Secrets of Lady Lucy

by Rachel Ann Smith

  Blake was cursing under his breath. “Of all the people to cause me to lose to Lucy…”

  Archbroke greeted him with a knowing smile. “Devonton, glad you are out and about tonight. We haven’t seen you about Town in the past week or so.”

  Apparently, it had been noticed that he had not attended a single event while Lucy was away. “I’m still getting used to Town hours and becoming reacquainted with everyone.”

  Blake glanced at the Home Secretary’s ensemble. His waistcoat was of a color similar to Lincoln green, the cravat so intricate he likened it to a puzzle, and shirt points that were plain ridiculous. When had Archbroke become a dandy?

  Frowning, he asked, “Do you still fence? I need to find someone to practice with. Harrington is no longer a challenge.”

  “Fencing?” Archbroke’s high-pitched voice caught Blake by surprise.

  He blinked, clearing his vision. Stunned, he tried to reconcile the dandy standing before him and the mastermind who ran the Home Office. Few knew of Archbroke’s involvement. Was acting the fool really the best disguise?

  Archbroke continued in the annoying tone. “Harrington is by far one of the best in our set. If he is not up to snuff, you will be hard pressed to find another as skilled as him. However, I recently joined Gentleman Jackson’s. I find I quite enjoy watching the fights. Are you a member yet?”

  Blake replied, “I’m surprised you are a fan of pugilism. Seems rather barbaric, does it not?”

  “Perhaps you are right. I should take up fencing again rather than risking this lovely face of mine in the ring.” Archbroke turned his head to show Blake his profile and gave him a lopsided grin. “Speaking of lovely faces, spying on our Lady Lucy over there, were you?”

  Guilty. Blake responded a little too quickly, “Who?”

  “Don’t play games, Devonton. You were gaping at Harrington’s sister. It is common knowledge you never forget a face, so what’s what?”

  Blake tried to compose a calm, aloof response. “I have no idea to what you are referring. Lady Lucy and I have only recently become reacquainted, and as you pointed out, she is Harrington’s sister, after all. I imagine he wouldn’t appreciate me taking an interest in her.”

  As if letting him into a secret, Archbroke resumed what Blake knew to be his natural tone. “Harrington can’t wait to get Lady Lucy married off. He told us all at the beginning of this Season that if any of us could convince her to marry, he would be glad to have us as a brother. Mind you, that was not his tune the year she came out. That Season, he clearly instructed us to protect her since she was still grieving. But apparently he has had a change of heart and all but dared one of us to succeed in wooing her.”

  “Then why have none of you asked her to dance tonight?”

  “Lady Lucy has just returned from one of her trips to the country. She is never in a good mood upon her return. We all know to give her a day or two before even daring to go near her, or she will give us the cut direct.”

  Had Archbroke issued him a dare? Devonton never backed down from a challenge. Lady Grace and Lucy were still standing by the terrace doors. As he made his way over to her, he hastily devised a plan to woo Lucy.

  Blake halted just to the right and bowed. “Good evening Lady Grace, Lady Lucy. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

  To Lucy’s irritation, Grace performed a perfect curtsy, which only made her own appear hasty and poorly executed. Making matters worse, Grace used her most alluring tone. “Lord Devonton, it is always a treat to be in your company. Lady Lucy has just returned from a quick jaunt to the countryside to visit a friend. She was regaling me with some of the events of her trip.”

  With a single brow slowly raised, he asked, “Lady Lucy, where did you venture to?”

  “Nowhere of interest to you.”

  Grace poked Lucy hard in the arm and admonished, “Don’t be rude.”

  Lucy relented a little and plastered a smile on her face. “Lord Devonton, please excuse me; I’m feeling a bit parched.” She turned her back to him. “Grace, I’m going to the refreshments table.”

  As she turned to leave, a heavy hand stopped her. Lucy cried out, “My lord, unhand me!”

  Blake bent down to speak into her ear. In a low, sultry voice he said, “You are making a scene. I’m sure if you continue, your brother will inquire as to whether or not he needs to meet me at dawn. If you allow me to escort you to the refreshments table, all will go easier.”

