Marrying Captain Jack
Anne Herries
On the verge of womanhood, Lucy Horne is excited and nervous about her first Season.Despite being the belle of every ball, she can't seem to quell her feelings for a man she has met only once before-the enigmatic and dashing Captain Jack. Captain Jack Harcourt is determined to put the bloody battlefields of France behind him and find a suitable wife.But secrets from Jack's past threaten to confound his plans-and he cannot offer a beautiful girl a tainted name. . . .
“I thought perhaps we might have something more than friendship?” Jack said.
“Yes, we might,” Lucy replied. “I think we may like each other very much, Harcourt—but we do not know each other well, do we?”
“Ah…” Jack frowned, for her question was unexpected. “If I were to propose marriage today, Lucy, what would your answer be?”
“I should ask you if I might have a little time to think,” Lucy said, giving him a shy glance. “If you were to discover that your true happiness lay elsewhere I should understand.”
“Would you?” Jack’s eyes narrowed. He suddenly realized what all this was about. Someone had been telling Lucy tales, and the devil of it was that he could deny nothing.
Lucy blushed and looked away. She had begun to regret her answer and the wasted chance. She might even now have been telling her sister that she was engaged to Lord Harcourt!
Marrying Captain Jack Harlequin
Historical
Author Note
Lucy Horne has always been a dreamer. She loves fairy stories, particularly the ones her sister has written for her. Both Marianne and Jo have found love, but Lucy fears that she never will. She once met a gentleman she thought she could love, but he was so much older and thought of her as a child. When they meet again, she will discover that he has a secret, but can she accept his past and find happiness?
I hope, dear reader, that you have enjoyed this trilogy about three sisters in search of love.
Marrying Captain Jack
Anne Herries
ANNE HERRIES
Award-winning author Anne Herries lives in Cambridgeshire, England. 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 although they are mostly about love and romance, she sometimes puts a little into her books. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. She invites readers to contact her on her Web site, www.lindasole.co.uk.
Available from Harlequin
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Prologue
David Middleton walked into his club, glancing round at the company gathered there for an evening of cards and pleasure. Seeing a gentleman he disliked, he hesitated, wondering whether to leave. Sir Frederick Collingwood came from a good family, but he was an unprincipled rogue who would be banned from decent society if David had his way. The man needed to be taught a severe lesson if the rumours were true. However, there was little he could do about it while Collingwood continued to be accepted by others.
‘Middleton! Come and join us,’ a man called, attracting his attention.
David Middleton frowned. Sir Henry James was a friend. He had won two thousand guineas from him a few days previously and could hardly ignore his invitation, for he must give him a chance to recoup. It meant that he would have to sit down with Collingwood, which he would have preferred not to do, but in the circumstances he had no choice but to accept. He walked towards the small group of gentlemen seated at the table. He would play a few hands and then make some excuse to leave.
Reaching the others, he pulled out a chair and sat down. Collingwood nodded and began dealing the cards, someone mentioned the stakes of a hundred guineas a hand. David reached for his cards.
‘You wear an unusual ring, Middleton,’ Collingwood said. ‘You would not care to hazard it against the cards?’
‘No, I should not. It was a gift…’ Despite himself, he could not keep the emotion from his voice, and, looking up, saw that Collingwood’s eyes were upon him, intent, mocking—as if he had already known.
‘From a lady, I dare say?’
‘That is my business.’
‘So she is married,’ Collingwood sneered. ‘I dare say one might hazard a guess…’
‘Damn you, sir! I will hear no more of this.’ David pushed back his chair, on the point of leaving.
‘Sit down, Middleton,’ Sir Henry said. ‘You can’t leave now, the cards are dealt. Collingwood meant nothing. It was merely a jest.’
For a moment David glanced across the table, meeting Collingwood’s eyes. Some inner instinct warned him to get up and walk away immediately, but his friend was speaking again, telling him that he was glad of the chance to recoup his losses, and David knew it was too late. He must play, even though a sixth sense was warning him that he had been drawn into the spider’s web.
Chapter One
Jack Harcourt, sometimes known as Captain Manton and various other aliases, lately of His Majesty’s Dragoons, secret agent and aide to Wellington for some years, sat in the library of his London house, staring moodily into the empty wine glass in front of him. Had life no more to offer than this? A full bottle that was there for the drinking, and an inner emptiness that would be eased only by refilling the glass and swallowing its contents again and again, until he could no longer feel the pain.
As Captain Manton, Jack had helped to defeat Napoleon Bonaparte; he had battled against spies and enemies of the state, but this bitterness, the bleakness that had come upon him of late, was harder to fight. He was a peer of the realm, wealthy enough for his needs, an attractive man in the best of health—but he had tasted wormwood too often and, at this moment, he wished that he had died on the bloody battlefields at Waterloo. Instead of that, he had been heaped with praise and honours, received by the Regent privately, and told that he was the backbone of England, a man the prince was proud to shake by the hand—but nothing had eased the deep grief that lived within.
‘Why was I not here when you needed me, David?’ he spoke the words aloud. ‘Why did I not hear as you lay in a ditch, bleeding of a fatal wound, alone and friendless?’
In life a man might count his true friends on the fingers of one hand. Jack had other friends, men he valued, but there was a special reason why David Middleton’s death had affected him so deeply. It was a cruel fate that had led to his friend dying at the roadside, a victim of a highwayman, robbed of the personal possessions he valued most. Jack could not put the picture from his mind, for it haunted him day and night, and he seemed to hear David’s voice calling out for justice. But it had happened some months ago, when Jack was in France fighting for his country, and he had known nothing until his return. At the moment he had no leads, nothing to help him discover the truth. The frustration of being so helpless, together with the knowledge of the pain David’s death had brought to another, had left him feeling deeply at odds with himself. His hand was reaching for the wine decanter when a knock at the door halted him.
‘Come!’ he barked and the door opened to admit his butler.
‘I am sorry to disturb you, my lord, but there is a letter.’
‘At this hour?’ Jack’s brows rose. ‘Who brought it?’
‘I am not sure, my lord. It was given to the maid Rose, as she went into the street to buy some eggs from the dairymaid.’
‘Very well, you may leave it, Henshaw.’ Jack dismissed it with a flick of his hand. ‘I may read it later…’
‘Rose was told it was urgent, sir.’
‘Was she, indeed?’ Jack picked up the note, which was sealed with wax but did not bear the signet of any man. He was frowning as he broke the wax and unfolded the paper, reading what was written there. ‘Good grief!’ he shouted and jumped up, striding over to the window to look out. However, the street was ill lit and he could not see beyond the pool of light outside his house. He turned to look at his butler, who still hesitated by the door. ‘Fetch Rose to me. I would hear more of this messenger.’
As the man went off to do his bidding, Jack read the few brief lines again, frowning over their meaning.
If I came in person, you would not see me—but I know David Middleton was a friend you valued. If you seek his murderer, you need look no further than Sir Frederick Collingwood. Collingwood is a cheat at the card tables and Middleton found him out after losing to him. This much is certain, for it is well known. I can give you no proof, though I am sure of Collingwood’s guilt. There may be more to this, a deeper motive, but for the moment all I know is that the murder lies at Collingwood’s door. The rest is up to you, Harcourt. This warning comes from someone who was once proud to be your friend.
The letter was unsigned, and might be malicious, but somehow Jack sensed that it was genuine. He knew his friend well enough to be sure that if David had discovered he had been cheated, he would not slink away with his tail between his legs. He would publicly denounce the man who had cheated him. It was very possible that he had been murdered to stop him doing just that…and yet the letter hinted at something further—a more sinister reason for his friend’s murder. Yes! Jack had not been able to accept the facts of David’s death, and the letter confirmed that he was right to be suspicious. He got to his feet with a new sense of urgency; his mood of despondency had lifted as swiftly as it had come to him that night.
He would think no more of seeking solace in a bottle of wine. He had been given what he needed. If this message were true, he would seek out the murderer and bring him to justice one way or the other. He wondered who had sent the letter…it was not a close friend, for it had said that he would not see the writer in person.
Jack frowned, because it might well be a false trail, but something was telling him it was not. The writer might be someone who felt that he owed Jack something…someone he had helped at some time. It did not matter! He would seek for the truth of his friend’s death first, and discover the identity of this mysterious writer after…
‘Mama! There is a letter for you.’ Lucy Horne ran into the parlour where her mother and great-aunt were sitting at their embroidery. ‘It is from Marianne!’
‘I have been expecting it,’ Mrs Horne said, looking fondly at her youngest daughter. Lucy was eighteen now, a beautiful, sweet-natured girl who asked for very little except to be with her family. She took the letter, breaking the impressive seal that her eldest daughter was, as the Marchioness of Marlbeck, entitled to use. She scanned the few lines Marianne had penned and smiled. ‘It is as I thought, Lucy. Your sister agrees that it is time for your come-out. She suggests that we all go to stay with her and Drew for the christening of their daughter—and then she and Drew will accompany us to London and we shall stay there for a few weeks.’
‘Mama! Is darling little Andrea to be christened?’ Lucy asked, her face lighting up. She had seized on what was for her the most important part of her mama’s news. ‘How lovely! It seems ages since we saw either of my sisters.’
‘You know that Marianne did not wish to travel immediately after the birth,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘But it is no more than six months since we were there and Jo visited with us a matter of five weeks ago.’
‘It seems longer,’ Lucy said and bent to kiss her mama’s cheek. She was happy living with her mama and Aunt Bertha, and she had made many friends, with whom she visited most weeks, but she was never happier than with her sisters. ‘It is so good of Marianne to think of it, Mama.’
Mrs Horne nodded. ‘I asked for her advice, because I had thought of Bath, but Marianne insists it must be London, my love.’
‘Yes…’ Lucy nodded. She had been to Bath once or twice with her mama and her Aunt Bertha, but she had not attended the public dances, only private affairs given by their friends. Although she was used to mixing in company, she was not officially out. Lucy wasn’t sure how she felt about the coming Season, for she knew that it was usually seen as a chance for girls to find a husband. ‘It will be so much better if Marianne is with us.’
Lucy went over to the window, standing with her back to her mama, gazing out at the garden, which was very pretty at this time of year, the herbaceous borders just coming into flower.
‘We must start to collect your wardrobe,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘Though perhaps it would be best to wait until we are at your sister’s. Marianne is so good with that sort of thing and she will know what the young girls are wearing this Season.’
Lucy hardly heard her mother’s words. She liked pretty clothes, but often clung to things that she favoured long after her mama thought they should be discarded. She still had the blue velvet pelisse that Jo had made for her before they left the Vicarage where they had all grown up; it was one of her favourite things and she refused to part with it, even though she had more stylish ones in her armoire.
She was thinking about someone…a gentleman she had met at Marianne’s wedding, which seemed such a long time ago now, but was just over three years. So much had happened since then. Marianne had married her marquis, and Jo was married to Hal Beverley. Yet the memory of Captain Harcourt’s smile and his teasing had remained with her, almost as bright as it was at the first. Of course he was Lord Harcourt really, but he had left the army some months after Napoleon Bonaparte’s defeat at Waterloo and only then adopted the title that had become his on his father’s death.
