The only unfortunate thing about Harold’s death was the fact that he’d left her without any funds, having gambled away every bit of her inheritance, just as he had her dowry. She wondered what sort of reaction she’d get if she said as much to the next man who felt it his duty to console her.
She chided herself at the ungrateful thought. It was kind of the men to be so solicitous, but still, she was glad to have a few minutes to sip her tea and take pleasure in the furnishings.
Four tables held massive sterling tea services, giving Eleanor a brief pang of regret over the loss of her own beautiful set which had been snatched up, as were all of her cherished belongings, by creditors in the days following Harold’s death. She wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to Lucy. Lord Harlech was a gambler, known to be light in the pockets and heavy in notes. That Harold had known of such unsavory habits amongst his peers had not given Eleanor a second thought until she realized upon his death that he would, of course, have known because of his own connection to that world.
That Lord Harlech was a drunkard, however, had been her own observation of the man in society. On the morning he’d come to call in London, Eleanor had taken one whiff of the stale whiskey fouling his breath, and held her own breath through most of the short conversation.
Lord Vanburton, on the other hand, seemed a very good sort of man, but she knew better than anyone that a man’s character was not easily determined by a few brief meetings in public places. She hoped that by the end of the gathering she would know if the young lord was a suitable candidate for husband to her beloved niece.
A set of double mahogany doors framed by an antique marble doorcase opened into a sculpture gallery, where the overflow of guests congregated. A second set of matching doors led to the magnificent gardens. It was this second set that drew Eleanor’s attention when Lucy and Sara came strolling through them arm in arm. Lucy was up to something. Eleanor was sure of it. She looked from one girl to the other, sensing the conspiratorial nature between them. Whatever the prank, both girls were involved.
When a few minutes later Captain Wainright entered through the same set of doors, her gaze flew to Lucy to see if the privateer’s entrance was expected. Perhaps the girls had been spying on him. There was no mistaking the physical attraction between Lucy and the captain, and Eleanor had been a little concerned when she heard he was attending the party with Lord Aster. But Lucy, who was greeting Lord Vanburton, didn’t give as much as a glance toward the doors. Eleanor relaxed. There had been no tryst and evidently no spying. Her imagination was getting the better of her.
The American was handsome as always but her appreciation of his form and features was subdued by a puzzling sense of recognition. As she studied his easy movements, it occurred to her that for an American captain he seemed completely at ease among English society. He fit in as though he belonged, having just the right mixture of arrogance, worldliness and polite good manners that were hallmarks of the nobility. She watched as he executed an elegant bow to the Duchess of Bellingham, catching her hand and pressing it with a kiss as he looked up and flashed a roguish smile, a lock of his dark hair dipping onto his brow.
And Eleanor nearly fainted.
That roguish smile with seductive eyes that looked up from beneath a lock of hair. She remembered where she had seen it before, and yet she could not believe it. It could not be true… could it?
She quickly calculated the years. The boy she met had been but four and ten then, only beginning to find his way into a manhood that would one day include a dukedom, and that was sixteen years ago. She’d been visiting the Duchess of Dorrington, who expressed a fear that her elder son would be sent away, for the boy had been expelled from school yet again.
From what Eleanor had gathered, the young man had done little to avoid that outcome. In the short month since his return home, there had been some sort of scandal involving a widowed countess of more than twice his age. Eleanor hadn’t known the particulars, but she’d been able to guess at them. During her own introduction to him, the young heir had bowed deeply and pressed a lingering kiss to her hand. He had looked up at her, a seductive smile upon his lips, a lock of his thick, dark hair dipping onto his brow, and that smile of seduction told her more than any rumor could have.
And now he was here, pretending to be an American privateer. Or perhaps he was an American privateer. She had no way of knowing, but one thing she did know. His name was not Derek Wainright, it was Jonathan Wentworth, Duke of Dorrington.
Uneasy, she watched him complete his solicitations and take a drink from a footman’s tray. A scowl darkened his face, and she looked in the direction of his stare only to find it directed at Lucy, who was chatting with Lord Vanburton. She looked back at the captain. His scowl had deepened.
