Drawn to Lord Ravenscar

by Anne Herries

  ‘Lord Ravenscar seemed a little stronger when I visited him today,’ Lucy told her. ‘I feel very sad for him, Mama. Jenny says the doctor believes it a matter of weeks. It is only because he wanted to see Paul home that he has clung so tenaciously to life but...I fear he may not last much longer.’ She felt her throat catch and wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘Paul will feel it so much...I think he can hardly bear to lose his father...’

  ‘Why did he not return months ago?’ Lady Dawlish shook her head over it. ‘He might have had so much longer with his father had he done so.’

  ‘Perhaps he simply could not bear it,’ Lucy suggested. ‘It was a long time before I could bear to remember Mark...and I was apprehensive the first time I visited his father.’

  ‘Well, we must pray that Lord Ravenscar makes a recovery. Yes, I know he is very ill, dearest, but sometimes patients do feel better—and it will cheer him having his son home,’ her mother said. ‘But you are feeling a little better now, I think? You look brighter, Lucy.’

  ‘Yes, I began to feel better when I was talking with Jenny today. We were always such good friends, Mama. I have asked her to visit us if she feels she can leave Lord Ravenscar for a few hours. It must be hard for her to see him so frail...and to see Paul the way he is...so distant and reserved.’

  ‘That does not sound like the man we knew. Well, I dare say it is grief,’ Lady Dawlish said. ‘But now I have some news for you, dearest. It may cheer you. Your cousin Judith is coming to stay—Judith Sparrow.’

  ‘Uncle John’s daughter,’ Lucy said. ‘She married Sir Michael Sparrow some years back, when she was just seventeen. I have only seen her once, at her wedding.’

  Lady Dawlish nodded as she led the way into the parlour. It was a pretty room decorated in shades of green and cream, the furniture a little shabby perhaps from wear, but very comfortable. Books lay about on occasional tables and a fan of lace was lying next to an open workbox, for it was their private place where everything could be left where they wished.

  ‘Yes, I did not approve of your cousin’s marriage at the time, for Sir Michael was fifteen years her senior and I thought him too old, but she would have him and my brother approved—and now she is a widow, of course. Her husband died two years ago of a lung disorder. I know she is wealthy and may do as she likes with the fortune he left her—but she is only two and twenty and that is young to be widowed.’

  ‘Yes, that is true,’ Lucy said, her sympathy instantly aroused. ‘I suffered enough and I was never married to Mark...but if she loved her husband, she must have been devastated.’

  ‘She has not been much in company since her husband died. My brother says she wished to live quietly while in mourning, but now she has put off her blacks and John is coming with her to stay with us. He will not stay long for he is leaving for France almost immediately, having been given a new diplomatic post. He wanted Judith to be with friends and I assured him that she would be welcome here. You will be glad of her company, I dare say?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Mama. If she is ready to go into society again, she may attend my dance. I dare say you will give a dinner in her honour?’

  ‘Yes, I shall—and perhaps a picnic, too. It is time we entertained again and we have several invitations to dances, dinners, card evenings and various excursions in the next few weeks. Judith could not have chosen a better time to come...and it will be better for you to have her company, dearest. I dare say you will find that most of your special friends have become engaged or married while we were away.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose they have,’ Lucy said, sadness fleeting through her eyes. She would have been married more than a year had things been otherwise. ‘I shall be pleased to have my cousin to stay, Mama. Jenny will not remain long after... Well, I dare say she misses her home. She was always my particular friend, but perhaps I shall make friends with my cousin.’

  * * *

  Lucy was strolling in the garden when the two gentlemen dismounted from their horses in the drive. She saw them and waved her hand, walking towards them, her parasol over her shoulder. Smiling, she greeted them warmly as they waited for her to approach.

  ‘Adam...Lord Daventry,’ she said. ‘It is such a lovely day, is it not? I was tempted out by the roses; they smell so wonderful at this time of year.’

  ‘Do you like roses, Miss Dawlish?’ George Daventry said. ‘We have some particularly fine ones at Daventry Hall in Devon—my gardener tells me that I have one of the best collections of old musk roses in the country.’

