Unlaced (Undone by Love Book 1)

by Kristina Cook

  “Yes,” he said, pounding a fist on the doorjamb, “that’s exactly what you are to do.”

  “And risk affronting Lord and Lady Hathorne? No, Frederick would not have it. It’s only for a few days; we’ll manage her company that long.”

  “Not we, my dear sister—you. You will manage her company. I’m not coming.”

  Eleanor sank to the sofa with a sigh of frustration. “Henry, please. I confess, I planned this party with hopes of getting you and Miss Abbington in the same company, as you’re obviously avoiding her. You don’t fool me with your protestations, after all. I know you have feelings for her, and you might as well confront them rather than running from them as you’ve been doing these past weeks.”

  “I am not—”

  “Please, Henry.” Eleanor held up a hand. “Of course you are. Let me finish—I’m actually confessing my own meddlesome finagling here. I planned it so perfectly, and then Mama went and invited Lady Charlotte, and now what am I to do? You’ve heard how the girl speaks of poor Miss Abbington, and now I’m to have them both as houseguests? You must come, Henry, to preserve the peace. For Miss Abbington’s sake.”

  He reached up to rub his temples. Damn it. Between his mother and Charlotte, they’d make Lucy miserable, he was sure of it. But it wasn’t his bloody job to play peacemaker. Eleanor had gotten herself into this predicament; he should let her untangle it herself. But then he thought of Lucy.

  God, how he’d missed her. He’d found himself going out of his way to walk by Rosemoor House in the past week, desperate for a glimpse of her, nothing more. He’d almost attended the Middletown party, knowing that she would likely be in attendance. But so would Lady Helena, and he couldn’t face the possibility of seeing them both at the same time.

  Would it really be so bad to spend some time with Lucy again, if only for a few days? He’d grown so bored with the ton in her absence. Every moment he spent with Lady Helena, it was all he could do to pretend to be interested in her conversation, interested in her. There was only a month or so left of the Season, after all, and then Lucy would be off to Nottinghamshire. What harm could come from seeing her just once more?

  He looked over at his sister, still fiddling with her sleeve with a despaired look on her face. Bloody hell. He raked a hand through his hair.

  He’d do it.

  Chapter 15

  “Lucy, dearest, I can hardly sit still, I’m so excited. Do you think he’s here?” Susanna darted from one window to the next, rising up on tiptoe to peer out as Lucy unpacked her things and laid them out on the dresser. Fortune darted around the room with his nose to the ground, sniffing excitedly as he adjusted himself to the unfamiliar surroundings.

  “I’ve no idea, Susanna. Perhaps he isn’t coming at all.” He’d better not, not if he valued his limbs. She still felt murderous toward him, and she wasn’t at all certain she could control her temper. She’d been lured into his clutches, trusting him, believing they were friends, despite it all. Feeling...something...for him. His betrayal still pained her beyond rational thought. She would never forget Lady Helena’s cruel words. How dare he? Her mind kept repeating the phrase over and over. She slammed her brush onto the dressing table, and Susanna looked up at her in surprise.

  “Lucy, whatever is the matter?”

  “Nothing at all. It slipped from my hand.” She forced herself to breathe normally. “Isn’t this room lovely?” she finally said. Her eyes drank in the furnishings. Delicately carved mahogany was draped in twilight-blue velvet. The walls were covered with a patterned blue silk that made Lucy think of the clear skies on a winter day in Hollowsbridge. She crossed to the doors leading out to a balcony and threw them open. “Come, Fortune.” The dog ran to her side, his limp practically gone, and lifted his nose to sniff the air.

  The garden spread out before her in its midsummer glory. Fragrant roses climbed up trellises, framing arches that led to benches arranged around manicured beds of blooms. Lucy stood on the narrow stones and breathed in the perfumed air. A warm breeze caressed her cheek and set the hem of her organdy gown fluttering. Off in the distance she spied a tree-lined lane, opening out to a meadow covered in a multicolored blanket of wildflowers. She could barely wait to find herself atop a horse and galloping down that shady lane toward the meadow. Perhaps once she got settled and Jane and Susanna lay down to rest she would find the stables and request a mount.

