Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘You have arrived earlier than I expected,’ Lucy said. ‘I wasn’t expecting you for several weeks.’

  ‘I know, my dear, but I was impatient to see my stepdaughter. I arrived in London several days ago and couldn’t see the point of waiting any longer. I know we will get on well together and soon come to understand each other. Miss Brody has been giving me an account of your time and achievements at the academy. You have done well. I had no idea I had such a clever stepdaughter.’

  ‘Lucy,’ Miss Brody said, getting to her feet and coming to her. ‘You are to leave with Mrs Walsh today. I know you have already packed some of your things, which we will send on later, so I think you should go and pack what you would like to take with you today. I’ve ordered refreshment to be brought for Mrs Walsh while you say goodbye to your friends and collect your things.’

  ‘Yes—of course. Please excuse me.’

  She went out, closing the door softly behind her, And returned to her room, taken completely by surprise by her stepmother’s unexpected arrival. There were so many conflicting and confusing thoughts going round in her head that she couldn’t think straight. The undercurrents she had sensed from the moment she had set eyes on the sleekly beautiful woman gave her a feeling of unease. She began to pack the things she would take with her, while Emma sat on her bed, unable to believe they were to part and not knowing when they would see each other again.

  ‘But—it’s absolutely ghastly,’ Emma retorted. ‘Why would she want to whisk you away without notice?’

  ‘I have no idea, Emma,’ she said, thrusting anything she could lay her hands on willy-nilly into her large bag, ‘but from what I have seen of Sofia, she is a woman who knows exactly what she wants and is not a woman to cross.’

  ‘Oh, dear! You don’t like her, do you? Although I recall when your father wrote telling you of his marriage that you were not prepared to like her.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t. But goodness! How shall I endure it—being thrust into the company of a woman I don’t know and who will probably look on me as something of a freak. Oh, why did my godmother decide to go to France at this time? It would have been reassuring to have her in London.’

  ‘And the gentleman you are to marry? Did your stepmother mention him?’

  ‘No—and I’m not going to marry him, Emma,’ she said adamantly, absently shoving the sea captain’s leather satchel into her bag. ‘No doubt she’ll lose no time in telling me all about him.’

  By the time Lucy had packed and had her bags carried down to the elegant carriage standing in the drive, Sofia was ready and impatient to return to London. Lucy said hurried goodbyes to Miss Brody and all those who came to see her off. The hardest thing of all was leaving Emma. Both girls were tearful and Lucy wondered how on earth she was going to survive without her dear friend.

  * * *

  ‘You will be able to write to your friends when you are settled, Lucy,’ Sofia said as Lucy dabbed away her tears.

  ‘Yes, I will, although I am going to miss Emma. We started at the academy together.’

  ‘And your godmother? She is in France, I understand.’

  ‘Yes—on an extended visit. She—hoped I would join her when I finished at the academy.’

  ‘Your father has placed me in the role of chaperon, Lucy. You must write to your godmother and tell her what has transpired, what it is your father has arranged for you.’

  ‘You mean my betrothal to Mr Barrington.’

  Sofia looked at her coldly. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Even though I am against it.’

  ‘Yes, even so.’

  ‘Aunt Caroline will not like it at all.’

  ‘There is not a thing Lady Sutton can do about it. I have a letter from your father to give to her explaining everything. Your father has your best interest at heart, Lucy. He sent you to England to take advantage of all the country has to offer a young lady of means. But he never forgot that you are the daughter of a person who has earned his fortune through business and trade—the type of person the ton look down their aristocratic noses at. There are many vicious tongues who will not fail to remind you of that connection. Your father, who is astute in matters of business and knows the way of the world, sees this and is of the opinion that you will be better off marrying into your own kind.’

  ‘I remember that my father told me to remember who I am and to be proud.’

  ‘Which is good advice. Mark Barrington is also a ranch owner, looking for a wife.’

  ‘And I happen to fit the bill,’ Lucy said stiffly. There was stubborn pride in the set of her small chin.

