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Drawn to Lord Ravenscar
Anne Herries
BETRAYED BY MARRIAGEWhen her betrothed is brutally murdered Lucy Dawlish looks for comfort from the man who shares her grief–his brother, Paul Ravenscar. Virtuous Lucy has always been secretly drawn to this frosty lord, but is it too late to reveal where her heart truly lies?Paul Ravenscar must marry and produce an heir for the sake of his estate, but there is only one woman he wants. To claim Lucy as his bride risks betraying his brother's memory, but Paul might be unable to keep his feelings hidden….Officers and GentlemenFor duty, for honor, for love


OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN
For duty, for honour, for love
Bound by honour and family ties, three brave men fought for their lives in France …
Now, back in the drawing rooms of England, they face a new battle as three beautiful women lay siege to their scarred hearts!
COURTED BY THE CAPTAIN Already available
PROTECTED BY THE MAJOR Already available
DRAWN TO LORD RAVENSCAR February 2014

AUTHOR NOTE
This is the third in my latest Regency trilogy about cousins Adam Miller and Hallam and Paul Ravenscar. Both Adam and Hal have found love. Will Paul be able to put the tragedy of his brother’s death behind him and find happiness for himself—or will he be forever cursed with guilt? It should all have been Mark’s—the title, the estate, and most of all the girl Paul believed his brother loved … Lucy.
So here is the last of this current series about Regency star-crossed lovers. Enjoy—and tell me what you think through my website if you wish: www.lindasole.co.uk (http://www.www.lindasole.co.uk)
Love to you all.
Drawn to Lord Ravenscar
Anne Herries

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ANNE HERRIES lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. Anne is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize. She invites readers to contact her on her website: www.lindasole.co.uk (http://www.lindasole.co.uk)
Previous novels by the same author:
THE RAKE’S REBELLIOUS LADY
A COUNTRY MISS IN HANOVER SQUARE*
AN INNOCENT DEBUTANTE IN HANOVER SQUARE*
THE MISTRESS OF HANOVER SQUARE*
THE PIRATE’S WILLING CAPTIVE
FORBIDDEN LADY†
THE LORD’S FORCED BRIDE†
HER DARK AND DANGEROUS LORD†
FUGITIVE COUNTESS†
BOUGHT FOR THE HAREM
HOSTAGE BRIDE
THE DISAPPEARING DUCHESS**
THE MYSTERIOUS LORD MARLOWE**
THE SCANDALOUS LORD LANCHESTER**
SECRET HEIRESS
BARTERED BRIDE
CAPTAIN MOORCROFT’S CHRISTMAS BRIDE
(part of Candlelit Christmas Kisses) A STRANGER’S TOUCH† HIS UNUSUAL GOVERNESS PROMISED TO THE CRUSADER COURTED BY THE CAPTAIN†† PROTECTED BY THE MAJOR††
*A Season in Town †The Melford Dynasty **Secrets and Scandals ††Officers and Gentlemen
Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Prologue (#ud47ab2d7-8037-5309-8e80-becae4669351)
Chapter One (#uae792a5a-7874-5215-a50b-5227cece1467)
Chapter Two (#u2cf65c1c-db32-5b54-8dee-bfc250e29dc4)
Chapter Three (#uaa6d34d0-4a80-5351-bee8-69f01152b422)
Chapter Four (#u9368a8e8-88a9-5384-8c2f-60b36ad5d66c)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
‘Well, Ravenscar,’ the Duke of Wellington said. ‘I regret that you must leave us. You have been invaluable these past months, one of my best aides. However, your duty is clear. Your father needs you and asks for your return; therefore, you must go.’
‘I must resign my commission,’ Captain Paul Ravenscar said regretfully. He straightened his shoulders, a tall lean wiry man with an upright bearing. ‘My cousin Hallam has been attending to estate affairs since...the death of my brother, but he has his own duties and cannot continue indefinitely, for he is married and his wife is with child. Besides, it is my duty to care for the estate. If my father dies...’
Paul’s gaze wandered about the elegant room, which was small but tastefully appointed, the doors painted cream and gold. He had become used to working here with his leader and would miss the work and the comradeship of his fellow officers.
‘You are his heir,’ Wellington said. ‘You have my permission to leave. I vow it was easier to defeat Bonaparte on the field of battle than to settle the peace, but it is almost finished. I, too, shall return to England very soon.’
‘Yes, sir. I thought it must be so... I can only thank you for giving me the chance to serve you at a time when I was near to desperation. Had I not been able to throw myself into the work...’
‘No need to thank me, Ravenscar. I was glad to have you,’ Wellington said brusquely. ‘Get off with you then...and remember a man must always do his duty by his family, as he would his country.’
Paul clicked his heels, shook the duke’s hand and walked from the office that Wellington had used these past months. So much wrangling over the peace terms and the settlement of Europe had taken place that these walls had shaken with the ferocity of the duke’s anger, but it was as he said, the peace was settled now and they could all return to England.
Paul was thoughtful as he walked swiftly towards his lodgings. With luck, he would be at Calais within two days and another two should see him back at Ravenscar. He prayed that he would be in time, for Hallam’s letter had spoken of his father as being very ill.
He was struck by guilt, because he knew that he ought to have stayed at home to relieve his father of the burden that his estate must place on him—for even though Hallam had done everything he could, Paul knew that his father might have been easier had his one remaining son been there to shoulder his everyday cares.
He would blame himself if his father died. Yet he’d had to get away.
Paul had felt the death of his elder brother Mark like a crushing load that had almost suffocated him. Mark was the golden one, the hero—the chosen one who should have inherited the estate and title that would one day now pass to Paul. Lord Ravenscar had always favoured his elder son, but Paul could never blame him...everyone had adored Mark from the moment he was born. A big man with strong shoulders and thighs, he was better at everything, outshining his younger brother at every turn. Paul should have hated him or been jealous, instead, he’d worshipped Mark. He had resented nothing that Mark had...except for Lucy Dawlish...
A swathe of pain made him gasp, for Paul had not been able to forget her. He had tried, God knew, he had tried to put her out of his mind these past months he’d spent in Vienna with Wellington. He had no right to think of her. She had belonged to Mark, would have been his wife had not Mark been foully murdered. She loved him—and for a time she’d suspected Paul of having killed his brother. The memory of that look in her eyes had never left him, for it lay like a dark shadow on his heart.
Lucy had loved Mark. She had grieved for him. The last thing that Paul had heard of her was that she had returned from Italy, where her mama had taken her to recover from her grief, still unattached. He had thought all these long months that she would find someone and marry him, but she had not.
She was clearly still grieving, unable to forget the man who had so cruelly been snatched from her a few weeks before her wedding.
Paul knew he must not think of her. It would be impossible to marry the girl that his brother had loved, wanted as his wife...even if Lucy would look at him. As children they had quarrelled more often than not for even then, Lucy had followed Mark as an adoring puppy. Only once...at a ball in London just before they all went down to the country to prepare for the wedding...Only briefly then had Paul felt that Lucy might like him, might return the hopeless feelings of love he’d had for her.
He was mistaken. He must have been mistaken, for she had meant to go ahead with her wedding... She had been devastated when Mark was killed.
It was useless to repine. Paul could never have taken her from his brother, even if Mark had lived, and now it was impossible. His memory would always be enshrined in Lucy’s heart. She would never look at his insignificant brother.
Paul must put her out of his mind. There were enough beautiful ladies in Vienna to distract him, but apart from a brief flirtation or two with married ladies, Paul had remained indifferent to the female sex. He knew that he had aroused intense interest amongst the young women who had accompanied brothers or fathers to Vienna. Because he showed no more than polite interest in any of the gently-born young ladies, he was thought of as reserved, even cold, but that did not deter their interest. He was the heir to the Ravenscar fortune, attractive if not as devastatingly handsome as his brother had been, and personable. More than one lady of quality had tried to catch him in her net, but Paul behaved with impeccable politeness while remaining aloof...unreachable.
Paul found the attempts of some young women to compromise themselves with him vaguely amusing and took care to make sure that he was not caught behind closed doors alone with any of them. He had no desire to be married for his prospects...indeed, he had no desire to marry at all.
Paul knew that one day he would need to marry to secure the line, but for the moment he could not give serious consideration to the idea. As he shouted to his batman to pack his things, all Paul could think of was whether his father would live long enough to give him his blessing...and whether he could bear to live in the house that should have been his brother’s.
Chapter One
‘It was kind of you to visit an old man,’ Lord Ravenscar said and smiled as the young girl smoothed his pillows and set the glass of cold water closer to his hand. ‘Your pretty face has made me feel the sunshine, Miss Dawlish, and my days have been grey long enough.’
‘I wanted to visit you,’ Lucy assured him, ‘and Mama said that I might, as Jenny was visiting. You may remember that Adam’s wife is a good friend of mine, though I had not seen her for many months.’
A look of pain flitted through the old man’s eyes, for the day his nephew’s wife Jenny first arrived at Ravenscar was the day his eldest and adored son Mark had been murdered, nearly eighteen months ago now. The pain was plainly still too deep and grievous to be mentioned.
‘You were a long time in Italy, Miss Dawlish?’
‘We spent almost a year there,’ Lucy replied with a smile.
Her complexion was a little coloured by the sun, for her skin had taken on a slightly golden glow, which had not yet faded. Her hair was lighter than it had used to be, a silvery blonde and fine, making her eyes seem bluer and her mouth a delicate pink.
The room smelled of the roses she’d brought for him and was clean and sweet, for Jenny and Adam had come to stay to care for him in his last days, and the servants looked after their master, as they ought.
‘We visited Paris on the way home, but Papa was feeling lonely without us and so we came home last month.’
‘Yes, I dare say your father missed you. It is hard when your loved ones are far away...’ There was such pain and grief in his voice that Lucy was angry with Paul Ravenscar. How could he abandon his father this way? A month or two to come to terms with his grief would have been understandable, but no loving son could have stayed away this long, knowing that his elderly father was grieving.
