“Lucy,” he said after a while.
“You have no respect for me. Kindly leave me in peace.”
They finished the meal in silence, and returned to the carriage. Riel made no attempt to speak to her, and Lucinda told herself she was glad. She swallowed the welling lump in her throat, pressed her nose to the window and watched the countryside roll by. Riel, to her surprise, fell asleep.
As the carriage bumped over the country road, Lucinda cast occasional glances at him. Asleep, he looked younger, and more vulnerable. The strong lines of his cheekbones and jaw looked softer.
Lucinda abandoned looking out the window and studied him more closely. Gray shadows smudged beneath his eyes, and weary lines bracketed his mouth. He looked exhausted, simply and plainly, and her heart went out to him.
She had not asked how his mission with the Navy had gone. In fact, she had asked nothing about him at all. Instead, everything, from the time he’d erupted into the ball until now had been about her. Riel being worried about her. Riel watching her every dance partner like a hawk. Riel arranging to drive her to Iveny himself. Riel saying he wanted peace with her.
And she had deliberately taken offense to every real and imagined transgression he had committed, and attacked him for it.
Was she truly so ungrateful for his concern for her? Was she only concerned about herself and her own wishes? Or did she want to find reasons to argue with him?
The last explanation was correct, she finally admitted with a deep sigh, and looked out the window again. He needled fearfully under her skin. But she had pushed things too far at the inn. He’d only wanted to speak to her, but she had escalated it into a battle. She had acted like a spoilt brat. And all because she’d felt ignored in the travel arrangements.
Not her proudest moment. And a complete failure in her endeavor to become a mature young woman.
With an indrawn breath, Riel sat up and glanced out the window.
“Are we almost there?” Lucinda asked quietly.
The sleep bleary eyes focused on her and hardened, evidently remembering their latest fight. “Yes.” And then, after long moments, he said, “I want to speak to you, Lucinda.”
Lucinda. He was angry, surprise, surprise.
“Let me speak first,” she said. He opened his mouth, but she said, “Please.”
He acquiesced with a nod.
“I’m…I’m sorry.” It was harder than she had thought to offer these words of reconciliation. Part of her did want war with him, she realized. It erected a wall between them. A wall behind which she could protect herself.
Her mind flashed to the ball, when he’d cupped her jaw so gently. Riel made her feel things she didn’t want to feel…not for him. She drew a quick, unsteady breath. The feelings scared her, but they were no excuse to behave like a child, or a shrew. “I’m sorry I started that silly fight. And I’m sorry I kicked you. Twice.”
A little of the tension relaxed from his big frame. “You said I don’t respect you. Why?”
He remembered, and had thought about it. Surprised, but pleased, Lucinda carefully chose her words. “You take liberties, and you don’t ask. Like taking my hand at the inn. Or stealing a dance at the ball. Or arranging for me to come with you to Iveny, but you didn’t even speak to me about it. I feel like my wishes mean nothing to you.”
He sighed. “I am sorry, Lucy. I haven’t treated my men any better this past month.”
“Why not?” she asked softly.
He shoved a hand over his slicked back hair. “Because I’ve worried myself sick over you. I’ve failed both you and your father. I was not with you, where I had promised to be.”
“I was fine. Lady Carlisle chaperoned me.”
“A predator would not be thwarted by Lady Carlisle. I knew…I had a deep feeling you were in danger.” Silent moments ticked by. “Your father asked me to protect you from the wolves, Lucy. And that is what I intend to do. Next Season, I will be your chaperone. You will live in my house, and you will go nowhere unless I am with you.”
Her father had asked Riel to protect her from the wolves? What a strange request. It also explained Riel’s fierce protectiveness at the ball. He thought he’d failed his duty. And he was afraid she had been hurt.
Duty. It explained his overbearing behavior then, and his autocratic words now.
A curl of unhappiness slid through her.
“I am not a fool, Riel. Did you think I would go off alone and make myself a target for a madman? And what if he’s caught by next Season?”
“I will protect you, Lucy. Accept that now.”
