“Don’t ever deceive me again, or I swear to you that I shall make your life miserable.” His tone was harsher than he’d intended, but it couldn’t be helped. His unrequited desire had made him angry again, and besides, he couldn’t abide lies, especially not when they came from his own wife. He wanted a partner, someone he’d be able to trust with his life if it ever came to that. Perhaps it was his experience as an agent that made this so vital for him. He knew the risk that came with trust; he’d learned that in Paris upon discovering a trusted colleague had deceived both him and England two years earlier. No, when it came to his wife, he needed to know that she would not betray him. Anything else would be intolerable. “Be loyal and honest, and the two of us might be able to get along.”
Lucy watched him go while a cold shiver raced down her spine. William had shown her nothing but kindness and understanding in return for her dishonesty. He was a good man, she realized, but if she lied to him again, she’d feel his wrath—of that she had no doubt. But how could she be honest? He’d never allow her to go through with her plan if he knew what it entailed. And what if he found out who she really was? She didn’t know him well enough to trust him not to tell anyone, and she knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that if word got out that she was still alive, not only would her life be in immediate danger, but she’d also be running the risk of failure.
She rose from the bed and walked across to the window, pulled back the curtain, and peered out at the starry sky. Small pools of water began to gather in her eyes. She’d hoped to remain indifferent and cold toward William, but the kindness he’d shown her was making her feel like the worst sort of ogre imaginable. If only they’d met under different circumstances—if they had, she knew that he was precisely the sort of man that she might consider falling for.
Turning her back on the darkness outside, she removed her dressing gown and climbed into bed. Unfortunately, with her plans just beginning to move into action, falling in love with her husband would be just about the worst idea in the world. The last thing she needed right now was to become some doe-eyed female who couldn’t think straight because her heart was too busy going pitter patter. On a deep sigh of agitation she tried to push the image of William from her mind, but however much she wished it otherwise, she couldn’t deny that her stomach had fluttered when he’d kissed her.
CHAPTER SIX
* * *
“I understand you’ll be off soon?” Andrew Hutchins, otherwise known as the Earl of Fairfield, asked as he took a sip of Champagne.
William nodded in response to his friend’s question. “It seems as if her ladyship has a desire to visit Turkey, though I can’t for the life of me understand why.”
“Consider yourself lucky, William. There are far worse places to travel to. When my brother Rupert got married for instance, his wife insisted that they spend a whole month at some distant relative’s estate in Tuscany. I suppose it may have had its charm and all that, but if the countryside was what she wished for, then I don’t see why they couldn’t just as well have remained at home and saved the money.” He leaned closer to William’s ear. “Don’t you dare tell them I said that.”
William chuckled. “I wouldn’t dream of it, old chap.”
“So when are you leaving anyway?”
“Two weeks from today, though I have the distinct feeling that her ladyship would have liked to be on her way already. Personally, I can’t see the urgency—must be one of those female notions I’ll never comprehend. In any event, I told her that it might be wise of us not to hurry off before we’d had a dinner in her honor—get her better acquainted with my family and friends and so on. After all, things have been rather rushed around here lately. I see no harm in allowing our lives to settle a bit first.”
“I rather imagine that you are trying to put your foot down. You can’t do it soon enough, you know, or she’ll be running you ragged. After all, I very much doubt that a house full of guests is what you really desire, thus confirming my suspicions, though I dare say you may have traded one evil for another.”
William frowned. Perhaps Andrew was right. Perhaps he had used the idea of a house party as an excuse to show Lucy that, although he would grant her the trip to Constantinople, they’d leave when he was ready to do so and not a moment sooner. But there was a little more to it than that. He was the master of Moorland Manor now—a place that had once been alive with music and laughter. All of that had died with his mother, and it was something that he greatly missed. Now that he was married, he’d decided that it might be time to breathe some life back into the old estate.