Her disquiet turned to apprehension. What kind of game was he playing, and what did it have to do with her niece? She struggled to make sense of the situation. Was he after Lucy’s dowry? She could hardly believe that. His family holdings were perhaps the largest in England now, and according to gossip, Jonathan Wentworth was the reason for that. Some said the old duke had been on the brink of financial ruin and his prodigal son had worked like a fiend to turn the fortune around. No, surely, it couldn’t be the money.
The captain finished his drink and took another, continuing his scrutiny of Lucy and her party of friends. His features were hard, his jaw clenched; indeed, he was glaring. Eleanor wondered what would cause him to react in such a manner to an innocent conversation. He was clearly jealous, but why? Had something happened between him and Lucy? She frowned at the thought. Lucy was attracted to the man, whether she believed herself to be so or not, but given her feelings on marriage, and the fact that she hoped to obtain a declaration from Lord Vanburton…
An unwelcome thought flashed through Eleanor’s mind. Perhaps Lucy was a conquest to this man. Perhaps she had made it clear she wasn’t interested, and he was exactly the type of man who must conquer every female. At least those were the rumors about both the captain and the young boy she remembered. But were those rumors true? She did not know the answer, but she would very soon, even if it meant paying a visit to Dorrington.
*****
Derek examined the marquess as he conversed with Lady Louisa and her friend, Lady Sara. The gentleman seemed to know Lady Louisa a little too well, leaning in to converse particularly to her, and smiling a bit too much at her responses. Indeed, his behavior was rude, considering that he, as much as his parents, was a host of the event, and should, therefore, display equal attention to his guests. Lady Sara must have felt the same way, as she soon took her departure and wandered in the direction of another party.
Looking away only long enough to filch a snifter of brandy from the tray of a passing footman, he continued his appraisal. Though Stephen approached and Derek carried on a conversation with him, he found his mind and eyes wandering to the lovely Louisa, who seemed to take great pleasure in her conversation with Lord what’s-his-name, her eyelashes fluttering up at him, that sweet little smile appearing more and more often as she listened to the idiot.
He wondered with more than a little irritation what the man could be saying to command such a rapt audience, for clearly she was hanging on the fool’s every word. Whatever it was, it had to be of little import, he decided; the lad couldn’t be but a few days out of school, and he looked the sort who probably hadn’t learned much anyway.
When Lady Louisa burst into laughter, Derek decided he’d had enough. Dropping his empty glass onto a tray, he left Stephen in the middle of his sentence and made his way to the couple, noting with satisfaction the widening of Lady Louisa’s eyes when she realized his intention. The moment he was upon them, he felt someone else step close.
“Good evening, Captain,” said Lady Foxworth in the softest of voices. “We seem to be of the same mind, do we not?”
Before Derek could utter the scathing retort that sprung to mind, Lady Foxworth stumbled and pitched forward, showering the fr
ont of Lady Louisa’s gown with wine.
“My goodness! Look what I have done. What a clumsy woman I am,” Lady Foxworth exclaimed, an apologetic frown on her face. “We must hurry and set your gown to rights before a stain settles in.”
Derek could only stand by in helpless frustration while Lady Louisa made her polite excuses to the group and hurried off, Lady Foxworth’s arm linked firmly in hers.
Chapter 8
A few minutes later in the bedchamber designated for Lucy, Lady Foxworth threw open the doors to the wardrobe. “Louisa—may I call you Louisa? Or better yet, Lucy? I feel as though we are already dear friends, and you, of course, must call me Isabelle.”
“Certainly, La—Isabelle. I shall ring for a maid. I cannot imagine where Bridget has gone to.” Lucy could imagine, but it would never do to share such information with Lady Foxworth. Besides, her mind was whirling too much to settle on Bridget’s whereabouts. How did this woman know that her aunt and Sara called her Lucy? And her father, of course. The pet name had come from him. Had Lady Foxworth been a friend of her father’s?