“I understand that you feel responsible for me,” she said softly. “And I understand the promise you gave my father. But understand me, too. I do not want to be treated like a child. Discuss matters with me. Don’t order me about. I’m nearly nineteen. Next year, with any luck, I’ll be married. I am a grown woman, Riel. Treat me as one.”
His gaze flickered over her face, and then brushed over her dress. Warmth touched her cheeks when those dark eyes met hers again. “All right, chéri. I’m sorry. I will treat you as an adult. As long as you behave like one.”
“You will see only the very best in me from now on, Riel Montclair,” she promised. And then doubt arose. “How long before you return to your ship?”
He chuckled. “Two weeks. Are you up for the challenge?”
“I am always ready for any challenge you throw my way.”
He laughed aloud. “Now I am glad to be home, my feisty Lucy.”
She smiled, and a bit of joy sprang free in her spirit. For now, they had come to an understanding. Peace for two weeks was possible. Right?
Chapter Thirteen
Sophie greeted them at the door to Iveny, leaning on a cane. Her bright blue eyes sparkled as merrily as ever, but to Lucinda, she looked much older. Her skin looked translucent and papery, and the hand that touched Lucy’s cheek felt dry. Lucinda hugged the older lady carefully, not wanting to throw her off balance.
“I am so glad you could come, my child. And Riel.” Sophie turned her cheek for his kiss.
“You are well, Auntie?” His dark eyes scanned her with affection, but also with the same apprehension Lucinda felt.
“The warm weather has almost cleared up my cough, and I am as right as rain. Hilda has tea set for us in the parlor. Come.”
Lucinda followed Sophie, and her gaze scoured the grandeur that was Iveny. White marble floors, old tapestries on the walls, and heavy wooden furniture in each room. Iveny exuded wealth and opulence. It was certainly far grander than Ravensbrook, and probably much older. And she had been worried that Riel might want Ravensbrook. A laughable idea now. He already owned a far better estate.
Lucinda poured tea for each of them. “The flower beds along the drive are gorgeous, Aunt Sophie.”
Sophie smiled, and then coughed. It sounded low and congested, and alarm tightened around Lucinda’s heart. Hadn’t Sophie just said her cough was almost gone? At least a horrible coughing spell did not beset the older lady now.
After dabbing her mouth with a hanky, Sophie said, “I asked Henry to plant snap dragons this year. They are impertinent little flowers, aren’t they? Popping and blooming bits at a time, or all at once, just as they’ve a mind to.”
“I’m thinking about planting pansies this year.” Lucinda was glad Sophie’s cough had quieted. “What others do you think would do well, especially for that shady area near the terrace?”
“Azaleas are a good year-round plant. Perhaps I could come help you choose others. Perhaps some roses.”
Lucinda set down her tea cup, surprised. “You want to come to Ravensbrook?”
“I would like nothing better.” The old lady’s eyes snapped. “Ravensbrook…and the company,” she patted Lucinda’s hand, “were most agreeable for my health and spirits last year. I’m thinking you can bring me to Ravensbrook, Riel, when you drive Lucinda home.”
“You are sure, Auntie? It is a long trip…”
S
ophie swatted his arm. “Am I senile? I know what I’m about. And I want another trip to Ravensbrook. But this time I’ll return to Iveny in October. Perhaps after your birthday, Lucinda.”
Joy welled up and Lucinda flung her arms around the older lady’s neck. “Oh, Aunt Sophie! I’m so glad you’ll come. Ravensbrook isn’t the same without you. In fact, it was quite dull after you left.”
Pleasure pinkened Sophie’s cheeks. “Well, then. It is decided. Are you up for it, Riel?”
“Of course, Auntie. I wish only for you to be happy.”
“Good!” Sophie coughed again, but only for a moment. “Now, while you are here, I have a few things I’d like you to look into, Riel.”
Sophie listed a number of minor repairs that needed to be accomplished, and Riel agreed to complete these tasks, as well as check through the accounts.
