The Scoundrel's Daughter

by Anne Gracie

  Lucy, having gone to sleep with her windows open, was woken early by the twittering of the birds outside. She lay there a few moments, snuggling dreamily in the warmth and comfort of her bed, contemplating the day ahead, when suddenly she remembered.

  And sat straight up.

  The announcement would be in the papers this morning. She was—officially, if not actually—betrothed. To Gerald, Lord Thornton. A proper lord!

  Across London, people would be seeing the announcement about herself, plain Lucy Bamber, and Lord Thornton. It was a strange thought. With any luck, Papa would be one of them, reading the newspaper announcement at this very minute—well, soon; he was not an early riser—and come around here to give Alice back her letters.

  When would Alice see it? It was her habit to drink a cup of chocolate and glance through the newspapers before dressing and coming down to breakfast.

  Hasty footsteps sounded in the hallway outside. Alice. She knocked on the door and entered, waving her copy of the Morning Post. “Lucy, the strangest thing! Someone has put a notice in the paper announcing a betrothal between you and my nephew, Gerald. I don’t know how it happened. It’s clearly a mistake and—”

  “It’s not a mistake.”

  “We’ll have to get it withdraw— What did you say?”

  “I said, it’s not a mistake.”

  Alice blinked. “It’s not?”

  “No. Gerald put the notice in yesterday.”

  “You’re engaged to my nephew, Gerald?”

  Lucy nodded.

  Alice flew across the room and embraced Lucy. “Oh, my dear girl, that’s marvelous. I’m so happy for you.” She sat down on Lucy’s bed, tossing the newspaper aside. “Now, tell me all about it. How did this happen? When did it happen? I must confess you’ve completely taken me by surprise. I thought you two were at daggers drawn.” Beaming expectantly at Lucy, Alice folded her hands and waited for the details of the romance to be revealed.

  Lucy shrugged uncomfortably. Alice had every right to feel put out at not being informed. Both of Lucy’s other suitors had asked Alice’s permission before proposing, and here, she and Gerald had gone ahead and announced it in the papers without informing anyone. Of course they were of age and had the right to make their own plans, but still, Alice had to feel a little hurt. And yet here she was, smiling so kindly at the girl who was deceiving her. And who was preparing to deceive her even further.

  Lucy desperately wanted to let Alice in on the plot, but Gerald was right. Alice was a hopeless liar.

  “It was at the Peplowe ball,” she began. “Gerald took over the spots where I’d arranged to sit out the waltzes—is that right, by the way? I can’t waltz anywhere until I have been approved to waltz at Almack’s?”

  “Oh, who cares about that? He took over your spots?”

  “Yes, he told Mr. Frinton and Mr. Grimswade that, as acting head of your family, he had the right to commandeer them.”

  Alice gasped and then laughed. “Head of my family indeed! What nonsense! But how wonderfully masterful and romantic.”

  “How arrogant, you mean. I was furious.”

  Alice chuckled, clearly not believing her. “What happened next?”

  “He took me out into the courtyard and we talked.” Having no wish to be questioned on the subject of their conversation, she hastily went on. “And later he did it again during the second waltz, only then he invited me to dance, out in the courtyard—it’s all right, we were quite alone and nobody saw us. But about that Almack’s question—”

  “Ohhhh! A secret waltz in the moonlight. I would never have guessed Gerald had such romance in him. No wonder you were bowled over.”

  Lucy smiled weakly. It might sound romantic, and in her secret heart she had to admit that she had found it romantic, but really, it was just a plan to trap her father.

  Alice blanched on a sudden thought. “Oh heavens! Does Almeria—Lady Charlton, Gerald’s mother—know?”

  Lucy shook her head. “No, we wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “Well, it’s certainly that. Oh dear. Almeria will be around here any moment then, because of course she won’t be happy—and that’s an understatement if ever I’ve made one. She’ll be furious and blame me for it, even though I knew nothing about it.” She slipped off the bed. “Get dressed quickly. We’d better get ready.”

  “Man the battlements? Start boiling the oil?” Lucy climbed out of bed.

