. “I sympathize with your predicament. And I will pay all of it—every last coin,”