Her mama’s smile caught her attention. What was she smiling about? Had Lucy missed some part of the conversation? No. The men were shoveling food, and Edward remained focused on finding Evora. Her mama’s knowing look unsettled Lucy. Her parents had had a love union, and it was her mama’s and Matthew’s wish for her to find a similar union. But the reality was love matches were as rare as four-leaf clovers.
“Lucy, are you sure it is in Portugal? I can’t find it,” Edward whined.
Giving Matthew a look she was sure would rankle, she asked, “Matthew, would you like to show Edward where he could find Evora on the map? Or should I?”
“By all means, sister, please do the honors.”
Lucy rose and placed her napkin next to her plate. There was no room to stand between Edward and Blake, forcing her to round the table. Edward and the map were on the opposite side, causing her to lean over the table to point to Evora. Blake’s gaze was not on the map, nor her face, but fully trained on the neckline of her bodice. Making sure no one else noticed, she bent a little farther, allowing her dress to gape a tad more. When he finally raised his gaze to meet hers, his eyes had notably darkened. What had prompted her to act so coltishly? Why did she seek a reaction out of him?
“By Jove, Lucy, you found it!” Edward exclaimed, and Lucy stood up quickly.
She did not think the feelings Blake evoked in her were love but, more accurately, pure physical lust. If she acted upon these feelings, she would be ruined. She couldn’t marry and lose her independence. But what of a secret affair?
After she walked back to her seat, her eyes landed on Matthew, who appeared happy. Happier than she had seen him in a long time. Matthew, the dutiful son. If he could take on the title and remain dutiful, she could also do her duty to the family and avoid ruin and scandal at all costs. She would have to ignore Blake.
Seated, she averted her gaze and resumed drinking her tea.
With a broad smile, Matthew said, “I have news of the house party we are to attend. You will be happy to hear that in addition to the normal variety of parlor games and activities, there will be outdoor competitions, an outing to the beach, and tours of the local village. Lord Redburn has even orchestrated a display of fireworks for one of the evening’s entertainments.”
For the first time in a long while, Lucy didn’t have to feign excitement when she responded, “Fireworks? That is truly exciting. Had you mentioned that at first, I wouldn’t have hesitated to agree to go. Lord Devonton, have you ever seen fireworks?” Why had she immediately included him in the discussion? Moments ago, hadn’t she decided to ignore Blake? What was wrong with her resolution these days?
In a gravelly voice, he replied, “I have had the pleasure of experiencing firework displays at Vauxhall Gardens as well as in Rome and Brussels.”
Lucy sat in awe as she gazed at Blake. Her inquisitive nature made her want him to share all the details with her, but she couldn’t trust the effect he had on her judgment. Forcing her gaze back to the table, she focused on the remaining slice of toast on her plate.
Edward’s eyes were wide with excitement. “I want to see the fireworks, Matthew! May I come too? Please…”
Matthew’s smile fell from his face as he delivered the answer; he would surely disappoint his young brother. “Sorry, not this time.” He pulled out his pocket watch. “Look at the time. Head up to the schoolroom—Mr. Trenton will be waiting for you. Off you go.”
A dejected Edward walked slowly to the door. Before he crossed the threshold, he asked, “Lord Devonton, will you tell me your tale of Evora this afternoon?”
“I’d be glad to. I’ll meet you in the library, and not only will I tell you of my travels to Evora, but I will also show you my drawings of the fireworks displays.”
The boy’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at Blake’s response. Hopeful, Edward asked, “Lucy, will you be joining us also? I’m guessing Matthew has estate business to attend to, and Mama will want to return to her rooms, but it would be nice if you could be there.”
Edward’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Lucy found herself saying, “Of course, Edward. I’ll look forward to seeing you both later this afternoon.”
She politely excused herself, pausing when her mama gave her an odd look. But Mama remained silent as always and nodded her consent as Lucy rose to leave.
