The Fall of Lord Drayson (Tanglewood Book 1)

by Rachael Anderson

  “Bouquets are for everyone, Mama,” Lucy chided. “And did you really think I would allow you to walk down the aisle without one?”

  “I should have known.” Mrs. Beresford bent to press a kiss to Lucy’s forehead. “Thank you, dear girl.”

  The wedding was everything Lucy could have wished for her mother. The church was filled to bursting, and Mrs. Beresford looked resplendent walking down the aisle wearing a deep peach gown with a sheer white overskirt trimmed in white Brussels lace. A strand of pearls adorned her neck, and a joyful smile adorned her face. Georgina had styled her hair in an elegant and sophisticated twist, and Lucy had tucked in a small handful of rosebuds.

  Mr. Shepherd’s gaze remained fixed on his intended, and Lucy wondered how it would feel to have a man look at her in such a way. When her imaginings conjured up Lord Drayson standing at the altar, staring down the aisle at her, Lucy forcibly returned her mind to the ceremony. Perhaps she should do as Mr. Shepherd suggested and take up writing. It would provide an outlet for all of her silly daydreams.

  In what seemed like no time at all, Mrs. Beresford became Mrs. Shepherd, and the happy couple smiled and nodded, hugged and waved as they walked through the throng of people to the awaiting coach. Then it was off to the wedding breakfast with the Draysons, where Lucy picked at her food and said her final goodbyes to her mother and step-father. Mrs. Bidding had been good enough to host the breakfast, and Lucy gave the woman a parting hug as well.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bidding. You have been kindness itself to our family.”

  “You are most welcome, my dear,” said Mrs. Bidding with a blush. “I hear you are to stay at Tanglewood while Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd are away.”

  Lucy couldn’t tell if the woman approved or disapproved, not that it mattered. “Yes, Mrs. Bidding. I do hope you will call upon me there. I shall feel quite lost without Mama and Mr. Shepherd.”

  “You may depend upon it.” Mrs. Bidding patted her arm. “Ah, here is Lord Drayson now, ready to whisk you away to his home.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened at the woman’s choice of words. She made it sound rather indecent.

  “Well, isn’t he?” Mrs. Bidding said with a chuckle, then patted Lucy’s arm again before leaving her alone with Lord Drayson.

  Apparently Mrs. Bidding approved of her living arrangements for the next week. More than that, she seemed to find the situation rather humorous. Lucy could not understand it.

  She turned her questioning gaze on Lord Drayson, whose eyes were alight with humor as well. He held out his arm to her. “Would you care to whisk away with me?”

  “If you want the truth of it, no, I would not, but it seems I have no choice in the matter.”

  Lord Drayson lifted an eyebrow. “I think I prefer your lies over truth.”

  “In that case, Lord Drayson.” Lucy slipped her hand through his arm. “I would very much love to whisk away with you.” Interestingly enough, what Lucy thought was a lie felt much more real than the truth. Her hand sizzled where it touched his sleeve, and that rich and spicy smell she’d recently come to associate with him filled her senses.

  In that moment, Lucy knew that her heart could not withstand a day anywhere near Lord Drayson. By the end of the week, it would surely be crushed, and Lucy would be left with nothing but prickly shards.

  Much to Lucy’s surprise, Lady Harriett did not deluge Lucy with questions about her time with Lord Drayson. Rather, she took her newest acquaintance under her wing, showed her around the house, and told her all about the family’s charming estate in Danbury, along with story after story about the many scrapes she and her siblings had gotten into as children. It wasn’t long before Miss Beresford became Lucy and Lady Harriett, just Harriett.

  “I was dreadfully afraid of heights when I was young,” said Harriett. “One summer, Colin promised that if I would climb to the very top of a tree, he would procure for me one of our neighbor’s new puppies—one that Mama and Papa had already said I could not have. But I wanted the puppy so badly and believed that Colin could find a way to get it for me that I climbed and climbed and climbed. As the branches began to sway near the top, he yelled at me to come back down, but I refused. I had to touch the top so I could have my puppy.

