by Annette Lyon
Why would Lucy bring all her belongings to her parents’ home?
Reed climbed out of the carriage and made his way to the door. A moment later, the very proper butler welcomed him inside. As a member of the family, Reed wouldn’t be required to stand on ceremony the way a visitor would.
“Good afternoon, Graves.” Reed gave the butler a quick nod of acknowledgement.
“If you would, please, sir your calling card.” Graves held his hand out, his bearing as haughty as any proper butler’s ought to be, but with the smallest hint of apology in his eyes.
Reed didn’t immediately comply. He was family. Family didn’t generally present their cards when visiting. But Graves didn’t give over.
Perhaps old Graves is beginning to lose hold of his faculties.
Reed pulled his card case from his jacket pocket and took one out. He handed it to the butler, unsure what to expect. The butler dipped his head and disappeared up the stairs.
Poor man must be feeling off today. He left me waiting here as though I were a presumptuous mushroom rather than a member of the family.
The grandfather clock near the door loudly counted off the seconds as Reed stood in solitary silence. Even if Lucy had left already, Reed’s parents-in-law should have welcomed him in with none of the formality generally required of a caller.
Lucy’s mother appeared at the top of the stairs. “Mr. Stanthorpe. What a pleasure to see you again.”
She didn’t come toward the entry way, but stood looking down on him, her bearing regal and unfailingly polite. And she’d called him “Mr. Stanthorpe,” a formality they’d done away with not long after he’d married her daughter.
“Mother Harrison,” he greeted, trying to clamp down his growing confusion. “I had hoped to speak with Lucy. I understood she was here.”
She gave him a patient smile. “Now, now, Mr. Stanthorpe. Our at-home day is Friday. Today, as you must know, is Thursday.”
What the deuce did their at-home hours have to do with the matter? He’d come for his wife. He wasn’t some hapless suitor or socially inept neighbor.
“Do come by tomorrow during our at-home,” Mrs. Harrison said. She gave him a quick smile and turned about, walking away with no further explanation.
What the blazes was that about? A few of his cronies had spoken of their mothers-in-law in terms one generally reserved for rabid and difficult dogs, but Reed had never seen Mother Harrison act the part of a dragon. She’d always been kind and affectionate toward him.
“Psst.”
Reed glanced about but couldn’t identify the source.
“Psssst.” The sound was louder, more urgent than before. “Reed, my boy. Up here.”
He followed the voice and spotted his father-in-law on the first floor-landing above. Mr. Harrison waved him up.
“Quickly, son, before the ladies spot you.”
Reed heard in Mr. Harrison’s voice the promise of an explanation and didn’t hesitate. He took the stairs two at a time then followed Mr. Harrison down the corridor. He’d never before thought of his father-in-law as spry, but the gentleman was making short work of their journey.
Mr. Harrison pulled open the door to his book room, a room Reed had been in more than once. “Inside. I don’t think they’ve seen you.”
Why was not being seen so important when Reed had come specifically to see someone? He stepped into the book room and found it wasn’t empty. His brothers-in-law, both of them, sat near the fireplace, watching his entrance.
“Robert,” he said. “Charles.”
“Good afternoon, you twit,” Charles greeted him with a smile. He was married to Lucy’s older sister and was the closer of the two gentleman to Reed’s age.
Mr. Harrison had taken his place in a leather armchair near his sons-in-law. All three watched Reed with looks of almost comical concern.
“What is this?” Reed asked. “A council of war?”
“We are staging a daring rescue.” Mr. Harrison’s tone was utterly serious, though his eyes twinkled with a bit of mischievousness.
“And whom are you rescuing?” Though he asked the question, he suspected he knew the answer.
“Have a seat, son.” Mr. Harrison motioned to the empty spot on the sofa. “We are here to save you from yourself.”
Reed looked at them each in turn. “Save me from myself?”
“Apparently, brother,” Charles said, “you told your wife that husbands aren’t required to squire their wives around, and that attending social functions is a distasteful chore.”
