The evening loomed before her. A few minutes ago she’d eagerly anticipated the delights of company, but now she only wished Lord Aster would go away so she could take her dinner in her room. She didn’t want to sit with the two men, making idle conversation, all the while wondering what Derek was up to.
How much better it would be if she hadn’t overheard the conversation. How much better it would be if she could simply enjoy spending time with Derek until he went away, without worrying about what he was really involved in. Because in the end, no matter how much knowledge she gained, there was nothing she could do to change the outcome.
Chapter 20
The picnic was Derek’s idea, and Lucy almost declined the invitation. Then it occurred to her that she would never know his game if she avoided his company.
Now she was glad she’d agreed, if only because the household staff was bustling with excitement. Even the usually stoic Mrs. Gray beamed at her, saying it was the grandest day ever. It probably would be, Lucy thought as she noted the fine summer weather, if she didn’t harbor the suspicion that Derek wanted to spend the afternoon with her so he could find out about her father’s maps.
The idea was quite annoying, especially since he hadn’t done or said anything to support her misgivings. If she hadn’t overheard his conversation with Lord Aster, she wouldn’t suspect him of a thing. Both men acted completely at ease during dinner, and neither had mentioned anything out of the ordinary. Their obvious lack of guilt had only served to deepen her resentment.
At the end of dinner she complained of a headache, asking Derek privately if he could sleep in a guest room so that her sleep would not be disturbed. Then she had stayed up quite late, pouring over each map, half expecting and half dreading the discovery of something, anything, that would condemn her husband as an opportunist. But she noticed nothing unusual, and it was almost dawn before she realized the time and finally returned the maps to her safe.
“How about a glass of champagne to celebrate?”
She regarded Derek with surprise as he opened a small basket and took out a bottle of champagne and two glasses cushioned by a thick cloth. “Champagne? It’s only just noon.”
“So? Champagne is for celebrating, and we’re celebrating getting to know one other,” he replied easily. “Have a seat, Mrs. Wainright, and I’ll serve you.” He extended his arm to assist her.
Lucy dropped gracefully to the quilt Derek had spread out on the grass, trying to ignore the flip-flopping of her heart that his mere touch generated in spite of her doubts about him. It was irritating that he was so roguishly handsome, and now that she had a better idea of what transpired between a man and a woman, she feared she was even more at risk of falling for his charm.
She gave herself a stern reminder of the conversation she’d overheard, telling herself he was using her to obtain her father’s maps, and a bit of temper flared in response. There, that was better. He wasn’t quite so attractive now.
“Mrs. Wainright,” she said with a lift of her brows. “I’m not certain I like it. In fact, I think it unfair that women must take the surnames of their husbands. It seems unfair to me, anyway, since Louisa Barrick sounds so much better than Louisa Wainright.”
She was being ridiculous, she knew, and untruthful. She’d never given the subject of a lady’s married name a thought before now, but the words had just slipped out.
Derek filled their glasses and sat facing her. “Does it really sound better or does it just annoy you that you’re the one who has to make the change? I’ll wager if our names were reversed, you’d be protesting just the same,” he teased. “Maybe you think a gentleman should take the name of his wife? I’d have to protest in this case. Derek Barrick? I’d have insubordination from all my crew!”
Unable to help herself, Lucy smiled. “I suppose you have a point there, but I still don’t see why I can’t keep my name and you keep yours.”
He tipped his head to the side and studied her. “Tell me, is it that you particularly like your name or that you dislike mine? Or perhaps it’s the reputation that goes along with my name which you object to? What if I were a duke? Would you still prefer your name to mine?”
Lucy gave him a lofty smile. It had taken him less than five minutes to bring up a subject related to the maps. A duke indeed!
“I think I would prefer Barrick to Wainright under any circumstance,” she replied. “Wainright sounds so American, after all.”
“Have you something against Americans in general or on principle?”
“I think slavery is evil.”
“Slaves have been in England for far longer than they’ve been in America. Most of the slaves in America were shipped there by British vessels.”
“We have seen the error of those ways. Hence Parliament’s act to abolish the slave trade.”
One corner of Derek’s mouth tipped up in a half-hearted smile but he said nothing.
“I suspect it cut into your profits quite heavily to have such a lucrative commodity disappear. But wait. I forgot. You are an American; you can still deal in the slave trade.”
“America’s Embargo Act prohibits the import of slaves. Not that it matters. I have never dealt in the sale of people and never will. I believe as you do. How can one man belong to another? Are we not all created equal?” A mischievous grin stole across his face. “But wait. I forgot. You are British; you have a caste system. You are not all created equal. Some are born peasants and some are dukes.”
There! As she suspected, he had turned the conversation around to dukes again. Any moment he would mention the Duke of Dorrington and the maps.
“Whether you wish to admit it or not,” Derek continued, “some of your good friends and acquaintances continue to keep slaves in their households, just as many families in America do.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but knew the truth of Derek’s words. Her father had spoken of such acquaintances with disgust.
Well. She’d been wrong as to the direction of Derek’s conversation. She took a long sip of champagne. Perhaps she was wrong about more than she knew.
Derek chuckled. “I admit I’d not expected slavery to be a subject of conversation today. I also admit that Lord Wainright does sound rather odd. What about the name Barrick? Has the Earl of Chelton always been a Barrick?”