  ‘How delightful,’ Lucy replied. ‘I think they have the best perfumes of all...some of the damask roses are gorgeous.’

  ‘Yes, indeed they are,’ he said and offered his arm as she closed her parasol. ‘How lovely you look, Miss Dawlish. Yellow is certainly your colour, I think.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘Please, you must both come in and meet Mama. I know she is hoping to see you.’

  ‘How is your mother, Lucy?’ Adam asked as he followed behind. ‘Your father missed you both a great deal when you were travelling, I think.’

  ‘Yes, indeed, poor Papa felt lonely after he left us in Italy and returned home. We ought to have come with him, but he insisted we stay until I was ready—and I was not then of a mind to return.’

  ‘It was a terrible time for all of us. Jenny tells me you are much recovered now.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I only wish that I could say the same for your cousin, Adam. Paul seemed unlike himself yesterday, but I dare say he is concerned for his father.’

  ‘He is in a better mood this morning and apologised for his abruptness yesterday. I believe he is driven to near despair by his father’s illness—perhaps because he feels guilt at having left him alone for so long.’

  ‘Is his lordship no better?’

  ‘I thought he seemed a little better this morning,’ Adam replied with a nod. ‘I dare say it is having Paul home again.’

  ‘Perhaps he will rally,’ Lucy said, then turned to her companion. ‘Tell me, sir, have you found a horse to suit you?’

  ‘I am looking for a mare for my married sister as a birthday gift,’ he replied. ‘Adam showed me one or two and we have arranged to speak to one Major Wilson, who has several good horses for sale. We shall go there this afternoon.’

  ‘But you will stay for some refreshment with us first,’ Lucy said. ‘It would be senseless to return to Ravenscar when it is but a short distance from here to Major Wilson’s stud. I know Papa thinks well of his breeding lines and often buys a horse from the major... My own Silver Miss came from him.’

  ‘Thank you, you are most kind,’ Lord Daventry replied.

  Lucy smiled at him, then led the way inside to her mother’s parlour.

  * * *

  ‘Adam and Daventry have not returned for luncheon?’ Paul said, as he entered the small dining parlour they used when just the family was at home. ‘I wanted to ask Adam if he would ride out with me to look at one of the fields.’

  ‘They went to visit Lucy and her mother—and then I think Lord Daventry wanted to look at Major Wilson’s horses.’

  ‘Ah, yes, Wilson has some decent blood mares. I think I need a new horse myself...and if I decide to breed I shall need good blood stock to begin my stud.’

  ‘I am sure his are as good as any to be had in the district, or so Adam says—but of course the horse fair will be here in September if you do not find anything that suits you.’

  Paul nodded his agreement, then frowned slightly as he said, ‘I thought Miss Dawlish much changed... Did you not find her so?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jenny acknowledged. ‘Lucy has grown up, I think—and her face is thinner than before, but when she laughs she looks much as she always did.’

  ‘Oh? I have not seen her laugh...she has little to say to me,’ Paul rejoined stiffly. He was standing at the buffet, his ba
ck towards Jenny.

  ‘I dare say she feels strange with you. You have not seen one another for an age—and you were a little abrupt when she was here, Paul.’

  ‘Yes, I dare say I was at fault,’ he said and stared broodingly at the food on the plate he’d brought to table. ‘It was in my mind that she blamed me for taking Mark’s place here.’

  ‘Oh, no, how could she?’ Jenny said. ‘You must not feel guilty, Paul. We all know that you did not wish for this—that you would willingly have given your life for your brother’s.’

  ‘Do you?’ Paul turned his gaze on her and then a reluctant smile touched his mouth. ‘Thank you, Jenny. I am a fool. I should not blame Lucy for being cool to me when I had nothing but a formal greeting for her. Does it still show...my feeling of guilt?’

  ‘Yes, to me and to Adam. We understand your grief, Paul, for Adam loved Mark, too—but can you not put the past behind you? Mark would not wish you to grieve for ever. He would be the first to tell you to move on with your life, as we have.’