  With a deep sigh, she knew he was correct. Defeated, she placed her hand on his winged arm, practically running to keep up with his long strides. She turned to seek help, but Grace wasn’t right behind them as expected. Instead, she was now in the company of Matthew, who was standing a little closer than what propriety would allow. The two were oblivious to their surroundings. How had Matthew materialized out of thin air? He did have a habit of appearing next to Grace quite often.

  Lucy turned her attention back to the man who was basically dragging her to the refreshments table. Why was he behaving this way? Where was the attentive Blake she remembered from the Duke of Fairmont’s ball? Or had her memory played tricks on her? She looked up through her lashes, only to see him gazing right down on her bosom. The nerve of the man. He should be behaving like a gentleman. Yet at the same time it made her feel wanton, and it was exciting.

  Daring to be bold, Lucy inquired, “Do you see something of interest?”

  Blake’s eyes flared and his lips formed into a wicked smile that was designed to tempt its recipient. “Yes, I do find you of interest. I enjoy viewing you from all angles, but particularly from this one.”

  Raising a hand to the side of her neck, a vein beat against her fingertips erratically. The slight buzzing in her ear was accompanied by dizziness. If Blake could inflict this type of physical response with the simple insinuation that he liked observing her, it would be dangerous to continue to verbally spar with him. None of Matthew’s other friends were able to challenge her except for Archbroke, but he was her superior. She could feel the pink in her cheeks and the tops of her breasts, like his gaze had scorched them. Reaching for a glass of punch, he brushed the back of his hand across her stomach. The contact caused a jolt of electricity that ran throughout her entire body.

  Instinctively she took a half step away and peered up at him. Seeing the smug look on his face, she snipped, “Lord Devonton, do you not have to locate someone else? Surely you have a dance partner eagerly awaiting you.”

  “In fact, my sweet, I have not promised any of the lovely ladies a dance and seek your guidance on those I should honor tonight.”

  Lucy raised up onto the balls of her feet. Her eyes instantaneously fell upon a set of ladies standing by the wall. “Well… there is Lady Olivia over there, the brunette. It is her third Season, and she is a lovely girl with a dowry of ten thousand. Lady Marjorie, the blonde—while she is shy, she can converse in five languages and has a dowry of twenty thousand… and then there is…”

  Blake interrupted, “Who is the lovely lady with the mahogany hair standing all alone over there?” He discreetly pointed out the lady in question and added, “She looks to have a fine figure and…”

  She glanced over to the spot he indicated. Lady Mary. A wave of jealousy hit her. She liked Lady Mary. She was kind, intelligent, and beautiful. Most men found her intelligence a deterrent, but she sensed Blake would find it attractive. Why did it bother her that he showed an interest in someone other than her? Hadn’t she just encouraged him to dance with another? She really needed to sort through these conflicting thoughts and emotions.

  Lucy assumed a disinterested tone. “That is Lady Mary. She is the daughter of the Duke of Seaburn. She is musically inclined and plays the pianoforte well. Unfortunately, she only has a moderate dowry. She is in her fourth Season and has been referred to as a bluestocking, which just means she has more intelligence than the men she’s conversed with.”

  As she rattled off the details, Blake’s gaze never once left Lady Mary. While she
searched his features, her jealousy turned to pain, which was exacerbated when he asked, “Would you be so kind as to introduce me?”

  Her sight blurred, but her voice remained calm. “It would be my pleasure, if…”

  “What is your hesitation?”

  “I would want to make sure your intentions are honorable. I consider Lady Mary a friend, and I wouldn’t want to be responsible for any heartbreak.”

  Blake’s teasing tone had returned. “It is only an introduction. I don’t intend to seduce her right on the dance floor. What type of cad do you take me for?”

  Lucy’s mind went blank. She had never imagined anyone talking to her in such a manner, and to even think about seducing someone on the dance floor would imply he was a rake.