  A knock upon the door pulled her from her thoughts, and she hurried back across the room to open it. Lady Worthington stood there in the hall, a welcoming smile lighting up her face.

  “Miss Abbington, Miss Susanna. I’m so delighted you’ve arrived. I hope your rooms are to your liking. I’ve put your aunt next door, Miss Abbington. I believe she’s settling in now.”

  “Thank you, Lady Worthington,” Lucy said. “The room is lovely indeed. I’m so looking forward to this visit,” she lied, worrying yet again that their hostess’ brother would join them.

  “Yes,” Susanna said, “it was so kind of you to include us. Your home is lovely.”

  “Thank you. Please feel free to explore as you wish. We’ve got a wonderful library, and the orangerie is spectacular.”

  Lucy knelt to pick up Fortune. “Lady Worthington, I hope you don’t find me too presumptuous, but I was thinking...that is, if you don’t mind, perhaps your children would like to have Fortune as their own? Your brother found him, after all, and the pup simply adores children.”

  Lady Worthington reached out to scratch the small dog’s chin. “Oh, Miss Abbington, the children will be delighted. So this is the poor pup Henry told me about. Fortune, you’ve called him? How fitting. Henry was much relieved that you were able to save him. He should be arriving any moment, and I know he’ll be pleased to see him healthy and thriving. Come, if you’ve finished settling in. Let’s go to the children at once and show them your gift. They are so very anxious to see you.”

  “Of course.” Lucy glanced at Susanna, who looked delighted at the mention of Lord Mandeville and his imminent arrival.

  “I believe I’ll go and rest for a bit, then,” Susanna said, her cheeks pink. “Thank you again, Lady Worthington, for having us.” With a smile, she scurried down the hall toward her own chamber.

  Lucy retrieved the dog’s things from her traveling case and followed Lady Worthington to the nursery. As they stepped into the brightly colored room, Lucy stopped dead in her tracks. There he was, sitting inelegantly on the floor surrounded by his nieces and nephew, who were all speaking at once. He wasn’t wearing a coat or cravat, and the top buttons of his linen shirt were undone. She swallowed hard at the sight of his dark chest, curly hairs peeking out from the neckline. She felt she should avert her gaze from the intimate display, but found herself unable to do so.

  Lord Mandeville looked up at her and smiled broadly.

  “Henry, when did you sneak in? I had no idea you had arrived.” Lady Worthington rushed to his side.

  Lord Mandeville stood and kissed the cheek his sister offered him. “I arrived not a half hour ago. The children kidnapped me and have been holding me hostage.” He turned to Lucy and nodded. “Miss Abbington.”

  “Lord Mandeville,” she said curtly. At the sight of the children, Fortune began whining and wriggling excitedly in her arms.

  “Children,” Lady Worthington said, “Miss Abbington has brought you a gift.”

  “This is Fortune,” Lucy said, setting him down on the floor. The children rushed over with squeals of delight and began stroking the dog enthusiastically. “He’s fully recovered from his injuries and ready to be part of a family. I thought you might enjoy him.”

  Katherine stood and threw her arms about Lucy’s waist. “Oh, Miss Abbington, thank you so very much. I’ve been begging Mama for a dog of our own. Papa doesn’t let us touch his.”

  Lord Mandeville looked to the dog with an amused grin. “Is this really him, then? So well recovered? Why, he barely limps.”

  “His recovery has been nothing short of a
mazing. This little dog has the spirit of a champion.” Lucy reached up to wipe away one stray tear from the corner of her eye. She would miss him, but she knew he would be happy here.

  “Why don’t you take Fortune outside and let him have some exercise. Miss Abbington, I’m sure you and my brother have some catching up to do.”

  “Actually, Lady Worthington, I was hoping that I could entreat you to loan me a mount for the afternoon. Your park looks so lovely that I’d like to explore a bit.”

  She looked crestfallen. “Of course, Miss Abbington. Tell my groom to saddle Lady Grey for you.”