“No, dear, let us not bother with a maid. I am more than happy to help you. Besides, I wish to speak to you without an audience. Now, what shall you wear?” The widow slipped two gowns from the wardrobe and then clucked her tongue. “These are beautiful to be sure, but have you nothing with a lower neckline? These will not do for seduction at all!”
Lucy gasped and raised her shocked gaze to meet Lady Foxworth’s knowing one.
“Yes, dear,” the woman said. A glint, which seemed both mischievous and kind, glimmered in her eyes. “I know of your plan. I overheard you speaking with Lady Sara at the Grantham ball. There, now, you do not swoon, do you?”
“No, I never swoon, but you’ve taken me by surprise. I know not what to say.” Indeed, she knew not what to think! That such a conversation had been overheard!
“Pray do not worry that I shall give you away. Not only shall I keep your secret, but I plan to help. Indeed, I would help anyone escape the clutches of that dreadful Lord Harlech.” Lady Foxworth shuddered. “Captain Wainright is perfect for your plan. But first, let us see you out of that gown so that a maid can look to the stain. I shall find something better than these.” She put back the two gowns and turned to face Lucy. “Tonight will be important, if you are to ignite the spark that has been lit.”
Lucy opened her mouth but no words came out. She schemed to outwit her uncle and Lord Harlech, both members of the ton, not to mention that her plan would put the captain’s reputation in a bad light. How could Lady Foxworth lend her assistance so easily?
“Ah, I see I have shocked you with my offer.” Lady Foxworth took two short steps and reached out to take Lucy’s hands in her own, her gaze locked on Lucy’s. “I should not have made so lightly of it, for this is not a game.”
“But I cannot ask you to become involved in—”
“Lucy, you ask nothing of me, but I insist on helping you. I know things about Lord Harlech, things you would not wish to know even if I could bring myself to tell you. Your motive is pure; you must save your dowry for a righteous use, one that can help others. My motive is to save you. Your father would never, ever, want you to marry Harlech. Such a dreadful man, with no conscience, a man who cares only for his own gratifications. If I had learned of your planned betrothal in a different manner, I would plot against it. For your father’s sake. For yours. So let us get past this awkwardness. Your father was a dear friend and he loved you more than life itself. You do not have the experience your plan requires for a successful outcome. You need my help.”
Lady Foxworth’s dark eyes showed nothing but compassion, and Lucy’s reservations lifted. She would be foolish to turn away such a gift.
“I accept your kind offer, but I don’t understand what you mean about the spark that’s been lit. And there is nothing better in my wardrobe. My aunt saw to that, the day after the Grantham ball,” Lucy said, morose with the knowledge that she had nothing with which to tempt the American. “The captain is so worldly and surely has his pick of women. I don’t know what I shall do, how I shall convince him to…”
“Nonsense. The man is besotted with you already, but he would be a fool to welcome an unmarried English girl into his bed, no matter what his desire, so seduction probably will not work.”
Lucy set her soiled gown aside and stood shivering in her chemise and shift. The air inside the mansion was chillier than the sun-kissed air outside, and no fire had been set to heat the bedchamber. “Then what shall I do?”
Lady Foxworth tapped her chin, thinking. She removed her choice of gown from the wardrobe. It was a gown of ice blue satin which draped over one shoulder, leaving the other bare. Lucy had been surprised when Eleanor let her bring the gown, but then, it was meant to be worn with the matching shawl.
“You will still play the part of the seductress,” Lady Foxworth said, “but the captain is not the one you shall pretend to seduce. Instead, you must—”
The door flew open, and Captain Wainright’s powerful body filled the doorway. The anger on his face dissipated, giving way to surprise and then something else as his eyes raked Lucy’s half-naked body.
Lucy gasped and tried to cover her breasts, aware that the captain could surely see through the thin cotton of her undergarments, but her attempt to cover herself didn’t help. Indeed, her frantic movements seemed to make matters worse, for his mouth dropped open and he didn’t look away. Following his stare, she looked down, horrified to see that her crossed arms had served to keep the chemise in place while pushing her breasts upward. Her nipples were half exposed! She shrieked and darted behind the safety of a dressing screen.