Throughout the day, Lucy kept checking the timepiece in the library. Was it broken? Why was time moving slowly today? As each hour passed, she was increasingly anxious to see Blake again. Why did she miss him? Seated by the window, she ran her hands across her thighs and adjusted her skirts for the hundredth time. Lucy intentionally directed her gaze out the window, but she found herself turning to see if the needle had moved. Not even a minute!
Edward burst into the library and flopped onto the settee. With all the dramatic flair of an eight-year-old, he complained, “Latin has to be the worst language spoken. Why must I learn it when it is no longer used? I’m sure Matthew makes Mr. Trenton teach it to me as some sort of punishment.” He was pausing for breath when Blake entered the room.
“All the great classics are written in Latin,” Blake said as he sat next to Edward. Lucy spied a travel bag full of journals.
Edward sat up in a flash and gave Blake his full attention. Blake’s gaze went to Lucy, and without saying a word, he beckoned her to come join them. She rose and proceeded to sit in a chair opposite Blake. Lucy crossed and recrossed her ankles before making a show of adjusting her skirts.
Blake turned to Edward and asked, “Esne paratus incipiat?” Are you ready to begin?
Edward nodded.
Blake began in Latin, “Instar castelli moenibus munita mandamus,” then translated to English, “Like a castle, Evora is protected by walls.”
He continued in Latin. “Ebora speciali duplicem murum circumdatum.” And then again in English, “Evora is special, surrounded by two walls.”
Edward was captivated and said, “Lord Devonton, please continue.”
“Antiquissimis temporibus fuisse romanam positae. The oldest is said to have been erected during Roman times. Romani callidus est. The Romans were a clever lot. Turris disposito sunt in varietate figurarum, quadratum, circularis et polygonalibus. Towers were designed in a variety of shapes, square, circular and even polygonal.”
At first, Lucy assumed Blake was translating for Edward’s benefit, but midway he turned and spoke to her directly.
“Lord Devonton, there is no need for you to translate. I’m fluent in Latin.”
Edward spoke up. “But Lucy, I’m not. What is polygonal anyway?”
Blake answered before she could, “It is having a shape with straight sides, as few as three, but most of the time five or more.” He pulled out a sketchbook and illustrated a few shapes for Edward.
Edward remarked, “Ah, those Romans were clever fellows.”
Lucy leaned forward to peer at the drawings. Blake had not only sketched a variety of shapes two-dimensionally, he had also provided a three-dimensional version that he had described might be set along the wall that protected Evora.
Blake continued his tale. “The walls protect the most astonishing cathedral. The colored glass in its windows contains all the colores arcus caelestis, that is, colors within the rainbow.” He sketched as he spoke, bringing it to life on paper.
Pleasantly surprised Edward did not complain as Blake wove Latin into his story, Lucy relaxed and found herself engaged entirely by the man and his tale. It was a side of him she had never seen at social gatherings, where he seemed somewhat aloof with very little to say. Did he prefer to listen to others’ natterings? They weren’t half as entertaining as his story.
From the travel bag, Blake pulled out a journal that held his drawings of Evora. As he shared the pictures of the town, Lucy’s jaw slacked open. The illustrations were extremely lifelike and detailed.
Edward peered over a drawing, a finger tracing over a peculiar-looking form within a column. “Lord Devonton, what is
that?”
“A skull.”
Brows knit together, Edward replied, “Why is there a skull in the… well, it looks like a pole in front of a church.”
“The chapel dates back to the sixteenth century, and it is believed to be constructed from the bones of over five thousand monks.”
Lucy shuddered. “Your drawings are rather thorough.”
Matthew had commented on Blake’s ability to make a picture come to life numerous times, but this was the first time she had been privy to Blake’s work. Engrossed in his illustrations, she decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with him and Edward with the hope she would learn something of the man that would allow her to eliminate him from her list of targets.