Lucy pushed her fine, silky hair back from her face. It was the colour of moonlight, more silver-blonde than yellow, and set her apart from most other young ladies she met. Her complexion was soft cream and rose, her eyes were the colour of an azure sky, but could turn darker when she was distressed or angry. Lucy was not often angry, which gave others a false impression of her nature. She seemed a dreamy, gentle girl, mild mannered and perhaps a little insipid at first sight. In truth, she was far from that, for she had a temper when roused and she was a brave girl, but she took after her father. Papa Horne had always been a mild-mannered man, thoughtful, quiet, peace loving—but Lucy had once seen him thrash the sweep who had dared to set a fire under the climbing boy sent to clean the Vicarage chimneys.
He had not known she was there, and when he discovered that she had witnessed the thrashing, he had looked ashamed and begged her to forgive him for subjecting her to such a disgraceful scene.
‘I lost my temper, Lucy,’ he had told her. ‘I should not have done it. I should have reasoned with the man, restrained him if need be—but what I did was unforgivable.’
‘No, Papa,’ Lucy told him with a smile. ‘I think that what you did was justified. He was a cruel man and needed to be taught a lesson. You were provoked by his cruelty and I think that God would understand your loss of temper.’
Papa had smiled, shaken his head and kissed her. Lucy thought that her papa was the most perfect man ever to have lived and it had caused her terrible grief when he had died and they had had to leave the Vicarage. However, that was in the past now, and she had the future to look forward to—and she would be foolish to let her childish daydreams stop her enjoying her Season in town!
She turned back to her mother with a smile. ‘I think I should like a yellow silk dress, Mama. I have seen some very pretty material that would make a lovely ballgown.’
‘You will need a great many dresses, Lucy,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘And, thanks to your aunt and sisters, you will be able to have the wardrobe you deserve.’
Jack came in from the street, tossing his gloves into a bowl on the hallstand, his hat following it. He did not notice that it slid to the floor, or see the expression of his footman as he picked it up and brushed it with his fingers. He was frowning as he picked up two letters from the silver salver, taking them with him as he went into his library.
One was from Lady Staunton, Jack’s only sister Amelia. He had no other relatives to speak of other than his sister and her family, and he was fond of her, but at the moment Amelia’s problems were not his immediate concern. He had looked for Sir Frederick Collingwood, but the man was not to be found in town, and he had learned this morning that he had possibly gone off to Newmarket. Jack was considering whether to post after him, and settle this thing at once, or give himself a breathing space. He opened the first of his letters, reading the brief lines his sister had penned. It had been sent from her home in Hampshire and told him that she had returned to England alone a month ago, because her son David had been suffering badly from the climate.
Her letter said nothing of her unhappiness, though the tone told him that nothing had changed. The only reason Staunton had allowed her to leave India and return to England without him was that he feared he might lose his heir.
Jack cursed as he tossed the letter down. If he had his way, Amelia would leave Staunton for good, but he knew that there were too many difficulties. The man was a brute, damn him! If there were any justice, Amelia would be able to divorce him and retain her son and her place in society, but the laws were all heavily weighted on Staunton’s side.
There was nothing he could do while Amelia refused to take his advice, though he knew that she was desperately unhappy. He opened the second letter, which had come from Drew Marlbeck, inviting him to attend the christening of his daughter Andrea.
A smile touched Jack’s face, for Drew was one of the few men he valued and he knew how proud he was of his little girl. As one of the richest men in England and the holder of a proud title, Drew could have been forgiven if he had been disappointed that his firstborn was a girl, but not a bit of it. He adored her and left no one in doubt of it—or his love for his beautiful wife.
Jack smiled, because he retained good memories of their wedding, and of the few times he had stayed with them since. He had not visited as often as he would have liked, because until recently he had been caught up with the business of the State and could not spare the time for personal pleasure—and then the horror and grief of David Middleton’s senseless death had taken over, making Jack feel that life was cruel and empty and hardly worth living.
He had thrown off his mood of despair in the search for justice. If Collingwood was truly a cheat and a murderer, Jack would not rest until he was in prison where he belonged. However, there was nothing he could do until Collingwood decided to show his face in town. He smiled as he made up his mind to go down to Marlbeck for the christening. He must think of a suitable gift for Andrea, but he would also take presents for Marianne and Drew, because he had money enough and no one to spend it on—apart from Amelia and one or two others.
Lucy watched as her niece Andrea was christened in the lovely old church where her father had once been the parson. Her sister Marianne was glowing with happiness. Andrea was ten months old, a beautiful little girl with honey-coloured hair and blue eyes. Lucy already adored her and was thrilled to have been asked to be one of her godmothers.
‘Isn’t she good?’ Jo whispered as they left the church after the ceremony. Married to Harry Beverley, Lucy’s second eldest sister was increasing herself and clearly happy to be Andrea’s other godmother. ‘She has hardly cried all through the service.’
‘Yes, she is adorable,’ Lucy said, smiling as she and her sister followed the other guests from the church to the waiting carriages, which would take them back to the house. ‘Marianne looks so happy, doesn’t she?’ She nodded to one of the other ladies, feeling a little uncertain.
The Marlbecks’ large house was brimming with ladies and gentlemen, all of whom seemed very fashionable and sophisticated to Lucy. She was a little overcome at meeting so many new people all at once. Drew Marlbeck’s friends seemed to be mostly wealthy men and women of the world, educated, polished and a little awesome to a young girl. They had all been kind to Lucy, especially some of the gentlemen, who paid her pretty compliments, but she could not help feeling slightly unsure in their company. It made her wonder about her Season in London, because she was afraid that she might feel overwhelmed by some of the very fashionable ladies she was sure to meet there.
Once the guests had returned to Marlbeck and the reception was underway, Lucy took the first opportunity to escape. Marianne’s house was beautiful, but Lucy loved being outside, especially on such a pleasant afternoon. It was warm, but not overpoweringly hot as she wandered across the lawn to what was the beginning of a large park. Here, there were wonderful old trees with sweeping branches that offered a perch. Lucy had discovered that she could climb up into an ancient oak tree quite easily and watch what was going on around her without being seen. It was a favourite place, and she gathered her white muslin gown up so as not to catch it on protruding branches, climbing into the canopy of leaves and settling down on a thick branch.
From her vantage spot she could see the back of the house. One or two ladies had come out to stroll on the terrace, their delicate lace parasols raised to protect their fair skins from the sun. Lucy was for ever being scolded for going without a hat, as she had today, for, as Mama had often told her, freckles were not admired.
Lucy had a faint sprinkling of them across her nose. Mama had prepared her own lotions, and even bought some Denmark Lotion from the apothecary, but nothing had worked. It seemed that she was doomed to have them as soon as the summer came.
Lost in her dreams, Lucy was not aware of the dog until it barked fiercely. She looked down, dismayed as she saw the huge black hound at the foot of the tree. It was growling, its front paws against the trunk, as if it were considering climbing up after her.
‘Go away!’ Lucy said. ‘Do not growl like that, you horrid thing! I do not know how you came here, but you do not belong in this place. Go away!’
The dog barked louder than ever. It had heavy jaws and looked as if it were some kind of hunting hound, trained to attack. Lucy felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach, because she knew that she dared not climb down while the dog continued to stand guard at the base of the tree. A similar animal had once bitten her as a child, and, though generally not afraid of dogs, she was frightened of this particular beast.
‘Lucy…where are you?’ Jo had come out on to the terrace at the back of the house and was clearly looking for her. Lucy hesitated to call her, because if the dog was wild it might attack her sister. ‘Lucy, Mama wants you.’
Jo returned to the house, obviously thinking that Lucy was not in the gardens. Lucy moved gingerly, wondering if she could get down, but immediately the dog started barking its head off once more.
‘Oh, do go away, you horrid creature! I want to get down.’
‘Come down if you wish, Brutus will not hurt you,’ a voice said from somewhere behind her. Lucy glanced over her shoulder and saw a gentleman riding a horse in her direction. As she watched, he halted a few yards from her tree. ‘Here, boy! Down, I say. Come here!’
The dog immediately obeyed. It sat at its master’s command, and though it turned its head to watch her as she climbed out of the tree, it neither barked nor sprang at her—though she was sure that it would have done had the man commanded it to do so.
‘I was alarmed,’ she said, settling her skirts about her and realising that he must have had a clear view of her legs as she climbed down. Indeed, she suspected that he might even have caught a glimpse of the lace garters that held up her white silk stockings. ‘He is a fierce-looking creature.’
‘I fear his looks do not pity him,’ the man said, a smile on his lips, for he had been treated to a view not often granted by properly brought-up young ladies, as he was certain she actually was despite being in the tree. ‘But I promise you he has the softest mouth. He is trained to retrieve game when it has been shot, and it is unlike him to behave so ungallantly towards a lady. I dare say he thought you were up to no good up there.’ He glanced up at the broad branch on which she had been perched. ‘You must admit, it is rather an unlikely place to find a young lady of breeding.’
‘Yes…’ Lucy’s cheeks were on fire. She was well aware that her behaviour was not what it ought to be. ‘Mama would scold me if she knew. I have been asked not to climb trees in future, though I often did so as a child. I am too old for such larks now.’
‘Indeed?’ He gave her an indulgent look, clearly thinking her still a child. ‘How old are you—sixteen?’
‘I was eighteen two weeks ago,’ Lucy said and hardly dared to look at him. He would think her a hoyden, and in truth she was. ‘Mama is to take me to London in a few weeks for my first Season.’
‘You surprise me. I had thought you younger. You will need to curb your inclinations for tree climbing once you are introduced into London society, young lady, otherwise you will incur the censure of its hostesses, and that would be a shame. It would be a pity if you did not meet with the success you deserve.’ He turned to look at the dog. ‘Brutus, follow!’
He gave his reins a flick and rode off, following the drive round to the stable block, which was away to the right. The dog trotted behind obediently and Lucy drew a breath of relief as she fled back across the lawns to the safety of the house.
She was certain she knew who the gentleman was, though she had not seen him since Marianne’s wedding. Her pulses raced, because she had not expected that Lord Harcourt would come to the christening. He was, of course, one of Drew’s best friends, but she had not met him here before and had not thought him in the habit of visiting.
Oh, why did it have to be he who found her in the tree? Lucy bit her lip in vexation, because she knew that he had thought the incident amusing. And, indeed, she did feel very foolish. She wished that she had not been caught in such an undignified situation. He must think her a foolish little girl—and in truth she had behaved like one! Lucy’s cheeks were warm as she went into the house, running upstairs to her own room. She must make sure that her gown was not dirty or torn before she rejoined the company! But she feared that the damage was already done.
Lucy did not see Lord Harcourt again until she came down for dinner that evening. He had changed into formal dress and looked impressive in his black coat and breeches, his shirt a pristine white rivalled only by the snowiness of his cravat, which had been tied in an intricate design. Since she knew he had arrived alone, she wondered if he had tied it himself, but of course his valet might have come on with his baggage in a coach.
She felt nervous as he looked in her direction, but gave no indication that they had met earlier. He was standing with Drew and Marianne at that moment, clearly at home with them, laughing at something Marianne had said to him. She hesitated, afraid to join the little group, though she longed to know if she was right about his identity.