Lucy had once thought that she might be in love with Paul. Already promised to his brother, whom she’d hero-worshipped for years, it had come to her suddenly when dancing with Paul at a ball in London that she might have preferred to marry him. She had been anxious in her mind and considered whether she should tell Mark when he was murdered. The shock had thrown them all, for how could someone as glorious be lost so easily to a murderer’s spite?
Guilt had swamped her and, for a time, she had wondered if Paul might have shot his brother in a jealous fit, but she had not truly believed it—and later, when Adam and Hallam trapped the real villain, Lucy had hoped... A little sigh rose to her lips, but she smothered it and smiled at Lord Ravenscar.
‘I am sure Captain Ravenscar will return soon, sir. Hallam wrote to tell him that you were unwell.’
‘He should not have done so,’ the old man said testily. ‘Paul was engaged on work for his country—one of Wellington’s aides. Why should he come rushing home just because—?’ He broke off and shook his head. ‘Though I shall admit that I have missed him sorely. I think I was unfair to him, Miss Dawlish. I do not believe I ever told him...’ He closed his eyes and a single tear trickled down his cheek. ‘Mark was the eldest and Paul...Paul stood in his shadow. That was unfair, Miss Dawlish...damnably unfair.’
‘Pray do not distress yourself, sir,’ Lucy said, feelings of pity tugging at her heart. ‘I am sure you will see him soon and then you may tell him yourself.’ She turned as the door opened and Jenny entered the room, bearing a tray with several little bottles, a glass and a hot drink.
‘Good morning, Uncle,’ Jenny said. ‘It is time for your medicine.’
‘I shall leave you with Jenny,’ Lucy said, ‘for you must take your medicines, sir—but I shall ride over again the day after tomorrow.’
‘Thank your mama for her calves’ foot jelly,’ he said. ‘I am sure I shall find it most restorative.’
‘Ride carefully,’ Jenny said. ‘It was lovely to see you again—and the silk shawl you brought me from Italy was gorgeous.’
Lucy inclined her head and then smiled at Jenny, before leaving the room. The two young women had talked and taken tea together before Lucy came up to visit Lord Ravenscar. Seeing Jenny acting the part of the mistress of the house had brought it home to Lucy that, had Mark lived, she would have been the one to care for her father-in-law. She had known him all her life and he was as an uncle to her, a dear friend—and it hurt her to see how fragile he had become. She could only pray that he would linger long enough to see his remaining son return.
Once again, she felt angry with Paul. How could he stay away all this time when his father needed him? As far as Lucy was concerned, it was disgraceful and she would not spare him when she next saw him...
* * *
‘How was dear Lord Ravenscar?’ Lady Dawlish asked when Lucy entered the house. ‘Was he able to speak to you, my love?’
‘He is failing and very weak, but fighting it, as you would expect of such a man,’ Lucy replied as she stripped off her riding gloves of York tan. She was a very pretty girl with a clear gaze, her hair wind tossed by a wayward breeze, a few springy tendrils hanging about her face where it had escaped from the fine net she wore to hold it when riding. ‘I felt so distressed for him, Mama. He so much wants to see Paul and fears he will not. How can he stay away all these months when he knows his father needs him? Surely he ought to have returned months ago?’
‘Do not be too critical,’ her mother said with a little frown. ‘You cannot know his circumstances, Lucy. The duke may have had need of him—’
‘The duke might easily have found another aide to organise his work or his balls,’ Lucy replied scornfully. Her mouth was hard at that moment, for in the past months since Mark’s death, she had learned to hide her true feelings and to shield her heart. She had cried too many tears, both for herself and for her lost fiancé and sometimes she felt that there were none left inside her—though she had felt like weeping when she saw how fragile Lord Ravenscar had become. ‘Paul is thoughtless.’
‘Now, dearest, I do not like that in you,’ her mother said in some distress. ‘You were always such a caring girl. Not that I mean you have changed towards your father or me—but you are harsh to Paul. You must remember that he was devastated by...’ Lady Dawlish faltered. ‘I know you, too, suffered grievously, my dearest...’
‘Yes, but some of my grief was guilt because I did not love Mark in the way I ought as his wife-to-be. He was my hero and my friend, Mama—but I was not in love with him. He swept me off my feet when he returned a hero from the wars and asked me. Had I married him we might both have been unhappy, for I do not think he was in love with me either. There were times when I sensed he wished to tell me something—but he was killed too soon.’
‘Oh, Lucy dearest...’ Her mother looked even more upset. ‘If that is true, why are you still so affected by what happened? I hoped that you might meet someone in Italy or in Paris. There were several gentlemen who showed interest, but you gave them no encouragement. Even that charming count who paid you so many compliments. I am sure he would have asked had you given him the least encouragement.’
‘I did not wish to marry any of them, Mama.’
‘Your father was asking me only last evening... He worries about you, Lucy. He wants to see you married and to know you are settled. We should both like grandchildren.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Lucy said and there was a catch in her voice. She turned her face aside, as she said, ‘I must be a sad disappointment to you, Mama. I did try to like the count and the Marquis de Sancerre was very pleasant...but I could not face the idea of being his wife. You would not wish me to marry simply for the sake of it?’
‘No, certainly not, Lucy,’ Lady Dawlish replied. ‘I am sad and disappointed, as you say, but only for your sake. I pray that you will find someone who can make you put the past behind you and think of a new life. I should not like to think of you wasting your youth.’
‘If I do meet someone who makes me feel that way, I shall tell you, Mama,’ Lucy promised. ‘For the moment I would prefer to live with you and Papa.’
‘Very well, I shall not lecture you. You know your own mind best, Lucy—but it would make Papa and I happy to see you the way you used to be. You were always laughing, talking so fast that I could hardly keep up with you. Now you seem so serious...’
Lucy smiled, but made no further reply. She went up to her room, to change her gown and tidy her hair. Catching sight of herself in the pretty oval-shaped mirror in its frame of satinwood with painted decoration, she saw a face slightly too pale beneath the tan, which would soon wear off now that she was back in England, her eyes were large and dark, her mouth set in a hard line. Had she changed very much? As a girl she had always been ready to laugh and tease her friends—but she had carried so much pain inside her for too long.
She was concerned that her manner was causing her parents distress, but she had not been aware that they sensed the change in her. Had she become hard or uncaring? Lucy did not think so...the only person she felt anger against was Paul Ravenscar.
He had stayed away so long. Before he went away to Italy, he’d spoken of visiting her when she arrived in that country; she’d believed that once his grief had abated he would do so, but long before she set foot in Rome, he had gone back to Vienna and joined Wellington’s staff. In all the long months since he had not once written to her.
He cared nothing for her! Lucy’s heart and her pride had felt the blow of his indifference. Had he loved her, he would surely have made an effort to visit her. Even if he believed it was too soon for them to marry, he could have told her of his feelings...asked her to wait until he was ready. Instead, he’d ignored her and Lucy’s grief over Mark’s death and her feelings for Paul had turned to anger.
Why had he looked at her that way when they danced? Why touch her hair with his lips? Why hold her and look into her eyes when he helped her dismount from her horse? Why, oh, why had he engaged her feelings if he cared nothing for her? She had been a fool to care for him. Mark was worth ten of him...and yet she had not truly loved him in the way that a wife should. She believed that, had they married, neither would have been truly happy.
Perhaps she was incapable of loving anyone with all her heart. Lucy dragged a brush through her tangled hair, her throat tight with distress. If she could not fall in love, then she must look for a man who could keep her in comfort and would be kind to her.
It was not the marriage she had hoped for, because she was a romantic girl, but perhaps it would be less painful—to love someone was to suffer. Lucy had learned that lesson well these long months.
She owed it to her parents to marry, so she must put away this foolish grief. She had grieved long enough for her friend Mark, and Paul was not worth her tears. She would not continue to think of him and make herself miserable.
She would forget the past and be happy. Somehow, she would make a new life...and if a gentleman she liked asked her to wed him, she would say yes.
* * *
‘How is he?’ Paul asked of the butler, as he handed over his hat, gloves and riding whip. His grey eyes were anxious, his dark-brown hair ruffled as he ran his fingers through it nervously. ‘Please tell me he isn’t dead.’
‘Lord Ravenscar is very weak,’ the man replied sadly. ‘However, he still lives—and will be glad to see you, sir.’
‘Thank you, John. I shall go up to him at once.’
‘Mrs Miller is with him, sir. She sits with him as much as she can, but he still has a few visitors. Miss Dawlish came this morning. She left no more than an hour since—’
‘Indeed? That was kind of her,’ Paul said stiffly. He took the stairs two at a time, not bothering to shake off the dust of the roads in his anxiety. He knocked softly at the door of his father’s bedchamber and then went in. His gaze went immediately to the bed and the shock took his breath. Lord Ravenscar had been unwell when he left home, but still a strong man—the man in the bed looked thin and fragile, close to death. Guilt raged through him, making his chest tighten. By the looks of it he was almost too late.
‘Father...’ he said and went forward, his throat catching with emotion. ‘Forgive me for not returning sooner.’
‘Paul, my boy.’ The old man’s hand trembled as he offered it and Paul clasped it between both his hands. Jenny smiled at him and moved away from the bed.
‘I shall leave you together,’ she said. ‘Stay and talk to your father, Paul. We are all glad to have you back.’
‘Thank you... We shall talk later.’
Jenny nodded, going out of the sickroom. Paul sat on the edge of the large double bed, looking into his father’s face. ‘Forgive me, sir. I should not have stayed away so long.’
‘We both know why you went,’ Lord Ravenscar said and his voice was stronger as he held his son’s hand. ‘Your brother was dear to us both. Do you think I did not know how you loved him? We were both in awe of him, Paul—yes, I, too, for he enchanted us all, did he not?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Paul’s lean face tightened with pain. Bronzed by the sun, he had a craggy, weathered look that made him seem older than his years. ‘He was all that you could ever have wished for in a son or I in a brother. I longed to be like him, but I fear I failed...’
‘You did not fail in my eyes,’ his father said. ‘I have wanted to tell you, Paul. You were always as much my son...but you were different. I saw your mother in you, Paul. She had your hair and your eyes—Mark took after my father; he, too, was a man much larger than life and I was in awe of him.’
‘I could never live up to his standards. You deserved a son who could make you proud, sir. I would willingly have exchanged my life for his.’