He’d invited his family and his good friends Lord Fairfield and Lord Reinhardt. Following a run-in with Lord Galensbury at White’s, Lord Fairfield had conversationally mentioned his invitation to Moorland, upon which Galensbury had immediately written to William, politely asking if he might join. Well, why not?
Another letter had soon followed, wherein Galensbury mentioned that he’d had a run in with Lord Stanton, and would William mind terribly if he came as well? Of course not—the more the merrier, William had decided.
Mary and Alexandra had in turn invited a couple of young ladies each in order to even the numbers between the gentlemen and the ladies—not that he much cared for a bunch of young hens parading about in the hopes of impressing one of his friends, but his aunt had insisted. In any event, it did appear as though everyone was having a jolly good time, though they were still two men short, Lord Galensbury and Lord Stanton having yet to arrive.
“I dare say you’ve made quite a catch with this one,” Lord Reinhardt said as he strolled over to where William and Andrew were standing. “I just spent a good fifteen minutes in conversation with her ladyship, and I have to say, her knowledge regarding the political state of Europe is quite commendable. There’s a lot more substance to her than to any of the young debutantes, that’s for sure.” He nodded discreetly toward Lady Amanda, Miss Scott, Lady Hyacinth, and Miss Cleaver, all of whom must have taken his momentary attention as a sign of interest, for they all turned into a bunch of snickering imbeciles a second later.
William ignored them and darted a look across the room to where his wife was seated, animatedly discussing something or other with his aunt and Lady Ridgewood. “Surely you must be joking, Charles.” His gaze returned to Reinhardt.
If Charles was put out by his friend’s lack of confidence in his judgment, he failed to show it. “Be that as it may,” he said, “she knew all about Tsar Alexander’s orders to have the Jesuits removed from Russia as well as the formation of the senate in Finland. In fact, she was quite opinionated about both matters.”
William could say nothing to that. Lucy was clearly full of surprises, and this, he decided, was a rather pleasant one. He didn’t mind having a wife whose head wasn’t merely filled with what he considered to be fluff. On the contrary, he felt relieved to know that he might be able to have a meaningful conversation with her, though it did irritate him a little that Charles had been the one to discover this instead of him. Then again, he and Lucy had barely spoken more than two words to each other since their rendezvous in her bedroom, despite their agreement to improve upon their acquaintance.
That was five days ago now—the longest five days of William’s life, especially since he couldn’t seem to get the feeling of her body pressed against his out of his mind. It drove him half mad whenever he saw her. The desire to fling himself on top of her and ravage her was growing stronger with each day that passed. Yet he couldn’t very well do so without terrifying her. Thankfully, there was a cold lake on the property for him to jump into; indeed, he’d never taken so many swims in all his life.
“What the devil’s keeping Stanton and Galensbury?” he suddenly asked, for lack of anything better to say, if not to take his mind off the fact that his own stupid sense of chivalry was now keeping him from the marriage bed. “They should have been here an hour ago.”
“Well I hope that they arrive soon and remove some of the atte
ntion from the rest of us,” Charles said, just as Miss Scott raised her hand and waved at him teasingly. He responded with a scowl that immediately resulted in another burst of laughter from the young women.
“Do try to enjoy yourself, Charles,” William said, though he couldn’t help but sympathize. He knew all too well what it felt like to be hunted; he’d endured it himself for the last few seasons and had consequently grown attuned to which women posed a threat to him, avoiding each of them in the same way he might avoid an enemy in the field. He’d made his plans, certain that he would never be trapped.
Well, so much for that. In the space of half an hour, perhaps even less, Lucy had swooped into his life and claimed him as her own. She might as well have bound and gagged him, for there had been just as little chance of escape. His eyes flittered past Charles again to where she was sitting—laughing now at something his aunt had said. He had an urge to march over there, pick her up, and give her a good shake for all the nuisance she’d brought to his doorstep.
“Easy for you to say, old chap,” Andrew remarked, forcing William’s attention away from Lucy. “You’re already off the market—no need for you to fear the toll of the church bell anymore.”