‘Ah, there you are, my dearest,’ Mrs Horne said, smiling at her. ‘Have you met Lord Harcourt yet? He arrived too late for the service, but Marianne said he has been very generous. He gave her some beautiful pearls to keep for Andrea’s sixteenth birthday and also a piece of silver for herself. Was that not kind of him?’
‘Yes, it was,’ Lucy said, trembling inside. She watched him as he moved away from Drew, going to speak to some of the other guests. Her memory of him was not quite accurate, because she had remembered him as very handsome, but he was not truly so. He was tall and strongly built, and there was no evidence of fat; his hair was dark, cut short and brushed forward in a fashionable peak. His features were classical, a little harsh perhaps, his nose aristocratic. No, not as handsome as either Drew Marlbeck or Hal Beverley, but attractive just the same. She did not know what it was about him that had made her remember him until he suddenly looked at her with his serious grey eyes and her heart jolted. ‘Very kind, Mama.’
‘Come and meet him, dearest,’ her mother said. ‘I would not wish you to be backward in any attention to Lord Harcourt. I know Drew thinks very highly of him.’
‘Yes, Mama. I remembered that he was of service to both Drew and Hal.’ She understood from her sisters that Captain Manton, as he had been known then, was a very brave and clever man. Manton was one of his family names, for as a peer he had many, and if what Drew had told her was true, he had not hesitated to use others that were false in the pursuit of his duty as a secret agent.
Lucy was trembling inside as she followed her mother to join the little group. The ladies were smiling and laughing up at him, especially Miss Angela Tremaine. She was a redhead, extremely beautiful, and a considerable heiress, and she seemed much taken with Lord Harcourt.
Lucy stood silently as her mama made the introductions, her cheeks slightly pink. She knew that people said she was a very pretty girl, because of her silvery blonde hair and azure eyes, but she felt at a disadvantage beside the vibrancy of Miss Tremaine. Surely he would think her an insipid child against such ravishing beauty?
‘Miss Lucy Horne?’ Lord Harcourt smiled down at her. ‘I seem to recall that we might have met at Drew’s wedding. I believe you fetched me a piece of wedding cake and then ate it yourself.’
Lucy flushed but gave him an indignant look. ‘You told me I should eat it, for you did not eat cake, sir!’
‘So I did,’ Jack Harcourt said and gave a husky chuckle, which sent little shivers winging through Lucy’s entire body. ‘Do you still eat two portions of cake, Miss Horne? If you do, I cannot see where it goes, for you are a sylph and as pretty as a picture.’
Lucy smiled at the compliment, and yet it was the way an indulgent uncle would speak to his young niece, which gave her a sense of disappointment. It was obvious that he still saw her as a child and not a young lady about to make her début in society. She knew that he must be several years her senior, but she did not see why he should treat her as a child and it touched a raw nerve. Just because she had climbed into a tree, it did not mean she was a little girl!
Fortunately for Lucy, she was spared the necessity of making a reply, because dinner was announced and Lord Harcourt offered his arm to Miss Tremaine. Lucy accompanied her mother into the dining room, stifling the little pang of jealousy she felt as she watched Lord Harcourt being attentive to his dinner partner, holding her chair and smiling as she settled down.
Lucy found herself sitting opposite them, between two elderly gentlemen, both of whom were great friends of Drew’s. They went out of their way to engage Lucy in conversation and after a few minutes she had forgotten her embarrassment earlier and was laughing and answering their teasing questions. Her eyes were alight with laughter and she could have had no idea of how enchanting she looked, nor did she consider that, seated as she was, it gave Lord Harcourt a perfect view of her.
Hearing a sudden burst of laughter from across the table, Jack’s eyes were drawn to Lucy’s face. She had seemed an awkward child earlier, but now she sparkled, responding to the gentlemen on either side of her in a way that was entirely charming. Jack thought that she reminded him a little of his sister as she had been when she was a young girl, innocent, full of the joy of living and lovely. The thought brought a frown to his face, his eyes narrowing, making him look severe. Amelia had lost the joy of living some time ago.
When Lucy glanced across at him what she saw was disapproval and it made her cheeks warm. What had she done that he should look at her that way? She had always remembered him as being charming and kind, for at Marianne’s wedding he had been kind to her, but now he looked as if he disliked her. She raised her head, pride coming to her rescue.
She knew that she had behaved badly earlier; she ought not to have climbed into a tree, and must have revealed much more than was decent as she climbed down from it—but surely she did not deserve to be looked at in that way? She turned to her neighbour, who was asking her what she thought of Lord Byron’s latest poem, determined not to let anyone see that she was hurting inside.
What a fool she had been to keep Lord Harcourt’s image in her mind all this time! He had been her hero, the prince she had dreamed of as a child when she had read all those fairy stories. Now she decided that he was proud and cold, and she decided that she would not think of him again.
Lucy had been lying awake for some time. Realising that she would not sleep, she threw back the covers and got out of bed. She slipped on a heavy silk dressing gown and slid her feet into a pair of soft leather slippers.
Taking her lighted candle, Lucy went downstairs to the little parlour where she had sat with her sister and mother for an hour or so earlier that day. She had left her book there and hoped that reading it would help her fall asleep.
As she entered the room, she felt a cool breeze; looking towards the French windows, she saw that they were open. That was odd, for it was unlike the servants to leave them open when they went to bed. She walked towards them, intending to close them, and then gave a little jump as a man’s figure loomed up out of the darkness.
‘Lord Harcourt!’ she cried as he entered and she saw him clearly. ‘I am glad it was you. I thought we might have an intruder.’
His eyes narrowed, going over her, taking in the fact that she was wearing a dressing gown over her night attire. ‘What are you doing down here, Miss Horne? I thought you retired long ago?’
‘Yes, I did,’ Lucy agreed. ‘But I could not sleep so I came down to fetch my book.’
‘Then we were both restless,’ he said. ‘I could not sleep either. I went out for a walk—and to smoke a cigar…’ His gaze was intent on her face. ‘I think it was fortunate for your sake that it was I you met on this nocturnal expedition…otherwise it might have proved embarrassing for you, to say the least.’
‘Oh…’ Lucy blushed, becoming aware that she was behaving in a decidedly improper manner by talking to a gentleman she hardly knew when she was dressed in her night-clothes. ‘I must go back to my room, sir. I hope you will find it easier to sleep after your walk.’ She turned and walked from the room clutching her book, her heart racing.
‘Goodnight, Lucy…’ His voice seemed to float after her, making her feel a little odd as she fled up the stairs to her own room. Once again she had the feeling that Lord Harcourt thought of her as a foolish young woman.
Jack Harcourt frowned as he sought his own room, taking a candle from the hall, where several were still burning, though the night porter had fallen asleep in his chair. He was thoughtful as he walked upstairs to his room. He had been startled to find Miss Horne wearing only her night attire. It was often his habit to walk for a while at night, especially when he had something on his mind. He had perhaps been a little sharp with her, for his thoughts were elsewhere, but it was unwise of her to wander about in that state at this hour—particularly when there were male guests. Some of those guests might not have been above trying to snatch a clandestine kiss—or more!
She might not be aware of it, but Lucy was a delightful young girl, very pretty, and the glimpse of her legs he had received as she climbed down from the tree was enticing, for she had lovely slender limbs. He thought her an enchanting child, perhaps a little shy still and completely innocent—as his sister had once been! Thoughts of Amelia brought a frown to his face, for Amelia’s innocence had been abused and that was the cause of her desperate unhappiness. He dismissed thoughts of his sister for the moment. It was useless to dwell on the past, and he had other concerns.
Jack had many friends and acquaintances, all of whom he was happy to meet at social occasions, but there was no one quite like David Middleton. They had grown up together, sharing their boyhood dreams and adventures, more like brothers than friends.
David’s death had been like a blow to the stomach, driving the breath from his body and leaving Jack feeling devastated.
Since receiving that mysterious letter, he had made some inquiries and what he had discovered had led him to believe that David might have fallen in with an evil crowd of sharks and heavy gamblers. If they had tried to cheat him of his fortune, David would not have taken it without a fight, and he now believed that perhaps the gamblers had killed him and dumped his body on the Heath. Collingwood was certainly one of the men David had been gambling with in the weeks immediately before his death, though there was no proof yet that he had had anything to do with his murder. The official view was still that David had been set upon by a highwayman on the Heath and robbed.
Jack frowned, for it made him angry to think that his friend might have been murdered over a card game—and yet was that the real reason? Jack was uncertain. He was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery somehow for he could not rest until he knew the truth. Even here, amongst his friends, he was uneasy, for something was nagging at him, something that made him think that there was more to this affair than he yet guessed, though he could not say why. If Jack was right, it had something to do with an entirely different matter, which meant the tale about a quarrel over gambling was merely a blind.
Oh, damn it! There was nothing he could do for the moment. He had come here to enjoy himself with his friends, and this other business could wait until he returned to London.
A smile flickered about his mouth as he thought of young Lucy Horne once more. In another life, before he had become disillusioned and hardened, he might have found her irresistible, but that time was long past. He knew that he owed it to his family to marry one day, but when he did he would choose an older woman, perhaps a widow who had no great expectations. He needed an heir, but he had become accustomed to being single and did not imagine a life of domestic bliss would suit him. He had a mistress, whom he visited when he felt the need, which was not often, for he had been too busy to indulge himself in the pleasures of life. As for marriage, he had not given it a thought until recently. Even now, it was something that he saw as being a long way off. His experience of personal relationships had not been encouraging and he rather thought that he was better off single, even if at times he was conscious of a great gap in his life. And marriage to a gentle, sweet girl was out of the question! He was mad even to think about it. Charming as she undoubtedly was, Miss Horne was not for him.
Dismissing Lucy from his mind, he walked along the upper landing to his own bedchamber. He would stay three days, as he had promised Marianne and Drew, but then he would return to London and the pursuit of the man who he believed responsible for David’s death.
Lucy was up early. She had slept for a while after returning to bed, but the sunshine pouring in at her open window called to her and she knew that she could go for a walk before anyone else was stirring.
She walked as far as the lake, which lay glistening in the early morning sunshine, entirely tempting and mysterious. There was a little island in the middle of the lake, and a temple that looked like something out of a fairytale. Lucy looked at it longingly, for she would have liked to visit it to explore, though of course it was only small and she doubted there were any secrets. However, in her mind the summerhouse was a palace where a sleeping prince lay waiting to be awakened after the wicked witch had cast a spell on him.
Had there been a rowing boat nearby, Lucy might have been tempted to try and row herself out there. But the boats were kept in the boathouse for safety’s sake and she did not wish to disturb anyone this early in the morning, because the servants would be busy with their work. She sighed and turned, intending to return to the house, only to discover that Lord Harcourt was standing a little way behind her. He was staring at the lake, apparently lost in thought.
She breathed deeply and then took a few steps towards him. ‘Good morning, sir. I think it will be very warm today. Just right for a trip to the island, do you not think?’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Jack replied, focusing on her. ‘The water looks tempting—especially if it becomes hot later. At home I should probably go for a swim on a day such as this promises to be.’
‘It would be delightful,’ Lucy said. ‘I have sometimes bathed in the cove at home, though I do not swim—but I like to splash in the shallows.’ She gave him a shy smile. ‘The island looks as if it might be enchanted, do you not think so? Perhaps there is a sleeping prince—or princess—waiting to be woken from slumber?’
