by Darcy Burke
Hell and damnation, he’d botched things badly with her. Having her stay had been a colossal mistake, but he oughtn’t have thrown her out like that. He wished he’d behaved differently, but he’d been incapacitated by another one of his attacks. The ones that accompanied his nightmares were particularly devastating, driving him to take to his bed for the rest of the day. He’d blamed his injuries and was actually grateful for the opportunity to hide behind them.
He was such a coward.
“My lord?” Tindall came into his chamber as he did every morning, except the last several because Andrew had sent him back to London so that he could care for his mother.
“How is Mrs. Tindall?” Andrew asked, sitting up.
The valet came inside and closed the door behind him. He stood near the bed, his spine ramrod straight, his features composed. “Quite well, thank you, my lord. The medicine seems to have improved her condition. I can’t thank you enough for sending the physician.”
Andrew wasn’t terribly comfortable with the praise, especially when he was feeling ashamed about the way he’d treated Lucy. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Tindall coughed softly. “Now that she’s on the mend, I shall take up my search for a new position. I do appreciate your patience.”
This news should’ve filled Andrew with relief, but he felt…odd. He’d missed Tindall while he’d been at Darent Hall. He was an exceptionally fine valet, anticipating Andrew’s every need and exceeding his expectations.
He expressed none of this to Tindall.
“Have you set your schedule today, my lord?”
Andrew had a meeting with his secretary later this morning and should visit his club later. No, what he should do was call on Lucy. He owed her an apology at least and perhaps even an explanation. He’d go after his appointment.
After sharing his plans with Tindall, he dressed for the day and went down for breakfast. Instead of thinking about his business matters, however, he could think only of Lucy and what to say to her. She had to be terribly angry. And concerned—she needed money, and he’d abandoned her in her time of need. He’d already decided it wouldn’t be wise for them to continue visiting gaming hells. Then he’d gone and taken her into his bed, and he wasn’t sure how it would be to see her again.
He felt a powerful attraction toward her. Plus, he liked her. What a disastrous combination.
No, they needed to part ways, much as that disappointed him. He’d have to think of another way to help fill her coffers. Perhaps he could sell something for her. In fact, why hadn’t he offered that in the first place? Because he’d thought their enterprise would be mildly diverting and quite temporary. Neither of those had proven true.
He could also invest whatever she had left—he winced thinking of her losses over their last few encounters together. How much had she lost with the balloon contest? He hadn’t spoken to any of the others who’d been there. A few had sent notes to Darent Hall inquiring after him, but he hadn’t responded. He owed several apologies, he realized, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Why should he apologize? He hadn’t invited them, and he didn’t care what they thought of his rudeness.
As he ate breakfast, he turned his mind back to Lucy’s financial problems. He’d talk to his secretary about investment opportunities with a fast return. And if there were none, he could just fabricate something and give her the money himself. Yes, that was what he should have done from the start—given her a nest egg and offered to invest it for her. She probably would have refused, given her independent nature, but she was also practical. She’d come around to the logic of it and accept his offer.
Feeling much better about his ability to help her, he went into his meeting with a sense of optimism toward the rest of his day. He ignored the pang of anticipation he felt at the prospect of seeing her. He’d keep their association focused on business and do his best to forget her lush kisses, her audacious touch, and most of all, her surprisingly delightful concern. He could find the first two anywhere, and he didn’t need the last.
The ghost of his family told him he was very wrong. So he did what he did best and ignored them too.
Lucy scanned the advertisements for small cottages near Bath for lease. The money she’d saved would support only a very small one—she’d have to sleep in a closet—and it was farther from Bath than Grandmama would like. She had friends in Town, and the whole reason she wished to retire there was to see them more regularly.
There was no help for it—Lucy was going to have to find employment in Bath. Perhaps she could work at a school or provide secretarial assistance to a widow. Ivy had told her of women doing that.
Once, Lucy might’ve thrilled to these thoughts. She didn’t mind employment and would appreciate the independence it would afford. She imagined feeling a sense of accomplishment and self-worth—things she saw in Ivy and admired immensely.
Instead, these ideas made her feel forlorn and…empty. She blamed Andrew. He’d shown her what Aquilla had always insisted—that good men existed and that Lucy could find one and be happy.
Only Andrew wasn’t a good man. He was a selfish, thoughtless blackguard.
“How many times have you danced with Edgecombe, dear?” Grandmama’s question jolted Lucy from her reverie, and she was grateful for it.
Lucy had attended two balls in the past week, and she’d danced with Edgecombe at both of them. She’d also danced with a few other gentlemen, including Mr. Greene. She’d panicked when he’d first approached her, wondering if he’d somehow recognized her. But he hadn’t, much to her relief.
“Twice, Grandmama.” She hid a smile because Grandmama absolutely knew how many times they’d danced. He’d also sent flowers again.
“Three times if you count Lady Colne’s. You did dance with him then, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for Lucy to confirm this before adding, “And that’s twice he’s sent flowers. I daresay he’ll be calling very soon.” She looked up from her knitting. “It’s just splendid, isn’t it?”
No, but Lucy didn’t say so. She only murmured, “Mmm.”
