Lady Carlisle had not wanted to come, but both girls had insisted. When the butler and footman had agreed to guard their carriage with a gun and an ancient sword, Lady Carlisle had reluctantly capitulated.
Now Lucinda wondered if they should have bothered. Few people had come; at least, so far. And those who had arrived exclaimed in low voices about the horrific scandal. That poor, poor nameless woman had been plucked from a ball such as this only two days ago. A ball Lucinda had attended, which made it all the more alarming.
“Strolling in the garden, no doubt,” whispered some.
“Just what she deserved,” whispered others.
Lucinda felt appalled. What woman deserved to have a man force himself upon her? Or to be dumped to wander the pitch black streets alone? She shuddered, and rubbed her calf, to which she’d strapped a butter knife with a narrow pink ribbon. If attending high society functions proved to be a dangerous sport, she would be prepared.
“What are you doing?” Amelia whispered. At least now they were talking.
Lucinda lifted the edge of her skirt an improper few inches. “I’m prepared,” she hissed. “If a man wants to come after me, he will lose choice body parts.”
“With a butter knife?” Amelia snorted. Unexpectedly, she hugged her.
Lucinda hugged her back, and tears threatened. When she pulled away, moisture glistened in her friend’s eyes, too.
“I’m sorry, Lucinda, for the snit I’ve been in. I was petty and jealous.”
“And I’m sorry for doubting if Fredrick cares for you.”
Amelia shook her head. She dabbed her nose with a hanky. “No. You were right. Look. There he is. He’s been here thirty minutes, and still hasn’t acknowledged me. I’m afraid you were right about him.”
Lucinda didn’t want to be right. She wanted her friend to be happy. Unfortunately, Fredrick was not the man to accomplish that goal.
Jonathon arrived soon after, and twirled Lucinda away. More people crowded in as dusk deepened to nightfall. In fact, now it looked as if the ball might be better attended than any other function to date.
People probably wanted to gossip, Lucinda uncharitably guessed, as she danced with a dandy. Or old dowagers wanted to count heads and guess who the fallen debutant might be.
A loud disturbance registered near the entrance. Women gasped, and heads turned.
“An invitation, sir,” bleated the butler.
But the man, a tall, black-haired one, dressed in a rumpled black jacket and partially unbuttoned shirt, strode unhindered into the room.
Shocked, Lucinda’s dancing feet stilled.
Riel!
He swiftly scanned the room, looking…looking, and then she felt—like a lightening bolt through her body—when those black eyes found her. He headed for her, his pace fast and deliberate, plowing through all the people in his path. His bristled jaw needed a razor, his skin was tinged gray, and his black eyes burned.
Lucinda’s heart fluttered into her throat and she stood frozen, unable to look away from the man advancing upon her.
“Riel,” she gasped, when he was within two steps.
Now one step separated them. “Lucy!” It was a deep, harsh growl. “Lucy.” Now an agonized rumble. His strong hands gripped her arms. “You are all right?” Those black, scorching eyes scanned her from head to toe, and then returned to her flushed cheeks. “You are all right,” he asked more quietly, but just as urgently.
Lucinda licked her suddenly dry lips. “I…I am fine, Riel. When did you return?”
As if suddenly realizing everyone stared at them, he tugged her arm, leading her toward the wall for privacy. He ignored the tiny, irritated throat clearing of her dance partner.
Lucinda sent a hasty, apologetic glance backward, and hurried along in Riel’s fast wake. “Where are you taking me? What has gotten into you, Riel?” Finally, she stopped and dug in her heels. “Tell me this minute what you are about, dragging me off like this.”
He spun to face her, so near to her that every nerve ending jumped in awareness of his close proximity. He had never seemed so large, or his eyes so black. He smelled of the sea, as if he had just left his ship.
“Why are you here?” she whispered.
“I am here because you are here, Lucy.” An unknown emotion roughened his words.
“When did you arrive?” For the life of her, she could not stop staring at him, and made no effort to increase the space between them.