‘No,’ his father said, shaking his head. ‘You make me proud, Paul. You might have gone off the rails, drinking and gambling—God knows, many would in your shoes. Instead, you buckled down to work and I know you have done well, for your commander wrote to me. He valued you, my son—and so do I.’
‘Father...’ Paul choked on the words, overwhelmed. ‘I wish it had been me... Mark should have been here to care for you and the estate.’
‘I would have given my life for him—for either of you. Mark was all that you say. But...if I speak only the truth, I believe you may be better placed to take care of the estate and our people. I have neglected them, Paul. In my grief, first for your mother and then for Mark. Oh, your cousin has done all that needed to be done, as far as it goes, but to be the lord of such an estate means more. The people need someone who cares for their welfare... I fear Mark was made for larger things.’
‘I do not understand you, Father?’
‘Mark would never have been happy to live here for long. He would have sought something more...politics or the London scene. He might have been a great general or a leader of men. I do not say he would have neglected the estate, but he spoke to me the day before he died...told me that he intended to ask you to help run the estate. I believe he had some idea of importing tea or some such thing. He was too restless a spirit to stay tamely at home.’
‘Mark wanted me to be his agent?’
‘Yes, I believe he had it in mind. He told me that he preferred an army life and would find it hard to settle in the country. I am not sure what he meant to do, for I think he was still considering his career. I know something troubled him, though he would not speak of it.’
‘I had no idea,’ Paul said and frowned. ‘Are you certain of this, Father?’
‘Yes. I always knew he would find it hard—this house, this land, they were not large enough for him, Paul. There was something in him that needed more and I think he might have grown discontent had he been forced to devote his life to the estate.’
Paul was bewildered, for he had always loved his home and liked nothing more than to ride its fields, to talk with the tenants and entertain his neighbours. This surely was a place of beauty and content, enough to make any man feel his life well spent in caring for the land and the people who worked it.
‘I am not sure what to think, sir. He said nothing of this to me—though I knew there was something on his mind. I...believed there was another woman, someone he loved, but could not marry for some reason.’
‘I dare say there may have been. He spoke vaguely of being uncertain of his own mind. I do not know what might have happened had he lived, for I think... I fear he may have discovered that he had made a mistake.’
‘A mistake? What can you mean?’
‘I believe he asked Miss Dawlish to marry him on the spur of the moment and then realised he did not truly wish to wed her. Naturally, he could not jilt her for he was above all a gentleman—but I think he was troubled. Had he lived...’
As his father sighed, Paul’s mind struggled to take in all that he had been told. It seemed that there were aspects of his brother that he had not suspected. If Mark did not particularly want to be the master of Ravenscar...if he had not truly loved Lucy...but, no, his father was mistaken. Any man fortunate to know Lucy, as Mark had, must love her.
‘I can hardly credit it,’ he said to his father. ‘I am sorry for it, if it is true—but Mark appeared to be so pleased with the world. He spoke of the wedding and of making the estate stronger, more prosperous.’
‘It was his intention to improve things, especially for our tenants,’ Lord Ravenscar said. ‘He spoke of pulling old cottages down and building new...and, as I said, I believe he hoped to make the money for these improvements by a venture into trade.’
‘As Adam and Hallam have with their wine importing,’ Paul said. ‘I do not think I have such bold ideas in my head, Father. I cannot see myself investing in cargoes or selling wine or tea. I think an improvement may be made to the land by new methods of farming—and I should like to breed horses if I can afford it.’
‘You are a countryman after my own heart,’ his father said and smiled. ‘It was my ambition to breed fine horses at one time, but I was too lazy. If you have your mother’s blood in you, you may achieve more, for she was always busy.’
‘You have never gambled your fortune away, sir, as many gentlemen do. I shall have no debts to settle, as my cousins did.’
‘I would have loaned them money, you know, but they were too proud to ask and in the end solved their own problems. I wish that I could have had more time with you, Paul—time to teach you things you should know, but Anders is a good man. He will help you...and Hallam knows the estate well.’
‘Hallam has done his share,’ Paul said. ‘I shall do well enough—and I still have you to guide me, sir.’
His father’s hand trembled a little on the bed. ‘I fear not for much longer, my son—but I shall die in peace now that I have seen you again. All I want is for you to be happy.’
‘I shall do my best to oblige you, sir. I shall make you proud of me and the estate will not suffer if I can prevent it.’
‘I know you will do all I could ask, my boy,’ his father said and smiled at him. ‘But it is not just the estate...you must find a wife to make you comfortable and you will need at least one son—more is always better.’ They were both silent, for they had ample cause to know what might happen to the rightful heir.
‘Yes, Father,’ Paul said, feeling a lump in his throat as his father lay back and closed his eyes. ‘I shall remember. I will look about for a comfortable wife...’
No answer came and he knew that his father was sleeping. He had wanted to say so much in a short time and it had exhausted him.
Paul felt the sting of tears. He feared that his father could not live many days, for his strength was failing, but God had given them this short time together. Lord Ravenscar had given him hope, because he felt he had his blessing. Somehow, their talk had eased his grief in a way that the months of self-imposed exile had not. He should have stayed here with his father, got to know him better...but at least they’d had this time together.
Mark would always be his hero, but the feeling of having always been inadequate had lessened. His father had not thought him a failure—he trusted him to take care of the estate and its people. Paul would not let him down...and he would look for a lady to make his wife. It was his duty to his father and to the estate.
He thought fleetingly of Lucy, then dismissed her from his mind. She would not look at him, but there were other ladies almost as lovely...and perhaps one of them would be happy to be his wife and give him the sons the estate needed.
Chapter Two
Pausing at the top of the landing that morning, as he heard the female voices in the hall below, Paul caught his breath. Surely that was Lucy’s voice? She must have come to visit his father.
He took a deep breath and went down the wide staircase, with its beautifully carved mahogany banisters. As he reached the bottom he paused and she turned her head towards him, making him catch his breath. He was surprised as he looked into her face and saw a stranger. It was Lucy, but not as he remembered her—her face was thinner, older, yet in a way even more lovely—but there was something different. The Lucy Dawlish he’d known had been so open, a trusting, lovely, lively girl who had chattered heedlessly and laughed all the time... This woman had an air of reserve about her...as if she were encased in a crystal, her thoughts and feelings shielded from public gaze.
‘Miss Dawlish,’ he said and held out his hand in greeting. ‘How pleasant to see you.’
‘Captain Ravenscar,’ she replied and made a slight curtsy. ‘I am glad to see you home at last. Your father must be happy that you have come back, I dare say.’
He felt her censure and frowned. He knew well enough that he had neglected both his father and the estate, but he did not care to hear it from her—and it was there in her manner and her eyes.
‘Yes, he is,’ Paul said. ‘It is good of you to enquire. Yesterday, when I arrived, he was very tired, but today he seems better. I sat with him for an hour and we talked of estate matters. If you will excuse me, I shall leave you and Jenny to talk. I have something to do that Father most particularly requested.’ He inclined his head to her and then glanced at Jenny. He gave Lucy a cool look, for he had retreated into that private place within him. She looked at him with eyes that saw too much and he needed to escape. ‘I shall not be at home for luncheon, Jenny—but I shall certainly be back for tea.’
‘Yes, of course, Paul,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘Adam should be home later this afternoon. I told you he had gone to London on business, but he will be so pleased to see you back where you belong.’
Paul nodded and went past them and out into the warm sunshine. It was a few moments before he felt the warmth, for he felt as if he were encased in ice. He was not sure whether he had behaved just as he ought, for it had been such a shock to see Lucy standing there looking so changed...but he hoped that he had said all that was polite to an old friend. She could never be anything more...and she was not the girl of his dreams.
What had happened to change her so? Had she grieved so deeply for his brother?
Walking swiftly towards the agent’s office, he thrust his feelings to the back of his mind. His father had asked him to ride out and speak with one of their farming tenants. The house needed a substantial repair to the roof and it was needful that it should be set in hand at once. Hallam had not made a decision on it before returning to his home, but now that Paul was back at Ravenscar, it would be his decision.
He must attend to business and forget the way his heart had hammered at the first sight of the woman he had once loved. It was his duty to think of the estate and to marry a sensible woman to provide an heir for the title. This foolish yearning must be put aside. Lucy was beyond him and so he must not think of her— besides, she was not the same.
‘Captain Ravenscar,’ Mr Anders said, looking up from his ledgers. ‘What may I do for you, sir?’
‘I have it in mind to take a look at Briars Farm,’ he said. ‘Will you ride out with me, Anders? I should like to see the work that needs to be done for myself...and then we shall set it in train. Now that I am home I intend to see that everything is as it ought to be.’
‘I shall be glad of it, sir. Major Ravenscar is a good man, but he has his own affairs and did not like to go too fast in case it was not in accordance with your wishes...and he would not trouble Lord Ravenscar more than necessary.’
‘My father has put the estate in my hands, as you know.’ Paul smiled, for he liked the honest cut of the man. ‘You shall advise me, sir—but it is my intention to improve the estate. There are many new ideas in agriculture now and we must investigate them...and our people must be properly housed.’
‘I am glad to hear it, sir,’ Anders said. ‘I have wanted to make changes for some time, but Lord Ravenscar was not interested in new methods. He said he was too old to change and it would be up to his sons to take up the new methods.’
‘Well, now we shall begin,’ Paul said. ‘Walk to the stables with me—unless you are too busy?’
‘Nothing that cannot wait,’ his agent said and reached for his hat. ‘It is a lovely day for a ride out.’
* * *
‘Will you not stay and take luncheon with me?’ Jenny said when Lucy came down from visiting Lord Ravenscar. ‘Paul will not be back and I would much rather have your company than eat alone.’
‘Yes, if you wish it,’ Lucy said and looked thoughtful. ‘So much has happened since you first came down here to stay with me, Jenny. You married Adam and you have your darling son. How lucky you were to fall in love with him.’
‘Yes, I am fortunate,’ Jenny said and studied her anxiously. ‘You look tired, Lucy. Are you not quite well?’