William grimaced. “They don’t look all that bad…the blonde one for instance, Lady Amanda I believe, she’s very pretty. Perhaps…”
“Not in this lifetime,” Charles ground out. “Those ladies are nothing but trouble—apples from the forbidden tree, so to speak. Extremely tempting, I grant you that, but take one bite and you’ll find your arms cast into irons, your legs shackled, and your back whipped for the remainder of your days. No thank you, I say. I’ll stick to my little opera singer if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Andrew said, raising his glass and clinking it against Charles’s.
William glowered.
“You on the other hand needn’t worry,” Andrew told him hastily. “Lucy’s a winner, just as Charles says. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”
William wasn’t so sure about that, though the discussion had renewed his interest in learning more about the woman who’d so quickly altered the path of both their lives. Still, she had yet to tell him why she’d sought him out in the first place. She wanted something from him, and the more time that passed without her telling him what that something was, the more worried he became.
As much as she tried to feign interest, Lucy was becoming increasingly tired of listening to William’s aunt recount the latest fashion trends. Thankfully, Constance was there to add to the conversation so that all Lucy was required to do was nod her head on occasion and laugh at the appropriate moments. She had no desire to entertain all of these people for the next week, the mere thought of which only added to her impatience to be gone from England altogether. But William had insisted, and having no desire to raise his alarm by being too pushy, she’d managed a smile and agreed.
Since her arrival at Moorland, she’d spent most of her time in the housekeeper’s company. Mrs. Barnes seemed like a good-natured woman and had eagerly helped her become acquainted with the many responsibilities that would now become Lucy’s. Together, they had decided on the menu for the house party, and when Lucy had suggested buying only two cases of Champagne, Mrs. Barnes had diplomatically suggested a much larger quantity, saying, “Better to have too much than too little—especially if you still intend to host that ball you mentioned.”
Hosting a ball for all the neighboring estates had been William’s idea, but now that Lucy had begun planning for it, she had also started to look forward to it with great enthusiasm. Moorland Manor was the sort of home that begged to be filled by a crowd of people, all dressed in their finest evening attire while music sifted through the air. And since this would be her first event as Lady Summersby, she intended to make it a smashing affair.
“Aunt V, Lady Ridgewood.” Lucy’s thoughts faded as she looked up in response to her sister-in-law’s voice. “Would you mind terribly if I stole Lucy away from you for a while?”
The second Lucy’s eyes met Alexandra’s, she knew that she wasn’t just doing her a favor out of the goodness of her heart. She breathed a heavy sigh, hoping that there might be some escape from her sister-in-law, but when Lady Lindhurst replied, she knew she’d been a fool to think herself so lucky.
“Not at all, my dear,” Lady Lindhurst cooed and then looked at Lucy. “We’ll continue our discussion later.”
Lucy could barely manage a yes or thank you before Alexandra had pulled her through an archway to a vacant spot by the window, their position partially concealed by a tall pillar. “I think it’s time you dropped the act,” Alexandra whispered, the smile on her lips a stark contrast to her tone.
“I beg your pardon?” Lucy tried to pull away, but Alexandra’s fingers held her arm tightly in place.
“Look, it’s inconceivable that you married my brother because you love him. None of us had even heard as much as the whisper of your name before you showed up at my house. I dare say that you pulled the wool over all of our eyes that evening when you told us William had invited you to dance. My poor brother was too much of a gentleman to call your bluff, and though I’ve questioned him about it since, he still insists that I’m mistaken in my assumption that the two of you had never laid eyes upon each other before then. I’m not a fool, Lucy—I know you intentionally trapped him, though I cannot begin to understand what your motive might have been for doing so.”
Turning her gaze away from Alexandra’s, Lucy stared out at the torch-lit driveway, the many flames casting an orange haze upon the ground. “I need his help,” she muttered. At least that much was true.
“So you took it upon yourself to condemn him to an unhappy marriage?”