“What, you don’t like Edgecombe?”
Oh, he was pleasant enough, with an easy smile, and he demonstrated at least a passing interest in Lucy as a person, asking her what she liked and even engaging in a rousing discussion about riding. “I like him fine. That doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about marriage, Grandmama. Would it be so terrible if I simply retired with you?”
“No, but that isn’t an option, I’m afraid.” She exhaled and returned her attention to her knitting.
Lucy didn’t think Grandmama had really ever considered the possibility. In her mind, Lucy had to marry.
Lucy set her newspaper aside and stood up from her chair. She went to Grandmama and squatted down in front of her. She set her hand on her grandmother’s knee and looked into her familiar, beloved face, framed by gray hair topped with a white cap. “Just think of how lovely it would be. Our own little cottage. I would take care of you and make sure you were able to do everything you wished.”
Grandmama had lifted her sherry-colored gaze partway through Lucy’s plea. Now she smiled. “It would be lovely. But you would grow bored, dear.”
“I wouldn’t.” Lucy shook her head but didn’t feel as confident as she had, say, a fortnight ago. Before she’d shared all those experiences with Andrew. Damn it all, he’d ruined everything.
Lucy heard movement and conversation from the hall. Someone must be here.
Their butler, Burton, came through their small dining room and into the sitting room. “Lady Parnell, Miss Parnell has a caller.”
Grandmama dropped her knitting needles and snapped her attention to Lucy, beaming. “It must be Edgecombe!”
Lucy, her legs starting to protest from her crouched position, stood and smoothed her hand over her skirt. She considered things she might say to Edgecombe to discourage him.
Burton glanced at Lucy briefly before returning his full attention to Grandmama. “It’s Lord Dartford
, my lady.”
Every muscle in Lucy’s body tensed. What the devil was he doing here? She looked at Grandmama, who was squinting up at the butler. “Dartford?” She swung her head to look at Lucy. “Why is he calling on you?”
For a moment, Lucy couldn’t answer. All she could think to say was a litany of things she could not say. At last she found her tongue. “I’m not certain. We danced at Lady Colne’s.”
Grandmama sat up straight. “I’d forgotten about that.” She waved a hand at the butler. “Show him in.”
Lucy smoothed a hand over the back of her hair and glanced down at her day dress. Her wardrobe was a bit lacking, and this was one of her older gowns. Ah well, she didn’t really care what he thought of her. She tilted her chin up, prepared to send him on his way as soon as possible.
But then he walked into the drawing room, and her knees went weak. She wanted to blame it on having crouched down next to Grandmama, but she knew that wasn’t the reason.
He wore a dark blue coat and tawny trousers tucked into glossy black boots. His hair was swept back from his brow, save a solitary lock grazing his forehead in rebellion. His dark eyes found hers, but only briefly. He turned to Grandmama and offered a deep bow.
“I regret that we have not been formally introduced, my lady. Please forgive my intrusion.”
Grandmama smiled, her cheeks turning pink, as she regarded him. “It is our pleasure to receive you, even if it is a bit indecorous.” She fluttered her eyelids, and if Lucy didn’t know better, she’d say her grandmother was flirting.
Andrew grinned in response, and Lucy nearly groaned. He was far too attractive when he wasn’t smiling, and then when he did so, it was as if the sun was shining on you alone. Grandmama would forget all about Edgecombe after this.
Lucy wished he hadn’t come. “To what do we owe your visit?” She considered tapping her foot to demonstrate her impatience but decided against it. Grandmama would only ask her to stop and then frown at her in perturbed disappointment.
“I hoped we might take a stroll, perhaps in your garden.” He looked past her to the doors leading to the very small patio and garden behind the town house. He could likely see that a walk in their garden would take all of about two minutes. And that was if they moved very slowly. “Or we could just stay here.”
“Why don’t you walk over to Devonshire House and back?” Grandmama suggested. “Take your maid with you.”
Andrew looked at her expectantly. Lucy looked at him with disdain.
“Burton,” Grandmama called, “fetch Lucy’s maid, and have her bring Lucy a hat and gloves.”
There was no avoiding it, apparently. Fine, she’d go on the bloody walk so she could tell him exactly what she thought of him.
Grandmama gestured for Andrew to move farther into the room. “Dartford, I don’t believe I’ve seen you much in Society. What do you do to keep yourself busy?”
“I’ve quite a number of hobbies, my lady.” He glanced toward Lucy, a hint of mischief in his eye. “I’ve acquired the nickname of the Duke of Daring.”
Lucy did groan then, but softly so that Grandmama wouldn’t hear her.
Grandmama appeared nonplussed. “But you’re not a duke.”
He laughed. “That’s what I said. Nevertheless, that’s what it is.”
“What does that even mean, ‘daring’?” Grandmama peered up at him. “What are your interests?”
Lucy leapt into the conversation, eager to show Grandmama that he was not the sort of gentleman she ought to champion. “Racing, gambling, swimming, and most recently ballooning.” She said the last word with an angry edge.
Grandmama blinked at him, her expression rapt. “You ascended in a balloon?”
“I did. Last week.”
