Perhaps it was time to consider a scandalous and uncomfortable option; which was becoming a well-kept mistress.
It was a disturbing thought to ply sexual favours for financial security, and Lucy abhorred the idea. Yet she was also scared she would have no other choice but returning to a life of drudgery once the earl threw her out, which she knew he'd do immediately his aunt died.
At least being a mistress, she could acquire a house, have enough money to dress well and aid others, have enough hot meals, and live comfortably.
What about Edmund? He loves you and is willing to make you happy and do his best, a gentle voice probed in her thoughts.
Thoughts of Edmund filled her with a mixture of frustration, happiness, worry, and resignation.
Ever since the picnic and dinner, she hadn't seen or heard from him, except for an appreciative note which had been sent to her the next day..
But after almost four days of silence, she didn't know what else to think.
It was probably for the best if Edmund rejected her. She had to find a way to toughen her heart towards feeling anything for him. Life with him would be filled with up's and downs, and that was a chance she couldn't take with her future, after the experience of her unstable past. And if he rejects me before I reject him, I won't have his broken heart on my conscience. But this thought, rather than easing her sorrow, only made her feel much worse.
"I'm so happy for you, Mary. The viscount is such a handsome catch and he surely has broken many hearts by choosing you."
Lucy was distracted from her tormented thoughts by a woman's voice, coming from the open doorway, behind the pillar. She couldn't discern who it was in the dimness.
"Oh, Paula, stop with your teasing, you're making my face flame up," came the breathless reply in a voice which Lucy recognized instantly as being Lady Mary Ashgrove's.
She'd seen Viscount Hilgrove's soon-to-be wife immediately upon arriving at the soiree, for the lady had been sitting with a group of other young, unmarried ladies on a long cushion which placed them in view of everyone.
Lucy had avoided sitting anywhere close to them, not because of the fear of being ignored, but to avoid probing questions about her identity, which could inadvertently result in some things not adding up.
Watching the young ladies receive admiring looks from gentlemen across the room, both wed and unwed, Lucy couldn't help being envious, and thought what it would mean to be a real lady, without pretence. How it must feel to be the recipient of such admiration and adoration! This could only be possible for her only if she found a titled man to marry.
But that itself, was going to be one more thing that fate planned to cruelly holdout of her grasp. .
"Dear Paula, I have a confession," Lady Mary said, and Lucy strained closer to hear clearly.
"I am hopelessly in love with him."
"Oh Mary! Why wouldn't you be? He is deliciously handsome and practically everyone I know fancies him."
Lucy heard a weary sigh, before Lady Mary continued in a lovelorn voice. "That is the problem I think, Paula. I've been in love with Oliver for a long time now, and was beyond excited and happy when he sought permission to court me."
"Then what seems to be wrong? Aren't you happy anymore?" came the other woman's perplexed questions.
"I am happy; it's just that I hope he loves me too, as I love him. I know how most gentlemen only develop interest when they hear how huge your dowry is, but I honestly want a love marriage, not one based solely on connections and wealth."
"Oh dear, don't weary yourself with thoughts such as this. Viscount Hilgrove would be a fool not to be in love with you, when almost everyone else is."
"Do you really mean that?"
Lucy heard the hope and vulnerability in Lady Mary's voice and found herself plagued by guilt-ridden thoughts.
"Of course I do, dear. Now stop worrying your pretty head and let's return inside, for its chilly standing here."
When the ladies had returned into the drawing room, Lucy remained at her position, thinking about everything she'd overheard.
It might seem she'd made poor assumptions about Lady Mary's character after all. The beautiful, privileged lady, who was constantly getting fawned over, was the polar opposite of her in every way.
Compared to Lucy, whose desire was to marry a wealthy, titled man and secure her future, Lady Mary only wanted a man who would love her deeply.
Throughout the rest of the evening, and back home in her chamber as she prepared for bed, Lucy couldn't stop thinking about Lady Mary, and the unfortunate situation she was involved in without her knowledge.