“But it is a distasteful chore.”
“Oh, we all know that,” Robert, Lucy’s brother, replied. “But we have the sense to not say as much to our wives.”
“I—” Reed had a sudden realization. “How do the three of you know about that conversation?”
“Lucy arrived this morning with a bee in her bonnet,” Mr. Harrison said. “She and her mother closed themselves up in the sitting room for a full hour. Then the flood of Harrison ladies began.”
Robert took up the tale. “Mother sent notes to Clarissa and Amelia, insisting they were needed ‘immediately’ to sort out a problem of ‘unparalleled urgency.’ Your fateful error was revealed, and here we all are.”
“So Lucy was here.” He hadn’t managed a straight answer from Mrs. Harrison.
“Is here, my friend.” Charles looked ready to burst out laughing. “Lucy is here.”
“Perfect.” Reed stood up. “Nice to see you all again.”
“Sit, you muttonhead.” Charles went so far as to roll his eyes. “You are in far too deep to get out that easily.”
He slowly lowered into his seat. “I think you had better tell me the whole story.”
“First,” Charles said, “you never tell your wife that time spent with her is a ‘chore.’ She’ll think that means you don’t care for her company.”
“But that’s not what I said.”
“It doesn’t matter what you say,” Charles insisted. “All that matters is what she hears, and the two are often very different from each other.”
“Furthermore,” Mr. Harrison said. “There is nothing a husband is permitted to believe he is no longer required to do once he is married. Though the list of things we’d prefer not to do is long and detailed, we keep that list to ourselves.”
“Are you trying to say that I’m in trouble with Lucy?”
“You have moved far beyond trouble,” Charles said.
All three men were clearly laughing at him. Either Lucy wasn’t as upset with him as they were letting on, or they were enjoying the thought of his apparent impending doom. “And I am in my wife’s black books because I told her that gentlemen don’t actually enjoy balls?”
“Yes,” Mr. Harrison said. “And that spending time with her was unpleasant.”
“I never said that.”
“Again,” Charles jumped in. “What you said is of little importance.”
Mr. Harrison continued with his explanation. “Lucy told her sympathetic female relations that you haven’t attended any balls with her since arriving in London. You have refused to attend any number of Society functions— most of them, in fact.”
Reed leaned back, eyeing them each in turn. He could feel something like a smirk tug at his mouth. “So you are all envious, that’s what this is. You have been forced to attend those things and can’t believe I managed to get out of the obligation.”
“Envious?” Robert actually chuckled. “Our wives aren’t in the sitting room conspiring against us, Reed. I think you are the one who ought to be jealous.”
“Conspiring against me?”
Mr. Harrison’s grin only grew. “The ladies of this family mean to teach you a lesson, son. And if I know them as well as I think I do, they will succeed.”
“What is it to be, then?” Reed asked. “Am I to be stretched on the rack or locked up in the dungeon?”
“Worse even than either.” Mr. Harrison’s eyes danced with amusement. “You are to
be forced to court your own wife.”
“Oh, good heavens,” Reed muttered, beginning to understand what his father-in-law was hinting at.
“You are to be subjected to at-homes and requesting permission to dance at balls and visits to the family box at the opera. And I have been instructed to make it difficult for you.” Mr. Harrison’s look of empathy clearly indicated he would do nothing of the sort. “Never tell your wife that you’re not required to court her unless you are fully prepared to do so.”
Reed shook his head in disbelief. “Where in the world did this come from? Lucy didn’t seem upset last night.”
Charles and Robert exchanged knowing looks. Reed eyed them both. Charles took pity on him and explained.
“Considering the number of social functions we have not seen you at this Season, I am certain Lucy has been stewing over this for some time. She might not have seemed upset last night, but I can guarantee she was.”
Robert nodded. “And since all of our wives have, at one time or another, been upset with us over our disinterest in squiring them about, Lucy has found an entire house full of sympathizers.”