  “‘I’ll get you that puppy,’” he screamed at me. “‘Just come down now.’”

  “So I did,” she continued. “And that very evening, he snuck the puppy into my bedchamber and informed me that he had fulfilled his end of the bargain. I now had my puppy, but it was my responsibility to convince Mama and Papa that it should remain mine. It didn’t occur to me until later that he was too frightened to ask them himself. There he was, convincing me to face one of my fears while running like a coward from one of his own.”

  Lucy laughed, thinking her time at Tanglewood might not be as uncomfortable as she had imagined. Other than the carriage ride home from the wedding and a slightly awkward dinner, she had managed to avoid Lord Drayson completely. Or perhaps he was the one managing to avoid her.

  Lucy frowned at the thought, then immediately accused herself of being a peagoose.

  The pounding of horse hooves sounded from outside, and Lucy took a few steps to the window where she had a clear view of the scene below. Riding up the path on his black horse, Lord Drayson was accompanied by his bailiff, Mr. Graham. The two swung down from their horses and were thick in conversation. At one point, Lord Drayson glanced up and noticed her standing there. He doffed his hat, and Lucy immediately stepped away from the window and spun around, only to see a calculating gleam in Harriett’s eyes.

  That night, Lucy came to understand the look.

  “Colin, I would like you to teach me the waltz,” Harriett said the moment he had joined them after dinner.

  “Pardon?” He looked at his sister as though she’d gone mad.

  She instructed two footmen to move the furniture away from the rug and extended her hands to her brother. “The waltz. You and Mother are the only two who know it, and I need her to play the pianoforte. Please? If I am to have my comeout next year, I shall need to learn at some point, right Mama?”

  Her mother set down her embroidery and gave her son a wearying glance. “You know that we will never hear the end of it if we do not humor her.”

  “She can beg until her voice grows dry,” said the earl. “I will not be persuaded to teach her the waltz.”

  “What about Lucy?” Harriett said. “Will you teach her?”

  Lucy’s eyes widened at her new friend, wondering if Harriett had, indeed, gone mad.

  “I do not believe Lucy wishes to learn the waltz,” said Lord Drayson smoothly, easing his large frame into the chair next to her.

  “Quite right,” Lucy agreed, putting what she thought was an end to Harriett’s ridiculous plan. “Waltzes are performed only at Almack’s, and I very much doubt I shall ever set foot through those doors. And besides, I do not dance.”

  “What do you mean, you do not dance?” Harriett asked. “Do you not have dances in Askern?”

  “Of course we do,” said Lucy quickly. “I meant only that I have no talent for it. I am rather adept at trodding on my partner’s toes. Not even Lord Drayson could instruct my feet how to perform properly.”

  Harriett sat up straighter and smiled at her brother. “I do believe Lucy just issued a challenge to you, brother dear. How—”

  “That was certainly not a challenge,” said Lucy, horrified that it might be construed as one. “I was merely pointing out that I cannot dance.”

  “Nonsense,” said Harriett. “You move about quite gracefully. I am certain that with proper instruction you can become a wonderful dancer.”

  “Harriett would know,” said Lord Drayson wryly.

  “I would,” Harriett agreed, choosing to ignore her brother’s sarcasm.

  Lucy directed a pleading look at the earl. She is your sister, will you please do something?

  His lips twitched a moment before he glanced at his mother, who seemed to be enjoying the exchange
immensely. “Her voice will never dry up, will it?”

  Lady Drayson smiled. “I’m afraid not.”

  He sighed, then slowly pushed himself up and extended a hand to Lucy. “Will you do me the honor of allowing me to teach you the waltz so that my dear sister will cease her prattling?”

  “But she is the one who wishes to learn it,” argued Lucy. “Not I.”

  “I believe I shall learn much better by watching,” Harriett said quickly, proving that this had been her plan all along.

  Panicked, Lucy gave it one last attempt. “But your toes, my lord.”

  “Have been trod on before,” he said with a smile, hand still extended. “My nerves, on the other hand, can only withstand so much more.”