Chapter Twenty-One
Edmund hurried down the cobblestone path, leading off Central Street and away from view of his modest accommodation in King's Court district. He maneuvered carefully between hitched horses, and passed carriages and commercial hackneys, narrowly missing colliding into a heavyset woman with a pink scowl, matching the color of her gargantuan turban.
"Look where ye going, mister. Ye be plodding the streets, no better than the despicable horses."
"Begging your pardon, ma'am," Edmund apologized quickly, slightly startled at her rudeness and foul manners, as he stepped aside with a small nod.
The woman huffed and continued on her way, her grumbling following Edmund past King's Court Circle to the hackneys lined on the other side of the road.
He wouldn't have been so preoccupied with his thoughts as to brush into the bad-tempered woman, if the unfortunate news he'd received at dawn hadn't startled him awake, and forced him to get dressed.
The barely comprehensible letter had come from one of the men he'd hired two weeks ago on behalf of the earl and Viscount Hilgrove to frame Lady Mary. Both men were hangers-on who'd just came over on the ship from Liverpool. Edmund had chosen them because they were almost new to London and were planning to leave in the coming month, which would help greatly in case things didn't go according to plan, and an investigation suddenly began into the entire affair. With the men out of London, it would be hard for the Bow Street Runners to find them or link them to the setup. Edmund had thought this a flawless plan, except for the huge oversight that had come glaringly into focus in the missive that morning. The men knew little of London except for the East End where they always caroused, and were simpleminded in thoughts and reasoning despite the fact that one of them was a creative fellow, quite skilled in the act of cooking up stories and scenarios. The other was an expert forger who knew how to duplicate signatures, handwriting, and a host of other things.
Edmund had figured they could handle the task on the appropriate day, but instead, they'd sent out the letter too early, and to the wrong house at that. This had resulted in a brawl between one of the men and the master of the house who had received the incriminatory letter; landing the man in question at the apothecary's shop.
Now, Edmund had to go pay the apothecary for treatment of the injuries sustained, and settle the matter as best as he could. It was his entire fault, after all.
For the past few days since the picnic and dinner at his aunt's, his thoughts had been mostly preoccupied with Lucy.
Try as he may on several occasions, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the gray-eyed beauty, and the memories they had made and shared that day...
At first, she'd been so nervous about everything, but she and his sister had hit it off right on the spot and his best mate, Shelbroke hadn't been immune to her charms either. Thanks to his kind-hearted, warm Aunt Winifred, who'd pulled her into an immediate hug, Lucy had begun to open up slowly and yet, so beautifully.
Helping out with dishes, and gossiping with Amelia and his cousin, Bridget seemed to delight her and bring out a different side; Edmund hadn't had much choice but fall deeper into his warm regard for her.
The kiss by Amelia's bedchamber had been the crowning glory of everything. He could still taste her lips on his even after the time that had passed. Edmund knew he would never forget the honeyed taste of her warm mouth,
nor could he forget just how good she'd felt in his arms.
Every moment they'd shared had been golden and magical. She was golden and magical; which was why it was hard reconciling her with the comments he'd overheard her say to his cousin about wealth and privileges.
The look of pure wistfulness he'd seen on her face had been bothersome, and it looked achingly familiar, and when she'd turned and caught his gaze, he couldn't believe or reconcile the varying emotions that had flickered through her face.
He'd seen that look before, on a cornered horse at a performance in Astley's Royal Amphitheatre, which he'd been privileged to gain entrance to on the good graces of the earl.
The shock and guilt on Lucy's face had been so vivid, that the blank, questioning expression that had taken over, when she realized her was watching, had startled and confused Edmund beyond words.
She'd kept quiet shortly after, while his sister and cousin continued discussing the topic.