Grandmama’s eyes lit. “How wonderful! If I were twenty years younger, I’d love to fly among the clouds.” Her gaze turned wistful.
Andrew chuckled again. “Perhaps you should be the Duchess of Daring.”
Another blush stained Grandmama’s cheeks. “I’m far too old for you, dear, but I appreciate the sentiment.” She winked at him, and Lucy nearly hugged Judith as she entered at precisely that moment, saving her from further torture as Grandmama fell even deeper under Andrew’s spell.
Judith, already garbed for their outing, handed Lucy her bonnet and her gloves.
“Thank you,” Lucy murmured.
“Have a nice walk,” Grandmama said, smiling particularly at Andrew. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Dartford.”
He bowed to her again, this time taking her hand and floating a kiss above her knuckles. “I assure you, the pleasure was entirely mine.”
Grandmama giggled softly and waved them off.
Lucy rolled her eyes as she preceded him from the room. Burton opened the door, and she left the house, going down the stairs and out along the pavement without waiting for him.
He caught up easily, coming up on her right. “You’re quite angry with me.”
She glanced at him, her eyes wide. “Why ever would you think that?”
“Because you should be. I was an ass.”
Whatever Lucy had expected, and she’d really had no idea, it wasn’t that. The ire that had propelled her from the house dissipated and was replaced with an uneasy wariness.
“Yes, you were.”
“Good, I’m glad we agree. Now we may move on.”
Lucy stopped short and stared at him as he continued for another couple of steps. Did he mean to just forget about everything that had happened at Darent Hall? “I think you owe me an explanation.”
He’d turned but didn’t meet her eyes. “There’s nothing to explain. I fell out of a balloon, and I behaved in a ghastly manner.”
He meant to blame it all on his accident? She moved closer so she could lower her voice to a near whisper. “Which part was ghastly, exactly—the part where you seduced me or the part where you evicted me from your house forever?” She delighted in the play of emotions across his face—his eyes widening, his brow furrowing, his jaw dropping for an instant.
“Did I really seduce you? I thought, and perhaps I was fabulously mistaken, that you’d shared in the seduction duties.”
“Even if I did, you didn’t answer my question, which part was ghastly? Or was it all just a tremendous, horrid mistake?”
He pressed his lips together and looked at her intently. He inched closer, keeping his voice low. “All of it was a tremendous mistake. I wouldn’t, however, characterize it as horrid. Would you?”
His gaze dipped briefly, caressing her body before piercing her with heat and desire. Damn him.
She steeled herself against the arousal he was stirring within her. “That morning was absolutely horrid. I was so worried for you, and you cast me out with no concern whatsoever. I think I deserved better than that.”
He started to touch her hand, but let go. She wished he hadn’t, but they were standing on a public street. She understood why they couldn’t do that. Not here. Not anywhere, really. He’d said what she knew in her heart—it had all been a mistake.
“You deserved far better than everything that happened. I mistreated you badly, Lucy, and I’m deeply sorry. Can we walk?”
Overcome by the depth of sincerity in his apology, she couldn’t find her voice. She nodded.
He offered her his arm, and she took it. She glanced back at Judith, who’d stopped several paces behind them. They exchanged knowing looks. Judith was well aware of who Andrew was. While Lucy hadn’t told her about what had happened at Darent Hall—she hadn’t told anyone, not even Ivy and Aquilla, who’d been frustrated by Lucy’s lack of disclosure—she knew Andrew was the man who accompanied her to the hells.
As they walked to the corner, Lucy reflected on how strange it was to be traversing this path with him in broad daylight and dressed as a woman. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he chuckled softly. “This feels somehow wrong.”
Lucy couldn’t help but smile. No matter what happened, she had wo
nderful memories of the time she’d shared with this man.
“Sometimes I have nightmares,” he said, surprising her with his candor. Like his heartfelt apology, she didn’t quite know how to react to his honesty. “And they leave me somewhat…debilitated. I didn’t want you to have to deal with that.”
“That didn’t mean you had to send me away.”
“But I did. You shouldn’t have stayed in the first place. You must agree that we both lost our heads.”
Yes, they had. “I don’t regret staying, however. And if that makes me a scandalous hussy, then so be it.”
He threw her a half smile. “How I adore your intrepid streak.”
How she adored hearing him say he adored anything about her. She wanted to be angry with him, but he was making it deuced difficult what with his charming apologies, demonstrations of common sense, and willingness to open up to her.
“What are your nightmares about?” she asked.
“Is it enough for me to say they’re terrifying and I don’t wish to discuss them?” He stared straight ahead. “I hate to admit that even talking about them can threaten to send me into an attack.”
She squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry.” She’d thought about that morning a great deal over the past week and thought she’d come up with a reasonable explanation. She only wanted to know if she was right—not for her own edification but because she wanted to know him. “Was it to do with losing your family?”
He snapped his head toward her, but only briefly. “Did Mrs. Alder tell you about them?”
“Yes. Don’t be upset with her.” She’d fawned all over Lucy when she’d helped her back into her Smitty costume, apologizing for Andrew and saying that he wasn’t himself and that she hoped Lucy wouldn’t hold his behavior against him. “She cares about you like a mother.”