“An hour ago. And I came directly to find you.”
Her throat closed under his intense, dark appraisal. What was he thinking? Why did her heart beat so fast? “Why?” she asked finally, faintly.
“Because I was worried!”
“You were worried? About me?” A warm emotion filled her up, so full it bubbled over. She smiled. “Really?”
“Yes, Lucy.” His calloused palm cupped her jaw, but his touch felt gentle, belying his rough, raw appearance. Deep emotions roiled in his obsidian gaze, and her mouth felt suddenly dry. In that moment, Lucinda felt completely and utterly cherished.
She licked her lips. “I am well, as you can see.”
His hand dropped. “When I saw the paper… Lucy,” he said in a low, vehement voice. “What are you doing at this ball?”
She felt momentarily bewildered. “Dancing? At least until you arrived.”
“Truly.” He sounded grim. “Then you have earned yourself a close companion for the rest of the night.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, exposing yourself to danger? Attending a frivolous ball?”
Her temper flashed, evaporating the more tender emotions she had felt just moments earlier. “I am chaperoned. The butler and footman are armed.”
Musicians struck up the waltz, and a gentleman appeared to Lucinda’s left. “I believe I have this dan…” He faltered when impaled by Riel’s black, dangerous stare. Without a word, the man melted in the direction of the punch table.
Riel claimed her hand and pulled her into his arms. His dance steps were not as smooth as last time. In fact, they seemed jerky, and tension thrummed through the thick, hard muscles beneath her fingertips.
She felt indignant with the liberties he presumed. “You are a barbarian,” she hissed. “I will not dance every dance with you!”
“You will not need to. I will watch you every minute. And you may be sure each of your dance partners will know it.”
Lucinda gasped. “You beast.” And here she’d been all a flutter for an alarming minute, actually glad to see him! “The high seas have not improved your social skills.”
“I care nothing about wagging tongues, Lucy. I care only that you are safe.”
“Well, I am, and you are crushing me in your arms!” An exaggeration, but he had anchored her too close to his large body.
He allowed another fraction of an inch to ease between them. His dark eyes glittered down at her. “You are so unhappy to see me, Lucy?”
Unfortunately, she had been too happy to see him! Lucinda knew she should feel relieved that he’d so quickly resumed his dictatorial guardian role—that way she’d remember exactly who he was. Instead, disappointment licked through her.
“How can I be happy when you rush in and give me a tongue lashing? Then you yank me into your arms and begin dictating the rest of my evening. Which of those charming behaviors would you like me to applaud?”
They danced in silence for long moments. Finally, he said, “Shall we begin again?”
Lucinda bit her lip. “We have started over too many times to count, Mr. Montclair. Perhaps we need to accept that the road before us is rough. I see no peace in our future.”
“Montclair again.” He seemed to relax infinitesimally. “Moments ago, I was Riel.”
He baited her. Lucinda turned her chin away, refusing to look at him.
The music slowed, indicating it would stop very soon. To her shock, Riel had the gall to pull her closer to him. She felt his warm breath slide into her h
air. In a low voice, he said, “I thank God you are safe, Lucy. Know that is the only thing important to me.”
And then he released her into her next partner’s willing arms. But he was never far from her, not for the remainder of the evening. His watchful gaze followed her and the young men with whom she danced. Even Jonathon noticed.
“Your guardian has returned with a vengeance. If his eyes were knives, I would be flayed to bits by now.”
“He doesn’t approve of me being here. Not with what happened.” It seemed inappropriate to speak of the scandal with a person of the opposite sex; and a Duke, to boot. Although she’d had no problem arguing with Riel about it.
Toward the end of the evening, she sat with Amelia and her mother for a moment to rest. Amelia wore a frown, and studiously avoided looking at one quadrant of the room.
“Has Fredrick been beastly again?” Lucinda asked with sympathy.
“No. He keeps asking me to dance, and I keep refusing.”
“Good for you.”
“He wants to confuse me. I won’t allow it.” Amelia pinned Lucinda with a sharp gaze. “On the other hand, there is no question what the Baron thinks of you.”