‘Ridiculous child,’ Jack said in an indulgent tone. ‘I can see that you have read too many fairy stories, Miss Horne. I fear that you will discover life is very different. Are you sure you are eighteen? Your mama should think twice before taking you into London society—I think you are too innocent to mix with the rogues you may find there.’
‘I know that life can be sad as well as happy,’ Lucy replied, lifting her head proudly, because his tone stung her. ‘I have helped out with various events to alleviate the condition of the poor—not only of this country, but others abroad. Papa taught us to think of people less fortunate than ourselves, and I am not ignorant of the evils of poverty.’
‘I was not thinking of the plight of the poor,’ Jack said. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her exactly what he did mean, but he held back. He ought not to be the one to disillusion her. Her mama would no doubt warn her of the kind of men who led young innocents astray. ‘But it is to your credit that you do, Miss Horne.’ He smiled at her, his mood relenting. ‘Come, let us walk back to the house. I believe your sister Mrs Beverley has written some stories for children, has she not?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lucy said, giving him an enchanting smile. ‘She wrote them for me, you know, because I had always loved fairy stories—but Hal had them published for her as a wedding gift. She has written a few more, I believe, but she does not have much time these days, for they are always so busy entertaining their friends.’
‘Yes, I dare say.’ Jack nodded. ‘I understand there is to be a ball tomorrow evening? Shall you be there?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Lucy said, her lovely eyes glowing. ‘Marianne arranged it because she said it would be good for me to attend my first real dance at her home. I have danced at the homes of my friends, of course, but this is my first ball.’
‘Then you must be looking forward to it?’ Jack was caught despite himself. She was a lovely girl, very young and naïve, of course, but with a pleasing manner. ‘Tell me, what colour is your gown—or is that a secret?’
Lucy blushed as she saw the teasing look in his eyes. He seemed very much more approachable this morning, and she was reminded of the man who had attended her sister’s wedding. He had seemed to be more carefree then and it made her wonder what had changed him, for something had—and it had taken the devil-may-care look from his eyes.
‘It is white with silver spangles,’ she said. ‘And Mama has loaned me her pearls, though I have a pretty pearl-and-diamond bangle of my own that Drew gave me for my birthday.’
‘Yes, charming,’ Jack said, making a note to send her a posy of white flowers—or perhaps pink ones tied with white ribbons. ‘Well, Miss Horne, I think we should join the others for breakfast, don’t you?’
Lucy nodded, feeling shy again. She usually waited until her mama came down to take breakfast, but did not wish to tell him that. After all, how difficult could it be to join the other early risers and talk in an easy and companionable way? She lifted her head, determined that she would give no indication that she was nervous, even if her mama and sisters had not yet come down.
Chapter Two
Lucy felt pleased with herself as she went upstairs a little later that morning. Far from feeling out of place, she had enjoyed being fussed over by the gentlemen who had come down early to take breakfast. She had not been allowed to help herself, but was waited on by one elderly gentleman who called her ‘my pretty’ and piled her plate with tempting morsels from the chafing dishes. Another had filled her tiny cup with coffee and yet another had set her chair.
She had thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of being fussed over, until she had seen Lord Harcourt watching her with what she felt was disapproval in his eyes. However, he had said nothing and somehow the suggestion of boating on the lake and a picnic on the island had come up, which everyone had thought a good idea. By the time Marianne entered the room, it had all but been arranged.
‘Yes, that is a lovely idea,’ Marianne said when it was suggested to her. ‘The island isn’t large, but because of all the trees and the temple, it is nice to walk there on a hot afternoon. I shall have a picnic prepared. We will have that by the lake, but the boats will be available for anyone who wishes to visit.’
‘Oh, how lovely,’ Lucy said, her face lighting up with pleasure. ‘I have been wanting to explore ever since we came here, Marianne.’
‘You should have said, dearest,’ Marianne told her. ‘Drew would have been delighted to take you there. The lake was unremarkable until we took up residence here, you know. He had it enlarged and the island created and it has made all the difference.’
‘May I be one of your party, Miss Lucy?’ General Rawlings asked, smiling at her. ‘I should like to explore the island in your company, m’dear.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Lucy replied, for he had been very kind to her during her stay here. ‘But I expect everyone will want to see it.’
‘It is an enchanted place,’ Jack said, surprising her and himself. ‘I dare say there may be a sleeping prince to discover—or perhaps elves and witches.’
Lucy looked at him in surprise, thinking that he must be mocking her, but she discovered that he had a look of mischief in his eyes. Her heart started to race wildly, for in that moment he had become the man she had loved since they first met.
‘You would not be the first to think that,’ Marianne told him, joining in the laughter. ‘We hold treasure hunts there at Easter for the estate children, and it is surprising what tales they tell.’
After that, the conversation had turned to estate matters, and the problems associated with educating the children of labourers. Marianne had recently set up a school for the children of parents who could not afford to pay, and she liked to visit now and then to see how they were getting on with their teacher. Lucy listened quietly, unaware that Lord Harcourt’s gaze dwelled on her face for some minutes before he got up and excused himself to the company.
Lucy stayed on for a while, excusing herself only after her mama had joined the company, whispering in her ear that Jo was feeling a little unwell and staying in bed until later. She had asked if her young sister would visit her in her bedchamber, and Lucy was very willing to oblige her.
She tapped at her sister’s door, entering after she was invited to find Jo sitting up against a pile of silken pillows, a breakfast tray almost untouched on the table beside her, and some letters lying unopened on the bed.
‘Do you feel very poorly, dearest?’ Lucy asked, dismayed to see Jo looking pale.
‘It is just a little morning sickness,’ Jo told her. ‘I could not face my breakfast and Hal insisted that I stay in bed until noon. I do not wish to disoblige him for I know that my child is important to both Hal and Lord Beverley.’
‘Will Hal mind if the child is not a boy, Jo?’
‘He says that he does not care either way, as long as I am well—but I know that Lord Beverley longs for an heir and I hope that I shall have a son. Marianne’s little girl is beautiful, and I should like a girl one day—but Lord Beverley’s health is precarious, and he already has a granddaughter.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Lucy said and smiled. ‘Lord Beverley dotes on Ellen and little Mattie, but he must hope that you and Hal will give him grandsons.’
‘He pretends not to mind, as long as I am well, but I know he hopes that my first-born will be a boy,’ Jo said and patted the bed for her sister to join her. ‘I do not mind, because I want to have several children.’
‘I expect you will,’ Lucy said, because she knew that her strong-minded sister usually achieved what she wanted in the end. ‘We are going on the lake this afternoon, and I want to explore the island. Shall you come with us?’
‘I think I shall stay on shore, but I shall watch you all from a comfortable chair,’ Jo said and smiled at her. ‘You may have my biscuits if you wish, Lucy.’
Lucy laughed softly, remembering the times she had stolen her sister’s breakfast when they were all at home. ‘Thank you, dearest Jo, but I couldn’t eat another thing. I had breakfast downstairs today and General Rawlings gave me far too much, but I ate as much as I could, because I did not wish to appear ungrateful.’
‘General Rawlings?’ Jo frowned, because, although he was a pleasant man, he was much older than her sister and she knew that he was looking for a wife, having buried his second wife some nine months earlier. ‘Be a little careful, dearest. He is much too old for you—and he has five children by his first two wives.’
Lucy shot her a look of pure astonishment. ‘Oh, Jo, you do not think…?’ She went off into a peal of delighted laughter. ‘Poor General Rawlings! I am sure he has no such idea. He would not want to marry me. I am far too young for him.’
‘Some gentlemen like very young ladies,’ Jo warned her. ‘Be careful not to get caught in a compromising situation with him, Lucy. I do not think he would make you happy—and you do not wish to cast a shadow over your reputation.’ Jo’s cheeks were slightly pink. ‘I know that I behaved a little recklessly when I ran off with Hal and Ellen, but it was different for me.’
‘Yes, because you were in love with him,’ Lucy agreed and frowned. ‘Thank you for warning me, Jo. I had thought he was just being kind, but I see now that I must be a little careful. I shall make sure that there are others present when we go to explore the island.’
Lucy’s eyes had been opened by her sister’s warning, and when the boats were being made up, she made certain that Miss Tremaine, Lord Harcourt and another lady were in the same boat as General Rawlings and herself. Once on the island, the little group set off together, following the paths through the trees and tall rhododendron bushes to the centre of the island where the little temple was situated.
Miss Tremaine took Lord Harcourt’s arm in a proprietary way, so Lucy followed with General Rawlings and the others walked behind them as the boat returned to the shore to pick up another party.
The rhododendrons were in flower as were some azaleas and camellias, their blossoms a riot of reds, oranges and pinks. Lucy was delighted with all she saw—it was a pretty place, quiet and peaceful, populated by a variety of birds, who fluttered anxiously through the trees as their haven was invaded. She gave a little cry of delight as they came upon the little temple, running towards it to investigate.
It had been built of white marble to resemble a Grecian temple and was open to the elements on all sides, though there were little benches where it was possible to sit for a while if one cared to. Lucy thought it lovely, though in a way it had been more romantic when it remained a mystery at the heart of the little island. She sat down on the bench, smiling at Lord Harcourt as he came up to her.
‘I fear you must be disappointed, Miss Horne,’ he teased. ‘No sleeping prince for you to awaken—or elves and witches.’
‘But it is an enchanted place just the same,’ Lucy replied, looking up at him. ‘Do you not think so?’
‘Perhaps…for some,’ Jack replied. ‘I think the company one finds oneself in is all important…’ He turned his head as Miss Tremaine joined them, though she did not sit down on the marble bench. ‘Does the island please you, Miss Tremaine?’
‘Oh, it is pretty enough,’ she replied with an air of boredom and twirled her elegant parasol. ‘I have seen others as interesting—perhaps more so. I understand that you have had your own grounds landscaped, Lord Harcourt. Do you have a lake?’
‘Yes, though I do not have an island. We have some extensive woods, however,’ Jack replied and for a moment his expression darkened as he recalled the old woodcutter’s hut that had featured in the games he and David had once played.
‘I have heard that you have a magnificent water feature—based on something you saw at Versailles?’
‘Oh, it is not anything like as grand, though I like to think it fits my estate rather better than something larger,’ Jack said. ‘But I also have a wild garden—or a wilderness, as my head gardener is pleased to call it.’
‘How exciting,’ Miss Tremaine said. ‘Shall we go back, sir? I have seen enough of this.’
Jack offered her his arm and they began to stroll in the direction of the landing place. The other lady and gentleman had gone a few seconds earlier, and Lucy suddenly found herself alone with General Rawlings.
‘So we have this enchanted place to ourselves, m’dear,’ he said, giving her a look that made Lucy suddenly a little uncomfortable. Remembering her sister’s warning, she got up to follow the others, but he caught her arm, turning her to face him. ‘No, don’t run off, my pretty. I have been hoping to get you to myself for a little while.’
‘I think we should join the others,’ Lucy said her heart beating faster. Something about the way he was looking at her was unsettling. She had thought him a harmless gentleman, but now she was not so sure. ‘The boat will have to come back for us otherwise.’