  “No, not Lady Grey, not for Miss Abbington,” Henry said. “Perhaps for the other misses, but not for her. Thunder, I think, would be more appropriate.”

  Lady Worthington looked worried. “Thunder? Are you certain?”

  “Absolutely certain.” He was grinning, the arrogant man.

  “I trust my brother’s judgment, Miss Abbington. You shall have Thunder, then. Have a lovely ride.”

  “Thank you, Lady Worthington. I look forward to it.” Lucy bowed to her hostess and started down the hallway. Just as she reached the staircase, she was startled by the sound of footsteps following her. She whirled around to face Henry, just as he reached for her hand.

  “Lucy, wait,” he called out.

  She roughly pulled her hand from his grasp. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed, her heart pounding erratically. She turned and attempted to flee. He caught up with her in an instant and reached for her wrist, spinning her around to face him.

  “Whatever is the matter with you?” He frowned as he peered questioningly into her face, his gaze boring into hers.

  She could barely breathe. She was trembling with rage, rage she’d kept bottled up for more than a fortnight now, and she felt as if she might explode. “I said don’t touch me,” she spat out, unable to stop her voice from quavering. “And don’t call me Lucy. I am ‘Miss Abbington’ to you.”

  He dropped his hands to his sides with a look of surprise.

  Without another word, she turned, her head held high and her back rigid as she hurried down the stairs. She had to get away from him, as quickly as possible.

  What the hell was the matter with her? It hadn’t been more than a moon since he’d seen her last, that day in Camden Town, and she’d been friendly enough then, even a little flirtatious. Why did her body tense and her green eyes flash the moment she laid eyes on him in the nursery? The iciness in her voice had sent shivers down his spine.

  He stood and watched her flee down the curving stairs, then retrieved his coat and followed her at a distance, out to the stables. He’d assumed she’d go to her bedchamber and change into a riding habit, and he was looking forward to learning which room she’d been assigned. But no, apparently she was going to ride in that ridiculous little frock. He stood outside, waiting in the bushes like a Peeping Tom, peering in through a window as the frowning groom saddled the muscular gray gelding. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when he saw her mount the horse astride, her frock tucked between her legs, and take off down the lane in a full gallop. Within moments, he had his own horse saddled and took off in pursuit.

  Down the lane they rode, Lucy perhaps a quarter mile in the lead, into the meadow, and down toward the brook that marked the northern border of his brother-in-law’s estate. If she sensed him behind her, heard the echoing hooves, she showed no indication of it. He could see the white folds of her dress billowing out in the wind, her golden hair escaping it’s binding and flying out behind her as she leaned forward into the breeze, urging her horse faster, faster. Her rear rose off the saddle and her knees pressed into the horse’s sides. The animal responded instinctively to her movements. He couldn’t help but grin in admiration as he urged his own mount faster.

  She galloped along the brook for perhaps a half-mile before reining in the gray and slowing to a walk. Henry followed suit, his pace matching hers, halting only when he saw her dismount, throw the reins across the horse’s neck, and smooth her skirts down with her palms. He dismounted a mere twenty yards from her and stood motionless, staring at her back for what seemed an eternity. Tentatively, he took a few steps toward her. She whirled around to face him, her cheeks stained an angry red.

  “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” she called out.

  Had she really cursed? He’d never before heard a lady curse, and he couldn’t suppress a smile. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m out for a ride, it’s a lovely day. And you?”

  “You...you...horse’s arse,” she sputtered. “You know exactly what I’m doing. Trying to get away from you.”

  “That’s painfully obvious, my dear, but the question remains, why? What have I done to offend you thus? I’ve only just arrived, and I thought I was perfectly cordial. You look beautiful, by the way.” She did. Such a visual paradox—all sensual curves in virginal white. He’d never before seen her wear white. Her windblown hair was falling about her face, her eyes that same shade of impossible green. How he ached to reach out and take her in his arms.

  “You...you bastard,” she said.

  For a lady, she was certainly fluent in curses. “Can’t you at least tell me what I’ve done?”

  “What you’ve done? Humiliated me, that’s what you’ve done. Made me the laughingstock of the ton.”

