‘We will stay this one day and then we will be on our way to Lord Merrington. When you’ve organised the conservatory, send a message to Fielding to have the carriage at the door for ten in the morning.’
Lynton’s face fell. Whatever Lucinda’s misdemeanours, Jack thought, his valet admired the girl. It was evident his servant had been wishing for a more satisfying ending to their stay at the Towers.
* * *
Lucinda looked at the elegant sheet of cream vellum and raised her eyebrows questioningly at Molly.
‘It were Lynton who gave it me. From the earl.’ A conspiratorial smile began to spread across Molly’s face until she saw her mistress’s expression.
‘It is merely an invitation, so you can spare yourself the blushes. He wants me to take tea with him in the conservatory.’ She looked puzzled. ‘Why not in the house?’
‘Perhaps he wants to talk privately with you, Miss Lucy.’ Molly was not giving up easily.
‘Or perhaps the conservatory provides a warm environment with beautiful views—just the place for an invalid who has been incarcerated in her room for days.’
Her mistress’s tone was caustic, but the maid wasn’t listening. She was already riffling through Lucinda’s dresses to decide on the most suitable apparel for what she clearly considered a lovers’ tryst.
At four o’clock Lucinda walked alone to the conservatory and was met by a smiling Jack, as always elegantly clad and offering her his arm into the building. She was glad that she had taken trouble with her appearance, allowing Molly to dress her in the apricot-crepe gown with a matching string of beads threaded through her hair. A shawl of Norwich silk was around her shoulders, but the warmth of the room rendered it superfluous.
The earl took it from her with a gently mocking smile. ‘Where is the shawl of many colours? I have been looking forward to its reappearance since our first meeting.’
She smiled back. ‘That is consigned to the farthest corner of my closet. It will not see the light of day until Christmas.’
‘Why Christmas?’
‘Because that is when the vicar holds his annual party and I will have to prove to his wife that I am still entranced with her tasteful gift.’
‘Evidently one of those community obligations of which I am so ignorant! But you are looking well, surprisingly well.’
‘I have had some excellent nursing,’ she said a trifle shyly. ‘Yours—and Molly’s too, of course.’
‘And you feel ready now to relinquish your sick bed?’
‘Thank you, yes. I must be up and about every day—otherwise Uncle Francis will begin to suspect there is something more than a mild infection to worry him.’
He guided her towards the huge glass window which looked out onto the greensward. An array of cushions lay scattered on the seats with several blankets folded to one side ready to repel any draughts foolish enough to invade. A tray of porcelain china had been set on the white-wicker table and Lynton appeared at their side out of nowhere, it seemed, bringing tea, milk and cakes. The earl had thought of everything.
He settled her into one of the large wicker chairs, carefully adjusting the pillows to support her. She felt his hands move across her shoulders and linger for a second on her neck. He carefully released one of her ringlets so that it would not pull when she laid back. She found herself wishing that he would keep his hands there, that he would move them to rest on her shoulders; that he would allow them to wander, to slip slowly downwards towards her breasts. She was shocked at the thought, shocked that her body was already tingling with expectation. Accepting his invitation had not been wise. Even lying sick in bed, she had felt pleasure in having him close to her. Now that her health was much improved and they were together in this beautiful setting, desire had returned with a bewildering force.
For a while she struggled to find her composure, gazing through the window at the landscape which lay prostrate beneath the sun, the garden and the far parkland illuminated in its muted glow. In the distance she glimpsed the trees which lined the river, itself glistening like a sheet of tin. She remembered how they had quarrelled beneath those very trees and the way her animosity had dissolved with the first step of the dance. That evening! Those kisses! She felt the same ache, the same unsatisfied yearning. But she had vowed then that she would not become another name in the earl’s long list of lovers and she was determined to keep her emotions under strict guard and banish from her mind those moments when she could so easily have melted into Jack Beaufort and stayed there.
‘Your invitation was a surprise,’ she said rather too brightly. Lynton had disappeared and she wondered what was coming. The earl had not set up this elaborate tea party on a whim.
He took a seat beside her. ‘I thought this a pleasant place for us to meet. A pleasant place to tell you my news.’
An unexpected panic came out of nowhere and gripped her hard. ‘What news is that?’
Instinctively he reached out to reassure, holding her hand between both of his in a firm clasp. Without meeting her eyes, he said, ‘I have heard the local saddler has at last repaired the broken trace on my carriage and I am fit to travel again.’ The words came rapidly, his usual smooth address deserting him for the moment.
‘You’re leaving?’
‘I am. Sir Francis at least will be relieved! I intend to join Lord Merrington’s party at last—a little late, but hopefully not too lamented.’ He tried to speak cheerfully.
‘And when do you go?’
‘I have instructed Fielding to be here at ten tomorrow morning.’
‘I see. As soon as that.’ She felt leaden, as though an enormous burden had settled quite suddenly on her shoulders.
‘But let us talk about your return to good health.’
‘No, don’t let us.’
‘Then what?’
‘Who will you meet at Lord Merrington’s?’
He looked puzzled. ‘I am not entirely sure—the usual crowd, I expect.’