‘Let it,’ he said, his finger caressing her bare arm. ‘You must be aware that I find you very attractive, Miss Lucy. In fact, I have been thinking of making you—’
‘Miss Horne!’ Lord Harcourt’s voice cut across General Rawlings’s words. ‘I believe we should return to the shore. Miss Tremaine is impatient to join the others.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Lucy flushed and pulled away from her companion, going to join him. She gave him a grateful smile, but was chilled by the expression in his eyes. He was angry! ‘Thank you for reminding us, but we were just coming.’
‘Go on ahead and get into the boat,’ Lord Harcourt said. He turned to the other man as Lucy obeyed swiftly. ‘She is too young and innocent, Rawlings. You would do well to remember that!’
‘Damn you for your insolence, sir! My intentions are nothing but honourable. I was about to propose marriage.’
‘Indeed?’ Jack gave him a hard stare. ‘I repeat—she is too young and innocent. You should look elsewhere for your third wife, sir.’
‘You are in no position to censure me from what I hear,’ Rawlings said, giving him a look of dislike. ‘At least all of my children were born in wedlock.’
Jack smiled, but there was a hint of menace in his eyes. ‘Listening to scandalous tales is a fool’s errand. I would not advise you to pass on lies, sir—unless you are willing to face the consequences.’
General Rawlings turned pale. ‘I am not the only one to believe it,’ he blustered. ‘If I have it wrong, I apologise.’
‘Accepted,’ Jack said and turned away. His face was dark with anger as he followed Lucy to the landing stage, where the others were waiting in the boat. He did not look at Lucy as he joined them in the boat. Nor did he speak to anyone as they were rowed back to the shore.
Lucy was painfully aware of his anger, and, knowing nothing of what had caused it, she believed that he was angry with her. He must despise her for being foolish enough to find herself in a difficult position; indeed, she blamed herself, for Jo had warned her.
She felt close to tears, but held her head high. She would not let anyone guess that Lord Harcourt’s disapproval had distressed her so dreadfully.
‘You look very pretty, dearest,’ Mrs Horne said when Lucy emerged from her bedroom on the evening of the ball. ‘Who sent you that charming posy?’
‘It was from Lord Harcourt,’ Lucy replied. ‘It goes so well with my hair band, does it not?’ On receiving the pink roses tied with white ribbons, Lucy had tied her long hair back with a pink-spangled ribbon. She looked fresh and lovely, and very young.
‘That was kind of him,’ Mrs Horne said, smiling at her. She was very proud of her daughter, for she knew that, despite her innocence, Lucy was a sensible girl and would not let something so trivial turn her head. ‘Shall we go down now, Lucy?’ Besides, although she had heard rumours concerning Lord Harcourt, she was not yet disposed to believe them.
‘Yes, Mama.’ Lucy looked at her mother. ‘Did you say that it would be proper for me to dance the waltz, Mama?’
‘Perfectly proper at your sister’s ball,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘But when we go to Almack’s next month, you must wait until you are given permission from one of the hostesses. However, waltzing is perfectly acceptable almost everywhere now, my love.’
Lucy nodded. She had heard her sisters talk of waltzing and had not been quite sure whether it was accepted or not. Her heart beat a little faster as she wondered if Lord Harcourt would ask her to dance. If he should ask her to waltz…but she must not expect it. She was well aware that he saw her as a child and believed that he was attracted to Miss Tremaine, who took every opportunity to monopolise his attention. When the dazzling beauty of Miss Tremaine was on hand, why would he bother with Lucy?
The ballroom was already filling up when Lucy arrived with her mama. Marianne and Drew had been welcoming their guests for the past few minutes, and there were already some twenty couples besides the house-guests who were staying. For a while Mrs Horne moved amongst them, introducing Lucy to people she knew, and meeting others she had not met previously, but after some ten minutes or so the music struck up.
Lucy immediately found herself the centre of attention, and her dance card was soon filled. She danced first with General Rawlings. It was a country dance and Lucy was pleased because it meant that she passed on to other partners. She had already decided that she would not waltz with that particular gentleman if he should ask her.
Lord Harcourt danced the first two sets with Miss Tremaine. He approached Lucy as she returned to her mama’s side, asking for the pleasure of the next dance, which she was unable to offer him.
‘I fear I have nothing left until…the dance before supper,’ she said, looking at him shyly. ‘Perhaps…’
‘I should not have dallied,’ Jack said and looked slightly rueful. ‘Yes, that will do very well, Miss Horne—and I believe it may be a waltz, which will be all the better.’
Lucy’s heart raced. She had hoped that they might waltz together, never dreaming her wish would be granted. However, she could do little more than smile and promise she would keep it for him before she was claimed for the next dance.
Her partners were all kind, generous gentlemen, many of them married and much older than Lucy. However, she did dance with four gentlemen who were more her own age, and they stayed with her for most of the evening, forming a little court about her when she was not dancing and making her laugh. She enjoyed herself more than she had expected, and when Jo asked her if she was having a good time she was able to answer quite truthfully that she was very happy. However, she could not control a flutter of nerves as the supper dance approached, and when Lord Harcourt came towards her, she caught her breath. He was so very handsome, so much more assured and worldly than the young gallants who had kept her company all evening.
‘I believe this is my dance, Miss Horne?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she replied and gave him her hand.
As he took it and led her onto the floor, her heart was beating wildly. She hoped that her emotions did not show on her face, because she would not have liked him to guess that his touch affected her so deeply, making her tremble inside. She lifted her head, an unconscious look of pride in her eyes as the music struck up and he took her into his arms.
Dancing with Jack Harcourt was all that Lucy had dreamed of and more. The feeling that came over her was like nothing she had ever experienced before, excelling all her childhood dreams. She had wondered what it might be like to be held by him, but she could never have imagined the swirling emotions inside her, the heady sensation of dancing on air, or being swept away to a magical place. But this was not the magic of her childhood dreams. Lucy knew instinctively that what she felt for Lord Harcourt was love—the kind of love a woman feels for the man she wishes to be her husband.
For the duration of their dance, she allowed herself to float over the floor in his arms, lost to reality. She had never known passion or lust, never been kissed other than on the cheek by her relatives or friends, but something deep within her was responding to an age-old need that she had never even guessed existed until this moment.
She wished that she could go on dancing with him for ever, wished that this wonderful experience might never end, but all too soon the music was finishing and everyone began to make a move towards the supper room.
‘Perhaps you would like some supper, Miss Horne?’ Jack suggested, but at that moment Lucy’s mama came up to them.
‘Well, my dear, I am glad to see you looking so happy,’ Mrs Horne said. ‘Come along, Lucy. I want you to help me choose my supper from the wonderful buffet Marianne has ordered for us.’
Lucy gave her partner an apologetic look. She would have preferred to take supper with him, but could not refuse her mama’s request. He inclined his head as if to say that he understood, and she turned away, following in her mother’s wake. In the supper room she was invited to sit with a party of young people, and to her surprise her mama indicated that she might do so.
‘Yes, run along, dearest. You do not need to look after me, for Jo will help me.’
Lucy was a little bewildered. Why had her mama insisted that she accompany her, only to release her almost at once? Joining the other young people, Lucy hoped that Lord Harcourt would not be offended. However, a few minutes later, she saw that he was at the buffet with Miss Tremaine. He was laughing in response to something she was saying, and Lucy felt a pang of regret. She would have enjoyed eating her supper with Lord Harcourt.
‘Is something wrong, Miss Horne?’
Lucy turned to the young man sitting beside her. He was fair-haired, about twenty years of age, and attractive.
‘Nothing, thank you, Mr Tristram,’ Lucy said. ‘I was thinking of something, but it is not important.’ She turned her bright eyes on him. ‘Have you enjoyed this evening?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed with a slight flush in his cheeks. ‘More than I expected. These country dances are often boring, you know—but you were here this evening and that made all the difference.’
‘Oh…’ Lucy felt her cheeks grow warm. ‘How kind of you to say so, sir—though I do not see how my presence could make so much difference.’
‘Do you not?’ He grinned at her. ‘No, I suppose not. I dare say you have no idea how beautiful you are.’
‘Beautiful…’ Lucy’s laugh tinkled like fairy bells. ‘Oh, no, you cannot mean that, sir. I have been told that I am pretty, but beautiful…’ Her gaze fell on Miss Tremaine. ‘Now she is beautiful.’
John Tristram’s eyes followed in direction of her gaze and he frowned. ‘She is very striking,’ he agreed. ‘But that kind of beauty is skin deep, for I think she is a little shallow, whereas you—’ He broke off, looking awkward as Lucy’s brow furrowed. ‘I hope I have not offended you, Miss Lucy?’
‘No, of course not,’ Lucy said and wrinkled her nose endearingly. ‘Is she shallow? I think perhaps you are a little critical, Mr Tristram.’
‘Yes, perhaps—and I should not have said it,’ he replied. ‘But in my opinion she cannot hold a candle to you.’
‘Oh…that is kind,’ Lucy said, giving him a radiant smile. ‘I have felt a little awkward in her presence, for she seems so clever…so vibrant.’
‘Yes, she is clever,’ he acknowledged, ‘though sometimes at the expense of others—which I think cruel. You would never be unkind, Miss Lucy.’
The expression in his eyes was little short of adoring, which made Lucy blush and look away. She liked him very well, and his compliments were a boost to her confidence, but she was an honest girl and she knew that she could never feel anything more than friendship for him.
‘Do you hunt, Mr Tristram?’ she asked, because it was a subject that usually turned the gentlemen’s conversation and it did not fail her now. For the next few minutes he regaled her with stories of his hunting experiences, and then the conversation became general.
The company began to drift back to the ballroom. Some of the guests, who had farther to go, had started to take their leave, but others continued to dance, and Lucy was one of them. She was claimed by Drew and then by Hal Beverley, and was one of the last to leave the ballroom. As she went upstairs, she saw that Lord Harcourt and Miss Tremaine had gone out into the conservatory, and her mood of elation was dimmed by the realisation that there was very likely an understanding between them.
Lucy refused to acknowledge the pain in her breast. She would be very silly to break her heart for a man who hardly knew she existed. He had been kind to her, but he thought her still a child. Miss Tremaine was some years older than Lucy, and an heiress. Why should he look at Lucy when Miss Tremaine was clearly so willing to be courted?
Lucy slept very well that night, undisturbed by dreams. Jack Harcourt was not as fortunate. He had accompanied Miss Tremaine to the conservatory to help look for a diamond earring she claimed to have lost, but when it remained elusive he had become aware of the expectant expression in her eyes.
‘I fear I must have lost it elsewhere,’ she said apologetically and looked up at him, her soft lips slightly parted. ‘How foolish of me…’
‘Perhaps it is not lost at all,’ he replied. ‘You may find it in your room later or caught within your clothing.’
‘Oh, do you think so?’ She pulled at the lace about her décolletage. ‘Do you think it can have fallen down here?’
‘I have no idea,’ Jack told her, realising too late that his attentions during the evening had led her to expect a declaration. ‘I think you must ask your mama to look—or search for it yourself in your room. It is not for me to speculate on such matters, Miss Tremaine.’