  “Lady Lucy, do you really think Lady Mary would fall in love with a plain gentleman such as myself?”

  Eyes wide, she stood and stared at Blake. Her mind was a jumble of questions. Did Blake just refer to himself as plain? Was he just being modest? Or was that indeed how he viewed himself? Plain would be the last word Lucy would use to describe Blake. He was at least a few inches over six feet, with disheveled, short-cropped ash-brown hair that just begged to have her hands run through it. Combined with arresting green eyes and an aristocratic nose that he seemed to always be looking down at her with, Blake was nothing less than striking.

  “I do believe women are more likely to swoon for a handsome rake. I was under the impression ladies believe reformed rakes to be the best husbands. Was I mistaken?”

  Taking her time, she continued to contemplate his looks. Perhaps his overall appearance could be described by the masses as plain, yet the more Lucy observed him, the more appealing he became. As she was taking in his full measure, an idea occurred to her: was his intention for her to take a closer look at him? What a devilish plan, yet if that was his intent, he was far more intelligent than she had given him credit for.

  In the end, Lucy found her voice, and rather than answering his question, she merely stated, “Lady Mary is a self-proclaimed wallflower. I’m sure she would appreciate a gentleman, even one as plain as you, to pay attention to her this eve. Shall I make the introduction now?”

  His heart ripped apart when her eyes began to mist. The flash of sadness came and went in such a flash that if he didn’t possess the ability for exact recall, he would have questioned what he had seen. He had set out to charm her, not upset her. Few women were able to rein in their features as well as Lucy had.

  What was he doing, admiring a woman who had just called him plain? She had remained quiet while he attempted to tease and flirt with her. She was willing to introduce him to a friend. Had he not returned to society to seek out a bride who would be happy with a marriage of convenience? But the challenge of winning Lucy over was too hard to resist.

  He arranged his features into a mask of innocence before asking, “And what if my motives are not honorable? What if…”

  He could almost feel the wave of heat and anger roll off her as his words sank in. No, the woman standing before him would never be amicable to a marriage of convenience.

  “Lord Devonton, you have been away on the Continent for an extended period, but I would hazard Matthew would never associate with a man who would not share his gentlemanly honor.”

  Did he hear her correctly? He found her bold declaration heartwarming. Here was a lady whom he had just become reacquainted with, but she was willing to defend his character. The volatility of his thoughts and emotions only caused his interest and determination to increase.

  Lucy grabbed his hand. Delighted at the physical contact, he paid no attention to where she was leading him, nor did he care. He would follow her wherever she desired.

  They had only managed to move a few steps forward when they were approached by Lord Waterford. “Devonton, you are monopolizing Lady Lucy. What are the two of you discussing? Maps, geological formations, site elevations?”

  Blake responded, “Who sounds like the cartographer now? Since when did you take any interest, Waterford?”

  Waterford’s eyes blazed, and in them Blake recognized pure loathing. What had he done to deserve such hatred? Blake hadn’t seen the man since their days at Oxford. While they had not been best of chums, they were at least friendly back then. Blake and Waterford had never crossed paths despite both of them having been on the Continent for the duration of the war.

  Ignoring Blake entirely, Waterford turned to address Lucy. “Well, my lady, are you enjoying Devonton’s company or is he being a total bore?”

  She shifted slightly closer to Blake, and he placed his hand on her lower back as reassurance. Was Waterford drunk? His eyes were clear, and there was no evidence he was inebriated. Blake did not care for the way he was making Lucy uncomfortable.

  Bless the woman’s heart, she tried to lighten the mood. “Lord Devonton was actually making inquiries into the characters of this Season’s wallflowers. He claims his appearance would be more attractive to those who stand along the wall.”

  “Well, I’m not sure any would find his appearance attractive, but I’m sure they would appreciate his bluestocking conversation far more than the diamonds of the Season. I too may be interested in hearing more about these paragons. While I may not be of the same intellect as Devonton here, I believe I could hold my own with any of them.”