As Blake flipped the pages, Lucy spied the unique annotations in the corners. What did they signify? It occurred to her there was so much more to the man sitting opposite her than a lord who would sit in parliament and tend to his estate.
Blake continued to turn the pages, but Edward stopped him and asked, “Is that a coat of arms?”
“Indeed, it is, Edward. You do have a natural knack for identifying some of the more gruesome aspects of Evora’s history.”
Edward turned to Lucy. “Lucy, do you see it?”
Peering over the replica, she tried not to squirm at the sight of two severed human heads. Lucy asked, “See what?”
“Lucy, there are figures with no bodies. Their bodies, gone!” Edward with eyes wide open made a slicing motion across his neck. Turning to address Blake, he asked, “Have you ever seen a dead body?”
“I’ve seen cave drawings depicting dead bodies. Would you like to see those?” Blake’s body had stiffened, but only ever slightly. He had been on the Continent during a war—he must have seen some of the devastation. She was grateful he had not answered Edward directly, but she wondered at the horrific sights he had been subject to.
“Ooh, yes, please.” Edward eagerly waited for Blake to reveal the picture, then his features fell as he inspected the stick figures. “This is it?”
The depictions were in stark contrast to the images Blake had drawn, which were full of detail and somehow came alive. How did he manage to make lines on paper appear real?
Edward’s whole demeanor changed as Blake explained, “These are remarkable prehistoric images from a time when there was no parchment. Stories were recorded on the walls of caves.”
Blake switched journals and asked, “Would you like to see my illustrations of the firework displays?”
He hadn’t managed to turn but a few pages before Edward stuck a finger between sheets and inquired, “What city is depicted here?” Half the buildings on the page were crumpled piles of rocks. There was a heavy darkness to the picture.
“Just one I traveled through to see the fireworks.” Blake quickly brought up an image he had drawn using pastels. It was bright and colorful, a stark contrast to the one Edward had just inquired about.
Blake shared, “Brussels is an extraordinary city.”
“Did you see Wellington and his army in Brussels?” Edward innocently asked.
Lucy eyed Blake closely. Brussels was extremely close to Waterloo, the final battle site where Wellington succeeded in leading coalition forces defeating Napoleon. Had Blake been involved?
“Wellington strikes an impressive figure upon a horse.”
What a clever response Blake had formulated, neither confirming nor denying having seen Wellington. Why would he not meet her gaze?
Lucy asked, “Lord Devonton, is it true that it only took the duke but a few hours to prevail?”
She read Blake’s lips as he mumbled, “I wouldn’t consider eight a few.” Turning, he finally faced her and replied, “I too heard it was reported a quick victory.”
Another shrewd answer. The dullness in his eyes confirmed her suspicions he had been present, but it did not explain why he continued to provide only vague answers. What had he truly seen and experienced while abroad that caused the haunted look in his eyes?
A longing to comfort him had Lucy moving to sit next to Blake. Her leg grazed his as she shifted to gain a better view of the journal. Looking up through her lashes, she was delighted to see a spark reappear in his eyes once more. What did that spark signify?
She would have to devise a strategy to extract the information she needed to be confirmed. Based on the evasive answers he had provided this afternoon, she would not be able to strike Blake’s name from her list of possible targets. With a heavy heart, she would have to move his name to the top as most probable.
The notion of Blake in danger had Lucy scooting even closer to him, which in turn caused Blake to arch an eyebrow in her direction. She smiled and returned her attention to the volume on his lap as she happily listened to Blake answer Edward’s endless questions.
Chapter Fourteen
Early Monday morning, Blake, Harrington, and Lucy set out for the Redburns’ house party. Blake turned to wave farewell to the young Lord Edward as they made their way down the drive.
“I’m glad Mama ventured from her rooms to escort Edward back into the house,” Harrington muttered.
“What was that, Harrington?” Blake asked.
“I don’t know what has brought about the change in my mama, but I’m glad she’s been making more of an effort to interact with the family.”