‘I would not ask any gentleman,’ she said huskily and looked at him with a clear invitation in her eyes. ‘But you…It would not offend me—’
‘It would offend my sense of decency where a young lady of respectable birth is concerned,’ Jack replied harshly. ‘Even if we had an understanding, which we do not, I should not expect such liberties until after the wedding. As I have no plans to marry just yet, I think we should bring this conversation to an end, Miss Tremaine.’
He had been too blunt, for she had turned bright red and rushed from the conservatory, leaving him wishing that he had chosen his words more carefully. Jack had not meant to offend her, and though she had pushed herself on him determinedly since his arrival, he had done nothing to discourage her. Indeed, she was very much the kind of lady he had been toying with the idea of marrying, because he believed she was unlikely to be easily hurt. She had come out four seasons ago, and had not yet married. He had no idea why, because she was beautiful and in possession of a small fortune, which should have been enough to secure her many offers. Either she had refused them all or for some reason her suitors had held back.
Dismissing Miss Tremaine from his thoughts, Jack went out into the garden to smoke a last cigar. He was thoughtful as he stared at the moon, remembering his dance with Miss Horne, a faint smile on his lips. There was no doubt about it, she was an enchanting child—much too young for him, of course. Besides, her mama had clearly heard those damned rumours, for why else had she intervened when he had been about to invite Lucy to take supper with him? It annoyed him that the tales should be circulating, but there was nothing he could do to refute them.
She was a careful mother, and he did not fault her for that, because he knew what perils could lie in the path of an innocent whose mother—or rather stepmother—did not care enough to protect her. Mrs Horne would take some convincing that he was a fit person to court her daughter. He could, if he chose, set her mind at rest, but for the moment he did not care to—it was not his secret and he would keep it close to his chest, as he had promised. In any case, he had no intention of paying court to Lucy Horne—even if she was the most enchanting little thing he had seen in a long time.
He had stayed on for the ball, as he had promised Drew and Marianne he would, but there was nothing to keep him here now. He would bid his hosts farewell this evening, and leave first thing in the morning. There was something he needed to do in town…
Lucy did not rise as early as usual the next morning. Her mama had given instructions that she should be allowed to sleep on, and so it was past nine when she woke. She rose, went over to the window and drew the curtains, looking out at the gardens. The sun was already quite warm, and as she opened her window the scent of blossom came to her.
She knew that her mama, Aunt Bertha and Jo would all still be in their rooms. Marianne might be stirring, for she had always liked to walk early in the morning. Lucy decided to dress and go down, though she knew that her maid was waiting for her to ring. However, there was enough cold water in her jug, left over from the previous evening, to wash her hands and face, even though it made her shiver.
Once dressed in a simple muslin gown, she went downstairs, letting herself out into the garden. She had stopped to smell a dark red rose when she saw Marianne coming towards her, a basket of cut blooms over her arm.
‘Are you up already, dearest?’ Marianne asked. ‘Mama said that you should be allowed to sleep in. I think she thought you would not rise before noon.’
‘Oh, I like to be up early,’ Lucy said. ‘As you always have, Marianne.’
‘Yes, we are alike in that,’ her sister said with an affectionate look. ‘Did you enjoy yourself last night, my love? I do not think you sat out one dance, did you?’
‘No…’ Lucy gave a gurgle of pleasure. ‘Everyone was so kind to me, Marianne. I do not know if it was because I am your sister.’
‘No, I am very sure it was not,’ Marianne replied. ‘You are lovely, dearest Lucy, both in form and nature.’
‘Mr Tristram said something of the kind,’ Lucy said with a blush. ‘I danced the supper waltz with Lord Harcourt.’ A little smile played about her soft mouth, for it had been the highlight of her evening.
‘Yes, I know,’ Marianne replied, a little frown creasing her brow. ‘He left first thing this morning. I think he had offended Miss Tremaine. I saw her looking very angry after she left him last evening.’
‘Oh…’ Lucy hesitated, then, ‘I thought perhaps he meant to ask her…I mean, that they might have an understanding…’
‘I believe she may have thought that they did,’ Marianne replied thoughtfully. ‘Jack is sometimes unwise in his manner, and she did rather push herself on him, though he did nothing to discourage her. He is a flirt, of course. I have heard people say he is a rake, though I am not sure it is true, at least not these days. He may have his…arrangements, of course, but many unmarried gentlemen do. But it is more than that, I think. I have asked Drew, but he will not say.’ She shook her head. ‘It does not matter. I like him very well, and he is always generous.’
‘Yes, he is kind. I have always thought so,’ Lucy agreed. ‘I am sorry he has gone. I did not get a chance to say goodbye to him.’
‘Well, I dare say you may see him in London when you go up with Mama next week,’ Marianne said. ‘I believe he spends much of his time in London, though he has a large and very beautiful country house—and he is a wealthy landowner and has a respected title. I dare say that was what attracted Miss Tremaine. She has held out for a title, I believe, but so far none has come her way.’
‘Oh…is that why she has not yet married?’ Lucy looked thoughtful. ‘It must be a consideration, I suppose, but I do not think it would be important if one loved a gentleman—do you, Marianne?’
‘When I fell in love with Drew, I did not know he had a title and I did not think him rich,’ Marianne said, smiling at the memory. ‘He was posing as plain Mr Beck, and the boots he wore were quite disreputable. He still clings to them now, though his valet despairs of them and he has more than a dozen pairs of new ones.’
‘Drew is Drew,’ Lucy declared with a lilting laugh. ‘There is no one like him, Marianne. Harry is very nice and kind, but Drew is wonderful. I am so glad that you fell in love with him, because I like to see you happy—and your little Andrea is gorgeous.’
‘Yes, she is, isn’t she?’ Marianne said. ‘Come, Lucy, let us go in. We can go up to the nursery and see if she is awake, because early in the morning is the best time to play with her.’
The rest of Lucy’s stay with Marianne and Drew flew by. Sometimes she caught herself thinking about Lord Harcourt, but she tried hard not to dwell on her feelings for him. After all, she had thought of him as her ‘prince’ for years without feeling heartache, and if she were strict with herself, she could pretend that nothing had changed, even though she knew that her childish dreams had become something very different. As a child she had dreamed of him, but it had all been far away, remaining just a dream, but now…seeing him, talking to him, dancing with him, had made her so much more aware of him as a man.
During her last afternoon at the Marlbeck estate, Lucy had a visitor. Mr Tristram came to call and she walked with him in the gardens for half an hour before tea. At first they spoke of inconsequential things, recalling the ball and talking of the lovely weather, which had remained fine for some days—and then he stopped walking and turned to look at her.
‘So you go to London in the morning, Miss Lucy?’
‘Yes, we leave first thing,’ Lucy said. ‘I believe we shall stop at an inn for one night—that is, Mama and I, of course. Aunt Bertha has decided to stay here and then return to her home in Cornwall. Marianne and Drew are to follow in a couple of days and we shall all be together for most of my stay in town.’
‘That will be pleasant for you,’ John Tristram said. He hesitated, then, ‘May I call on you in a few days? I have decided to go up and stay with my uncle—Sir Michael Gerard.’
‘I am sure we shall be delighted to see you,’ Lucy said, though she blushed and looked down, because his gaze was rather intense. ‘Oh, was that the gong? I think it must be time for tea.’
She was a little embarrassed and relieved that they would no longer be alone, for she was afraid that he might go on to say something that would cause her discomfort. She liked him very well, but she did not wish to hear a proposal of marriage from him.
‘Yes, I think it was,’ he said, looking relieved himself. She thought that perhaps he had lost his nerve at the last moment. ‘Yes, we should go in.’
Several of Marianne’s guests had gathered for tea, though most had departed. Lucy knew that the remaining few would take their leave later that day. General Rawlings was one of the last to leave, and he gave Lucy a sharp glance as she came in with Mr Tristram. She had done her best to avoid being alone with him since Jo had warned her that he was looking for a third wife to take charge of his children, and she believed that he had given up his hopes of her.
‘Ah, there you are, m’dear,’ he said as Miss Tremaine followed Lucy into the room. He stood up and went over to her, smiling down at her before clearing his throat. ‘Have I your permission to tell everyone?’
‘Yes, of course, Henry.’ She gave him what looked to Lucy to be a forced smile. ‘I think you should.’
‘Miss Tremaine…Angela…has done me the honour to say that she will become my wife,’ he announced, looking very pleased with himself as a stunned silence fell. ‘I am of course the happiest man alive…never thought she would take me.’
Lucy was shocked, though she did her best to hide it. She had been certain that it was Lord Harcourt Miss Tremaine had had in mind as a husband, and she could hardly believe that she had settled for so much less. General Rawlings was a gentleman and quite respectable, his fortune adequate—but he was not an aristocrat and he could not match Lord Harcourt in looks or manner.
A little buzz of congratulations burst out. Lucy added hers to the general chorus, though she could not help wondering why Miss Tremaine had accepted his offer. She must surely have had others more favourable. However, it was not for Lucy to question and she kept her thoughts to herself.
It was only when she left the company to go upstairs and change for the evening that she suddenly found herself alone with Miss Tremaine.
‘I dare say you are wondering why I have accepted General Rawlings,’ she said, surprising Lucy by her directness. ‘I had thought that I might accept Lord Harcourt—but Mama has heard unpleasant rumours, so I decided that I would marry a man of good reputation.’
‘Oh…’ Lucy wished that she might run away but it would be rude to do so. ‘I was not wondering…’
The older girl frowned. ‘I thought that you might rather like him yourself and that is why I decided to warn you. He is not to be trusted. Mama has it on good authority that he is a rake and…’ she glanced over her shoulder ‘…there is something dreadful. I do not know if I should tell you this, but they say he has a—’
‘Please do not!’ Lucy said at once. ‘It is kind of you to warn me, but there is no need—and I do not wish to hear gossip.’ She turned away and fled up the stairs, suddenly uncaring of whether Miss Tremaine thought her rude or not.
Alone in her room, Lucy discovered that she was shaking. She felt very angry. How dare Miss Tremaine hint at such terrible things? It was most unfair of her when Lord Harcourt was not here to defend himself. And after she had made such a play for him!
If Lucy had been a different girl, she might have suspected Miss Tremaine of jealous spite, but as it was she crushed the unworthy thoughts. She suspected that Miss Tremaine had been hurt, and perhaps there was something of the rake about Lord Harcourt—for he had flirted with both Lucy and Miss Tremaine. However, she did not wish to listen to spiteful tales and she would not let anyone poison her mind against him!
She still could not quite understand why Miss Tremaine should have accepted General Rawlings, and she asked Jo about it later. Jo had come to her room to give her a little gift and to wish her well in her first Season in London.
‘I do not know for sure,’ Jo said, looking thoughtful. ‘I think she has been on the town for some years and is disappointed. I know that her mama had high hopes for her, but for some reason they have come to nothing. I believe she had offers in her first Season and turned them down, and since then…’ Jo shook her head. ‘Perhaps it is because she has a sharp tongue and is not always kind. I do not think I envy General Rawlings his choice of a wife—and I pity his children, for I cannot believe that she will be a kind mother to another woman’s children.’
‘Oh…’ Lucy nodded. ‘Mr Tristram said that she could be unkind. I told him he should not say so, but perhaps he was right.’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Jo said. ‘In any event, she has made her choice and I dare say she may have felt a little desperate, for I imagine she thought Lord Harcourt would come up to scratch.’
