Lucy glanced at him. “That is very old indeed.”
“Yes, indeed!” he returned gleefully. “And now we are to discover whether it is any good.”
Lucy stood up suddenly. “I beg you will forgive me, Henry, but I fear I have the headache. You must excuse me, but I believe I should retire.”
He frowned and appeared quite concerned. “Of course. I am very sorry you must go. Do you need a doctor?”
She shook her head and smiled. “No, ’tis only the headache. It will pass.”
“What is this?” Lady Sandifort called out, addressing Henry. “Did I hear you say thirty-year-old brandy?”
“Yes, my lady. Will you join us?”
“With pleasure. I am sorry you are feeling unwell, Lucy. I hope your head is better in the morning.” She approached Lucy and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then swept past her.
Lucy’s nostrils were filled with the scent of roses, which Lady Sandifort wore heavily. She bid good night to Robert, then walked quickly from the armory. Just as she reached the stairs, however, she heard running steps behind her. Robert caught her arm.
“I am so sorry. I have made you uncomfortable and all because you offered me a very sweet compliment. I vow I do not know how I could have lost my head. I should never have kissed you. It will not happen again.”
Lucy’s throat felt very tight. Why did he not wish it to happen again? “Good night,” she said, her throat beginning to ache. She turned and walked slowly up the stairs. She felt rather than saw that he remained at the bottom step watching her go. When she was halfway, she heard his footsteps fading down the hall as he returned to the armory.
Later, Lucy lay in bed. She had never known her heart to feel so heavy. She did not understand what had just happened, how it was she had let Robert kiss her again. Worse, however, was how wonderful the kiss had been, how utterly transported she had felt, as though kissing Robert had the ability to make her feel that she was no longer at Aldershaw but in some magical place that belonged only to them, almost like the sweetest of dreams from which she never wanted to awaken.
She had found it utterly impossible to remain in the drawing room once Henry returned. She was feeling far too much, her senses were completely overwhelmed, and she did not know how she could have sustained a meaningful conversation with anyone under such circumstances. Yet so much was left unsaid that surely needed to be said, only why did Robert follow her and make such a hurtful statement? Why should he not have kissed her? Why? Why did he not desire to kiss her again?
Another question, perhaps more critical, rose within her mind. Why had he kissed her? What was it that had prompted him this evening to so gently take her in his arms? Was he perhaps feeling something for her of a truly romantic nature, something he wished to deny? And what of her own conduct, was it possible that she was actually tumbling in love with Robert Sandifort?
She covered her face with her pillow. Was she in love with him, and if not, why then did she let him kiss her? Except that he was being so tender and so sweet, and his eyes, oh the expression in his eyes had been so passionate! How could she have resisted such a kiss?
At the same time, she needed to know what his thoughts had truly been when he kissed her. Was it possible he was coming to love her?
The next day, Lucy found herself arguing the subject with Robert.
“But you kissed me!” Lucy argued. “I wish to know why. I do not think I ask too much.”
Robert would not face her but stared out the window of the library, his hands clasped behind his back. “Why must you press me when I have already told you that I erred in doing so, that it was but an inexplicable impulse of the moment, that you were merely looking very pretty and that I should not have kissed you? Why will this not satisfy you?”
“But why was it so wrong of you, that is what I wish to know? Perhaps we all have impulses, but why do you insist that you erred?”
“For a dozen reasons. I am your guardian, for one. You are residing beneath my roof, for another. I have no serious intentions toward you. I am not courting you with the intention of marriage.” He turned back. “Kissing you last night was wholly improper and imprudent.”
Lucy had not slept well. She had rolled about on her bed, turning this way and that nearly the entire night, trying to determine just what had happened last night. She could make no sense of it. “You and I quarrel nearly every time we are together. So how did you come to kiss me?”
He stared at her. “In one sense, that is the most ridiculous question you could ask. You might rather ask how I keep from kissing you one minute out of two, or do you not know how beautiful you are or how desirable?”
Lucy listened to his words and thought she had never heard anything so absurd in her life. “You truly kissed me merely because I am pretty?”
“Yes,” he stated flatly.
“Nothing more?”
“What more could there be?”
“A great deal more. Perhaps that you hold me in some affection.”
“I suppose I do,” he responded rationally. “However, nothing to signify. You have too many flaws for me to have any serious feelings toward you.”
“Too many flaws?” she retorted, appalled.
“Oh, now do not get on your high ropes, Lucy. I am certain any other gentleman would not mind that you are willful and stubborn, that you are officious and interfering, but I think these faults quite serious, indeed.”
“Your list has slipped from your tongue so swiftly that I begin to think you ponder my flaws quite frequently.”
“Well, yes, I suppose I do. Naturally, I remain silent most of the time because it serves no purpose to say something which I know will set up your back.”
She lifted a brow. “I wonder you can bear to speak to me at all.”
“Now, Lucy, do not be dramatic.”
Having heard enough, Lucy turned on her heel and quit the room. She had tossed on her bed all night for this, to hear Robert say he had only kissed her because she was pretty? Good God, he was scarcely better than Valmaston!