‘I am fine, thank you,’ Lucy replied, her hands curling at her sides as she fought her emotions. ‘I suppose it was a shock to see Paul so much changed. Of course he has been away months and people do change. I dare say I am changed myself...’
The way he’d looked at her...not seeing her, but looking through her as if she did not exist. It had felt like a knife stabbing her to the heart. How could he look at her so coldly—as if they had never been more than mere acquaintances?
‘Yes, you are a little,’ Jenny agreed. ‘You seem quieter, more thoughtful than you used to be, Lucy. I think you laughed and cried more easily before you left for Italy. I have not asked...was there no one that you liked? I thought you might marry.’
‘Oh, I liked a great many people and I might have married,’ Lucy said, ‘but I think I was still grieving. However, all that is at an end. I am determined to find a husband for myself as soon as I may. Mama is anxious for me and it is my duty to marry well.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ Jenny said and laughed softly. She was a pretty girl and marriage agreed with her, the light from within bringing her eyes alive. ‘I should like you to be as happy as I am with Adam. You must look for someone handsome and kind...but the Season in London is sadly over for this year.’
‘Mama spoke of taking me to Bath,’ Lucy said. ‘Papa intends to give a little dance next month. I hope that you and Adam will come? You never know, I might find a gentleman locally who would offer for me—and I should prefer to live not too far distant from my parents. I am their only child, after all.’
‘I suppose that would be nice. I have no parents, of course, only an uncle and aunt. Lord Ravenscar is as dear to me as a father, for he has been so loving towards me. I shall be very sad when he leaves us.’
‘Is there no hope that he will recover now that Paul is home?’
‘I am not sure. The physicians say that it is only a matter of time, but I see an improvement in him. He has hung on this long because he wanted to see Paul again—and now he is home he may recover.’
‘I wish he will have a little longer,’ Lucy said. ‘It will be heartbreaking for Paul to lose his father too soon—though he ought to have returned sooner. I cannot imagine why he stayed away so long. It was thoughtless of him.’
‘I suppose that once he had accepted the commission with Wellington, he could not leave him until it was settled.’ Jenny frowned. ‘I believe he much regrets it now, but Lord Ravenscar is not resentful, merely pleased to have his son home.’
‘Yes...’ Lucy wrinkled her smooth brow. ‘He told me just now how proud he was of Paul for having stuck to his duty. He says that he knows Paul has many improvements in mind for the estate.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Jenny said and laughed. ‘He explained them to me last night in detail, but I fear that I was not truly attending. Jeffery was cutting a tooth and my mind was with him...but it all sounded very worthy and fine.’
‘Poor Jenny.’ Lucy laughed and her face lit up. All at once she looked beautiful again, the sorrows of the past months somehow sloughed off as her eyes danced with amusement. ‘You must have missed Adam very much, for they could have talked business together.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Jenny agreed. ‘I like Paul very well, but farming is not my forte and I could not help listening for little Jeffrey. Nurse is very good, but he does cry so...and she will not pick him up, because she says it spoils him. I think she does not like it when I do.’
‘Oh, that is unkind, but I know many nurses feel the same,’ Lucy said sympathetically. ‘If I had a child, I believe I should pick him up when he cried—even if his nurse did not agree with the practice.’
‘Well, I do,’ Jenny said. ‘Nurse scolds me, but I do not care. He is my son and I shall tend him when he cries no matter what anyone says.’ She offered her hand to Lucy. ‘Will you come up and see him now?’
‘Yes, I should love to and I shall stay to luncheon, Jenny. Mama knew that I might be more than an hour or so and will not worry.’
‘I shall send your groom to tell her that you will not be home until later,’ Jenny assured her. ‘And you shall ride home in my carriage.’
* * *
Lucy thoroughly enjoyed the time she spent with her friend, for they caught up on all the things that had happened to them in the intervening months. Their exchanges made them laugh and Lucy felt better than she had in a long time. By the time Jenny’s husband walked into the salon with another gentleman, she was smiling much in her old way.
‘Adam!’ Jenny sprang to her feet and ran towards him, hands outstretched. ‘How good it is to see you, my love. Did you have a comfortable journey?’
‘Very,’ he replied and kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘I have brought a guest to stay for a while, Jenny. His name is George and he is the Earl of Daventry—and he was so obliging as to sell me a horse. We knew each other in the army, but have not met for...oh, more than three years... That was before George became the earl, of course.’
‘Mrs Miller,’ the stranger said and bowed his head to her. ‘I had heard Adam had married a lovely young woman, but I could not have guessed how beautiful.’
He was an assured man, well built with dark eyes and hair, his mouth a little thin when in repose, but nothing could have exceeded his affability.
‘You flatter me, sir,’ Jenny said. ‘Forgive me, my lord—I must make you known to my friend, Miss Lucy Dawlish...’ Lucy rose to her feet and made a little curtsy. ‘Lucy, the Earl of Daventry.’
‘I believe we have met once before, sir, quite briefly—in Paris.’
‘Indeed, we have, Miss Dawlish,’ Daventry agreed with a smile oozing with charm as he took her hand and bent his head to kiss it. ‘I never forget a face...especially one as lovely as yours.’
‘I think you flatter me,’ Lucy said and laughed, for he was a handsome man, his manners and bearing pleasing. ‘If you speak the truth, you hardly noticed me the night we were introduced. You were a little preoccupied...’
‘Was I?’ His dark eyes narrowed for a moment and then he laughed. ‘Yes, I believe you were right—I was, in fact, a trifle the worse for drink. I had lost a fortune the previous night...but I did recall you, Miss Dawlish, upon my word I did.’
‘I shall believe you, sir,’ she replied and laughed up at him. He was a head taller than Adam, his build classical and elegant, in that he had the physique of a Greek god and his hair was very black against his pale skin. He was dressed in a dark-blue coat that must have been made by Weston or perhaps Scott, for it had a military look, his pale breeches fitting to strong legs and encased in fine topboots. On his right hand he wore a signet on the third finger and a gold pin in his snowy cravat, but his clothes were plain in every other respect.
‘I swear I would not lie,’ he declared, but his eyes held a wicked gleam that made her laugh once more and shake her head.
‘I must have a room prepared for you,’ Jenny said, ‘and then we shall have tea.’
‘I asked Halstead to see to the room,’ Adam said. ‘Pray ring for tea, my dear. George may use my dressing room for the moment if he wishes to refresh himself.’
‘I am quite content here for the moment, if the ladies will excuse me coming to their parlour with all the dirt of the road upon me?’
‘Of course,’ Jenny said. ‘As you see, my husband does not scruple and I wish only to make you both comfortable after your long ride. Please take a seat, sir, and tea shall be brought, by which time your room will be ready for you.’
‘I should be going, Jenny,’ Lucy said. ‘If you will send for the carriage...’
‘You must not leave yet, enchantress,’ Lord Daventry protested, his eyes giving her a look of admiration that made her blush. ‘I entreat you, stay and drink a dish of tea with us.’
‘Yes, you must,’ Jenny agreed. ‘I told your groom to inform Lady Dawlish that you would return after tea. Please do, Lucy.’
‘Very well, if you wish it,’ Lucy said. ‘I thought only to leave you with your guest.’
‘If only you also had been a guest here,’ Daventry said and sighed eloquently. ‘I shall hope that your home is not too far distant so that I may pay a call on your dear mama.’
‘It is less than half an hour on horseback,’ Lucy began just as Paul entered the large parlour. She caught her breath and could not continue as he stood just inside the door, his eyes moving over the little group, a slight frown on his brow. His was a brooding presence, his lean frame in marked contrast to the build of the earl, his features dark and graven.
‘Paul...’ Adam saw him and strode to greet him, offering his hand. ‘I am glad you are home. You have seen your father?’
‘Yes. I thank you for your care of him, Cousin,’ Paul replied. ‘It was good of you and Jenny to come here at such short notice.’
‘Hallam asked if we could visit with Lord Ravenscar, for he was called away,’ Adam replied. ‘Indeed, it is Jenny who has sat with him and helped to nurse him—I have been somewhat preoccupied with other things...but now that you are home, we shall leave in a few days.’
‘I wish you will not,’ Paul said. ‘As you know, I have no wife and my father needs a lady to care for him if he is not to be left to the maids. Please make yourselves at home for as long as you wish.’
‘We shall stay, then,’ Adam said. ‘I’ve brought a friend to visit for a few days, Paul. Daventry wishes to look at some of my horses.’
‘You are welcome, sir,’ Paul said and inclined his head. ‘I fear there is little to entertain you here, for my father is ill and we do not invite guests—or only close friends—but any friends of Adam’s are always welcome.’
Daventry went to shake hands with him, looking suitably grave.
‘Adam told me the situation. I am on my way home and came to bear him company, and to look at a horse he mentioned. I do not expect to be entertained, Captain Ravenscar.’
‘You know me, sir?’
‘We met briefly in Vienna. You had just arrived and I was about to leave for London. I dare say you hardly saw me, for I think...you seemed much caught by your own thoughts.’
‘Yes, I dare say I was at that time,’ Paul said stiffly. ‘Forgive me, I must visit my father. I shall have my tea with him, Jenny. I will see you at dinner—Miss Dawlish, your servant.’ He nodded his head curtly and left.
Lucy sensed that he had withdrawn behind a barrier, his eyes distant, as if he hardly saw any of them...especially her.
‘Paul...’ she breathed, but in a voice that carried only as far as the gentleman sitting next to her.
‘You must find me in the way. Perhaps I should leave in the morning...’ Daventry began as Paul went out, but Adam shook his head.
‘No, no, that is not at all the case. Lord Ravenscar bid me treat his house as my own and I assure you that he would not object to my inviting a guest. Paul is a little out of sorts, you understand. I insist you stay for at least two days, as we planned.’
‘Well, if you insist, Adam,’ Daventry said. ‘I shall use my time to make the acquaintance of my new friend.’ His gaze lingered on Lucy with pleasure, bringing a flush to her cheeks.
She had been enjoying his conversation, but Paul’s sudden arrival, his coldness and the look he had given her had wiped the smile from her lips. Was he thinking that she had intruded by staying all day to talk with Jenny? Or did he include her as an old friend? She could not be certain and wished that she had insisted on leaving before Paul returned. She would not for the world have him think she presumed on old acquaintance.