  Sofia gave her a sharp look or reproach. ‘Exactly. There, I knew you would see sense. Make the most of the opportunity that has been offered. Your father is determined to secure a suitable match for you in Louisiana.’

  ‘Even though I am against it?’

  Sofia’s eyes narrowed with annoyance. ‘Don’t be tiresome, Lucy. You must be obedient to my wishes. I do not wish to have to tell your father that you are disobedient. I am sure that would grieve him. The matter is settled. You have a duty and a responsibility to your father,’ she reminded her coldly.

  ‘I do not want to marry a man who is a complete stranger to me. I will not.’

  Sofia looked at her as she would a recalcitrant child. ‘He will not always be a stranger to you.’

  Lucy fought back the anger Sofia’s words stirred, but she was determined to speak her mind. Certainly she owed it to her father to treat Sofia with polite deference, but filial duty only went so far. ‘Getting to know him holds little interest to me—now or in the future. I will never love him and I will not marry him.’

  ‘Really, Lucy, what foolishness is this—what nonsense?’

  ‘Not to me. Do you mind telling me Mr Barrington’s age? Is he young, old—what?’

  ‘He is a sophisticated man—almost forty. He might not be the essence of a young woman’s romantic dreams, but he is caring and will make you a good husband. He is also possessed of a cool, steady temperament and is ready to marry you whenever it might be.’

  ‘Without even seeing me? Goodness, for all he knows I might be fat, ugly and stupid.’

  ‘Your father has assured him that you are none of those things. You are still very young, but you will learn that few people marry for love when there is business to transact.’

  ‘So, I am a business transaction. Well, at least now I know where I stand. When am I to meet Mr Barrington?’

  ‘Later today, when he comes for dinner. He’s taken rooms at Pulteney’s Hotel in Piccadilly for the time he is in London. You will get to know him before you wed—and I hope for a little fun myself. I haven’t come all this way, to the most famous capital in the world, not to enjoy the pleasure the city has to offer.’

  ‘Why did my father not accompany you to England?’

  ‘He—he had important matters to take care of—but he is looking forward to seeing you when we return to Louisiana.’

  ‘Has he not sent a letter to me, explaining why he is doing this?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘It is most unusual. How was he when you left?’

  ‘I have no wish to worry you, but of late he’s not been himself—indeed, when the doctor told him he must take things easy, he became concerned about you, about your future. If anything should happen to him he wants to be entirely sure that you’ll be taken care of, which is why he arranged for you to marry Mark Barrington, so that you would be left in capable hands.’

  ‘Then we must leave for America at once. I would like to see him,’ Lucy said, deeply concerned about her father’s failing health.

  ‘Unfortunately, that’s not possible. Mark has some business to take care of. These things cannot be done in a hurry—but rest assured we will leave before the month is out.’

  * * *

  Arriving at th
e house in Belgravia Sofia was renting for the time she was in London, a fashionable and tastefully furnished house, Lucy asked to be excused so that she could go to her room and freshen up. She was relieved to be by herself at last, away from Sofia’s oppressive presence. Kicking off her shoes, she lay on the bed and tried to sort out her thoughts. It had been an eventful day and she had much to think about. One thing she was certain about was that she did not like her stepmother. Lucy sensed a scheming nature behind her smiles. Knowing there was little she could do to change things just then, but feeling she must do something, she immediately wrote a letter to her godmother, begging her to help her.

  * * *

  Christopher had been halfway to London when he missed the satchel. The papers it contained were pertaining to the sale of his ship. He had a buyer in Paris who was interested in purchasing it so it was imperative that he retrieved the satchel. Cursing his carelessness, he had told Jacob to go on ahead while he rode back to Broughton to look for it, although he didn’t hold out much hope of finding it. He was right. After doing a thorough search and making enquiries it could not be located. It was as he was about to leave that he thought of Lucy Walsh.