For a moment, Robert thought she might slam the door, but she did not. He had let her go, feeling an enormous twinge of guilt, yet he did not comprehend why, precisely. Certainly he had already apologized again for kissing her and that should be an end of it. Yet for some reason he felt incomprehensibly uneasy about the situation. Well, perhaps not incomprehensibly, since he had, after all, kissed the young woman with whom his own brother had already confessed to being quite deeply in love.
He sank into his favorite chair and put his head in his hands. Whatever concerns he had about Lucy’s heart, they were not nearly so significant compared to how badly he knew he had used his own brother! He understood Henry’s sentiments quite well. Henry doted on Lucy. Whenever she but entered a room, he had eyes for no one else. He was always the first to offer her a chair, the first to speak with her, the first to tend to her comforts. But worse, however, were the poems! Good God, the poems! By the score he had written them to his beloved Lucy. He even suspected that Henry was intending to have them published, the whole work dedicated to her.
The promise therefore that he had made to Lucy last night not to kiss her again had been proffered more for Henry’s sake than for hers or even for his own.
As these thoughts went round and round his head, he realized how little he was considering Lucy’s feelings. She was the one he had importuned and therefore she ought to be the one for whom he felt the greatest dismay, not Henry.
Very well, he had used them both quite ill. There was no justifying what he had done, and to some degree no comprehending what he had done either, and worse still no denying that kissing her again had been one of the most extraordinary moments of his life. He lifted his head from his hands and let this thought dwell in him for a long moment. How could he describe what it had been like to hold her in his arms, to kiss her? He had wanted her and something more. He had wanted to take her to his bed. He had wanted to love her as he would love a wife and he had wanted
her desperately.
There had been nothing weak in the desire he had felt for her last night, so that in all his consternation at having kissed her, these feelings confounded him the most. Was it merely that Lucy was living in his house and caring for his home as well as his youngest siblings that he must desire her in this way, or was it possible . . . ?
No, he would not let such thoughts enter his mind, even in the smallest sense. His feelings, even his desires were not to be considered in this situation, not when he had betrayed his brother by kissing Lucy. His conduct had been wholly dishonorable, but none of this could he have said to her, so he had told a whisker—that the only reason he had kissed her was because she was pretty.
Over the next several days Robert found his attention wandering to Lucy more often than he wished. For all his careful reasoning he often found that in the course of his activities, if she but came within his view, everything else was forgotten. Of course, it did not help at all that, though her taste in fashion was not always reasonable, she was always the picture of glowing beauty. There was something about the way she chose to live that lit her complexion from within. Her smile was quite infectious. She had but to enter a room and very soon everyone was laughing. He found he was most often drawn to her when she was engaged in playing with Hyacinth and Violet, Eugenia, and even William. She had a natural rapport with the children that warmed his heart, however ill his opinions might be of her otherwise.
He had spoken his mind frankly about her flaws and he had not regretted doing so. For one thing, she seemed less inclined to engage him in conversation afterward and that was a good thing, especially where her blossoming romance with Henry was concerned. For another, Lucy ought to be informed about the ways that she needed to be improved. How else would she mature into a proper sort of young woman if all her friends remained silent?
He knew he had offended her by speaking so plainly. From that time forth she had avoided him. At first he had been grateful, since he desired nothing more than to keep her at a distance. After a sennight, however, of being favored with brief responses to his questions, with restraint in her blue eyes whenever she would meet his gaze, and indifference to any subject he put forward, he found himself growing restless, even irritable. He did not like to be on unhappy terms with anyone, and especially not the young woman who had brought so much peace and even joy to his home.
He strove therefore over the next several days to speak more kindly to her, to listen with greater consideration and politeness to all her conversations, and certainly to withhold any biting observations of her character. Though he believed himself in the right, he did not like that she was so withdrawn in his presence. She began to relax in his company and to be more talkative and lively, as was her custom, so he knew he was making progress.
“Lucy, I must ask you,” Hetty began quietly. “Why have you been so remote in your discourse with Robert?”
Lucy glanced at her friend and could not help but smile. They were on another long walk with Eugenia and the youngest Sandiforts, this time paying a visit to the stables before returning to the garden through an entrance near the home wood. Mr. Frome was their object. She carried a basket of treats for him that the children had collected from Cook. An excursion to pay a call on Jeremy Frome had become a daily event not to be missed.
“If you must know, nearly a sennight past now, your brother offended me quite sorely. Of late he has been behaving more kindly toward me so I may forgive him.”
“In what way did my brother offend you?”
“He read me a very long list of all my faults.”
“He did not!” she gasped.
“Yes, I am afraid he did.”
“What a sapscull.”
“The odd thing is,” Lucy said, slowing her walk so that the children might be out of hearing range, “I do not recall him always being so stuffy and critical. I mean, we always tended to quarrel, but when we were younger it was the natural cause of my being a child and quite provoking and his that he was older and unwilling to tolerate such provoking conduct. I also recall a time when I was seventeen or eighteen in which he was perfectly amiable and we never quarreled and he certainly was not uncivil to me. But it is even worse than incivility now, though I cannot explain how that is.”