  Alice gave a huff of laughter. “You may joke, but you don’t know what she’s like.” At the door, she paused. “On second thought, you stay here. I’ll deal with her.”

  “You? But you didn’t know anything about it. Why should you have to deal with her?”

  “Because I’ve been dealing with Almeria for the last twenty years. Better still, why don’t you get dressed and go out into the garden as usual. I’ll be able to tell her then that you’re not in the house.”

  Alice was planning to protect her, Lucy realized. Preparing to stand up to Gerald’s mother on her behalf. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone besides Alice had stood up for her. She was very touched.

  She crossed the floor and gave Alice a quick hug. “Alice, you are a darling, but I am not going to run off and leave you to the dragon lady. Almeria doesn’t worry me. Besides, I watched how you handled her once. It taught me a lot.”

  Alice looked at her curiously. “Really? What did it teach you?”

  “Not to lose my temper or rise to her barbs. You were quite splendid.” Lucy shook out her dress and laid it on her bed. “Now, off you go. I’ll be downstairs shortly. And don’t worry—I’m not afraid of that woman.”

  “Maybe not, but Lucy, she’s going to be your mother-in-law. For the rest of your life.”

  Lucy shrugged. Almeria would never be her mother-in-law. “She’s been your sister-in-law for half your life. Has your careful politeness ever made any difference?”

  Alice grimaced, then nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Begin as you mean to go on. With any luck, we’ll have time for breakfast before Almeria descends on us.”

  “Like the Black Death. Or,” Lucy added mischievously, “should that be the Puce Plague?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dammit, where was Heffernan? Gerald scanned the street for the dozenth time. He’d instructed Heffernan to be on hand outside Aunt Alice’s house, keeping a discreet lookout for Bamber. But there was no sign of the man.

  Gerald had put the betrothal notice in several papers, not just the most popular ones, so Bamber would be sure to see it. Heffernan was supposed to be here, ready to catch Bamber when he came. Two possibilities had occurred to Gerald: either Bamber would give Aunt Alice her letters back and disappear from her life as agreed, or he’d decide he wanted more from her, blackmailers being notorious for wanting more. And if that were the case, Gerald, with Heffernan’s aid, would pounce on the blackguard and force him to give up the letters.

  So where was Heffernan?

  A hawker had set up farther down the street, roasting nuts over a portable brazier. Gerald’s stomach rumbled. He’d missed breakfast, and the smell was enticing. He gave the street another sweeping glance, then hurried down and ordered some roasted almonds.

  The hawker filled a cone of newspaper with hot nuts and handed them to Gerald. “No sign of him yet, m’lord.”

  Gerald nearly dropped the nuts. “Good God, it’s you.” Heffernan looked nothing like himself. He looked shorter, fatter, grayer and hairier, not to mention scruffier.

  “Don’t be talking to me now, m’lord. Just take yourself off, casual-like. I have three men watching for Bamber. Don’t worry. If he shows up, we’ll get ’im.”

  “Three men?” Gerald could see no sign of them.

  “Aye. All Radcliffe’s men, so leave it all to us. There’s no tellin’ when Bamber will show—could take him all day. Might even
be tomorrow, or later, depending on where he’s been hiding himself. The minute he shows, we’ll let you know. That lad over there, the one sweeping the street, he’s my runner. He’ll bring you any news quick as a flash.”

  Munching on the hot nuts, Gerald walked away. It went against the grain for him to leave the scene, but Heffernan was right—there was no telling how long Bamber would take to get here. And he couldn’t very well turn up at Aunt Alice’s house at this hour and then hang around all day without an excuse—because who knew when Bamber would come? Even a newly betrothed man couldn’t get away with that.

  And Alice wasn’t to know that the betrothal was a ruse.

  A newly betrothed man. He was betrothed to Lucy Bamber.

  He smiled to himself. In her own way, Lucy was as elusive as her father. Not that there was any comparison.

  * * *

  * * *

  Lucy and Alice had just finished breakfast and had taken a pot of tea into the drawing room when the front doorbell jangled.

  “That’ll be her. Are you sure you don’t want to go out into the garden?” Alice asked Lucy for the third time. The fact that she was obviously dreading the encounter made Lucy feel even warmer toward her.