However, she could not leave now without making a fuss. It was not easy to recover the pleasure she’d found in the company of her friends, for she had sensed Paul’s resentment. This was his home and, although he had welcomed the earl and insisted that Adam and Jenny remain, he had refused to have tea with them.
Perhaps it was Lucy’s presence that he resented? She felt coldness at her nape, but made a determined effort to enjoy the conversation, though she could manage no more than a tiny sandwich and a dish of tea.
* * *
After tea the gentlemen went upstairs to see about Daventry’s room and Jenny sent for the carriage. She accompanied Lucy to the door and kissed her.
‘I think Paul upset you,’ she said. ‘Please do not be hurt, Lucy. He is not as he used to be... There is a reserve about him these days, almost as if he distances himself from everyone. He has been pleasant to me, but I have felt that if it were not for his father’s need, he would wish me elsewhere.’
‘Surely he must be grateful for your care of Lord Ravenscar.’
‘He is grateful...but he was so much more to Adam before Mark’s death. They were close friends. Even with Adam there is...a barrier. If I did not know him, I should call it arrogance, but I do not believe that is the right word. I think he has shut himself off for too long and does not know how to behave with his friends.’
‘Yes, perhaps you are right,’ Lucy said. ‘He has grieved for his brother too long. I, too, have suffered, but with you today...and before Paul came in...it was as if all the sadness had melted away and a load was lifted from my heart.’
Jenny smiled and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. ‘I thought you seemed happier, dearest. I shall visit you and your mama one day before we leave Ravenscar—and you must come here again whenever you wish.’
‘I am not sure that Paul would wish it,’ Lucy said a little stiffly. ‘It is, after all, his home and...I do not think he was happy to see me here.’ Her throat caught for she felt hurt, as if by his manner he denied everything that had ever been between them.
‘He is just a little awkward,’ Jenny assured her. ‘Paul was always your friend. I am sure another day he will seek you out and apologise. It is just awkwardness, I believe.’
‘Perhaps,’ Lucy said and squeezed her hand. ‘Now I must go. Please come for luncheon one day, if you can manage it, Jenny.’
Jenny promised she would. They went out to the waiting carriage; the steps were let down, a footman assisted her into the carriage and she was driven away. She waved to Jenny once and then leaned back against the squabs. Her eyes closed and she felt them sting, as if the tears were close.
What had she expected of Paul? Something different to the reserve he had shown towards her.
It was all very well for Jenny to say that Paul was just feeling strange to be home again, but she had seen him twice now and on neither occasion had he seemed pleased to see her. Indeed, when he saw that she was still in his house at teatime, he had looked grim—even angry.
She had thought that he might come to her in Italy, for he had spoken of being her friend before he went away after Mark died; he had even hinted that he cared for her...as she had cared for him. Now it seemed that he had raised a barrier between them, perhaps so that she should not imagine he had tender feelings for her.
Perhaps he never had...
Whatever the truth, it was clear to Lucy that he had forgotten her. She must close her heart to him and look for someone she could like well enough to marry. There must surely be someone she could bear to live with every day in the closeness of marriage?
For a moment the handsome, teasing face of George Daventry entered her mind. He was very charming, but Lucy suspected she was not the only lady to find herself the object of his attention.
He would flirt with her, pay her compliments and be a charming partner at a dance, but she did not imagine that he was thinking of making her an offer. Besides, she believed he had estates in the north and west of England, and she had already decided that she did not wish to go so far from her family.
Chapter Three
‘Ah, here you are, my love,’ Lady Dawlish greeted her with a smile as she went into the house. ‘I hope you had a pleasant day?’
‘Yes, indeed, Mama,’ Lucy said, taking off her bonnet and shawl. Removing her gloves, she glanced up at her mother. ‘Jenny begged me to have luncheon with her—and then she wanted me to stay to tea. Captain Miller returned before tea and he brought a guest with him—the Earl of Daventry.’
‘Oh?’ Lady Dawlish raised her eyebrows. ‘I should not have thought they wished for many guests in the house at the moment.’
‘Captain Ravenscar said that they would not entertain while his father is ill, but the earl said he did not wish for entertainment. He spoke of riding out with Adam to look at some horses and...and he may decide to call on us, Mama.’
‘Indeed? How charming of him,’ her mother said. ‘He will be most welcome to stay for nuncheon or tea if he so wishes.’
‘Yes, I thought he might like to spend a little time here, for it is a little awkward at Ravenscar.’
‘Yes, I dare say it may be,’ Lady Dawlish agreed thoughtfully. ‘Captain Ravenscar must be wishing him to the devil. Adam is his cousin, of course, and Jenny is such a capable and kind young woman. I dare say Lord Ravenscar would not like to lose her. Maids are all very well, but when one is ill it is good to have one’s friends about one.’
‘Lord Ravenscar seemed a little stronger when I visited him today,’ Lucy told her. ‘I feel very sad for him, Mama. Jenny says the doctor believes it a matter of weeks. It is only because he wanted to see Paul home that he has clung so tenaciously to life but...I fear he may not last much longer.’ She felt her throat catch and wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘Paul will feel it so much...I think he can hardly bear to lose his father...’
‘Why did he not return months ago?’ Lady Dawlish shook her head over it. ‘He might have had so much longer with his father had he done so.’
‘Perhaps he simply could not bear it,’ Lucy suggested. ‘It was a long time before I could bear to remember Mark...and I was apprehensive the first time I visited his father.’
‘Well, we must pray that Lord Ravenscar makes a recovery. Yes, I know he is very ill, dearest, but sometimes patients do feel better—and it will cheer him having his son home,’ her mother said. ‘But you are feeling a little better now, I think? You look brighter, Lucy.’
‘Yes, I began to feel better when I was talking with Jenny today. We were always such good friends, Mama. I have asked her to visit us if she feels she can leave Lord Ravenscar for a few hours. It must be hard for her to see him so frail...and to see Paul the way he is...so distant and reserved.’
‘That does not sound like the man we knew. Well, I dare say it is grief,’ Lady Dawlish said. ‘But now I have some news for you, dearest. It may cheer you. Your cousin Judith is coming to stay—Judith Sparrow.’
‘Uncle John’s daughter,’ Lucy said. ‘She married Sir Michael Sparrow some years back, when she was just seventeen. I have only seen her once, at her wedding.’
Lady Dawlish nodded as she led the way into the parlour. It was a pretty room decorated in shades of green and cream, the furniture a little shabby perhaps from wear, but very comfortable. Books lay about on occasional tables and a fan of lace was lying next to an open workbox, for it was their private place where everything could be left where they wished.
‘Yes, I did not approve of your cousin’s marriage at the time, for Sir Michael was fifteen years her senior and I thought him too old, but she would have him and my brother approved—and now she is a widow, of course. Her husband died two years ago of a lung disorder. I know she is wealthy and may do as she likes with the fortune he left her—but she is only two and twenty and that is young to be widowed.’
‘Yes, that is true,’ Lucy said, her sympathy instantly aroused. ‘I suffered enough and I was never married to Mark...but if she loved her husband, she must have been devastated.’
‘She has not been much in company since her husband died. My brother says she wished to live quietly while in mourning, but now she has put off her blacks and John is coming with her to stay with us. He will not stay long for he is leaving for France almost immediately, having been given a new diplomatic post. He wanted Judith to be with friends and I assured him that she would be welcome here. You will be glad of her company, I dare say?’
‘Yes, of course, Mama. If she is ready to go into society again, she may attend my dance. I dare say you will give a dinner in her honour?’
‘Yes, I shall—and perhaps a picnic, too. It is time we entertained again and we have several invitations to dances, dinners, card evenings and various excursions in the next few weeks. Judith could not have chosen a better time to come...and it will be better for you to have her company, dearest. I dare say you will find that most of your special friends have become engaged or married while we were away.’
‘Yes, I suppose they have,’ Lucy said, sadness fleeting through her eyes. She would have been married more than a year had things been otherwise. ‘I shall be pleased to have my cousin to stay, Mama. Jenny will not remain long after... Well, I dare say she misses her home. She was always my particular friend, but perhaps I shall make friends with my cousin.’
* * *
Lucy was strolling in the garden when the two gentlemen dismounted from their horses in the drive. She saw them and waved her hand, walking towards them, her parasol over her shoulder. Smiling, she greeted them warmly as they waited for her to approach.
‘Adam...Lord Daventry,’ she said. ‘It is such a lovely day, is it not? I was tempted out by the roses; they smell so wonderful at this time of year.’
‘Do you like roses, Miss Dawlish?’ George Daventry said. ‘We have some particularly fine ones at Daventry Hall in Devon—my gardener tells me that I have one of the best collections of old musk roses in the country.’
‘How delightful,’ Lucy replied. ‘I think they have the best perfumes of all...some of the damask roses are gorgeous.’
‘Yes, indeed they are,’ he said and offered his arm as she closed her parasol. ‘How lovely you look, Miss Dawlish. Yellow is certainly your colour, I think.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘Please, you must both come in and meet Mama. I know she is hoping to see you.’
‘How is your mother, Lucy?’ Adam asked as he followed behind. ‘Your father missed you both a great deal when you were travelling, I think.’
‘Yes, indeed, poor Papa felt lonely after he left us in Italy and returned home. We ought to have come with him, but he insisted we stay until I was ready—and I was not then of a mind to return.’
‘It was a terrible time for all of us. Jenny tells me you are much recovered now.’
‘Yes, thank you. I only wish that I could say the same for your cousin, Adam. Paul seemed unlike himself yesterday, but I dare say he is concerned for his father.’
‘He is in a better mood this morning and apologised for his abruptness yesterday. I believe he is driven to near despair by his father’s illness—perhaps because he feels guilt at having left him alone for so long.’
‘Is his lordship no better?’
‘I thought he seemed a little better this morning,’ Adam replied with a nod. ‘I dare say it is having Paul home again.’
‘Perhaps he will rally,’ Lucy said, then turned to her companion. ‘Tell me, sir, have you found a horse to suit you?’