‘He did seem attracted,’ Lucy said and frowned. ‘Do you think he is a flirt, Jo?’
‘Yes, I am certain of it,’ Jo said. ‘I have heard that he is a rake, but I do not know how true it may be. Drew likes him and so does Hal—and I would trust their judgement.’
‘Yes, that is what I thought. If Drew likes him, he cannot be so very wicked.’ Lucy smiled happily, taking her sister’s arm as they went downstairs together. It would be the last time they would have dinner together for some time, because Hal was taking Jo home the next day. She would probably spend the next few months quietly at his father’s home awaiting the birth of her baby, but she had told Lucy that she was looking forward to being with her great friend Ellen again.
Miss Tremaine was not present that evening. She, her mother and General Rawlings had left after tea, and it was just the family who dined that evening. Lucy had enjoyed meeting Marianne’s friends, but she thought it was even nicer with just her close family about her.
She felt happy when she went to bed, even though a little shadow hovered at the back of her mind. She knew that she must make every effort to put Lord Harcourt from her thoughts. He was older, a rake and, perhaps worse, he thought of her as a child. Only a foolish girl would break her heart for him. Lucy had decided that she would try to forget her feelings for him, and if she should meet someone else she could love that ought to be easy enough.
Jack walked into the less-than-respectable nightclub. It was frequented by young rakehells and ladies of dubious reputation, though sometimes impeccable birth. He stood watching as one rather raddled-looking lady gambled carelessly at the throw of the dice, her rouged cheeks disguising the ravages of dissolute living. A woman of advanced years, who had buried three wealthy husbands, she bore a name that had once commanded respect. She was with a party of gentlemen, who were encouraging her to gamble ever more recklessly and were, by the looks of them, the worse for drink. His eyes narrowed as he saw that one of her court was the man he sought—Sir Frederick Collingwood.
He strolled towards them, outwardly detached, as careless as they, though inwardly it was another matter. He wished that he could simply have come out with his accusations, but he knew that Collingwood would have covered his tracks well. Before he could bring him to his knees, he needed proof that he had been responsible for David Middleton’s death. He already knew that they had gambled on the night David was murdered, but that in itself meant little. What lay behind the events played out in public that night? Several people had spoken to him of a quarrel between David and Collingwood—but was it simply over a card game?
Collingwood turned to look at him as he approached, a guarded expression in his eyes, as though he sensed something. Since Jack Harcourt seldom frequented clubs of this nature and reputation, it was hardly surprising that the other man should wonder why he was there—especially if he had a guilty conscience.
‘Good evening, Collingwood,’ Jack said pleasantly. It took all his strength of purpose to speak politely to the man he knew to be a shark and a cheat, but he must do so if he were to learn what he needed to know. ‘I did not think dice was your game?’
‘It is not,’ Collingwood agreed, lifting his quizzing glass to look at Jack more closely. ‘I did not think that this was your sort of place?’
‘It is not,’ Jack agreed, resisting the urge to lunge at him and knock the truth out of the lying devil. ‘But there are times when a man needs something more…shall we say spiced with danger?’
‘Ah, yes.’ Collingwood nodded, for he understood that, being a reckless gambler himself. ‘So what is your pleasure, Harcourt?’
‘I am looking for a game of piquet,’ Jack said, because he knew that it had been his friend’s favourite game of chance. ‘But it seems there is no one willing to oblige me. I win too often, it seems.’
Collingwood studied his face, and then nodded. It was clearly a challenge and one that he could not resist, even though he suspected that something more lay behind it.
‘I am otherwise engaged this evening, as you see,’ he said. ‘However, I should be delighted to take you on, Harcourt—in more pleasant surroundings than these.’
‘Good. Shall we say tomorrow evening at White’s?’
‘We shall indeed.’ Collingwood grinned. He was a rake of the worst order, a man careful mothers told their daughters to avoid at all costs, but he was dangerously attractive. His black hair and dark eyes brought women to him easily, and he treated them all with contempt. ‘Tomorrow at nine, Harcourt. Now, do you care to hazard a bet on the roll of the dice?’
Jack had noticed a certain tendency for the dice to fall a certain way three times out of six. He reached forward, scooped them up, and blew on them and then called a hundred guineas on sixes as he threw. The dice fell with the six spots showing on both of the dice. He smiled at the reckless lady, who had placed her bet on sixes and was now gleefully gathering her winnings. His gaze strayed momentarily to the disappointed faces of the young rogues who had been hoping to fleece their victim of more of her money. He raised his brows, then turned and walked from the room, knowing that several of them were following him with their eyes, and that they would not be wishing him well.
Lucy looked about her eagerly as the carriage bowled briskly through the streets of London. It was early in the morning and they were not yet crowded with the traffic of the day. She could see a milkmaid crying her wares, her pails suspended from a wooden pole she wore across her shoulders. A coster was selling fresh mussels and oysters from a barrow he wheeled through the streets, and a brewery wagon was trotting proudly along the road, its horses dressed in shining brasses that jingled.
They had stayed at an inn just outside London the previous evening and come on early this morning. Lucy craned excitedly to see as the carriage came to a halt outside the Marquis of Marlbeck’s London home. Although Drew and Marianne were to follow in a few days’ time, they had insisted that Lucy and Mrs Horne go ahead so as to begin the task of gathering Lucy’s new wardrobe before she was introduced into society.
Lucy was glad that her elder sister would be in town during their stay, for she knew that Marianne had many friends, and she would be sure to introduce her sister to them. As she got down from the carriage, she saw a man walking down the street and thought that she recognised his tall figure, though, as she could not see his face, she could not be certain. She wondered if Lord Harcourt was returning to his home after a night out, or if he had risen early—and then scolded herself for speculating. It was none of her business if he had spent the night gambling or…with his mistress. A little flush stained her cheeks, for she imagined he must have a mistress. It was what Jo had meant by an arrangement—and what Miss Tremaine had implied by saying that he was a rake, of course.
A butler dressed in formal black, his manner stately and slightly intimidating, had opened the door. He looked at her in what Lucy thought of as a stern manner as he welcomed them to the house, but as she entered behind her mama, a young footman winked at her. Lucy smiled at him, feeling better immediately.
The housekeeper bustled forward, introducing herself as Mrs Williams and apologising to Mrs Horne for not being there sooner to welcome them.
‘Your rooms are ready, ma’am,’ she said. ‘If you will follow me upstairs, the footmen will see to your luggage, and if you care for some refreshment in the morning parlour, a maid will unpack for you.’
‘We have only brought a small amount of baggage with us,’ Mrs Horne told her. ‘It is my intention to buy my daughter a fashionable wardrobe in town.’
‘Very wise, if I might say so,’ the housekeeper said, looking at Lucy. ‘Would you like me to send and have the seamstress of your choice wait on you here?’
‘That is an excellent suggestion,’ Mrs Horne replied. ‘Lady Marlbeck has given me the address of the seamstresses she uses and I shall write a note, asking them to call tomorrow if it is convenient.’
‘I am sure it will be,’ Mrs Williams replied. ‘The Marchioness is a very elegant and beautiful lady, and her custom is eagerly sought. A recommendation from her would be attended immediately.’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Mrs Horne said, looking at Lucy thoughtfully. In her opinion Lucy was as lovely as either of her elder sisters, but there was no denying that she was fortunate to have the Marchioness of Marlbeck as her sister. It would be sure to bring her to the notice of gentlemen and ladies alike, though Lucy’s portion was not large. However, her two brothers-in-law had both promised her a dowry, which meant that she would not go empty-handed to her husband. All in all, Mrs Horne believed that her youngest daughter ought to make a worthy match, though she had no intention of pushing her towards marriage. She was young yet and it would be Lucy’s choice—providing, of course, that she chose sensibly.
Lucy looked about the house with interest as her mama continued to chat with the housekeeper. It was larger than it had appeared from the outside, for it was in a terrace of houses built at the end of the previous century. However, first appearances were deceptive and Lucy realised that it had considerable depth and width, and there were four storeys—the top being the servants’ bedchambers—and the kitchens and servants’ hall were in the basement. The staircase was wide and impressive, carpeted in a rich blue Persian design, as were the landings on the first floor.
There were beautiful paintings in gilt frames on the walls, also gilt pier tables interspersed with small gilt chairs along the landing of the first floor, which was where some of the main reception rooms were situated. They had to go up a second short flight of stairs to the guest bedrooms.
Lucy was taken to her room first. Her mama told her to simply tidy herself and go down, because they had not stopped for breakfast at the inn and would take some refreshment in fifteen minutes. As she stepped inside her bedchamber, Lucy gasped with surprise for it was very different to the furnishings at Marlbeck Place, which was all rather grand and formal—though Marianne had begun to change some of the rooms. Here, the furniture was far more modern and fashioned of a pale wood that gave the room lightness and style, blending well with the soft rose curtains about the bed and the windows. Rose and cream with a hint of crimson here and there was a pretty combination that pleased Lucy very well.
She believed that she would be very much at home here and crossed over to the window to look at the pretty writing desk that stood there, taking off her bonnet and shaking out her long hair. The desk had a leather writing slope and drawers that contained paper, pens, ink and sealing wax. She was examining some other pretty items that had been placed there for her use and it was a while before she sensed that she was being watched. She glanced out of the window and saw that a young man was standing in the road below, looking up at her window. When he saw her, he doffed his hat, sweeping her an extravagant bow, a grin on his handsome face.
Lucy felt her cheeks grow warm. The look he gave her had been too intimate…almost insolent, and it made her shiver. She drew back from the window, retreating to the far side of the room. It had not occurred to her that she could be seen from the street for she was used to country houses, and no one would have been rude enough to stare at her aunt’s house. She realised that her time in London would open her eyes to many new experiences.
She had taken off her bonnet and now she removed her travelling cloak. Her dress was a little creased from the journey, but she smoothed it down, knowing that she did not have time to change before she joined her mama in the breakfast parlour.
She went over to the dressing table, which was to one side of the room, and sat down on the stool. She dragged a comb through her hair, which had begun to tangle about her face, as it often did, because it was so fine. Some of the gentlemen staying with Marianne in the country had told her that her hair was like spun silk and the colour of moonlight.
Lucy pulled a face. She supposed that she had nice hair, but she had always envied her sister Jo her red locks, which curled into ringlets if allowed to blow freely in the wind. Jo usually brushed her hair back, but sometimes she simply tied it with a ribbon, because it was the way Harry liked to see it.
Lucy’s hair was usually held by ribbons, because it was too fine to put up in elaborate styles, though Mama had told her she would be employing a hairdresser in London to dress her hair and style it in a more fashionable look. She made a face at herself in the mirror and sighed. She would do anything if it helped her to look a bit older!
Chapter Three
‘Lucy darling, that looks lovely,’ Marianne said, coming into her sister’s room as she finished dressing for the evening, some four days after Lucy’s arrival in town. They were all attending a ball, Lucy’s first in fashionable society. She was wearing a new gown of shimmering white silk with an overskirt of gauze trimmed with spangles. Her hair had somehow been teased into a single ringlet that curled enticingly over her left shoulder. It had been fastened with pearl-and-diamond pins—a present from her sister—and she had diamond drops in her ears, a large diamond pendent at her throat. ‘I knew Madame Suzanne would make something perfect for you and she has.’