  Lucy laughed. “Not in the least. Are you sure you won’t let me deal with her by myself? I’m quite happy to.” In fact she would prefer to, but Alice was determined to stay and protect her.

  Moments later Almeria, Countess of Charlton, swept into the room and came to an abrupt stop. She shot a vitriolic glance at Lucy. “You!” she said in a voice of loathing.

  Lucy curtsied. “Good morning, Lady Charlton,” she said in a cheery voice. “What a vision you are—fifty shades of puce?”

  Alice hurriedly rose, saying, “Almeria, what a surprise.”

  “Hah! Surprise indeed. What do you have to say for yourself, eh? Eh?” She glared at Alice.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” Alice asked and, without waiting for an answer, rang for Tweed—who appeared so quickly he must have been listening at the door—and ordered fresh tea.

  “Tea!” Almeria said with loathing, seating herself in a flurry of silk and velvet. “This is not the time for tea.”

  “Coffee then for Lady Charlton please, Tweed,” Alice said and returned to her place on the sofa.

  “I want nothing! No. Refreshments. Whatsoever!”

  Lucy hid a smile. Alice wasn’t doing it deliberately but her attempt at soothing the savage breast—or was it a savage beast? Beastess?—was having the opposite effect.

  “Well?” Almeria snapped the instant Tweed had departed. “Explain yourself, Alice. I told you most specifically that I did not wish my son to become acquainted with this . . . this . . . creature.” She waved a disdainful hand in Lucy’s direction.

  A “creature,” was she? Any intention Lucy had of being polite and conciliatory flew out the window.

  “ ‘Creature’?” Lucy looked ostentatiously around. “Oh, you mean me? Of course you do. But you mustn’t blame Alice. She was as surprised as you were.”

  Almeria turned a baleful glare on her. “Surprised is not the word.”

  “Delighted?” Lucy prompted brightly. “Thrilled? Jubilant?”

  “I am appalled! I don’t know how you managed to convince my son—”

  “Oh, there was no convincing necessary. Not at all. In fact, it was all his idea.”

  Almeria’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know how you entrapped my son into this appalling mésalliance but—”

  “ ‘Entrapped’?” Lucy interrupted. “Have you not spoken to Gerald then?”

  Aleria’s lips thinned. “He was not in his lodgings this morning. No doubt hiding from the consequences of his rash act.”

  “Or from his dear mama,” Lucy said sweetly.

  Almeria’s eyes flashed. “Are you calling my son a coward?”

  “You were the one who said he was hiding,” Lucy pointed out. “I wouldn’t have thought it myself, but—”

  “I don’t know how he was convinced to wed the likes of you, but I intend to put a stop to it.”

  Lucy tried to look concerned. “Is your son so weak-willed then?”

  “ ‘Weak-willed’?” Ice dripped from every syllable.

  “To be so easily controlled by his mother. I confess I am surprised, especially considering how heroically he served his country, commanding I don’t know how many troops and serving with distinction for—how many years was he away at war fighting the Corsican Monster, Alice?”

  “Eight,” said Alice.

  “Six,” Almeria said at the same time.

  “It was eight,” Alice repeated.

  Almeria sniffed.

  “Well, whatever it was, presumably his mama knows him best,” Lucy cooed. “So, Lady Charlton, are you saying Gerald is easily led? A touch unreliable?”

  “What do you mean, ‘unreliable’? My son is—”

  “The kind of man who gives his word without intending to keep it?”

  “How dare you! My son is the soul of honor!” Almeria declared, outraged.

  “Oh, good then”—Lucy smiled serenely—“so the betrothal stands.”

  Almeria breathed heavily through her nostrils, her eyes bulging with frustration. “I warn you, if you do not release him from this disastrous match, he will be penniless. His father will cut off his allowance.”

  “Like a naughty schoolboy?” Lucy said incredulously. “How very poor-spirited of him.”

  “Hah! That’s made you think twice, hasn’t it?” Almeria nodded in satisfaction. “Thought you were marrying a fortune, didn’t you?”