Blake too was glad to see the Dowager Lady Harrington come out of hiding. He felt compassion for the woman. She was widowed when pregnant with Edward. During his visit to Halestone Hall, he had observed the tender looks, the frequent loving embraces, and most memorable was the spark in the eyes of Matthew’s parents when they were in each other’s company. Blake’s own parents had shared a similar bond. Was it an intangible bond that compelled him to continuously seek out Lucy?
Outriders led their contingent, followed by the coach carrying Lucy and her maid. Mounted, Harrington and Blake trailed close behind. Interestingly, John and Evan flanked the coach, close enough to the window for them to converse with Lucy or her maid.
Blake slowed the Arabian he was riding, and Harrington immediately adjusted his pace to match, giving them space away from Lucy’s footmen and the rest of the entourage. Blake wanted to discuss in private their plans for the week. For the first half hour, he listened as Harrington outlined the location of various smugglers’ dens and descriptions of the leaders. But his attention was drawn to Lucy’s two footmen. The pair rode with an uncommon familiarity. They behaved more like outriders, scanning the woods and the roads with a keen sense looking out for danger. It was as if they were protecting Lucy from threats that went beyond highwaymen.
How often did Lucy travel without Matthew? Were her visits limited to the countryside? Their behavior left him with an unsettled feeling he did not care for.
Harrington asked, “Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes. I agree with your plan. We shall ride out early tomorrow morn to do some preliminary scouting. How regularly does Lucy journey on her own?”
With an incredulous look, Matthew replied, “What?”
“How frequently does your sister travel on her own?”
“I don’t keep a record of her comings and goings. Why do you ask?”
Blake didn’t answer but continued his inquisition. “How long have those footmen been in your employ?”
“John and Evan? I believe Lucy hired them. Again, why are you asking?”
“I need to bolster my staff and was curious as to how you came about such skilled footmen. I shall have to discuss the matter with Lucy.”
Matthew eyed him disbelievingly. “She would prefer to be riding; they are just keeping her entertained.”
That’s how it appeared, but Blake was skeptical. He rode closer to see if he could listen to their conversation, but their chatter ceased as soon as he was close. Very odd indeed. They continued on with Blake sneaking glances at Lucy through the window whenever possible.
As their party approached the drive of Redburn Manor, Blake shook his h
ead at the long line of coaches waiting for guests to alight and greet their hosts. He and Harrington rode around to the stables and then walked to the front to join Lucy.
“I was under the impression house parties were more private affairs,” Blake said.
“Alas, how many house parties have you attended?”
“This is my first since my return.”
“Then I shall be the bearer of bad news. Guests at these events can range from a few couples to half the ton, depending on the size of the venue and the host. Never fear, Devonton, I have it on good authority Lady Redburn used utmost discretion, as we are one of a half dozen parties in attendance this week.”
One of six? Good gracious. Blake had hoped to find peace and quiet in the country. He secretly hoped it would also allow him to sequester Lucy away from prying eyes and discover if they would rub along well or if he needed to abolish all thoughts of the woman.
Lady Redburn greeted their party as they moved to the front of the line. “Lord Devonton, Lord Harrington, Lady Lucy. I’m delighted you have all arrived safely.”
Lord Redburn gave his wife a hard stare and expounded, “We have heard of other parties having troubles with highwaymen on their way here. I will have to contact the magistrate.”
Harrington, the more social of the lot, spoke up first. “We too are glad for an uneventful journey.”
“Mr. Hartley, please escort the gentlemen to their rooms. Lady Lucy, come with me.” Lady Redburn linked her arm with Lucy, but before leaving she gave one last order: “Henry, dear, please greet the rest of our guests and try to make them feel welcome.”
She leaned up and bussed her husband’s cheek. It was not the norm for a wife to publicly show affection. It was widely known by all that the Redburns were a love match, and they didn’t care what the ton thought of them or how they behaved. Blake could only hope for a union such as theirs.
Secrets of Lady Lucy Page 9