“I will have to go through with this, then?” Reed slumped lower in his seat. This Season was supposed to have been simple and easy.
“Yes.” Mr. Harrison pulled the single syllable out long. Spoken in that way, his yes sounded far more like “in a manner of speaking.”
Reed’s companions looked at him pointedly, their expressions growing instantly conspiratorially.
He leaned forward. “What do you have in mind?”
Chapter Four
Lucy sat in her parents’ drawing room, chatting amicably with many visitors, as she had the previous two Seasons. And, as she had the year before, she found herself watching the door, hoping each new arrival was her Reed. A flutter of anticipation seized her with the very first visitor and only grew as time passed.
I have missed this.
Though last Season, not knowing if he would visit or dance with her, or invite her to ride out with him had been a source of worry, every time he had come by or had spoken to her or sent her flowers, she’d known with absolute certainty that he cared about her. She’d known he thought her worth the effort. That was what she’d missed— the little things that said he valued her.
Their at-home hours were nearly gone. Lucy caught her mother’s eye, silently asking the question on her mind. Where is Reed?
Mother’s eyes softened, and she gave a quick nod of reassurance. She had insisted, along with Lucy’s sister and sister-in-law, that Reed would most certainly come call on her. Husbands grew lonely for their wives, they said. Having not seen her in a day and a half, Reed would realize how much he enjoyed her company and would do whatever he must to see her.
That was the crux of their plan, at least. Reed took her for granted. Requiring him to make even a minimal effort would show him how fortunate he was to have her as his wife. Perhaps he would decide that dancing with her and accompanying her to Society functions were not such chores after all.
Only a moment more passed, and there he stood. Reed greeted Mother first, as was proper, she being the hostess of this at-home. He smiled and nodded at the others in the room, a quick and unexceptional means of acknowledging everyone without taking time to do so individually.
Which will mean more time for the two of us to converse.
Reed took the empty chair nearest her. She kept her eyes trained on him, her smile feeling more natural by the moment. He was here. He had come.
His eyes met hers. She held her breath, excitedly anticipating the twinkle of mischief she’d so often seen there. But his gaze was little more than polite.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Stanthorpe,” he said, his voice low enough to not be overheard by those conversing with her mother and sister. “Fine weather we are having.”
Mrs. Stanthorpe? They had on occasion resorted to formal address with each other when in public, especially amongst the older set, who were quite particular about that. But it was decidedly odd for him to not call her by her Christian name in her own parents’ house, when they were the only two taking part in the conversation.
And had his first words to her after more than a day apart truly been a comment on the weather?
“Yes,” she managed to reply. “It has been very dry.”
Reed wore the same smile as when he’d first stepped inside. There was nothing particularly personal in it. “I understand the Hombolts’ ball is this evening.”
Now they were getting somewhere. “It is indeed.” She didn’t entirely manage to keep the eagerness from her voice. “Are you planning to attend?”
He shrugged a bit as he reached for a cucumber sandwich. “It will, no doubt, be a terrible crush. Any gentleman with a modicum of sense will stay home.”
“Oh.” What could she say beyond that? He didn’t mean to attend. Perhaps he thought she wasn’t attending. That would certainly explain it. “I am quite looking forward to the Hombolts’ ball.”
He made a vague sound of acknowledgement. “This cucumber sandwich is excellent.” Reed turned his attention to Mother. “An exceptional sandwich, Mrs. Harrison.”
“Why, thank you.” Mother’s eyes darted to Lucy, a look of triumph in her eyes. Did she honestly think Reed’s complement of her tea offerings was a sign of success?
“Well, ladies.” Reed stood and took in the room with a quick sweep of his gaze. “It has been a pleasure visiting with you all.”
And with that, he left. Two days apart, and Reed visited with her only for two minutes and spoke only of the weather and cucumber sandwiches. What an utter disappointment.