  “Whatever do you mean? I’ve done no such thing.” What the devil was she talking about?

  “I heard her, Lord Mandeville, with my own ears. How could you tell her such lies? That I had thrown myself at you? That you were forced to avoid my company for fear of...of my embarrassing you!”

  “Tell who that? Honestly, Lucy, I have no idea what you’re speaking of. I’ve told no one any such nonsense.”

  “Lady Helena Waring,” she said, speaking the name with distaste. “They were laughing at me, my lord. Laughing!” She stomped one slippered foot and turned her back to him.

  “Lady Helena? I never...I never said any such thing.” Of course he hadn’t. Wherever would she get such a notion? He shook his head. And then it hit him, practically knocking the breath from his lungs. Her father, the Duke of Corning, had asked him about that scene at the opera. Corning had requested that he avoid Miss Abbington’s company if he planned to court his daughter, and he’d agreed. Nothing more. But why would he tell his daughter he’d extracted such a promise and elaborate the story with lies? To soothe her ego? Or perhaps Lady Helena had concocted the story herself, and if so, what a cruel, unladylike thing to do. Especially to a girl so far beneath her in station. Why, Lady Helena could have any man she wanted. Any man but me, his mind corrected, and he recognized it as the truth. He might marry her, but she’d never have his heart.

  “Lucy, you must believe me. I never said those things to Lady Helena.”

  “I don’t believe you.” She turned to face him with narrowed eyes and put her chin in the air, her arms folded across her breasts. She looked like a sulking schoolgirl.

  “It’s entirely the truth. I confessed to her father I was avoiding your company after that scene at the opera, but I gave no details as to why.” He took a step toward her, one hand outstretched. “You must believe me, Lucy. He wanted assurances that my attentions toward his daughter were honorable, that you and I were not... You must understand, the duke is a very powerful man. His connections are immensely helpful, and...”

  She turned, presenting her back to him again.

  “And I wasn’t thinking straight. Damn it, Lucy, I could wring her neck for embarrassing you like she did.” He dropped his gaze to the ground. There were flowers everywhere, poppies and clematis, columbine and meadow rue. Impulsively, he bent down and began gathering a makeshift bouquet. He worked quickly, silently, arranging the colorful bunch as artistically as he could.

  After a few moments of silence, she peered over her shoulder and shrugged. “Whatever are you doing?”

  He rose and held out the bouquet. “What does it look like I’m doing? Picking flowers. For you.
”

  She looked coldly at his offering and didn’t move to take it.

  “You must believe that I would never say such things about you. Could you truly believe that of me? I thought you knew me better than that.”

  “What I know of you, my lord, is that your ambition overrides my feelings.”

  What could he say to that? It was true.

  “Besides, she sounded quite...convincing.”

  The pain on her face was evident and it twisted his heart to see it. He took another step toward her, still holding out the flowers. “Please take them. I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, but I must, for whatever role I played in this.”

  He could see the indecision in her eyes. She bit her lower lip and looked away, her gaze fixed upon the horizon. When she finally looked back to him, he could see that he’d won, and relief flooded through him as she hesitantly reached for the bouquet.

  “The Season will soon be over and I don’t want you to go home despising me,” he said softly. “Say you’ll forgive me.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.

  He couldn’t help but close the distance between them and take her in his arms.

  Chapter 16

  Lucy shuddered against his body, her head pressed to his heart. She could hear it beating wildly, erratically, mimicking her own. Why had she given in so easily, let go of her anger so effortlessly? She wanted to yell at him, to scream and rail and make him feel as miserable as she’d felt. Yet she desperately wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he’d never said such things about her, never meant to hurt her. But he was right—she’d return home in less than a month’s time and she’d likely never see him again.

  Her whole being ached at the very idea.

  She tipped her head back to look up at him, and in seconds his mouth descended on hers. This time his kiss was soft, tender. He cupped her chin with his palm as his lips gently caressed her own and then he retreated, leaving her painfully unsatisfied, desperate for completion. Her eyes reluctantly fluttered open, only to find his deep-blue ones staring back at hers. His mouth curved into a smile.