  He recalled having it on his shoulder when he rushed to her aid. That was the moment it had dropped off his shoulder on to the grass. It was a long shot, but it could be possible that she had found it and handed it in to someone.

  * * *

  Having asked for directions to the academy, he was soon there. The proprietress, Miss Brody, was pleased to help. Knowing that Lucy had been at the fair with Emma, she immediately sent for her. Emma told him that, yes, they had found the satchel and that in the mayhem that followed her stepmother’s arrival, Lucy had taken it with her to her stepmother’s house in Belgravia. In fact, Captain Wilding must have passed the carriage on the way.

  Thanking them, Christopher left for London, happy that the retrieval of his satchel gave him the opportunity to see Miss Walsh once more.

  * * *

  Lucy didn’t want to meet Mr Barrington, yet pride and vanity made her take care of her toilette and choose a suitable gown. She had few fashionable clothes for social occasions, which her godmother had told her would be remedied once she had finished her education and she could take her out in society before leaving for America.

  With a smooth and practised grace, Sofia presented Lucy to Mr Barrington. He was tall, dressed in a dark blue frock suit, and handsome enough, with sultry features and dangerously hooded eyes. There was a certain swagger about him and he exuded all the confidence of a conceited charmer. But he didn’t charm Lucy. His expression was one of hauteur and he stared at her with masculine speculation. She sensed the scrutiny of his gaze, and some instinct told her that this was a man she should be very careful with. When Sofia introduced them there was a light in his eyes and a wrongness about him Lucy could not explain. Whatever it was it made the contents of her stomach curdle.

  ‘Miss Walsh, it is a pleasure to meet you at last. I have heard a great deal about you from your father.’

  His voice was as smooth as silk. While his eyes noted her perfunctory curtsy, he studied her closely, his eyes absorbing every detail of her face and figure with its tiny waist, the watered silk of her gown with the gentle swelling of her bosom. Concealing the rush of dislike and repugnancy that washed over her, Lucy struggled to maintain her composure.

  ‘Sofia tells me you are a planter, Mr Barrington, in Louisiana.’ He nodded. ‘Do you know my father well?’

  ‘I do. We have known each other for many years and I hold him in the highest esteem.’

  ‘Mark is a frequent visitor to Aspendale, Lucy. My dear husband always welcomes his company.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lucy remarked. ‘Father is a sociable person. I remember the house always being full of guests—more so when my mother was alive.’

  * * *

  Lucy hadn’t missed the grimace on Sofia’s face at the mention of her husband’s first wife. She had realised that when Sofia’s mind was made up about anything she would not take kindly to being taken to task and would lose no opportunity to undermine her confidence and belittle her, so she wasn’t surprised when during the main course she immediately brought up the subject she had been dreading.

  ‘Tomorrow we will visit the shops, Lucy. I think we should put our mind to having you fitted for some new gowns now you are no longer at the academy and about to move in society. We will also give some thought to your wedding gown—something creamy white, I think.’

  Lucy stopped eating and stared at her. ‘A wedding gown? I have told you, Sofia, I have no wish to get married—not to Mr Barrington or anyone else for that matter. I do not know Mr Barrington and I certainly don’t recall him doing me the courtesy of asking me to be his wife.’

  ‘Lucy, kindly guard your tongue,’ Sofia chided.

  ‘I’ll thank you to stay out of this, Sofia,’ Mr Barrington said sharply.

  He continued to converse, respectful and polite and solicitous to Lucy’s comfort. His manner was rather stiff at first, but he relaxed over the meal and several glasses of wine. He paid Lucy a good deal of attention. She wasn’t flattered by it, but unnerved. They talked of trivialities—she talked of life at the academy, he talked of places like New Orleans and Natchez. For her part Sofia spoke very little as she watched the by-play between these two, her eyes sharp and assessing. Lucy couldn’t wait for the meal to end so she could escape to her room.

  Then Mr Barrington’s eyes narrowed and his mouth pulled itself into a smile so contrived that it was little more than a sneer. ‘So, Lucy, you imply that you are not enthusiastic about marrying me.’