  Feeling as though she had been trapped into a corner with no means of escape, Lucy glanced at Lady Drayson for help, but the lady was already seated at the pianoforte, ready to play.

  Lord Drayson wiggled his fingers. “Please, Lucy?”

  Seeing no way out, she placed her fingers lightly in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He led her to the middle of the room, positioned her left hand on his shoulder, clasped her right fingers in his, and rested his left hand at her waist. Lucy’s entire body trembled at his touch and her heart danced a waltz on its own.

  The music began, and Lord Drayson explained the movements of the dance, saying something about one-two-three and moving forward and backward. Lucy tried to listen, she really did, but his scent invaded her nose, his voice reverberated in her ears, and his smile made her stomach lurch this way and that. And then he pulled her even closer and began stepping back, sideways, and forward. Lucy remained a half a step behind him the entire time. She tried to focus on the movements, but her gaze remained locked on his, and her feet moved wherever they needed to move to keep her upright.

  Lord Drayson slowed his steps, and his voice finally broke through the fog in her brain. “Don’t think so hard,” he said quietly. “Simply listen to the music, feel its rhythm, and allow me to guide you.”

  He began counting again, and Lucy drew in a deep breath, trying to do as he said. Gradually, her breathing evened, the fog in her mind cleared somewhat, and she began to grasp the movements, which surprisingly, weren’t overly difficult. Forward-side-back, then back-side-forward. And repeat.

  As the song drew to an end, Lucy’s mind had entered the doors of Almack’s, and she was dancing in the center of the assembly room with none other than Lord Drayson. All eyes were on them. Some were curious, some envious, some disapproving, and some pleased, but Lucy didn’t care about any of them. All she cared about was the feel of Lord Drayson’s arms around her, the warmth in his eyes, and the touch of a smile on his lips.

  “Would you care to dance another one?” his voice intruded into her thoughts, pulling Lucy back to the present, where her hands still clung to him even though the song had ended.

  She immediately dropped her hands to her side and stepped away from him. “I believe I know it well enough now. Perhaps you will allow Harriett to take a turn.”

  The earl smiled. “For you, perhaps I will.”

  “Truly?” Harriett leapt out of her seat and grabbed her brother’s hands before he could retract his offer.

  “But only,” added her brother firmly, “if you allow me to lead.”

  “What are you talking about? A man always leads,” said Harriett. But as soon as the music started, she pushed her brother forward, sideways, and backwards, practically dragging him through the steps of the waltz. Throughout the dance, he directed dramatic and humorous glances at Lucy, appearing pained or bored or even scared. Harriett whacked his shoulder with each look, and Lucy’s lips soon ached from the strain of trying not to laugh. It was a side of him she had not seen before, and she found she rather liked it.

  That night, as Lucy lay in a soft and comfortable bed, staring at the embossed designs that pattered the ceiling, she thought that perhaps she wasn’t as opposed to dancing as she used to think.

  Lucy quickened her steps when the pounding of hooves sounded behind her, wishing whoever it was would leave her in peace. It was her third day at Tanglewood Manor and the first time she had been able to sneak away without Harriett or Georgina in tow. Lucy wanted to check on her garden and perhaps harvest a few of the carrots to share with Tanglewood’s wonderful cook.

  The basket she carried swayed with each step, and as the horse neared, she glanced over her shoulder. The earl pulled Darling to a stop about twenty paces away and jumped from the horse’s back. Lucy stopped as well and turned, wondering what he wanted now.

  Only this morning he had waylaid her after breakfast to tell her about a book he thought she might like. A few hours later he had found her again, wanting her opinion on what flowers to plant in a certain area of the garden. Now here he was again, upsetting the peace she had only begun to feel.

  The way Lucy reacted to him reminded her of a small morning glory flower. When the sun rose, the vibrant petals uncurled and blossomed, but when darkness came, it shriveled back into a pathetic little ball. It was the same with Lucy whenever Lord Drayson came near. She would immediately blossom, only to shrivel when he left. He was wreaking havoc with her peace of mind, and she wished so badly that she could return to Knotting Tree where she could avoid him completely.