It would have all been well and good, if Edmund hadn't noted the relief that clouded Lucy's face after the subject was changed, and they began to discuss something else.,. He had tried to dismiss the entire strange moment, and focus on the rest of the evening, but had found his thoughts straying back subsequently since then.
After making a firm decision to not give voices to the doubts and questions fermenting in his thoughts, Edmund had decided on enjoying the short time they still had together, choosing to tell her about Katherine Charrington; a choice he hadn't known why he'd made, but felt he'd been spurred on by a certain compulsion.
Back home and alone, there hadn't been any way to hold those thoughts back, and he'd begun to analyze what exactly he knew about Lucy Middleton.
She was from Arlington in Scarborough, quite farther away in North Yorkshire, and the only child of a baronet who'd lost his lands and committed suicide afterwards.
There hadn't been any mention of family members, who were bound to be around, and a great reason to visit the borough if she chose to. But her eagerness to end any discussion of the subject at the park that afternoon had been telling.
My speculations and analysis could just be unfounded. Just because I caught Lucy unguarded doesn't mean she is hiding something. I am reading too much into this entire thing when I should be more concerned about how to sort out this nasty business of the earl's.
But despite the resolution and dismissal in Edmund's head, he couldn't help feeling that there was something missing in the picture; something he didn't know about Lucy. Rather than allow himself get carried away again, he boarded a hackney at the roundabout junction of George Street and headed down to the apothecary in Bond Street.
He met the men, who looked disgruntled and antsy, as they were exiting the tumbledown establishment, and stood patiently as they voiced complaints and stated their unwillingness to follow through with the job after what had happened. They had decided to join a ship travelling to the colonies and weren't interested in the job anymore. Edmund was hugely relieved. He'd wondered how to let them off even before their mistake, and was more than willing to pay them a few shillings after settling up with the apothecary. There wouldn't be any risk of them making another huge blunder, and the money would keep their mouths tightly shut, until they were far away in the colonies.
He knew this meant the job of the letter rested solely on him, and on his way to the earl's residence to call on Lucy, he couldn't help feeling uncomfortable.
At that moment, the thoughts of the incident with Lucy at his aunt's house drifted to Edmund once more, and this time; he couldn't stop hoping there was nothing more to it all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A subtle ray of sunlight peeked through the gap between the heavy brocade window curtains in Lady Agnes's room, bouncing off Lucy's pale blonde hair as she stood on a stool beside the sleeping woman's bed, hanging up the colorful flower-chain she'd spent the past hour laboring on.
Linking them through the wooden rail holding up the bed curtains, she was beyond delighted at how gay and cheerful they looked hanging over the bed. It would seem silly to a stuffy old fudge but Lucy thought the chains of peonies and roses would soothe and cheer Lady Agnes upon awakening, easing her stress and the dark mood that had descended over her since yesterday morning. The sweet floral scent that perfumed the entire bedchamber could also help to soothe the older woman's troubled mind.
After tying the end of the ribbon on the last frame, Lucy came down from the stool and stood for a moment to admire her handiwork. The flower-chain reminded her of her mother and the ones they'd made with wildflowers on auspicious celebrations, and strips of material left behind from the clothes her mother mended and sewed. It hadn't been much, but the scents and colors had cheered them up when they sat to their usual dinner fare of soup and cold bread.
Lucy sighed wistfully, as memories from the past were wont to make her do, before leaving the bedchamber, almost colliding into a properly attired Wilson. The butler took a step back; not bothering to reach out and steady her, which she knew wasn't as deference for her supposed higher status, but due to his dislike and disapproval of her.
In a cheerful mood, Lucy didn't let it bother her as she gave him a smile. "You have a message for her ladyship, Wilson?"
His rigid face remained unchanging. "For you, Miss Lucy. The earl's solicitor, Mr. Swinton, is here to see you and waiting in the front room …"
Lucy didn't miss his heavy emphasis on the earl's solicitor, reminding her of his disapproval in her fraternizing with Lord Langford's man of business. She ignored the sharp barb as her heart began racing rapidly. She hadn't seen Edmund since the dinner and after the appreciation note the next day, three more letters had followed suit, inquiring after her wellbeing and Lady Agnes's; without any personal message or indication that he'd missed her or was thinking of her.
