Yet it seemed the Duchess of Bannerman was not willing to let their argument end there. As Luke stumbled down the corridor, hurrying away, the door opened once again, and she pursued him. He raced past candles that lit the dark corridor, heading toward the front door, with the Duchess behind him like a lap dog, eager for attention.
Why did I come here?
Even as Luke questioned himself for being such a fool, he knew the truth. He came here for some sort of self-gratification. That kiss with Miss Storey had been everything to him. It was more than just a kiss, it had been the promise of something deeper, yet she had rejected him. She had run off and ignored the kiss.
Had Luke ever held any hopes of Miss Storey, anything that he did not dare to declare in front of others, then those hopes were well and truly dashed now. Coming to the Duchess of Bannerman’s house had merely been an attempt to cheer himself up after that rejection, that was all, but it had not worked. If anything, he only felt worse about himself.
This is why I will never be good enough for Miss Storey.
When he reached the front door, he hurried to collect his top hat from the coat stand, only to find it snatched out of his hand before he could reach for the door.
“Your Grace.” He turned back to look at the Duchess in anger, with her brow furrowed so low that her eyebrows were pinned together in a single line. “What do you hope to accomplish by taking that?” he asked, waving at the hat.
“I hope to get your attention. Whatever woes you are suffering, they do not need to worry you so.” She stepped toward him once more, angling her head upward as she held the top hat behind her back, away from his reach. “I can help you to forget them.”
“You can?” he asked, seeing an opportunity. With her so close, he reached around her, inching toward the top hat.
“One kiss. Let me help you, Luke.” She was inches away from kissing him and distracted enough that Luke managed to get the hat. He swiped it from her and stepped back, increasing the distance between them. He did not miss the way her lips parted in outrage, and her face turned red once again. “You will not leave this house.”
“Ha! You think you can give me orders, your Grace? I am neither your servant nor your dog.” He placed the top hat to his head and turned for the door.
“I am telling you, Luke. You must stay. Here with me. One step out of that door, and things will change between us.”
“They already changed some time ago, you just are wilfully blind to it. Forgive me, your Grace, but I did not come here for your amusement. It was wrong to come here to distract myself too. I owe you an apology for it.” His attempt to say the right thing was difficult being so in his cups. Even as he bowed to her in parting, he nearly fell over again and stumbled out of the front door, nearly falling down the front stoop.
“Luke! Come back in this house!” she was calling after him, apparently unafraid of being heard.
Luke glanced back and forth up the street as he headed for his carriage that had followed him to this house, nervous that the neighbours would overhear her and look out of their doors.
“Luke!” She continued to call his name, but he did not look back.
He clambered into the carriage as quickly as he could and tapped the roof, asking to be taken home at once. When the footman stepped down, offering to light the lantern that swung from the ceiling of the carriage so that Luke could see better, Luke shook his head and waved him away. He was happy to ride in the darkness tonight. It let him hang his head forward, hiding his face in his hands and in that darkness, as he realised how close he had come to being the man he used to be that night. It brought a sharp understanding to his mind.
I am not the man I once was.