  ‘I know...’ Paul sighed. ‘I am trying to accept my duties here, Jenny. I have always loved the estate, its land and people—more than Mark did, I think. I believe I can accept what I must when my father... But Lucy...’ He shook his head. ‘No, I must not burden you with my foolish thoughts. Excuse me, I must go up to Father.’ He pushed his chair back, abandoning the untouched food.

  ‘Your father seems better, Paul. I think he may astound his doctor and live for a few more months or even longer.’

  ‘How kind you have been to us all,’ he said. ‘I can never thank you enough for being here when he needed you.’

  ‘You know I am your friend and your father’s friend.’

  Paul nodded and left her, running up the stairs to his father’s apartments. He could only hope that Jenny was right. His father had rallied since he had returned and the doctor was pleased. Paul prayed that it meant they could have some time together. He was determined not to leave Lord Ravenscar again. They must make the most of each day granted to them and Paul would learn all he could from his father, because he wanted his people to prosper—and he wanted his father to die in peace when the time came.

  A cloud passed across his face as his thoughts returned to Lucy Dawlish, as they did too often. His first sight of her had been a shock. He had meant to be more friendly the next time they met, but she had been talking to a stranger and he had resented it—which was ridiculous. Lucy Dawlish was nothing to him or he to her, but, try as he might, he could not put her from his mind as he wished. Her face intruded into his mind without warning, particularly when he was in bed at night and sleep would not come.

  His marriage was not something he could dismiss. Paul knew that he must find a young lady who would give him an heir and make his house into a home. If he were fortunate, he might find someone like Jenny. Adam was a lucky man, for not only was she a sensible, kind-hearted woman, but she had brought him a fortune.

  As the heir to the Ravenscar estate, Paul did not need to marry a fortune. He could look for a young woman who made him feel happy—but where was he to find such a person? Once upon a time he’d believed he knew the lady he wished to spend his life with...but now...

  Was Lucy really so much changed? She looked beautiful but seemed more reserved, cool as she looked at him, all the sparkling vitality that had made him love her gone. Had Mark’s death done that to her? How much she must have loved him.

  His throat tightened with sympathy for her. He knew that he had been hoping she would have put all that behind her...would look at him with laughter in her eyes and...the love he’d sometimes thought he had seen before Mark was murdered. Or had he imagined it because it was what he’d hoped for?

  What would have happened if Mark had lived? Would Lucy have married him...or would she have broken her engagement because she loved someone else?

  A rueful smile touched his lips. He had never been sure that Lucy cared for him, even though once or twice he had been tempted to kiss her...to beg her not to marry his brother. Loyalty and doubt had kept him from trying to seduce his brother’s bride-to-be, but there had been moments when he’d seen something in her eyes and he’d hoped.

  It was useless to wish that he’d spoken out when he first suspected what was in his heart, before Mark had come home in his uniform, looking like a conquering hero. Perhaps if he had...but he’d waited, not wanting to rush things, and Mark had swept Lucy off her feet. Paul wondered if she had regretted her promise to wed him, but he had never been brave enough to ask.

  With a shake of his head, he dismissed his foolish thoughts and went into his father’s bedchamber.

  * * *

  ‘I have enjoyed myself, meeting your mama,’ Lord Daventry said and kissed Lucy’s hand when she walked to the door with her guests. ‘I hope to see you again soon, Miss Dawlish.’

  ‘I believe you are leaving Ravenscar tomorrow, sir?’

  ‘Yes, indeed, I may,’ he replied with a rueful smile. ‘I fear that Ravenscar’s illness makes it a little awkward for me to stay as long as I’d imagined. However, I have a cousin living not too far distant and it may be that I shall pay him a little visit.’

  Lucy’s cheeks felt warm as she gave him a shy smile. ‘Mama has invited you to my dance next month... It is under three weeks away. I should be happy if you could find the time to come, sir.’

  ‘Oh, but I have already told your dear mama that I shall be delighted. Even if I have to put up at a local inn, I would not miss it for the world.’

  ‘I am sure Mama would be honoured to offer you accommodation here for a day or so, my lord.’

  ‘I should be delighted to accept,’ he said, his eyes seeming to caress her. ‘But I dare say I may see you again before the dance.’