It was hard not to believe his distance was due to what he'd overheard her say to his cousin, but she'd let herself believe it was because of the earl's return, and his occupation with the matter of Viscount Hilgrove's sinister plans towards Lady Mary.
Edmund's presence in the house to call on her laid all Lucy's fears to rest.
"Thank you, Wilson," she said to the butler, and followed behind him down the stairs, and to the front room.
Coming face to face with Edmund almost left Lucy breathless. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him in the past few days, and the sight of those emerald green eyes, and thick sensuous lips that had ravaged hers, was enough to make her swoon. The presence of Wilson was all the censorship she needed to prevent her from making herself the talk of the entire house.
"Hello, Miss Lucy, it's good to see you after so long," Edmund spoke politely immediately Wilson left, leaving the door wide open.
Lucy forced her tongue from the roof of her mouth and gave him a smile as he ushered her into a seat, before sitting too, maintaining the appropriate distance.
"It's mighty good to see you too, Edmund. I've missed you," she added, unable to stop herself, and lowered her eyes shyly.
Edmund didn't respond immediately, until she looked up to see a speculative, probing look in his eyes.
"I've missed you too. It's been busy since the earl's return and I've had to confront what has to be done inevitably."
Lucy's nerves returned. Edmund's manner and assessing gaze were the same as on the evening of the dinner, following her comments to his cousin.
She felt like a bowl of cold water had been thrown over her, and held back a sudden onset of tears.
Her instincts were sharp and piercing as they forced her to note the huge differences in his behavior and attitude towards her from the last time they'd been together.
"Tell me, Lucy. You seemed to enjoy my family. But do you not have any remaining family on either your mother's or father's side? I remember you are an only child; something I find fascinating and less rowdy, compared to having siblings, but I don't remember you talking about family members."
The inquiry was so sudden and st
artling that Lucy's breath stopped, her composure thrown off balance. She recovered with effort, wrenching her eyes away from Edmund as her thoughts scrambled round for a fitting answer while trying to penetrate through his blank expression to gain insight into his thoughts. Every time she lied, sweat trickled down her spine, and lying to Edmund was intolerable. She gulped and began breathlessly, "Well, it's all quite complicated and tragic, which is why I don't like to talk about it often." Lucy affected a morose expression, which thankfully broke through to Edmund, from the guilt that stole into his eyes.
"My mother was the only child of a Cornish merchant and his wife, who met and fell in love with my father on his travels. Her parents washed their hands of her over the decision to marry my father and never came to the wedding or saw her again, despite her attempt at mending fences before their death."
"Miss Lucy, I'm so sorry." Edmund's apology sounded contrite, yet stilted and quiet, as if he was waiting for her to continue.
"I never knew or saw my mother's parents, and my father's parents were already dead by the time he married Mother." Lucy finished with a small sigh, growing increasingly worried about the unchanging speculation in Edmund's eyes.
"That is tragic indeed. I can't imagine being without any of my family members and I can't imagine how you must feel. I'm so sorry for dredging up unpleasant memories for you once again. I seem to have a knack for doing that."
Seeing a reprieve finally, Lucy took it immediately and favored him with a smile. "It's quite okay, Edmund. I fully understand and it's good to go back and reminisce once in a while.
He explained, "I really don't do well with secrets, and I'm interested in knowing everything about you, Lucy. I care for you, and I don't want you to hesitate about telling me things important and crucial to you, dear."
Edmund's gaze had grown warm again, as it used to be in the past when he spoke to her.
Instead of being relieved, Lucy's worries quadrupled as the implication of what it all meant finally came home to roost.
To Catch the Candid Earl: Regency Historical Romance Page 19