“I believe I understand. He seems determined to search out your faults so that he does not grow too close to you. I think he fears loving anyone too much.”
Lucy turned to stare at her. Such a reason had not occurred to her before. “Do you truly think it possible?” she asked.
Hetty smiled. “Robert is not easily known. Do hold a moment.” She called out loudly, “William, be sure to ask permission of the head groom before entering the stables. Pooksgreen will not want you disturbing the horses.”
“Yes, Hetty.” William disappeared inside the stables.
The younger girls, however, did not have the same interest, so it was that they ran in the direction of a nearby pasture in which there were a great many sheep and lambs half grown.
Lucy nudged Hetty playfully. “And now there is something I have been wanting to know for ages. May I ask a very personal question?”
Hetty smiled. “I imagine I can guess. You wish to know why I have never married.”
“Well, yes.” Lucy noted that a soft smile settled quite quickly upon Hetty’s lips as well as in her soft brown eyes. She was a very pretty young woman but this sudden glow made her absolutely beautiful. She knew the truth without having to hear the words. “You are in love with someone,” she whispered.
Hetty turned shocked eyes upon her. “Why would you say that?” A blush swept over her fine complexion. “Of course I am not!”
Her protests startled Lucy. She could see that Hetty was deeply mortified but she also knew that she was telling a whisker by saying that she was not in love. She therefore spoke quickly, “I can see that I was mistaken. I do beg your pardon. It was a very impertinent remark.”
“Well, I am not in love and to answer your question, I have never married because there was no one I wished to marry, no one who truly captured my heart.” She held her head very high.
Lucy let her gaze drop to the gravel at her feet. The gravel ended and a grassy path commenced leading toward the drystone wall over which all three young girls were leaning and calling to the sheep. She had seen the truth though Hetty had denied it, yet what mystery was this? It would appear Hetty was indeed in love with someone, but with whom and for how long a time?
Lucy called to the girls, “Do be careful not to lean so far forward. You would not wish to tumble into the pasture where the sheep have been grazing.”
Hyacinth leaned back, then pulled Violet back as well. The younger girl complained but Eugenia quickly pointed out that the sheep left quite a mess behind them wherever they grazed and Violet quickly became more tractable.
Hetty chuckled. “You treat them all as your own,” she said.
“That is what Henry says. I suppose I am a little protective, though I cannot say why. Perhaps because on my first day here I heard a great deal of shrieking.”
“Oh, that. I must thank you, Lucy, for putting an end to it. We, none of us knew what to do and Lady Sandifort would insist upon having the children brought to her when it was clear it brought her little pleasure.”
“She is something of a riddle, I think. Sometimes, when she is not deliberately taunting one or the other of us, I have seen an odd, almost hurt expression in her eyes. In fact, there are times when she has the appearance of a very young child.”
Hetty elbowed her gently. “You are a very odd creature as well, Lucinda Stiles.”
Lucy chuckled. “I suppose I am. I admit as much. On another subject entirely, however, there is something I wish to put to you. What would you think of taking Anne and Alice to the next assemblies in Bickfield? I am persuaded they would each benefit from the experience, but what are your thoughts?”
Hetty seemed surprised. “I begin to think it an excellent notion and
we would have at least three weeks to prepare since the assemblies are not until the first Tuesday in August. Though I must say, Lady Sandifort will not like to take them.”
“Well,” Lucy drawled, “she will if she believes it is her idea.”
“Oh, Lucy! What a devil you are. I begin to see what you are at.”
“Never mind that and pray be discreet. I have already told you far too much and if you ever expose me to your stepmother I shall be in the basket, indeed! Only tell me, do you think it a reasonable idea, indeed? I believe it would do both of them a great deal of good to be dancing in society before they are expected to perform at a very large ball.”
“I must agree with you. Goodness, I have not been to the assemblies in years. I always enjoyed dancing.”
Again there was a secretive smile on Hetty’s lips and Lucy was intrigued once more, but she dared say nothing further.
“It is settled, then, only I beg you will say nothing until I have spoken with Lady Sandifort.”
“I only hope you will be able to persuade her.”
“As do I.”
“And now I wonder whether Mr. Frome will be serving coffee or tea today.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Once arrived at Mr. Frome’s caravan, Hyacinth called out, “Look! There is Tom! I begin to think he prefers your home to ours!”
“ ’Tis my fault,” Mr. Frome called back, smiling. “I give him pieces of ham.”
“You are a very nice man,” Violet said, drawing close to him and looking up into his face intently.
He was brewing a pot of tea, which he served to Hetty and Lucy.
“I do not know which I prefer, your coffee or your tea,” Lucy said. “Both are wonderful.” She took a sip. “How do you manage it? What is your secret?”
“Indeed, yes, Mr. Frome, “ Hetty said. “You must tell us, for no matter how well Cook prepares either I vow yours excels hers by a mile!”
“It is very simple,” he said, smiling. “Anything brewed or cooked in the open air has tenfold the flavor.”
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