‘I am looking for a mare for my married sister as a birthday gift,’ he replied. ‘Adam showed me one or two and we have arranged to speak to one Major Wilson, who has several good horses for sale. We shall go there this afternoon.’
‘But you will stay for some refreshment with us first,’ Lucy said. ‘It would be senseless to return to Ravenscar when it is but a short distance from here to Major Wilson’s stud. I know Papa thinks well of his breeding lines and often buys a horse from the major... My own Silver Miss came from him.’
‘Thank you, you are most kind,’ Lord Daventry replied.
Lucy smiled at him, then led the way inside to her mother’s parlour.
* * *
‘Adam and Daventry have not returned for luncheon?’ Paul said, as he entered the small dining parlour they used when just the family was at home. ‘I wanted to ask Adam if he would ride out with me to look at one of the fields.’
‘They went to visit Lucy and her mother—and then I think Lord Daventry wanted to look at Major Wilson’s horses.’
‘Ah, yes, Wilson has some decent blood mares. I think I need a new horse myself...and if I decide to breed I shall need good blood stock to begin my stud.’
‘I am sure his are as good as any to be had in the district, or so Adam says—but of course the horse fair will be here in September if you do not find anything that suits you.’
Paul nodded his agreement, then frowned slightly as he said, ‘I thought Miss Dawlish much changed... Did you not find her so?’
‘Yes,’ Jenny acknowledged. ‘Lucy has grown up, I think—and her face is thinner than before, but when she laughs she looks much as she always did.’
‘Oh? I have not seen her laugh...she has little to say to me,’ Paul rejoined stiffly. He was standing at the buffet, his back towards Jenny.
‘I dare say she feels strange with you. You have not seen one another for an age—and you were a little abrupt when she was here, Paul.’
‘Yes, I dare say I was at fault,’ he said and stared broodingly at the food on the plate he’d brought to table. ‘It was in my mind that she blamed me for taking Mark’s place here.’
‘Oh, no, how could she?’ Jenny said. ‘You must not feel guilty, Paul. We all know that you did not wish for this—that you would willingly have given your life for your brother’s.’
‘Do you?’ Paul turned his gaze on her and then a reluctant smile touched his mouth. ‘Thank you, Jenny. I am a fool. I should not blame Lucy for being cool to me when I had nothing but a formal greeting for her. Does it still show...my feeling of guilt?’
‘Yes, to me and to Adam. We understand your grief, Paul, for Adam loved Mark, too—but can you not put the past behind you? Mark would not wish you to grieve for ever. He would be the first to tell you to move on with your life, as we have.’
‘I know...’ Paul sighed. ‘I am trying to accept my duties here, Jenny. I have always loved the estate, its land and people—more than Mark did, I think. I believe I can accept what I must when my father... But Lucy...’ He shook his head. ‘No, I must not burden you with my foolish thoughts. Excuse me, I must go up to Father.’ He pushed his chair back, abandoning the untouched food.
‘Your father seems better, Paul. I think he may astound his doctor and live for a few more months or even longer.’
‘How kind you have been to us all,’ he said. ‘I can never thank you enough for being here when he needed you.’
‘You know I am your friend and your father’s friend.’
Paul nodded and left her, running up the stairs to his father’s apartments. He could only hope that Jenny was right. His father had rallied since he had returned and the doctor was pleased. Paul prayed that it meant they could have some time together. He was determined not to leave Lord Ravenscar again. They must make the most of each day granted to them and Paul would learn all he could from his father, because he wanted his people to prosper—and he wanted his father to die in peace when the time came.
A cloud passed across his face as his thoughts returned to Lucy Dawlish, as they did too often. His first sight of her had been a shock. He had meant to be more friendly the next time they met, but she had been talking to a stranger and he had resented it—which was ridiculous. Lucy Dawlish was nothing to him or he to her, but, try as he might, he could not put her from his mind as he wished. Her face intruded into his mind without warning, particularly when he was in bed at night and sleep would not come.
His marriage was not something he could dismiss. Paul knew that he must find a young lady who would give him an heir and make his house into a home. If he were fortunate, he might find someone like Jenny. Adam was a lucky man, for not only was she a sensible, kind-hearted woman, but she had brought him a fortune.
As the heir to the Ravenscar estate, Paul did not need to marry a fortune. He could look for a young woman who made him feel happy—but where was he to find such a person? Once upon a time he’d believed he knew the lady he wished to spend his life with...but now...
Was Lucy really so much changed? She looked beautiful but seemed more reserved, cool as she looked at him, all the sparkling vitality that had made him love her gone. Had Mark’s death done that to her? How much she must have loved him.
His throat tightened with sympathy for her. He knew that he had been hoping she would have put all that behind her...would look at him with laughter in her eyes and...the love he’d sometimes thought he had seen before Mark was murdered. Or had he imagined it because it was what he’d hoped for?
What would have happened if Mark had lived? Would Lucy have married him...or would she have broken her engagement because she loved someone else?
A rueful smile touched his lips. He had never been sure that Lucy cared for him, even though once or twice he had been tempted to kiss her...to beg her not to marry his brother. Loyalty and doubt had kept him from trying to seduce his brother’s bride-to-be, but there had been moments when he’d seen something in her eyes and he’d hoped.
It was useless to wish that he’d spoken out when he first suspected what was in his heart, before Mark had come home in his uniform, looking like a conquering hero. Perhaps if he had...but he’d waited, not wanting to rush things, and Mark had swept Lucy off her feet. Paul wondered if she had regretted her promise to wed him, but he had never been brave enough to ask.
With a shake of his head, he dismissed his foolish thoughts and went into his father’s bedchamber.
* * *
‘I have enjoyed myself, meeting your mama,’ Lord Daventry said and kissed Lucy’s hand when she walked to the door with her guests. ‘I hope to see you again soon, Miss Dawlish.’
‘I believe you are leaving Ravenscar tomorrow, sir?’
‘Yes, indeed, I may,’ he replied with a rueful smile. ‘I fear that Ravenscar’s illness makes it a little awkward for me to stay as long as I’d imagined. However, I have a cousin living not too far distant and it may be that I shall pay him a little visit.’
Lucy’s cheeks felt warm as she gave him a shy smile. ‘Mama has invited you to my dance next month... It is under three weeks away. I should be happy if you could find the time to come, sir.’
‘Oh, but I have already told your dear mama that I shall be delighted. Even if I have to put up at a local inn, I would not miss it for the world.’
‘I am sure Mama would be honoured to offer you accommodation here for a day or so, my lord.’
‘I should be delighted to accept,’ he said, his eyes seeming to caress her. ‘But I dare say I may see you again before the dance.’
‘I should like that,’ Lucy replied, watching as Adam finished his conversation with her father and came out into the courtyard. ‘Goodbye, Captain Miller. Give my love to Jenny.’
‘Of course. She will be happy to see you any day—and if my uncle improves she may drive over to see you one day next week.’
‘She must come to lunch,’ Lucy said. ‘We are here most days—but not, I think, Tuesday next for we have a lunch party with friends.’
Adam inclined his head. Daventry smiled at her and the two men rode off. She remained in the sunshine, watching them until they had reached the end of the drive, then turned and went into her mother’s parlour.
‘Well, Lucy, I like the earl very well,’ Lady Dawlish said and sipped a small glass of pale sherry. ‘There is nothing arrogant about him despite his lineage and his wealth. Yes, I thought him an excellent man.’
‘He is very pleasant, good company,’ Lucy agreed. ‘He says he shall come to my dance even if he has to put up at the inn—but I told him you would be pleased to have him stay here.’
‘Yes, certainly,’ her mother agreed. ‘I shall send a formal invitation to his home.’
‘He says he may stay nearby with a relative and hopes to visit us again before the dance.’
Her mother smiled and looked pleased. ‘I think the earl likes you very well, Lucy. He is perhaps a little older than I should like in a husband for you, but, if you liked him, his age would not matter.’
‘He is but three and thirty,’ Lucy said seriously, for she had on short acquaintance found nothing to dislike in the gentleman. ‘I do not think that too old, Mama. Mark would have been eight and twenty this year, had he lived. Five more years is not so very much different in a husband—and I have grown up since then.’
‘Yes, you have,’ her mother agreed and nodded with approval. ‘Am I to think that you would welcome an offer from the earl?’
‘It is too soon to be certain,’ Lucy said, wrinkling her brow. ‘I like him very well. I think he would be a comfortable companion, but I am not sure I wish to marry him.’
Her mother could only agree, ‘As you say, it is too early to be sure, but I am glad to see that you are beginning to think of marriage, dearest. For a while I thought you would never recover from your grief.’
‘I am much better now,’ Lucy told her. ‘I think that if I continue to like the earl...I should be ready to marry him in a few months.’
‘I am so pleased,’ her mother said. ‘I would not push you into a marriage you did not like, but I cannot help wanting to see you well settled—and Daventry is a perfect gentleman.’
‘Yes, I believe he may be,’ Lucy replied. ‘I imagine he may have been a flirt in the past, but many gentlemen have their flirts... If he is looking for a wife, he will no doubt behave just as he ought. Of course, he is an accomplished flirt and his attention may mean nothing.’
Lucy left her mother to go upstairs and change her gown for the evening when the dressing gong sounded. A maid had set out a pale-grey gown for her and Lucy allowed her to help her into it, but shook her head when she looked in the mirror.
‘I shall not change again this evening, Marie, but after this I wish you to put my grey gowns away. I shall wear colours all the time now. I have finished with my mourning.’
‘Yes, miss. I’ll have them packed away into trunks with lavender, Miss Lucy.’
‘Thank you,’ Lucy said. ‘And I will have my hair dressed in ringlets again this evening...the way you used to do it for me.’
‘I am glad, miss,’ her maid said. ‘I think a softer style suits you much better.’
Lucy nodded. She looked at her image in the mirror as Marie finished dressing her hair. For too long she’d worn the severe styles caught into the nape of her neck, which she’d adopted in her grief, but she knew this way of wearing her hair was prettier and suited her well.