  Lucy did not shrink from his sarcasm. ‘Indeed, that is so, sir.’

  ‘I can understand that perfectly. You are young. You have just finished your education. Every young lady wants to experience her first soirée, her first ball. I will make sure you do not lack for entertainment for the short time we are in London.’

  ‘You are all kindness, Mr Barrington.’

  His eyes narrowed at the irony in her tone of voice. ‘However, I see no reason why we cannot become affianced in the meantime.’

  ‘I will do nothing until I have heard from my father. Might I remind you that I have not agreed to a marriage between us and, since there is no pressure of circumstance, I see no reason to rush into a marriage with anyone.’

  ‘Forgive my bluntness, but the matter is far more complex than you could possibly understand.’

  Lucy felt her hackles rise, but forced herself to remain calm. ‘Really? You underestimate my intelligence, Mr Barrington.’

  ‘Not at all, my dear. I simply recognise that young ladies like yourself have no head for these things. Your father has agreed to the marriage—indeed, he is anxious for the wedding to take place before we leave for Louisiana.’

  ‘And I have told you that I will do nothing until I have confirmation from my father that this is what he wants.’

  ‘You must allow yourself to be guided by those who understand these things.’

  ‘And my dowry?’ she asked bluntly. He talked as if as a woman, her life, had neither worth nor meaning in the real world of men. ‘Has he been generous with that?’

  ‘We have come to an agreement—but I sought to spare you the trivial details. However, if you insist on a full explanation...’

  ‘I insist on it,’ she said, very much to his surprise.

  ‘Very well—but it is not a subject for the dinner table.’

  ‘No. I agree,’ she said, with a tight smile.

  There was a hint of presumptuousness in his manner and there were times when he could not veil the look of calculation in his eyes. Mark Barrington looked like an elegant predatory animal who had discovered his prey and was biding his time before pouncing. The thought sent a shudder down her spine. She did not like him. He was determined and grasping, but he would not find her as
easy to manipulate as he imagined.

  But she must not underestimate him. This was definitely a man she should be careful of. Her cloak of cynicism and the feeling that all was not as it should be stayed with her long after Mr Barrington had left. She had always sailed through life, happy and carefree. Now she felt there was something malevolent in it.

  Having no desire to remain in Sofia’s company a moment longer, Lucy excused herself.

  Sofia allowed herself a little smile. ‘Well, Lucy, what do you think of Mark? He’s charming, don’t you agree?’

  ‘No, Sofia. Mr Barrington did not make a favourable impression on me and, now I have met him I am more determined not to marry him than I was before.’

  Sofia’s smile faded abruptly as she rose to her feet. ‘You wretched girl. You will marry him. If it’s the last thing I do I will see you wed.’ In a swirl of silver and blue chenille and a cloud of expensive perfume, she marched from the room, apparently not caring that the door shook as she slammed it forcefully behind her.

  When she had gone, Lucy finally allowed her defences to crumble—her shoulders slumped and she buried her face in her hands. By heaven, she would not stay here and be forced to marry Mr Barrington, no matter how much her father wanted it or how advantageous the match. Despite his intentions where she was concerned, Lucy was determined to rid herself of him as soon as Aunt Caroline returned. She couldn’t go through with becoming his wife. Anything, even returning to the academy and becoming a tutor herself, would be preferable to marrying Mr Barrington. There had to be some way out of her predicament.

  She did have money of her own, enough to pay her passage to America if need be or to go to Paris to see her godmother, but she was aware of the dangers of a young woman travelling alone so she made up her mind to wait before taking such drastic action. But in the meantime she must be wary.

  Was there no one to protect her? The two people she loved most in the world—her father and her godmother—were too far away to be of help, but an image of Captain Wilding suddenly rose in her mind. He was a sea captain, a man who had to be intelligent, with practical common sense, a man capable of forming an independent assessment in any given situation. He had to be fair but hard, dependable, a man his crew could respect and have absolute confidence in.