‘More brides-to-be?’ She cursed her stupidity. What on earth was she thinking, blurting out such a question? She tried to make a recovery. ‘I was thinking...I imagine your sisters must have been busy again. They will have realised by now that your expedition to the Towers has been unsuccessful.’
‘If they have been busy, I have no notion. Who knows—Verney may have been their last throw. I can only hope.’
He leant over the table and poured her a cup of tea. ‘I am sorry if I have surprised you. Drink this—tea is good for soothing the nerves, I believe.’
‘Thank you, I will take a cup, but my nerves are quite calm,’ she said as airily as she could manage. ‘Your stay here was always going to be brief and I am grateful that you have remained as long as you have.’
‘It has been an interesting experience! Certainly not the visit my sisters contemplated.’ He picked up the dish of cakes and offered it to her. ‘Try one of these
dainties—Cook tells me they are madeleines and bound to do an invalid good.’
She declined, but sipped her tea slowly as the earl bit into one of the cakes. For minutes, she sat absorbed in thought. She had been numbed by his announcement, but now the first shock was wearing off, frustration had taken its place. She was annoyed with herself for imagining that he might care for her, that his feelings might be enough to persuade him to stay, if only for a short while. It was mortifying to realise that she had been mistaken—he did not care for her, even a little. He was intent on leaving at the first opportunity and for a house party that would be no different from a hundred others that he had attended. Yet in the days since her injury, he had been nothing but caring. He’d been sensitive, warm, thoughtful—she could think of a hundred adjectives and none of them prepared her for this sudden departure. Was it that he was scared, perhaps, scared of growing too close to her? After what he had told her of h
is childhood, it wasn’t surprising that his face was set against a marriage of convenience, but why had he discounted any possibility of a love match?
‘Why are you so against marrying?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Do you not think that one day you might fall in love?’
He blinked in surprise, clearly discomfited by her question. She was on dangerous ground, she knew, for though their bodies had come close to intimacy, they had never confessed their innermost feelings. But something was pushing her on; she wanted badly to discover what lay behind his stubborn resolve.
He said nothing for some time. Then he looked across at her, holding her in a steady glance, as though judging how much to reveal. ‘I was in love once,’ he said quietly, ‘and I ended up a fool. I have only just lived down the ignominy.’
‘Were you planning to marry the lady you loved?’
‘I was. In my youthful innocence I thought that I had met the woman I would stay with for the rest of my life.’
‘What was her name?’
‘Julia.’
The sound of the word on his lips drove a splinter of jealousy into her heart, but she said as unconcernedly as she could, ‘It’s a beautiful name.’
‘She was a beautiful woman, or so I thought. But then I thought a lot of things that turned out to be mistaken—I thought that she would give me a future I could be proud of, that she would bring me the kind of joy my family had never known.’
She tried to ignore the harsh twist in his voice. ‘That must have been a very special feeling. ‘
‘It was—for a while.’
He sat wrapped in thought while the minutes ticked by. Then he bent towards her, his face close to hers, trying, it seemed, to pull her into his soul, to see for herself the pain he could not lose.
‘From a very young age I’d witnessed the disaster that was my parents’ marriage and been horrified at the sight of two people tearing each other apart. Then, as I grew older, I saw the cold liaisons that satisfied my sisters and felt nothing but disgust. The Frenshams had made dynastic marriages for centuries, but that was not going to be me! I was a new generation. I was going to do things very differently.’
‘A noble sentiment!’
‘Noble maybe, arrogant certainly. There I was, smirking with superiority that I had found the answer to lasting happiness, throwing myself body and soul into a love affair I believed true. Such a foolishly romantic image of life! At least Julia cured me of that.’
He was bitter and it would be wise to step prudently, she thought. Love was a delicate subject and she should probably let it go, but somehow she could not.
‘Did the lady find another that she preferred perhaps?’
‘Nothing so mundane. I could better have borne that. She played me for a fool and shamed me before the world.’
‘But how?’
‘She was a thief. She stole from me and stole from my friends.’
Lucinda’s gasp was almost loud enough to rattle the teacups. This was a confession she could never have foreseen.
‘For months I turned a blind eye to what I suspected. I refused to think about the necklace that went missing from my mother’s jewellery or the expensive fob that Julia liked, but which I’d worn only once before it disappeared, or the heirloom vase that mysteriously vanished from the country estate where we’d been weekend guests.’
Her lips parted in astonishment. She was finding it difficult to take in his words. He looked at her appalled face and said, ‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? My friends felt the same. They tried to warn me, but I refused to listen. I was besotted. I kept pretending to myself that it wasn’t happening, but when my man of business told me that he would need to sell funds to cover the huge debts I had run up—Julia had falsely pledged my credit around London—I had to face the truth: I was betrothed to a thief and a defrauder.’
‘Did you confront her with her wrongdoing?’
‘I didn’t have to. As soon as she realised I knew, she vanished. My friends began to trickle back and I was fortunate that they were sympathetic, considerate of my feelings. But I knew that privately they thought me a fool. My humiliation was complete.’