Fastening a string of seed pearls about her throat and pearl drops to her earlobes, Lucy reflected on the time she’d spent talking to Lord Daventry. He had teased her and flattered her, paying her far too many compliments, but he had also been able to talk to her of poetry and music...and their tastes seemed much in accord. Lucy knew that she was not in love with the earl; his touch did not make her heart race, but she felt no revulsion when he kissed her hand. She liked him very well and...if she could not marry the man she still cared for...she might as well marry for comfort. Daventry would be kind to her and she would be the wife of a wealthy man...if he asked for her, of course.
Suddenly, Lucy was taken by a fit of the giggles. She had no idea whether the earl was truly interested in making her an offer. His charm might be just his natural manner with a lady and he might just be amusing himself, flirting with a pretty girl. Indeed, that was more than likely the case.
The thought caused her no pain. She would not break her heart over him if he did not come up to scratch...but if he should ask she thought she might be able to find contentment as his wife.
All the months of breaking her heart over Paul Ravenscar, all the waiting for him to come to her in Italy, seemed far away. It was as if a dark cloud had been banished. She was recovering at last, Lucy thought. Everyone believed that the change in her was due to Mark’s death, and it had played its part, for she had mourned a friend...but it was Paul who had broken her heart.
She would not allow him to do it again. Lucy lifted her head, determined now that the next time they met she would do so with indifference. If he looked through her as though she did not exist, she would give as much in return.
She was not going to waste her life in regret.
Chapter Four
‘I rode over with the invitations to my dance,’ Lucy said as she was shown into the elegant parlour. Jenny was sitting at a very pretty lady’s writing table, made of a pale satinwood strung with ebony, preparing what appeared to be a letter. She sanded it and applied a wax wafer, impressing the Ravenscar seal. ‘I hope I do not disturb you?’
‘Of course not. You are always welcome,’ Jenny told her and rose, approaching her with outstretched hands. ‘Please do sit down. You are not disturbing me in the least. I was writing to my aunt. She asked that I visit her in London, but I do not feel able to get away and have told her she may come here for a few days if she wishes.’
‘How is your patient?’ Lucy asked, sitting down on an elbow chair, which was close to Jenny and by the long window that overlooked a lawn and rose beds. It was a restful room, its colours pale blue with touches of green and white in the long curtains and the light came from two aspects, making it seem bright and airy.
‘He is a great deal better,’ Jenny said, her face lighting up with real pleasure. ‘This morning he apologised to me for giving us all a fright...but he was very ill. His doctor is calling it a little miracle. I think having Paul home has made all the difference—given him something to live for again.’
‘How fortunate that is for you all,’ Lucy said. ‘You do not think of returning home now?’
‘Paul has begged me to stay for a few more weeks and I have agreed. Adam left this morning and will be gone for some days. He had business to attend, as he often does—but Ravenscar is well situated for him and he does not mind living here for the time being. I can be happy anywhere that I have my family.’ She reached out and rang the bell. ‘We shall have some tea, Lucy. Will you stay for nuncheon today?’
‘I wish that I might,’ Lucy said, ‘but my cousin and uncle are arriving this afternoon and I must be back in time to change and greet them.’
‘Your uncle?’
‘Sir John Gresham,’ Lucy said. ‘He is Mama’s brother, of course—and his daughter is a widow. Her name is Judith Sparrow. She is older than you and I, Jenny—but only a year or two.’
‘How unfortunate for her that she has lost her husband so young,’ Jenny said.
‘Yes, I feel for her. I wondered if you might come to tea tomorrow and meet her—if you can be spared?’
‘I am certain I could spare an hour or so. I shall have someone drive me to your house, Lucy. With Adam away I sometimes feel a little at a loss.’
Lucy was about to reply when someone entered the room. Glancing towards the door, she saw that Paul was standing just inside the threshold, looking at them.
‘Do I intrude?’ he asked and smiled in a way that took Lucy’s breath. How long was it since she’d seen that smile? For a moment it was as if he had never been away, never cut himself off from them all. ‘I was told refreshments were to be served here and I came to keep you company, Jenny—but I can go away if you prefer to be alone with your friend?’
Did he no longer think of her as his friend? A slashing pain cut through Lucy, but she kept her smile in place.
‘Of course not,’ Jenny said. ‘Please come and join us. Lucy has brought invitations to her dance, which is just a few days away now. I am hoping Adam will be back in time, but I shall certainly go...and I am sure Lady Dawlish would be happy to see you, Paul.’
‘Yes, I have not been to visit your mama yet, Miss Dawlish,’ Paul said and sat down in a comfortable wing chair near the fireplace, stretching out his long legs. The large hearth was empty since no fire was needed in the sunny parlour that day. ‘It is remiss of me, but I have been riding about the estate most days... There is much to do, for I fear my father has made no important decisions for years and some of the housing has been neglected. However, it was remiss of me. I must find time to visit my neighbours.’
‘I am sure everyone will be pleased to see you. I know that both my mother and father would welcome you at any time, sir.’
‘Then I must certainly come—but you understand these properties must come first.’
‘Yes, I noticed that some of the houses in Little Mallows were in poor condition as I rode by, sir. Papa always says that it is unwise to neglect one’s tenants, because it causes resentment.’
‘Yes, I think I agree with him,’ Paul said and frowned at his own thoughts. ‘However, I shall visit your mama tomorrow, Miss Dawlish—if that is convenient?’ He smiled at her and for a brief moment she glimpsed the man she’d known and loved.
‘I was telling Jenny that my cousin and uncle arrive later today,’ Lucy said. ‘She has promised to come to tea—perhaps you might escort her?’
‘Yes, why not?’ he replied. ‘That will suit me well, for I may see to business in the morning, as usual. You will be pleased to hear that my father is much recovered, Miss Dawlish. He is sitting up in bed, reading the latest newssheet at the moment.’
‘I am very glad to hear it,’ Lucy said. She glanced at him again and saw a thoughtful look in his eyes; the half-smile on his lips made her wish that he would truly talk to her, laugh with her as he had when they were children. She told herself not to expect too much and by the time a maid had brought in tea and little sweet almond macaroons, she had recovered her equilibrium and was able to speak without feeling breathless. Paul was looking at her attentively, as he might a guest he had just met—but there was none of their old intimacy, the shared jests that had struck them both as being funny when others could not see it.
‘How did you enjoy your trip to Italy, Miss Dawlish?’
‘I found it interesting and the lakes were wonderful,’ Lucy said. ‘I loved the sunshine, which was more reliable than our own, for we never know here from one day to the next how it will be. In Italy, day after day passed without so much as a cloud—here we cannot have two days without a hint of rain.’
‘Yes, I fear that is the truth,’ he agreed. ‘Though for myself I love the changing seasons and would not wish for everlasting sunshine.’
‘I am sure we should all tire of it in time,’ Lucy replied and sipped the tea Jenny had poured for her.
‘However, I should not care for the rain if my roof leaked,’ Paul went on. ‘I must make sure that the inhabitants of Little Mallows do not suffer when the next downpour comes.’
‘A leaking roof would be most unpleasant,’ Jenny said. ‘You should certainly see to it, Paul.’
‘I intend to,’ he replied, put down his cup and stood up. ‘It has been pleasant to see you again, Miss Dawlish. Please excuse me now...’
‘I, too, should be going if I am to be home in time to prepare for my cousin,’ Lucy said and stood up. She made a little curtsy to Paul. ‘I shall tell Mama to expect you both tomorrow—she will be so pleased. I shall see you tomorrow, dearest Jenny.’
‘I shall walk with you to the door,’ Paul said politely and stood back to allow her to leave the room first. He followed her into the hall. ‘Do you still prefer to ride rather than use a carriage, Miss Dawlish?’
‘If you recall...I was about to be given lessons when...’ She faltered and looked at him. ‘Forgive me, I should not have mentioned it.’
Paul stared for a moment, then inclined his head. ‘I had forgotten, but it was I who promised to teach you to drive in my phaeton, was it not?’
‘Yes...’ Lucy blushed. ‘It is not important. My father sends a carriage and groom if the weather is damp.’
‘A promise should always be kept. You will be busy with your cousin visiting, but if you would like to handle a phaeton and pair I shall be happy to oblige you, Miss Dawlish. I believe we have a suitable rig and horses that are amenable to a lady’s hands.’
‘Thank you, sir. Perhaps when my cousin has settled in. It would be rude of me to leave her to amuse herself too soon.’
‘Of course.’ He bowed his head to her as they reached the door. ‘Your gown is very becoming, Miss Dawlish. Yellow was always your colour—and I fancy your hair is done in its former style today.’
‘Yes.’ Lucy felt a tingle of pleasure as she gazed into his eyes. For a moment her breath came faster and she wished that he would give some sign that he cared for her. ‘You are observant, Captain Ravenscar. I would not have expected you to notice.’
‘Oh, yes, I notice everything about you,’ he said gravely.
Now what did that mean? Was it a mere pleasantry?
‘Please take care on your ride home. I’ve heard there may be a gang of poachers in the area.’
‘I have my groom with me and Briars is always armed.’ She curtsied slightly. She waited a moment longer than necessary, hoping for something more, but he gave no sign that he had more to say to her. ‘Goodbye, sir.’ Lucy extended her hand; he took it briefly in his own, bowing his head, but he did not hold it longer than a second nor did he attempt to kiss it.
‘I shall see you tomorrow.’
Lucy smiled as best she could and left him at the door. She did not look back and was quite unaware that he waited to watch as her groom helped her to mount, going back into the house only when she rode away.
Lucy gave her attention to her horse. Head up and back straight, she trotted down the drive, fighting the foolish desire to weep.
Her heart was behaving very foolishly. Lucy had wished that Paul might kiss her hand, or at least show some sign of being affected by her nearness, but apart from some kind words about her gown he had shown none. Not that she truly knew what he said to her at the door, for her chest was tight and she’d found it difficult to breathe.
What was it he had said about noticing everything about her? Lucy had been feeling so odd that she hadn’t really heard what he did say—and what did he mean by it? Why would he notice everything about her? That sounded as if he cared...but his manner was so solemn, so reserved—polite but distant, as if they scarcely knew one another. If he cared for Lucy, he must surely have shown it by a look or a touch, but his manner had been completely impersonal. Friendly enough for a neighbour, but nothing in his gestures or his voice had suggested anything more...and she would be a fool to hope for it.