She rose from her chair. “If you will excuse me, Mother,” she said quickly, and left the drawing room with as much dignity as she could summon.
The moment she reached the corridor, she took up a brisk pace, rushing up the stairs to her bedchamber. She hurried to her window, drew back the curtains, and looked down at the street below. Reed walked from the house at a leisurely pace, swinging his walking stick as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
She pressed her open hand to the glass, watching him leave her behind without a single backward glance. “Haven’t you missed me at all?” she whispered.
“I am not convinced this is a wise course of action.” Reed resisted his brother-in-law’s efforts to nudge him into the Hombolts’ ballroom.
“Nonsense,” Robert insisted. “Everything is working perfectly.”
Perfectly? If everything was so perfect, why was he keeping company with his brother-in-law instead of his wife? Reed considered that a significant step in the wrong direction.
“Stick with the plan, Reed,” Robert said. “You’ll not only settle your current contretemps, but you’ll save yourself a great deal of misery down the road.” Robert gave him a significant look. “You’re a married man now. If you don’t put your foot down, you’ll soon become extremely well-acquainted with misery.”
“That is a fine thing to say about your own sister.”
“You are the one who married her and turned her into a wife. She was a fine, sensible sort of lady before that.” Robert gave him one final nudge, forcing him into the ballroom. “Time to face down the dragon.”
Reed straightened the cuffs of his jacket. “First she’s a wife, and now she’s a dragon. How much worse can this get?”
“Your mother-in-law is approaching,” Robert answered.
“So quite a bit worse.” He shot Robert a grin.
Robert laughed as they walked around the edge of the ballroom. “Mother isn’t so terrible as some.”
True. He was exceptionally fond of Lucy’s family, even if its ladies were currently making life difficult for him.
“Mrs. Harris,” he said. “It is indeed a pleasure to see you again.”
She smiled. “I know the look of a suitor when I see one. I daresay you’ve come to ask permission to dance with our Lucy.”
Robert pierced him with a significant look. Re
ed gave a subtle nod. He knew his part. “I am promised already for the next several dances,” he said. “But should I have dance free before I quit the ball, I will be certain to seek your daughter out.”
Mrs. Harris’s eyes pulled wide with shock. Reed offered a very appropriate bow and took leave of his mother-in-law. He glanced back only briefly. Robert, who still stood by his mother, gave him a firm nod of approval. Their plan was moving along nicely.
Why, then, do I feel so utterly dissatisfied?
He saw her in the next moment— his Lucy. She stood amongst a group of her friends, chatting away. Even from a distance, he could see the sparkle in her eyes. The first time he ever saw Lucy was at a ball, like this one. She’d been standing, as now. At first he’d taken only a passing notice of her. But then she’d smiled, and Reed hadn’t been able to look away.
He hadn’t managed to summon the courage to pay her court until the start of the next Season. Fortunately, he’d not turned coward then. He’d asked her to dance, and she’d agreed. At the end of that Season, he’d asked her to marry him, and she’d agreed.
What went wrong? Why has this Season been so miserably disastrous?
She hadn’t been satisfied with his company any longer. Every evening, it was the same complaint— she didn’t want to be at home with him. She wished to be out with Society and her friends.
Mr. Harrison appeared at his side unannounced, “You’re not turning lily-livered on us, are you?”
“Not lily-livered. I only—” His eyes returned to Lucy. “I was only wishing things were different between Lucy and me.”
“They will be, my boy.” Mr. Harrison slapped a firm hand on his shoulder. “Your marriage’ll be happy and loving again, just as soon as you’ve ignored your wife properly.”
“I am beginning to suspect, Mr. Harrison, that your entire family is a bit touched in the upper works.”
“Nothing mad about it, Reed. It’s a fine plan.”
He was attending a ball, something he generally did his utmost to avoid, and his wife, whom he’d not really seen in two days, was there. This “fine” plan required him to not dance with her— indeed, to not even talk to her. That seemed a little daft.