At that, Lucy reeled on her. The woman was out of line and far too blunt for Lucy’s liking. “I didn’t plan for it to be permanent, you know. Indeed, I intended to have the whole thing annulled on the basis of…” She shook her head, abandoning all hope of a decent explanation, for there was none—none that she was prepared to give anyway. “There’s no telling that we won’t be happy together. Besides, he won’t be any less happy with me than he would have been with Lady Annabelle.”
“You don’t know that,” Alexandra hissed. “Lady Annabelle was his choice—a choice you deemed yourself superior to. You had no right!”
As much as she wished it, Lucy could do nothing but agree that she did not. It only compounded her misery.
“I’ve given the matter a lot of thought,” Alexandra continued, “and have managed to reach only one conclusion. Whatever your reasons, it does appear as though you have an alarmingly devious agenda.”
A cold shiver ran down Lucy’s spine, her eyes still fixed on the driveway. She dared not look at Alexandra, dared not so much as utter a single word in response for fear of giving herself away.
“I intend to make it my mission, Lucy, to find out precisely what that agenda entails.”
“Please don’t,” Lucy whispered, but her words were lost to the sound of neighing horses as a carriage pulled up to the front steps. She watched as two masculine figures climbed out, their greatcoats twirling about their legs. A few moments later, the door to the parlor opened and two striking young men appeared, each handsomely dressed in black evening attire.
“I do apologize, Summersby,” one of them was now saying as he happily accepted a glass of Champagne from one of the footmen, “but we were forced to stop in Craften when one of the horses lost its shoe—so sorry.”
“An unforeseeable delay that couldn’t be helped,” William responded as he shook the hand of the other gentleman. He then looked around until his gaze met with Lucy’s. “This way if you please.”
With her jaw still tightly clenched from her altercation with Alexandra, Lucy knew that her smile must have seemed forced as she came forward to greet her newly arrived guests.
“I’d like you to meet Lord Galensbury and Lord Stanton,” William said as he came to stand beside her. His deme
anor led her to believe that they were not as close friends of his as Lords Fairfield and Reinhardt but merely acquaintances.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” she said, to which they each offered her a broad smile.
“The pleasure is entirely ours, I assure you,” Lord Galensbury remarked as he reached for her gloved hand and raised it to his lips. He was the sort of man whom Lucy presumed many women would find attractive, for his face seemed perfect in every way—pretty almost. Lucy had to admit, however, she had a much stronger preference for a man with more rugged features, like her husband.
Straightening, Galensbury met William’s gaze. “I see now why you married her as quickly as you did, you scoundrel. The minute you saw her you must have realized that she’d be available for only a matter of days before some other fellow made her his wife. However, I can’t say I’m overly pleased by how swiftly you snagged her for yourself. From what I hear, nobody but you even managed to so much as dance with her.”
Lucy instantly felt her cheeks grow hot from embarrassment. She’d never enjoyed being the center of attention and liked it even less now in the company of strangers, but when she raised her gaze to gauge William’s reaction she couldn’t help but notice that he was looking at her with something akin to appreciation. Feeling a surge of warmth in her belly, she returned her attention to Lord Galensbury. “You are entirely too kind, my lord,” she replied.
“Oh do tell us that we’ll have the opportunity to dance with you now, Lady Summersby,” Lord Stanton said with a gleam of anticipation in his eyes. He was a little taller than Galensbury, though neither man was quite as tall as William. He suddenly smiled, and it was a smile so pleasant and kind that Lucy couldn’t help but imagine that he must have tempted dozens of women with it. “We’ll be terribly disappointed otherwise.”
“I do believe that there are four other ladies present who’d be more than eager for your attention,” William stated jovially yet with a note of possessiveness—something that surprised Lucy, considering how little she’d seen of him since her arrival. She hadn’t thought that he cared for her at all. He lowered his voice before adding, “In fact, I am of the opinion that your arrival will be considered most welcome by Andrew and Charles. They both fear the toll of that infernal church bell.”
The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda: A Summersby Tale Page 5