She had meant to be as cool and reserved as he was, but she was very much afraid she must have shown how affected she was by his proximity as they stood at the door.
* * *
Paul went up the stairs to his own bedchamber. For a moment there he had been close to speaking out, to asking Lucy if she had missed him, but he had managed to control himself. For a moment the desire to sweep her into his arms and kiss her had been almost overwhelming, but he had banished the foolish urge. She could not wish for anything from him other than friendship. Her manner was softer that morning, her smile more like the girl he’d known, though he could still sense that she was holding back.
Well, what did he expect? She had reminded him of a promise to teach her to drive his phaeton; it had been given only the day before Mark was murdered. What might have happened had he begun the lessons he’d promised?
Would she have withdrawn her promise and turned to him?
For a moment he remembered the gown she’d worn that day when they met out riding—the look in her eyes as he’d teased her about driving his phaeton and the smell of her perfume. She’d worn a soft floral scent then, but now she wore something more sophisticated...with undertones of something exotic that he found sensual.
Lucy had become a sensual woman. Paul realised with a shock that the girl he’d fallen in love with had changed in a way he was not sure he liked. There was still something of the old Lucy about her at times, but she was older...different, a cool sophistication in her manner that he found difficult to accept.
What had he expected? He was not such a fool as to imagine that she would have waited all this time for him...that she would not have changed or grown up, was he?
If he had, he was truly a fool.
Paul regretted the months he had allowed to pass without attempting to see or even write to her. When he’d left her that last time, he had meant to join her in Italy, to get to know her...perhaps to court her once they were both ready. He did not know what had made him draw into himself, throwing his heart into his work. Somehow, he’d convinced himself that she would not wish to receive his advances...that he would be betraying the brother he’d revered by making love to the girl that Mark had intended to marry.
How could he take what ought to have been his brother’s? Yet she had remained in his heart and mind, taunting him with what might have been, if Mark had lived. He might then have taken her from him, for all was fair in love and war—but he could not fight a ghost.
When he’d allowed himself to think of her, he’d seen Lucy as she was before Mark died, but she had changed.
He had left it too late, Paul realised sadly. Lucy had grown away from him, dealing with her grief without his help. He’d seen the way she responded to Daventry. Adam’s friend was a man of address, sophisticated and wealthy. Lucy probably preferred someone like him to a man she’d known all her life. Paul was only eighteen months her senior and all her life she’d treated him like a brother...until that dance...
He caught his breath as the memory struck at him like the thrust of a knife. Was it too late to court her now? Perhaps she would allow him to give her lessons in driving. It would be a first step to breaking down the barrier between them...to the start of a new friendship.
* * *
Lucy was thoughtful as she rode home. For a moment as they talked, she thought she’d seen something in Paul’s manner...something that showed he was not completely the cold, reserved man he seemed. Perhaps he, too, found it difficult to break down the barrier that had grown between them? Lucy wondered if it was really too late to recover the friendship they’d known. She might have read more into his manner, into a certain look she’d seen in his eyes on several occasions before everything came tumbling down. It might be that he had never truly loved her—had just been flirting with the girl his brother meant to marry.
Perhaps if she put all thought of a romance between them from her mind, she might be able to greet him as the friend that he had been for so many years. A little smile touched her lips as she remembered romping over Lord Ravenscar’s estate with Paul and Mark, whenever she could escape from her governess and her mama.
Actually, they had both followed Mark like troopers falling in behind a glorious commander—and they had both looked up to him as their leader. Mark always took the blame if they were caught in some scrape, though once Paul had insisted it was his fault and been beaten for his misdemeanour. Mark had never been given more than a lecture on his inappropriate behaviour, which, when you thought about it, was a little unfair—but of course he could never be wrong in the eyes of his doting family.
Lucy and Paul had been as mesmerised as everyone else, but, when she remembered, it was Paul to whom she had confessed her childhood fears—and it was for her sake he had taken the beating.
She had been expressly forbidden to go roaming that day, for her uncle and cousin were coming to visit, but the sun had called to her and she’d sneaked off to play at pirates with her friends. During their play she’d fallen, torn her pretty gown and cut her hands and knees. Paul had driven her home in the governess’s cart and when her mama scolded her, he had claimed that he had teased her into her truancy. Lady Dawlish had told his father and for that crime he had been beaten...whereas when Mark had confessed to so much worse, including putting frogs in their tutor’s bed and setting the boar in with the sows, besides a hundred other tricks, he had escaped with a scolding.
How could she have been such a fool as to think herself in love with Mark when she had always loved Paul? Lucy had been blinded by the elder brother’s magnificence when he returned from the wars as a hero. He was glorious and a wonderful friend, but she had never truly loved him as she had Paul. Tears stung her eyes as she realised what her mistake had cost her: her happiness.
Was it too late to show Paul that she cared for him? And what of the earl?
Lucy liked the earl and she thought that she might find a kind of content with him if Paul no longer loved her. If only she knew for sure that he had cared for her truly. Paul had spoken much with his eyes, but apart from a few emotional words before he went off to grieve alone, she had no reason to think that he had ever considered her as the lady he would like to marry.
Perhaps she had imagined the whole, which was humiliating.
Lucy felt hot all over. How could she make the first move to heal the breach between them when she did not even know if he particularly liked her? If he thought she was throwing herself at his head, she would die of embarrassment. She must give no hint of her feelings. If he cared for her, he must speak first.
Dismounting and giving her horse into the care of a stable hand, she hurried up to the house. She must change into a pretty afternoon gown to be ready for the arrival of her cousin, Judith.
* * *
‘How pretty you are,’ Judith said and kissed Lucy’s cheek. ‘It is such an age since I saw you, Cousin. When we last met you were in the schoolroom.’
‘And you were about to be married,’ Lucy said, and then, as she saw a flash of grief in the other’s eyes. ‘Forgive me, that was clumsy.’
‘No, it was truthful. I was married and then I was widowed and now I have put off my mourning. Sir Michael was very good to me and I was happy as his wife, but he would not wish me to grieve for ever. I can speak of him now without hurting, Lucy.’
‘I am glad. You...you look beautiful, Judith.’
Her cousin had dark hair, which was swept into a sophisticated chignon at the back of her head, a few tendrils curling about her face. Her complexion was pale, her eyes so dark that in a certain light they looked black. Her gown was crimson silk with a buttoned bodice and a deep lace collar and cuffs; rubies sparkled in her ears and in the gold brooch she wore at her throat. Anyone looking at the two girls might think them a perfect foil, the one so dark, the other so fair. Lucy had a delicate colour in her cheeks, but her lips were not as red as her cousin’s and there was a sparkle in Judith’s eyes—a sparkle that spoke of laughter and a joy of life.
‘Thank you, Lucy,’ Judith said and laughed softly. ‘I would say I have more style than beauty, but I do not turn up my nose at compliments, I assure you.’
‘You do have a style of your own,’ Lucy said thoughtfully. ‘I do not know quite what it is—but you are not like most ladies I know.’
‘I am told I resemble a Greek goddess,’ her cousin said, laughing. ‘I think they mean statuesque... I am certainly not a wraith like you and I mean that as a compliment.’
‘You mean I am thin,’ Lucy said. ‘Papa says I am too thin, but I cannot help it.’
‘And I am nicely rounded...’ her cousin twinkled ‘...but because I am tall I can get away with it, you see. If I were diminutive, I should be fat, but the Greeks liked their goddesses well rounded, it seems.’
‘You are not in the least fat,’ Lucy said and shook her head. ‘You are—yes, you are statuesque, but I find that magnificent.’
‘I should have visited you long ago, for you are good for my morale,’ her cousin teased. ‘We shall certainly be friends, Lucy dearest. I am told you have travelled to Italy and France. I should like to travel more. I was taken to Paris for a wedding trip, but unfortunately my husband became ill of a fever when we returned and was never quite well again. Our plans to visit Greece and Spain never came to anything.’
‘I enjoyed my time in Italy but...’ Lucy sighed. ‘I was grieving and I did not wish to come home for a long time, but now I do not think I wish to travel for a while.’
‘You disappoint me,’ Judith said. ‘Had you been eager for it we might have travelled together...but never mind, I shall not tease you. Papa says I should find myself an obliging husband, who will take me to the places I want to see, and perhaps I shall.’
‘Are you looking for a husband?’
Judith seemed thoughtful, then gave an expressive shrug. ‘I am not certain. He would have to be someone I could respect... A man who would be willing to indulge me and not dominate me. You see, I am quite wealthy and can afford to indulge myself. I would not risk that freedom unless...’ Again she shrugged. ‘The future will take care of itself. Tell me, are you thinking of marriage in the near future?’
‘My parents think of it for me,’ Lucy said. ‘I was to have married, as you know. Since then I have not met anyone new that I liked enough. I was asked in Italy more than once, but I could not consider any of the gentlemen who were so obliging as to offer for me.’
‘Well, perhaps we shall help each other to find husbands,’ Judith said and her soft laughter made Lucy want to giggle. ‘After Papa leaves, perhaps my aunt would take us both to Bath, if we asked her nicely.’
‘I am sure she would, for she has spoken of it,’ Lucy agreed and tucked her arm into Judith’s. ‘Tell me, Cos, do you ride or do you drive yourself?’
‘I enjoy both,’ Judith said. ‘I have arranged for my horses to be brought down, Lucy. Do you think your father will stable them for me—or should I ask his advice as to where adequate stabling may be had?’
‘How many horses do you have?’
‘Three that I wish to bring with me,’ Judith replied. ‘Queen Mab is my mare and an excellent riding horse—but Thunder and Lightning are two of my favourites. I drive them when I go out in my phaeton—but I have others at my home. Sir Michael kept an extensive stable and I have not wanted to sell his horses, though most serve no practical purpose, other than to draw my travelling coach, because I could not handle them.’
‘You should offer them to Adam Miller should you wish to sell any of them,’ Lucy said. ‘I think he would offer a fair price for good horses.’
‘I do not know the gentleman,’ Judith said. ‘I would only sell to a man I could be certain would treat them well.’
‘Captain Miller is a cousin of both Paul and Mark Ravenscar...Hallam, too.’

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