“That will keep him out of mischief,” Sophie twinkled at Lucinda. “Perhaps tomorrow I could show you my rose garden.”
“I would love that.” Lucinda slid a glance at Riel, who sipped tea out of a dainty cup. It seemed out of place in his large hand. The white of the porcelain contrasted sharply with his skin, revealing how very dark the sun had bronzed him. A raw vitality emanated from him; a stark contrast to his aunt, who looked so small, white and frail. Sophie’s health was not as good as she wanted them to believe, but at least she seemed happy. Both she and her nephew possessed the same indomitable spirit.
Without thinking, Lucinda smiled at Riel. “I think I will be happy here.”
After the barest hesitation, he offered a slow smile in return. It relaxed his features and warmed a place deep inside of her. “I hope you will, Lucy. Nothing would please me more.”
A bubble of joy rose up and burst, spilling warm, golden sunshine over her soul. It felt good…perhaps too good. Lucinda wondered if peace with Riel might prove to be dangerous after all.
* * * * *
Riel spent the next week tending to the many chores left delinquent during his long absence. He actually needed weeks to set everything in order, but did not have it. Soon he would have to return to his ship.
He spoke to Sophie’s solicitor, accountant and various tradesmen he trusted to get the jobs done. He left the butler, a capable man, a list of items that needed to be finished, and felt certain that in time they would be completed.
He saw little of Lucy that week, except for at the supper meal. Every now and again, Riel wondered if she avoided him on purpose. But it didn’t matter. He often saw her outside with his aunt, laughing and talking about something or other. Lucy’s company did his aunt a world of good. Now more color thrived in her cheeks than when they had first arrived, but her cough was no better. At times it sounded so congested he wondered how she could breathe. One morning he took her aside and asked if she had the consumption. That was when Sophie told him the truth.
“No. It is bronchorrhoea. In addition, the doctor says I have dropsy, which means a failing heart. He approves me taking foxglove, but even that has its limits. I am getting worse, and nothing can be done about it. In the meantime, I will live life as I see fit.”
“Auntie.” Grief tightened his chest, but Sophie patted his arm.
“I’ve lived a long, full life, Riel. And I’ve been blessed to have you and Lucinda in my life. What more could I want?” She gripped his arm. “And do me a favor. Don’t tell Lucinda. She’s happy, and I want her to remain so. She’s barely had time to deal with her father’s death. The last thing she needs is to worry about an old woman like me.”
Riel agreed, but Lucy was no fool. She knew something was wrong. She often eyed Sophie with a frown when his aunt wasn’t looking.
Lucy rode a brown mare from the stables almost every day, too. The wind whipped color into her cheeks, and she looked beautiful. Riel wanted to ride with her, but found no spare minutes for leisurely jaunts.
The last night arrived, and Sophie and Lucy’s cases were packed up in Sophie’s coach. The three of them would ride in his carriage for Ravensbrook. By rights, it should be a two day drive, but Sophie wanted to make it in one. It may be more tiring, but they could rest all the next day.
When Sophie retired after supper, Riel went in search of Lucy. Part of him wanted to know if she had been avoiding him, after all. They had barely spoken all week. He missed her more than felt comfortable. And he’d missed their spicy confrontations, too.
The library door stood ajar, and in the corner of the room a lamp glowed on her bright hair. Lucy sat curled up in a deep chair near the window, obviously lost in a book.
He eased down on the arm of her chair, and she blinked up, startled. A flush kissed her cheeks. “Riel,” she said softly.
He smiled. “Are you enjoying your book?”
“Yes. I’m trying to finish it before we leave.”
“You could bring it with you.”
“Oh.” Obviously, this thought had not occurred to her. “Then perhaps I will retire.” Closing the book, she rose to her feet.
“We’ll leave early tomorrow.”
“I know. Thank you.” She stared at him for another inexplicable moment, and then said, “Goodnight, Mr. Montclair.”
He did not like her sudden formality. “What happened to Riel?”
“It’s improper, don’t you think, between guardian and ward?” She slipped past him. “I will see you tomorrow.”