  “Not in the least. Didn’t you know, we’re marrying for lovvvve.” Lucy batted her lashes and sighed romantically.

  “Love? Pah! People of our order do not marry for love.”

  “But then, I am not of your order, am I? Isn’t that your objection? In any case,” Lucy continued briskly, “I doubt Gerald will need his father’s financial support once he joins the diplomatic service and is living abroad.”

  Almeria stiffened. “The diplomatic service? Gerald? Abroad? What nonsense. He’ll do nothing of the sort. I need him here.”

  Lucy raised a brow. “To dance attendance on you? You want to keep a grown man of eight-and-twenty tied to your apron strings? Isn’t it a bit late for that?”

  Almeria curled her lip. “Apron strings? Faugh! I’ve never worn an apron in my life.”

  “How odd,” Lucy said. “I’ve always found them very useful—though not for tying people up with. Not that I’ve ever tried. But if you don’t have many dresses, an apron is a very useful garment.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Almeria said disdainfully.

  Lucy added in a reminiscent tone, “In fact I was wearing an apron when Gerald and I first met.”

  “You were wearing an apron?” She said apron as if Lucy had confessed to wearing a filthy old sack.

  “Yes, perhaps that’s what attracted him—something a little bit different from the usual run of girls he’d been meeting.”

  “Why were you wearing an apron?” A filthy, old manure-stained sack.

  Lucy smiled sweetly. “To protect my clothes. I was tending geese at the time.”

  Almeria’s well-plucked eyebrows almost disappeared. “Tending geese? You were a goose girl?”

  “Yes. But they were very well-bred geese.”

  A muffled sound came from the sofa. Lucy couldn’t see Alice’s face.

  “They were French geese,” Lucy added. “They belonged to a French comtesse—”

  “French!” Almeria said with scorn.

  “Yes, but German geese are held to be very fine, too, I believe.”

  “Young woman! I have no interest in geese, French, German or otherwise.”

  Lucy widened her eyes. “But you must. I mean, you surely slee
p on a goose-feather mattress—they are the finest. And what about the Christmas goose? Do you refrain from eating that, too? Preferring pork, or perhaps chicken. Or do you eschew meat altogether? Is that how you stay so skinny? I mean, thin. No, slender—is that what you call it?”

  “Cease and desist, you impertinent gel!”

  “By all means, your ladyship. Just tell me what you wish me to cease and desist from, and I will gladly oblige.”

  “My son’s betrothal—”

  “Except for that.”

  For a long moment Almeria huffed and puffed in silence, then she rose and with freezing dignity said, “I am deeply disappointed in you, Alice, for bringing this atrocious female into our circle. As for you”—she pointed a bony finger at Lucy, who had also risen—“the only way you will marry my son is over my dead body.”

  “Oh surely, nothing so drastic,” Lucy said chattily. “We’d have to go into blacks and that’s such a gloomy color for a wedding, don’t you think?”

  Almeria’s eyes were chips of ice. She opened her mouth, closed it, glared at Lucy some more and with a final muttered, “Abominable creature,” she swept from the room.

  Lucy waited until she heard the front door close behind her, then sank into her chair with a gusty sigh. “Oh, that was fun, wasn’t it?” She glanced across at Alice, who seemed to have collapsed on the sofa. “Are you all right, Alice?”

  Alice sat up, clutching a crumpled handkerchief. She regarded Lucy with awe. “ ‘Fun’?” It was . . . You were so . . .”

  “Brassy? Bold? Impertinent?”

  “All of the above—and utterly brilliant! And so brave.”

  “Brave? Oh pooh. What can that woman do to me, after all?”

  “She’s going to be your mother-in-law.”

  Lucy wrinkled her nose. No danger of that. She really wished she could tell Alice it was a false betrothal, but she’d made a promise.

  She almost wished she was going to marry Lord Thornton. It went wholly against the grain to give that woman what she wanted. It would serve Almeria right if Lucy married him after all.

  After a moment Alice said, “You and your well-bred French geese. I thought she was going to burst.” She glanced at Lucy and clapped her hand over her mouth. A snort escaped her, their eyes met, and suddenly they were both laughing uncontrollably.