She wanted to say that there was no humiliation in loving truly, but she knew from her mother’s sad account that it was not always so. Agnes’s diary brimmed with the indignities of loving a man who could neither protect her nor remain faithful.
But it was Julia who was the conundrum. ‘Why on earth did she steal, why defraud? Was she so poor?’ And when Jack did not answer, she said in her most practical voice, ‘If she had married you, she would never have wanted for a thing.’
‘She wasn’t poor. Her family was not precisely wealthy, but they were comfortable enough. She had no need of money. What she had instead was a desire for excitement.’
‘How extraordinary!’
‘You don’t understand that?’ He was looking at her a little oddly, she thought.
‘How could I? Why would anyone risk such a thing for excitement? She lost a glittering marriage and a man who loved her. It makes no sense.’
She saw a deeper puzzlement flit across his face and wondered at it. But then he was saying ruefully, ‘My foray into matrimony was calamitous, as you can see, and I wouldn’t recommend it. In comparison the plans you have with your brother seem almost utopian.’
It was her turn to be disconcerted and her gaze faltered. For days she had been unable to think of Rupert. He could be dead by now for all she knew. And if he were not, what good was she to him, weak as she was? She felt the tears begin to well and tried to breathe steadily. She must not cry, must not alert Jack to the trouble she was in. When she looked up again, her eyes were pearly with unshed tears, and mistaking the source of her distress, he said, ‘I hope that Sir Francis is now convinced that I am a wholly unsuitable husband for you. I would not wish you to face difficulties with your uncle once I have left.’
She pushed her dread for Rupert to the back of her mind. ‘I won’t,’ she said stoutly. ‘At least no more than usual.’
‘Is a state of siege customary between you?’
‘I suppose it must be. I hardly notice any longer. He leads a narrow existence and expects—has expected—us to share the same life. He insists that we conform to his ways, but that is not always easy.’
‘We—that is your brother and you?’
‘Yes,’ she said so quietly that the word was hardly audible.
‘You said once before that your brother was not allowed to fence or go to prize fights. Is that part of conforming to the ways of Sir Francis?’
‘Rupert has always been a little wild—he has inherited the Lacey temperament, I fear—and he wanted to join the army. Our guardians thought to tame him by keeping him close.’
‘And did it?’
‘No,’ she said dejectedly. ‘Rupert is quicksilver and a mercurial personality needs some outlet.’
‘I would have to agree with you.’ He lifted the teapot and began to refill their cups. ‘So despite being twins, you and your brother are of quite different character?’
‘Not so different.’ She smiled inwardly at the thought of the horrifying risks she had run and the fierce desire that was plaguing her even now for the man sitting so near. She might show a calm face to the world, but her emotions were every bit as fervent as her brother’s. ‘Women are taught to be obedient, are they not? They rarely defy openly as a young man might. If they get their way, it is by more duplicitous means.’
That was probably not the right thing to say to a man whose fiancée had practised duplicity to a remarkable degree. But Jack merely smiled in his laconic fashion.
‘I’m beginning to have some sympathy for Sir Francis.’
She was glad to change the subject. ‘Does he know yet that you leave tomorrow?’
‘He does and was
hard put to it to suppress a smile. He will be very glad to see me from the premises.’
He is alone in that, she thought sadly, but that was something she could not say. She must keep her dignity, bid her rescuer a calm farewell and allow the tears to fall only when his carriage had finally swept down the driveway of the Towers and was out of sight. The image brought with it an overwhelming weariness. ‘I am a trifle tired, Jack. I think I would like to return to my room now and rest.’
He jumped up immediately. ‘I have been thoughtless in keeping you here so long. Allow me to escort you back to the house.’
He helped her to her feet and stood facing her. She smiled up at him a little weakly. ‘Thank you for arranging our tea party. It was a most kind thought.’
He reached out to smooth her cheek, unable, it seemed, to forgo this one small touch. ‘Don’t repine too much, Lucinda. It is the right moment for me to leave.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed, but her eyes were lowered.
His hand tipped her chin upwards and he looked down into her eyes. ‘You must believe me. In time you will see that I am right.’
‘Of course,’ she repeated. She dared not look into his beautiful, dark eyes or she would cry long before the carriage left. She must return to the house before she shamed herself.
But he was looking at her as he had on the night of the ball and she found her knees grow weak and her body crave his touch so insistently that she raised her hands to his chest in mute surrender. He seemed to feel the same desperation, for in a minute his arms were round her, enfolding her in the tightest of embraces. He kissed her forehead, a light butterfly kiss which barely grazed her skin,
then her eyelids, then her cheeks. His mouth hovered over hers and she lifted her lips to him. This would be their final kiss and she felt agony at the touch of his mouth. A final kiss, yet she wanted him to kiss her for ever. His lips took hers in tenderness, another kiss followed, firmer this time, then another and another, stoking their passion until his tongue was teasing open her mouth. More kisses, hard and hot. He had his hands in her hair and the ringlets were tumbling around her face. He was kissing her into ecstasy and she laid against him while his hardening form pushed ever farther into her softness.
Unmasking Miss Lacey Page 13