Lucinda frowned at once. “He is an unmanageable pirate. A boor of the first order.”
Amelia smiled. “Not the way I see it. He crashed the ball and charged straight for you, mowing down everyone in his path. Very dramatic, if you want my opinion.”
“I do not. Besides, he made it clear he thinks me a ninny-headed fool, coming to a ‘frivolous ball’—his words—with a rapist on the loose. He chewed my ear off for the first five minutes.”
“And for the next five?”
“I chewed his ear off,” Lucinda admitted.
Amelia looked to the ceiling, as if imploring God for wisdom. She shook her head. “You’re deceiving yourself, if you think that’s all it’s about between you two.” With that cryptic remark, she fell silent, and watched Fredrick approach out of the corner of her eye.
Riel appeared, and with a bow gravely asked Amelia to dance. She accepted with a happy smile. Lucinda twirled away with her next dance partner, and Fredrick was left standing alone, looking displeased. Poor boy, Lucinda reflected with no pity. Now he would have to find a new victim.
* * * * *
Riel accompanied the Carlisle coach to their townhouse, and then spent a moment talking to Lady Carlisle before signaling for a carriage. Lucinda wondered what the discussion had been about, but told herself it didn’t matter. She didn’t care if he returned to his ship and she never saw him again.
A lie, and she couldn’t deny it. The fact disturbed her.
The next afternoon, Lucinda attended her last tea party, and then it was time to pack up. Effie did most of the work, but Lucinda chose the items she’d need for the trip to Iveny, and the maid packed these last bits into two trunks. The Carlisles had agreed to drop Lucinda off at Iveny for the promised visit to Sophie on their way home. It was out of their way, but it could not be helped.
On Sunday morning, Lucinda joined her trunks and valises in the parlor and watched the Carlisle footman pack up the carriage.
“That’s it,” he said, picking up Amelia’s last valise.
“What about my things?” Lucinda said.
The footman didn’t hear, but Amelia, just entering the room, did. “Didn’t Mama tell you?” A wicked glint lurked in her eyes. “The Baron has offered to drive you to Iveny, since he’s going there himself.”
Lucinda’s brows drew together. “Why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”
“Would you have been happy to learn of it sooner?”
“No.”
“Exactly my point. You tend to react rather dramatically to anything to do with Baron Iveny.”
“That is true,” Lucinda admitted with chagrin. “But I wish you’d told me, Amelia.”
It would have been even better if Riel had consulted her about the driving arrangements. Instead, he’d managed her like a child, as if she possessed no thoughts of import on the matter.
“I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
Lucinda sighed. “Of course.” She felt vaguely disgruntled that the Carlisles must have believed she’d pitch a histrionic fit regarding Riel driving her to Iveny. Why else delay telling her the truth? Was her behavior toward him so untoward?
Perhaps so, she realized with further discomfort. Well then, time to change matters. Time to prove to everyone, including Riel, that she was a mature young woman.
She reminded herself of this yet again when Riel pulled up in his black carriage minutes later. Irritation still simmered in her, although she could not fully explain why. He leaped with quick agility from the carriage, and took the steps up to the townhouse two at a time.
With a determined smile, Lucinda advanced toward her guardian, who darkened the doorway. She dropped him a curtsey. “Mr. Montclair. How pleased I am to see you this morn.”
His lips twitched, and he offered a half bow. “As I am to see you, Lady Lucinda.”
“Such manners,” Amelia said with an arch grin. “Perhaps hope exists for the two of you.”
Lucinda bit her tongue, but continued to smile.
Goodbyes were said, and tears shed, although Lucinda and Amelia laughingly reminded each other they only lived a quarter day’s drive away. Lucinda invited the Carlisles to dinner when she returned to Ravensbrook. With this satisfactory arrangement, they waved goodbye. Effie left with the Carlisles, for Lucinda had promised her a week’s vacation after the Season. Effie wanted to visit with her family and her sister’s new child.