‘It is wonderful,’ Lucy said, turning to her excitedly. ‘I really love it, Marianne. I never thought I could look like this—I look older, not like a child any more.’
‘Yes, dearest,’ Marianne said with a nod of satisfaction. ‘Mama was a little afraid that it might be too sophisticated for you, but I persuaded her that it was just right. You are eighteen and not a little girl any longer.’
‘Mama is a little reluctant to see me grow up, I think.’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Marianne agreed and smiled at her. ‘She does not mean to keep you a child, but perhaps because you were the last of her daughters she has tended to protect you too much. However, I know you will be much admired this evening, Lucy.’
‘If I am, it is because of all the lovely things you and Drew have given me—and Jo, of course.’ She touched her necklace. ‘This was so generous of Drew, because he has already given me so much.’
‘He wanted you to have it,’ Marianne said. ‘I already have far more than I need, and Drew likes to give presents. Now, are you ready to go down? I know Mama is already there with Drew.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Lucy said. She picked up a small posy of roses, which had been given her by her brother-in-law and were tied with yellow silk ribbons. ‘These are so pretty.’
Marianne nodded her approval. ‘After this evening, I am sure you will have many tributes sent to you, Lucy, but Drew wanted you to have something for your first evening.’
The two sisters went downstairs together. Marianne was dressed in green silk and carried a stole of silver spangles over her arm. She was wearing a magnificent necklace of emeralds and diamonds, and matching drops hung from her ears. She made a perfect foil for her sister’s ethereal looks, being a warm, vibrant woman who was universally admired in society.
Drew’s eyes lit up as he saw his wife and he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek before turning his gaze on Lucy. He nodded his head in approval. ‘She is a sprite, an angel…’ He took her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss the back. ‘You look heavenly, Lucy. As I stand in place of a father to you, I think I shall have my work cut out this evening, defending you from the wolves.’
‘Oh, Drew!’ Lucy’s laughter was warm and delightful. ‘You do say such foolish things sometimes! You are not old enough to be my papa.’
‘But since you have none, I shall stand your guardian,’ Drew told her, a sparkle in his eyes. ‘If anyone asks you to marry him, you must direct him to speak to me first. I shall make sure that you do not fall prey to a rake or worse.’
Lucy giggled, for she believed that he was teasing her. Surely he did not imagine that she would receive a proposal of marriage that evening!
The ballroom was crowded as Jack Harcourt entered that night. He was feeling pleased with himself, because he had discovered that Sir Frederick Collingwood was truly a cheat. He might have exposed him the previous evening had he chosen to do so, for the man was clumsy and careless, but he had allowed himself to be cheated of two thousand guineas—a small price to pay for what he had learned. At least the writer of the mystery letter had not lied about that, which meant that the rest of it was quite possibly true.
As the evening progressed, Collingwood had become careless and drunk more than he ought and, from a few unguarded comments, Jack had discovered that his information was correct. David Middleton had gone down heavily to Collingwood that last night—and he had said something about cheating. It was not very much, but it was enough to confirm Jack’s suspicions. He had no proof, but he was almost certain that he knew what had happened. However, he still had no idea what the underlying reason for the quarrel was about. He had asked, but received no answers, though the closed expressions on some of the gentlemen’s faces made him certain that it involved something more than merely gambling—or perhaps someone who had been dear to David?
He had now learned from other sources besides the letter that David had left the gambling club with Collingwood late that night, and that they had been arguing fiercely about something—but what? Collingwood might have become enraged. It was likely that he had produced a pistol and shot David, somehow managing to move his body to that lonely road by the Heath where it was eventually found. Had the author of that mystery letter not decided to write to him, Jack might well have still believed that his death had been at the hands of a highwayman.
Jack was sure in his own mind that the letter he had been sent was genuine, though proving the identity of David’s murderer was another thing entirely. However, he was working on a plan to draw Collingwood into a trap, and for the moment must put his personal concerns aside.
‘Good evening, Harcourt,’ a voice said from behind him. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you were in town or not.’
Jack turned to find himself facing Drew Marlbeck. ‘Yes, I have some business I must sort out before I go down to the country. I am sorry that I have not called on you and Marianne before this, but I have been busy.’
‘Come to dinner next week,’ Drew invited. ‘We are giving a small affair—nothing major. Marianne plans a rout for next month, I believe.’
‘Thank you, I shall,’ Jack said. His eyes travelled round the large room, coming to rest on a striking girl who was surrounded by gentlemen, all of them vying for her favours. He did not know her until she glanced his way, and even then he was not certain. ‘Good lord! Is that Miss Horne?’
‘Yes, she is rather stunning, isn’t she?’ Drew grinned. ‘Marianne and her dressmaker had a great deal to do with the transformation, because her mama still sees her as her little girl—but the beautiful butterfly was always there, waiting to come out of her chrysalis.’
‘She is beautiful,’ Jack said, feeling a catch at his throat as he saw the way Lucy was teasing her admirers. She was still a little shy but it made her all the more charming, and her laughter was intoxicating. ‘I can hardly believe the change.’
‘As I said, Marianne has taken her in hand these past few days. It was just lack of confidence and her clothes, which were too young for her. She is eighteen—a woman, and a very lovely one. The man who captures her heart will be fortunate. Lucy has the sweetest nature, though she can stick up for herself if need be.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ Jack said. He could hardly take his eyes from Lucy. He had thought her enchanting the last time they met, but now there was something more. Perhaps it was confidence or the clothes, but he certainly found it very appealing. ‘Thank you, Marlbeck. I shall be pleased to dine with you next week. I may even stay in town a little longer than I had planned.’
‘I shall tell Marianne to add you to her list for the rout,’ Drew said, hiding his grin. He had not missed his sister-in-law’s partiality for Harcourt, and he felt it would do very well. He knew of the rumours, of course, but considered it a minor thing. Even if his friend did have a bastard child somewhere, it had happened in the past, and it was often said that reformed rakes made the best husbands. Mrs Horne might not agree, but she could probably be persuaded.
As Drew moved off, Jack progressed slowly through the room. He was stopped several times by friends and acquaintances, because, despite the rumours, his credit was good enough to make him the target of the more ambitious mothers. He had a title and a fortune, and if he had transgressed in the past, that could be forgiven in the right circumstances.
Jack was a little disturbed to see that Sir Frederick Collingwood had joined the little group of admirers around Lucy. He frowned, because it angered him that the man was still at liberty to enter society at will. Collingwood was a cheat, a rake of the worst kind—and, in his mind, a murderer. He would not want Lucy Horne to be caught in his toils! However, he continued to be invited to many society affairs, and until Jack could prove what he suspected, Lucy and other young ladies would be exposed to his company. The sooner he found some way of exposing him, the better!
‘Miss Horne,’ he said, making his way to her side and cutting out several of the young bucks around her. ‘I believe this is our dance.’ He took her hand before Lucy could protest, sweeping her along until they reached the dance floor just as a waltz struck up.
Lucy looked up at him, her eyes wide as she said, ‘I had promised this to Mr Bates, sir. I think you must have made a mistake.’
‘Oh, no, I am quite sure it was promised to me,’ Jack said, his mouth quirking at the corners. ‘If I am wrong, I shall apologise, of course.’
‘I think you have been very wicked to steal another gentleman’s dance, sir.’ Lucy’s eyes sparkled at him. She feigned annoyance, but she could not prevent a little smile tugging at her mouth. ‘However, I shall forgive you, because you dance the waltz divinely.’
‘Thank you, Miss Lucy,’ he said. ‘I believe we are sufficiently acquainted for me to use your first name? After all, I can claim a prior friendship, can I not?’
Lucy shook her head at him. He was not the first gentleman to tease her that evening, and she was discovering that it was amusing to be teased and to tease in return.
‘I am not sure it was friendship, sir, for you left Marlbeck without saying goodbye to me.’
‘That was remiss of me,’ Jack said. ‘However, I shall do my best to make up for it. Will you allow me to take you driving in the park tomorrow afternoon?’
‘I have an appointment for the afternoon,’ Lucy told him. ‘But I shall be pleased to accompany you in the morning—at eleven, if you wish?’
‘Will you not be too tired after an evening such as this?’
‘Not at all,’ Lucy assured him. ‘I like to go out early and it is better to be taken for a drive in town, because I cannot venture out alone and Mama does not rise early.’
‘Then I shall be delighted to call for you at eleven o’clock precisely,’ Jack said, smiling down at her. He looked rueful as the music ended. ‘I think I must return you to your friends—but may I ask if there is another dance available later?’
‘I have only one,’ Lucy told him, ‘and I think I must give that to Mr Bates. It is only fair that he should have it.’
‘Then perhaps you will allow me to take you into supper?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Lucy said. ‘You are very kind, sir. I shall look forward to your company.’
Lucy was duly returned to her court, where another gentleman immediately claimed her. A smile and the promise of the waltz before supper pacified Mr Bates, and Lucy was led back to the dance floor. Jack Harcourt stood watching for a moment before moving away. Some of the older gentlemen had found themselves a niche in the card room, and it was there that he saw Sir Frederick Collingwood. However, Collingwood shook his head as he lifted an eyebrow.
‘I do not play this evening, Harcourt. However, I shall give you your chance to recover—tomorrow, if you wish?’
‘I have an engagement tomorrow,’ Jack said. ‘Shall we say next Tuesday?’
‘Yes, that will suit me well,’ Collingwood said, a sneer on his lips. ‘What do you think of the latest rage? They are calling her a sylph and an enchantress. She is a pretty little thing—do you think she has much of a fortune?’
‘I think she has something,’ Jack replied, looking grim. ‘But I doubt it would be enough to interest you, Collingwood.’
‘No, I thought not,’ Collingwood said. ‘A pity, because she is a tempting little morsel. I should enjoy gobbling her up—but I dare say she cannot be had without marriage, and I need an heiress of some substance.’
Jack swallowed his anger with difficulty. The idea of Lucy Horne at this devil’s mercy was enough to make his stomach turn, but he could not afford to offend him…yet. Given a free hand, he might have called him out on the spot, but he held his tongue. The time would come…
‘I dare say her mother has other ideas,’ he drawled, a hint of insolence in his voice. ‘You would not stand a chance, my dear fellow.’
‘Neither would you,’ Collingwood retorted, stung by his tone. ‘If what I hear is true, you are not one to call others black.’
‘But is it?’ Jack replied still in that insolent drawl. ‘The trouble with whispers and rumours is that one never knows quite what to believe—and yet sometimes it is as well to heed them.’
He turned away, leaving Collingwood to his contemplation of the gaming. No doubt he was watching in the hope of picking a pigeon ripe for plucking on another occasion. Returning to the ballroom, he stood and watched Lucy dancing for a few minutes, before approaching a widow he knew quite well.
‘Good evening, Lady West,’ he said. ‘How pleasant to see you here. Do you dance?’
‘Why, yes, sir,’ she said and smiled at him. ‘As you see, I am out of mourning and life goes on, does it not?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ he said and offered her his hand. It would not do to let others think that he wished to dance only with Lucy Horne. Especially when someone like Sir Frederick Collingwood was present. He was not sure how he felt about anything just yet and for the moment he would play his cards close to his chest.
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