  ‘I should like that,’ Lucy replied, watching as Adam finished his conversation with her father and came out into the courtyard. ‘Goodbye, Captain Miller. Give my love to Jenny.’

  ‘Of course. She will be happy to see you any day—and if my uncle improves she may drive over to see you one day next week.’

  ‘She must come to lunch,’ Lucy said. ‘We are here most days—but not, I think, Tuesday next for we have a lunch party with friends.’

  Adam inclined his head. Daventry smiled at her and the two men rode off. She remained in the sunshine, watching them until they had reached the end of the drive, then turned and went into her mother’s parlour.

  ‘Well, Lucy, I like the earl very well,’ Lady Dawlish said and sipped a small glass of pale sherry. ‘There is nothing arrogant about him despite his lineage and his wealth. Yes, I thought him an excellent man.’

  ‘He is very pleasant, good company,’ Lucy agreed. ‘He says he shall come to my dance even if he has to put up at the inn—but I told him you would be pleased to have him stay here.’

  ‘Yes, certainly,’ her mother agreed. ‘I shall send a formal invitation to his home.’

  ‘He says he may stay nearby with a relative and hopes to visit us again before the dance.’

  Her mother smiled and looked pleased. ‘I think the earl likes you very well, Lucy. He is perhaps a little older than I should like in a husband for you, but, if you liked him, his age would not matter.’

  ‘He is but three and thirty,’ Lucy said seriously, for she had on short acquaintance found nothing to dislike in the gentleman. ‘I do not think that too old, Mama. Mark would have been eight and twenty this year, had he lived. Five more years is not so very much different in a husband—and I have grown up since then.’

  ‘Yes, you have,’ her mother agreed and nodded with approval. ‘Am I to think that you would welcome an offer from the earl?’

  ‘It is too soon to be certain,’ Lucy said, wrinkling her brow. ‘I like him very well. I think he would be a comfortable companion, but I am not sure I wish to marry him.’

 
Her mother could only agree, ‘As you say, it is too early to be sure, but I am glad to see that you are beginning to think of marriage, dearest. For a while I thought you would never recover from your grief.’

  ‘I am much better now,’ Lucy told her. ‘I think that if I continue to like the earl...I should be ready to marry him in a few months.’

  ‘I am so pleased,’ her mother said. ‘I would not push you into a marriage you did not like, but I cannot help wanting to see you well settled—and Daventry is a perfect gentleman.’

  ‘Yes, I believe he may be,’ Lucy replied. ‘I imagine he may have been a flirt in the past, but many gentlemen have their flirts... If he is looking for a wife, he will no doubt behave just as he ought. Of course, he is an accomplished flirt and his attention may mean nothing.’

  Lucy left her mother to go upstairs and change her gown for the evening when the dressing gong sounded. A maid had set out a pale-grey gown for her and Lucy allowed her to help her into it, but shook her head when she looked in the mirror.

  ‘I shall not change again this evening, Marie, but after this I wish you to put my grey gowns away. I shall wear colours all the time now. I have finished with my mourning.’

  ‘Yes, miss. I’ll have them packed away into trunks with lavender, Miss Lucy.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lucy said. ‘And I will have my hair dressed in ringlets again this evening...the way you used to do it for me.’

  ‘I am glad, miss,’ her maid said. ‘I think a softer style suits you much better.’

  Lucy nodded. She looked at her image in the mirror as Marie finished dressing her hair. For too long she’d worn the severe styles caught into the nape of her neck, which she’d adopted in her grief, but she knew this way of wearing her hair was prettier and suited her well.

  Fastening a string of seed pearls about her throat and pearl drops to her earlobes, Lucy reflected on the time she’d spent talking to Lord Daventry. He had teased her and flattered her, paying her far too many compliments, but he had also been able to talk to her of poetry and music...and their tastes seemed much in accord. Lucy knew that she was not in love with the earl; his touch did not make her heart race, but she felt no revulsion when he kissed her hand. She liked him very well and...if she could not marry the man she still cared for...she might as well marry for comfort. Daventry would be kind to her and she would be the wife of a wealthy man...if he asked for her, of course.