Iveny was a full day’s journey from London, and Lucinda applied herself to working a small tapestry. Needlework was not her choicest occupation, but it beat quarreling with Riel, which she disturbingly wanted to do. Clearly, if she wanted to become a serene, mature young lady, she should avoid speaking to her cavalier guardian altogether.
After replying with a polite smile and monosyllabic words to his initial attempts at conversation, he sent her a narrow look and then, to her satisfaction, left her alone. He spent the morning reading The Times.
As she absently worked the tapestry, Lucinda wondered how Sophie fared. In her letters, Sophie had insisted that she would feel better once the weather warmed up, and Lucinda hoped she was right. She wanted nothing more than to find Sophie as chipper and full of life as she’d been when she first arrived at Ravensbrook, almost a year ago.
They stopped for lunch at a small coaching inn named the White Hare. Lucinda observed it to be clean, and after she had refreshed herself, joined Riel at a table near a low burning fire.
Bread and a cup of tea awaited her. “Thank you. Have you ordered for me, as well?”
“Did you want me to?” Those black eyes looked amused, and a touch guarded.
Argumentative words leaped to her lips. All morning they had simmered, much as she had tried to ignore them and beat them into submission with fierce pricks of her embroidery needle.
Why did she still feel so perturbed? After all, it made complete sense for her to ride with Riel to Iveny. That did not bother her. What bothered her was that Riel had not discussed the matter with her at all, or even informed her of the new plans. Instead, he’d ignored her and made arrangements directly with Lady Carlisle; as if Lucinda were a parcel to be juggled until a convenient means of delivery was found. She felt managed and ignored. It bothered her, although she did not completely understand why.
The sarcastic attitude she’d fought all day unfortunately won the battle for her tongue now. “Does it matter, Mr. Montclair? It’s your nature to take command of every situation, is it not?” She didn’t give him time to respond. “I assume you know which morsels would most please my palate.”
“Lucy,” he growled.
“What?” Her eyebrows arched.
The waitress arrived, and Lucinda ordered steak and kidney pie. She folded and refolded her damask napkin lying on the table until Riel ordered a pork roast and the waitress left
them. Then Riel’s large hand covered hers. “Lucy.”
Shock rippled through her—mostly because a lightning bolt seemed to sear from his skin to hers.
“How dare you…” Ineffectively, she tugged to free herself.
“Lucy.” His grip tightened. “I want peace between us.”
Lucinda’s face burned as she imagined the others at the inn staring at them. Perhaps…horror of horrors…presuming them man and wife! She hissed, “Unhand me at once.”
“Listen to me.”
Lucinda kicked his boot. A flush rose on his cheekbones. Never before had she created that desired effect. Finally, she might win one of their confrontations. “If you will be brutish, so will I,” she warned. “Now, unhand me.”
His black brows drew together, and his other hand captured her free one. “I want to speak, not fight, Lucy.”
She jerked discretely at her captured appendages. Mortification arose. Now people were staring! “You are making a spectacle,” she snapped.
He watched her for a moment, his frustration and incomprehension clear. He could not understand why she disliked being manhandled? Let’s see how he liked it.
Lucinda kicked his shin hard beneath the table. “I do not like being groped, Mr. Montclair. Release me at once. Before more people turn to frown upon your behavior.”
A dangerous glint hardened those black eyes. “You have not seen a spectacle, Lucy. Would you like me to make one?”
She gasped, and her cheeks flushed hotter. Who knew what depravities lurked in his black, barbarian’s heart? She could well imagine a pirate like him throwing her over his shoulder and mounting the stairs, as if to the rooms above, just to mortify her into submission.
“I hate you!” she choked out. “I hate you with every fiber in me!”
He released her hands, and she instantly tucked them into her lap and refused to look at him. Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, either.
The waitress arrived with their meals and Lucinda poked at the steak pie with her fork. Her stomach growled, so she swallowed the lump in her throat and forced down a few bites. Iveny was still hours away. She would not starve in the meantime, simply because this man chased away her appetite.
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