She kissed her mother’s cheek on the way out the door. “Don’t worry. It’s safe to say that my chance at becoming his duchess has passed.”
The receiving room door was ajar, so Maddie slipped inside. Dressed in a fine navy-blue suit, Lockwood peered at the knickknacks on the mantel. She closed the door behind her. Lord knew there was no need to protect her reputation any longer. “Your Grace, this is a surprise.”
“Mrs. Archer.” He bowed.
She curtsied, a pang going through her as she realized the name wouldn’t apply much longer. Soon, she’d return to Miss Webster. “Shall we sit?”
Nodding, he waited for her to settle on the sofa before relaxing in an armchair. “Forgive the late intrusion. I know you’ve only just returned from Philadelphia. How did you fare in your tournament?”
“I lost in the third round.” It still rankled. The woman hadn’t been a better player. If Maddie had played smarter, paid better attention during the match, she would have won.
“That is remarkable for your first time at such a prestigious event, is it not?”
“Undoubtedly, I’ll come to see it that way in a few days. Right now, the loss merely smarts.”
Lockwood studied her. “I understand that isn’t all you lost.”
Her tongue thickened as she wondered what to say. Had Lockwood heard about the annulment? That seemed impossible. “Forgive me, but I don’t follow.”
The duke crossed his long legs and leaned back. He appeared annoyingly comfortable in his own skin. “I had an interesting visit earlier this evening. From your husband.”
Harrison had gone to see Lockwood?
Maddie fought to remain still. “Oh?”
“He’s informed me that the two of you are separating.”
Embarrassment skated along her nape, down her sternum. No use denying it, she supposed, seeing as how Harrison had oh-so-helpfully spread the word. “We are filing for an annulment, which I assume will be granted expeditiously.”
“I have to say, I am surprised.” Lockwood’s gaze narrowed on her. “I thought the two of you were a perfect match when I saw you together at the house party.”
“Friendship does not always translate into a marriage,” she said vaguely. The details of why it hadn’t worked were no one else’s concern.
“True, but there was a spark as well, wasn’t there?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. This was quite an odd conversation to have with one’s former fiancé. “Yes, I suppose there was,” she finally said.
“Which is why I found the reason for your husband’s visit tonight both annoying and perplexing.”
“The reason?”
His brown gaze glittered in the gaslight. “He has encouraged me to court you again. First, he apologized for compromising you—for which he took the entirety of the blame, by the way—and then tried to tell me how disappointed you were when our betrothal came to an end.”
Her face slackened, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the news. How could Harrison have done this? He was manipulating her life once more without telling her. It was both humiliating and utterly absurd. “I don’t know what to say.”
“There is nothing to say. Even if you hadn’t married Harrison, I would have severed the engagement once the two of you were discovered together. It was the only honorable thing to do.”
“Of course,” she mumbled, wishing the sofa would open up and swallow her whole.
“Your husband tried to convince me the whole episode was a fever dream, that everyone would soon forget you’d even been married. Then he said you and I belonged together.”
Oh, my God. A fever dream? That hurt more than she would’ve thought possible. What was Harrison thinking? He was trying to reconcile her with the duke, but to what end? Was he so anxious to be rid of her? “I am terribly sorry, Your Grace. This is embarrassing, to say the least.”
“I can see that you weren’t expecting this. Neither was I, to be honest.”
“I certainly did not put him up to it, if that’s what you were wondering.”
“I never thought you did. What I do think is that this is your husband’s attempt—albeit a clumsy one—at turning back the clock. Setting everything as it was before he arrived and wreaked havoc on our lives.”
That actually made sense, in a strange way, especially when she recalled her very public campaign to become a duchess. Yet there was no erasing this from their minds. Too much had happened to ever forget. She gave the duke a sad smile. “Only we cannot go backward in time.”
“Indeed, we cannot. I may not have funds, Mrs. Archer, but I do have my pride.”
“Of course. I hope you may forgive me one day.”
“I hold no ill will toward you or your husband. I think what he is attempting to do is again clumsy, but sweet in a roundabout way. He wants to see you happy and is willing to sacrifice his future with you to make it happen. Believe me, it killed him to pay me a call.” His lips twitched with secret mirth. “And I did not make it easy on him.”
She could only imagine how uncomfortable that meeting had been. “I hope he apologized to you.”
The duke dipped his chin. “He did, and threw in future shares of Archer Industries, as well.”
Men. They solved everything with their fists or their wallets. “I’m happy to hear it.”
Lockwood sat forward. “Before I go, I have two requests.”
“Of course. I am in your debt.”
“First, seek out your husband before he sails for Paris in the morning.”
Maddie paused, her lungs unable to function, while her mind turned over the news. Harrison was leaving? Had he planned to let her know or say goodbye? What about the business?
Lockwood cleared his throat delicately. “I apologize if you hadn’t been told. I assumed . . .”
“Don’t worry. Someone would have shared the news eventually.”
“Undoubtedly, but it seems especially cruel to hear it from me. Nevertheless, the man clearly adores you.”
Maddie didn’t know what to say, her head spinning with all she’d learned. It must have killed Harrison to call on Lockwood with the intention of reconciling her with the duke. Yet he’d done it, trying to undo some of the perceived damage he’d caused. But she didn’t want Lockwood.
God help her, she still missed Harrison.
When the duke quieted, she prompted, “And the second request?”
Lockwood stood and pulled his cuffs, straightening them. “I’d be grateful—and this is for both of you, really—if you would lose my direction. As delightful as this experience has been, I’d rather not find myself in the middle of my ex-fiancée’s marital squabbles again at any point in the future.”
Cheeks hot with mortification, she rose. “Of course, and please accept my apologies.”
Ever polite, the duke inclined his head. “I shall be on my way, then, and leave you to your evening.”
“I’ll show you to the door.”
They walked out into the entryway, where he found his top hat and cane. Then he faced her, his expression kind but solemn. “For what it’s worth, I assume every marriage is bound to take some knocks in the beginning. Who knows? You may have arrived in England and hated it.” He placed his hat on his head and reached for the door. “I wish you every happiness, Mrs. Archer.”