The captain cleared his throat, but when he spoke his voice was hoarse just the same. “I seem to have lost my way. I thought this was my room.”
“How very odd,” Lady Foxworth responded in a smug voice. “I would not have thought you the type of man to lose his way, especially when there are no gentlemen’s rooms in this wing at all. Your mistake is forgiven, but if you will excuse us, we are quite busy.”
“I—”
“Yes? Was there something else you wished, Captain?”
“I… Perhaps you should ring for a maid. Dinner will be served early and…”
“Your concern is very much appreciated,” Lady Foxworth said, “but there is no reason to worry about us. We shall be fine without a maid. In fact, we shall be more than fine, I assure you.”
Lucy peeked around the screen to see Lady Foxworth closing the door on the bemused privateer, forcing him into the corridor. The moment the door clicked shut, Lady Foxworth turned around and leaned back against it, smothering her laugh with a gloved hand. Lucy emerged from behind the screen, and Lady Foxworth put her finger to her lips. Opening the door a crack, she checked the hallway.
“Oh!” Lucy exclaimed. “He saw me almost naked! Every time I see him, I shall think of this!”
“And so shall he. Really, this is quite perfect. Even better than a plunging neckline. He has had a taste of what is hidden beneath those girlish gowns, and I assure you he has been absolutely tantalized by this preview, and will no doubt have a difficult time keeping his eyes off you for the rest of the evening. That is exactly what you want, since you shall not be able to take your eyes off Lord Vanburton and every other man in your vicinity. Excepting the captain, that is.”
Lady Foxworth clapped her hands in excitement. “It is a perfect plan. Your flirtations will make the captain jealous, and if you have not noticed, when he is jealous, he drinks. Get him drunk and then sneak into his bed. He will never know you are there, not until it is too late.”
Lucy’s astonishment gave way to trepidation as she realized Lady Foxworth had solved her problem, taking away the only excuse she might have had to abandon her scheme. She reminded herself that to save Stonecrest, she must go through with her plan, a plan that until this very moment had seemed a prank, a joke that would never be.
Now it was real. The
time was almost upon her when she must sneak into a man’s bed and be discovered there, the time when she would see her reputation destroyed, when friends and society would cast her aside as though they’d never known her.
She tried to ignore the sick apprehension gnawing at her. This was what she had planned for, it was what she wanted… wasn’t it? A life free from the dictates of others so she could complete what her father had begun?
Nodding at her new friend, she told herself it was indeed what she wanted. Her stomach tightened, protesting her certainty, but there was no turning back now.
*****
The aroma from the salmon in shrimp sauce would have made her mouth water at any other time, but Lucy found herself hard-pressed to swallow a few bites. It was much the same with the other courses as even the sweetbreads and fricassee didn’t tempt her.
All she could think about was Lady Foxworth’s advice.
Now that it was time to put the plan into action, she couldn’t imagine what had made her think she could go through with such a ploy. It was bad enough that she must suddenly become flirtatious, when she had never been so before, but to do the things Lady Foxworth had suggested! She didn’t know how she’d manage to stare at a man’s lips while he spoke to her, to stare as though she imagined being kissed by those lips, but Lady Foxworth had insisted, saying it was imperative that by the end of dinner the privateer should be so convinced of her flirtatiousness that he would be incensed and drinking heavily.
Knowing her entire future depended upon her actions now, Lucy was determined to do as her cohort advised, and she told herself she would simply pretend she was Bridget. Otherwise, she was certain she would embarrass herself quite to death.
She glanced down the length of the formal table, wishing she could see Sara’s familiar face, but Sara had pretended illness so she could return home. Lucy knew it was disappointing for her friend, who had been thrilled to be near Lord Aster, but any association with Lucy now could only hurt Sara’s reputation, and in truth, Lucy didn’t know if she would be able to act the part of a flirt with her good friend looking on. Besides, Lady Foxworth had insisted she flirt with every man in sight, including Lord Aster, since he was seated directly across from her. She could never have done so in front of Sara; the ruse was difficult enough with her gone.
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