Disturbed, Riel watched her go. He preferred their arguments to this prim and proper cool shoulder. Peace it was, as he had wished.
Maybe he did not want peace. He rose and strode after her. Maybe he did not want peace at all.
* * * * *
Clutching her book, Lucinda hurried out of the library. What a close call! Her heart had fluttered most alarmingly when Riel had sat on the chair arm and loomed over her.
For her own peace of mind, she’d endeavored to avoid him all week. It hadn’t been hard, as he’d been so busy. She still could not forget that tender moment at the ball, nor that slow smile he’d given her when they first arrived at Iveny. Both still unnerved Lucinda to no end. She found herself blushing every time he entered the room now. That would not do at all! So she’d avoided him. It seemed the most prudent thing to do. She slipped toward the staircase.
Bang! Bang!
A sudden pounding came at the front door, and the butler hurried into view, his night cap perched atop his head. Snatching it off, he drew himself to his full, short height, and with flourish opened the front door.
“An accident!” screamed a woman. “Fetch someone! Come quickly!”
Lucinda dropped her book on the stair and bolted for the front door. Riel reached it ahead of her. His deep voice sounded soothing and authoritative. “What happened?”
“The wagon overturned. Please, come quickly!”
Grabbing a lantern, Lucinda followed Riel and the butler into the pitch black night.
“See? There!” sobbed the woman. “My son. My son!”
A huge wagon lay overturned on its side, half in the ditch. The dirty white horse had managed to scramble to its feet, and stared at them with wild, rolling eyes. Under the back wheel Lucinda saw a leg. Horror choked off her breath.
Moments ago, she’d been reading in peace—at the same time this wagon had crashed. The same moment this woman’s son may have died.
It did not seem possible. How could peaceful ignorance exist in tandem with tragedy?
“What happened, ma’am?” the butler asked.
“Oh, please, help him!” sobbed the woman.
Riel had already reached the large-timbered, massive wagon. But what could he do? It would take a small army of men to lift it off the still form lying beneath it. A small boy, Lucinda saw as she hurried closer. Perhaps eight or ten. His face was white, and his leg twisted at an awkward angle beneath the heavy wooden wagon.
Riel knelt beside the boy, and his large hand gently touched the boy’s neck, checking for his pulse.
“He’s alive,” he reported. “But in shock. We’ll
need a doctor, and quickly. George, send a stable lad.”
The butler ran toward the stables.
“But the wagon,” Lucinda gasped. “How will we get it off of him?”
“I will lift it. Lucy, help the woman pull the boy out.”
Before she could protest, Riel had stripped off his coat and shoved his sleeves up his arms. “Are you ready?”
“Yes. Yes!” cried the woman. “Please hurry.”
Riel squatted a bit and with a grunt, slowly lifted the great, heavy timbered wagon as if it weighed no more than a large trunk. But the cords in his muscular forearms bunched and rippled as he waited for them to move the lad.
The boy moaned as they moved him, and his mother sobbed. Riel lowered the wagon again, carefully, after the boy was free, and then ripped off the boy’s pant leg and examined the twisted limb with his fingers. “Broken in several places. He will be more comfortable inside, but it will hurt if we move him.”
“We’ll stay here,” the mother decided, and Lucinda ran to the house for blankets and another lantern.
Long minutes stretched until the doctor arrived on his horse. He set the leg, amid the boy’s pathetic screams of pain. Riel and the stable lads managed to right the wagon, but one wheel was broken. Finally, the doctor, boy and mother—the latter two upon a horse—moved down the lane toward the home of the little family. It turned out the woman’s daughter was giving birth and that was why they’d been speeding down the lane in the night.
Lucinda felt shaken by the ordeal. She carried the lanterns, and Riel carried the extra blankets inside. The grandfather clock chimed midnight as George put them away and bid them goodnight.
Lucinda found her book lying on the step where she’d left it. “It’s scary to realize how quickly something like that can happen.”
“An accident?” Riel’s gaze slowly scanned her face.
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