  What was the man implying? Blake had always achieved excellent grades—it would be difficult not to, with his recollection—but Waterford had achieved high marks right alongside him. He couldn’t figure the man out.

  Lucy carried the conversation once more. “We were discussing the esteemed Lady Mary over there.”

  Waterford’s spine stiffened. “Ahhh, Lady Mary. It is her third or fourth Season out, am I correct?”

  Apparently, the implication that Lady Mary was long in the tooth did not sit well with Lucy. She sharply reminded Waterford, “It is her fourth, and there is nothing to be ashamed of in having experienced more than one Season.”

  The trio stared in Lady Mary’s direction. The poor woman looked around her. When she found she was alone and the sole recipient of their obvious attention, she nodded in their direction, acknowledging their rather rude behavior, and walked directly out of the ballroom.

  Lucy moved away, but before she could escape, Blake placed a hand on her elbow.

  “Lord Devonton, you will need to excuse me. I need to… well, I need to find Lady Mary.”

  He bowed and whispered quietly, “Please extend my apologies if I somehow made Lady Mary uncomfortable. That was not my intent.”

  Blake released her. Lucy’s eyes locked with his just before she turned and headed toward the hall Lady Mary had disappeared into. The sadness in her eyes made his heart ache.

  After entering the ladies’ retiring room, Lucy searched for Lady Mary. She found her standing in front of a mirror.

  Lucy approached the woman with her gaze lowered. “Lady Mary, please, if I may…”

  Lady Mary’s hand rose and halted her speech. “Lady Lucy, how nice to see you again. What were you and your contingent of admirers whispering about me?”

  Well, Lady Mary didn’t hold back punches.

  Opting for the truth, Lucy replied, “My companions noticed you and were interested in seeking an introduction.” Before Lady Mary could make a comment, Lucy rushed on to say, “However, I advised them I would only introduce you if you agreed and only if they had honorable intentions.”

  Lucy held in a breath as she shifted from one foot to the other, awaiting a response. When none was forthcoming she asked, “So, would you care to be introduced to Blake Gower, the Earl of Devonton, and Gilbert Talbot, the Earl of Waterford? They are by and large honorable, but I wanted to seek your approval first.”

  She bit her cheek to remain quiet, in agony as she waited for Lady Mary’s reply.

  Finally, Lady Mary put her out of her misery. “I’m already acquainted with Waterford. He was formally introduced to me in my first Season. Perhaps I am f
orgettable.”

  Quickly, Lucy replied, “It was Devonton who requested the introduction. Waterford just happened to join us. I’m sure he remembers you and would like to become reacquainted.”

  Lady Mary stared directly at Lucy, who was a few inches shorter. “Lady Lucy, I do not care to be the butt of any jokes, and while I appreciate your friendship, I do not wish to offend. An introduction to any of your brother’s cronies holds little interest.”

  Lucy was taken aback by the direct response. “My apologies, Lady Mary. I did not intend to disrupt your evening. I will take my leave, and I hope you will forgive me. I hope you enjoy the rest of the Season. I shall not bother you again.”

  Darting out of the retiring room, a sinking feeling settled in her stomach. Had she lost a friend? She didn’t have many to start with. As her eyes began to water, Lady Mary called out from behind her, “Lady Lucy… wait.” But the tears were already flowing.

  Widening her stride, she ran to seek out one of her hiding spots.

  Chapter Ten

  Blake spied Harrington guiding Lady Grace from the dance floor. Why was he continually scanning the room? Was there a threat?

  Blake remained standing by the refreshments table as the couple approached.

  Harrington reached for a glass of lemonade and handed it to Lady Grace. “Damnation, why does she always sneak off? I’m tired of hunting her down at every social event. We will have to split up. You check the usual places, and I’ll start on the terrace.”

  Lady Grace accepted the watered-down refreshment and gave an impermissible nod. The woman was not at all phased by Harrington’s blustering.

  As the marquess released Lady Grace, he gave her hand a small squeeze, which did not go unnoticed by Blake. Before his friend could begin his search, Blake spoke up. “Harrington, how are you this evening?”