  “Where are you off to this afternoon?” said the earl as he approached, keeping his horse a safe distance behind him.

  “I intend to harvest a few of my carrots and clip some roses, along with a few other things for a flower arrangement for your mother.”

  “Your carrots?” He quirked an eyebrow beneath the brim of his beaver. “Surely the labor of tilling the ground has earned me some stake in the harvest.”

  Lucy pretended to give it some thought before nodding. “I suppose you may have ten percent.”

  He chuckled. “If I help with the harvesting?”

  Not wanting to encourage him to linger, Lucy pronounced, “Eight percent.”

  “Eight!”

  “I’m afraid so,” she answered, nodding solemnly. “I have seen you help with plants before. They have all wound up torn to shreds in a disorderly heap. I would not wish such a thing to happen to my—” she cleared her throat and corrected, “our carrots.”

  “I must protest,” he said. “The only help I have given with regard to plants has been to cut the grass and rid the beds of weeds. Surely you did not expect gentle treatment of those.”

  “Of course not. It simply did not inspire any confidence in your ability to handle tender carrots or flowers with care.”

  He stopped abruptly and took hold of her arm, turning her to face him. “Lucy, if you do not wish me to help with our garden, simply say as much and I will leave you to it.”

  “I . . .” Here was her chance to tell him that she wished him to always leave her to it. She needed him to stay far away from her heart, mind, and person so that she could find a way to move on with her life without constantly thinking of him or missing him or aching to be held by him.

  But the words felt stuck in her throat, and in the end, all that came out was a strangled “No.” She pulled her arm from his grasp and began walking again, hoping he wouldn’t follow and yet wishing he would. Her emotions felt so muddled.

  Unfortunately—or was it fortunately?—her wish was granted because he soon caught up. “What does ‘no’ mean exactly?”

  “It means no,” she repeated, the words coming easier this time. “I do not wish you to help.”

  “What about taking a drive with me once you have finished?”

  “No.” The word practically flowed off her tongue now.

  “A riding lesson tomorrow?”

  “No.”

  He caught her arm again and stepped in front of her to stop her progress. Lucy noticed that he’d left Darling to graze in the meadow several paces behind them. “Why do you try so hard to keep your distance from me?” he asked. “I thought we were friends, and yet you refuse to call me Colin, you do no
t want to stand up with me, ride with me, or allow me to help you with our garden, and you stiffen every time I come near, as though I am abhorrent to you. And yet you didn’t seem to find me abhorrent when I was Collins. I cannot understand it.”

  “Friends, you say?” Lucy said, feeling her frustration rise to the surface and erupt like a stepped-upon hill of ants. “I do not think you know the definition of friendship if you think we are friends.”

  His eyes widened, and he studied her for a moment before saying, “Pray enlighten me then. What is your definition of friendship?”

  Lucy was losing patience. For an intelligent creature, he was being incredibly dim-witted. “Why are you here, Lord Drayson? What purpose do you have in coming all this way with your mother and sister? How long do you plan to remain, and what in heaven’s name do you want from me? I have apologized for what I have done to you, and my mother and I have removed ourselves from the dower house. I see no reason for you to still—”

  Lord Drayson’s hands framed her face and his lips pressed against hers. Lucy gasped and froze, but once her initial shock subsided, the basket she carried dropped to the ground, and she began returning his kiss with vigor. Her mouth moved across his, and her hands clenched the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer. His fingers worked their way from her cheeks to her hair, pulling several strands free from the pins.

  Lucy kissed him as she had never kissed him before. It was as though someone popped the cork on her carefully guarded emotions and they came bursting out, one after the other. She wanted so much from this man while knowing she didn’t deserve anything. Yet she continued to kiss him with all the energy she possessed. She kissed him until her breath was spent, and she had to pull away for air.

  She buried her face in his shirt, feeling like a wanton for needing his arms around her more than ever. Against her cheek, his chest rose and fell as quickly as hers.

  “That is the reason I returned,” he said, keeping his arms locked tight about her.