Lucy shook her head, surprised again by the turn of the conversation. Perhaps all this switching was a ploy to put her off guard, to keep her from figuring out what he was doing. Then again, perhaps he had no plan at all.
“Papa was the first Barrick to be the earl, actually. It’s an odd entailment, set up in such a manner that the Earl of Chelton, though always a man, must be a direct descendant, unless the line dies out. Though Papa had no sons, I may have a son, or I may have a daughter who has a son, and so forth. If that happens, the title belongs to that male heir, no matter how many generations pass before he is born in the direct line. My uncle Nathan, as the only living male relative to my father, merely holds the title in a quasi-trust for my father’s natural heir, unless there is none.”
The moment she said the words, she realized bleakly that her father’s line would die out because of her actions. She would have no children, so there would never be a chance that a direct descendant of Philip Barrick would inherit the title. Instead it would remain with Nathan Barrick and his descendants or the descendants of his next male heir, and once she was gone, Stonecrest Manor would belong to him too.
The irony twisted her stomach into knots. She’d carried out her scheme to ruin her chances of marriage so she could keep her dowry, and all of that done with the good of Stonecrest in mind. Yet because she would not consummate her marriage, the title and eventually the land would go to Nathan Barrick anyway. He or his heir would become the true Earl of Chelton, making all the decisions for the village.
“That is a strange entailment,” Derek agreed. “I wonder at the king’s motive.”
“Money,” Lucy replied mechanically, having heard the s
tory from every villager in Chelton. “King Henry VII agreed to the unusual entailment in exchange for the earl’s fortune. It seems the dying earl had only a widowed daughter and a young granddaughter and wanted to ensure their futures. The granddaughter married and begat a son. The entailment continues still.”
“I like it. God knows any direct descendant of Philip Barrick would have to be more deserving than your uncle.”
“You don’t care for Nathan?” she asked. Something flickered in Derek’s gray eyes before he dropped his gaze.
“No, I don’t. He’s more concerned with money than anything else. Such a man can’t be trusted.”
“The gossip about you has been the same,” Lucy returned quietly.
Derek’s shuttered eyes considered her. “Gossip isn’t truth. Separate what you’ve heard about me from what you know to be true.”
Lucy was silent, trying to think of an incident where Derek had been greedy, but she couldn’t. On the contrary, he’d not only paid for all the supplies and labor to ready everything for their wedding day, but he’d paid off all her accounts as well. Every day more supplies arrived—food, livestock, coal, and even luxury items such as materials for sewing and books for the children’s schoolroom she’d dreamed of setting up.
This was the man she knew, or was it? Perhaps he was behaving this way so she’d be taken in, but for what reason? To get his hands on some old maps that probably had no value anyway?
She mulled over everything she knew, taking another sip of champagne. A wave of lightheadedness beset her. If she didn’t have a bite of something soon, she would regret it. “Might I inquire as to our fare, sir?” she asked lightly. She looked at the picnic baskets her footman, Harry, had set on the edge of the blanket before walking back to the manor, leaving them with the horse and cart. “I find myself already famished.”
Derek opened one of the baskets and took out plump pieces of chicken, breaded, baked and wrapped in thick paper. There was also a large chunk of cheese, a dish of bread pudding, and rolls, browned in butter and still hot, thanks to the warming stones someone had had the foresight to place in the bottom of the sturdy basket. “There’s fruit, as well, though you may want to leave that for last,” he said with a smile as he heaped her plate with the heartier fare.
“It smells wonderful.” Lucy took the plate and then hesitated. “I just wonder, though. Did Matilda… ?”
“Bite your tongue, m’lady. I’ve gone to a great deal of trouble to procure edible food for this banquet, so you needn’t worry about taking that first bite. You won’t regret it.”
Lucy giggled, thinking of the hearty bite of breakfast Derek had taken the other day only to spit it out. “Poor Matilda. I hope she can learn from Mrs. Mulligan. It would be so awkward to ask her to take another position. I wouldn’t wish to hurt her feelings.”
Derek’s smile turned tender. “You’re always concerned with the feelings of others, aren’t you?”
“Of course. You are not?”
“Not nearly to the degree that you are. If I were to be totally honest, I’d say the feelings of others seldom enter into my thinking at all. Not that I don’t care, but I analyze a situation and take the appropriate action, knowing it will be the best for all concerned.”
“You are very sure of yourself,” she said, studying him. “What if you only think you know what’s best for all concerned?”
Derek laughed. The sound slid over Lucy like a soothing balm, relieving strain and restoring good humor.
“That would be unfortunate, for someone, anyway. I suppose I am very sure of myself. It’s a trait I inherited from my father, though in his case I called it arrogance.” He added with a cynical grin, “especially since I never wanted to admit we had anything in common.”
“Had?”
“He passed away a couple of years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I hardly knew the man. I’m not sure I was ever around him unless I was being punished for some unforgivable breach of conduct. He had certain rules, rules which I often ignored. Consequently, he wanted little to do with me.” Derek helped himself to another piece of chicken “As I look back, I recognize he was very busy with his responsibilities, and I’m sure I irritated the hell out of him with the scrapes I was always getting into.”
“Scrapes?”
“Messes. I was always into something.”
“Such as?”
“Things that grown men shouldn’t be doing, let alone schoolboys. I was usually expelled a couple of times a year, and it was always a bother for him because someone had to find another school to take me. Eventually he ran out of schools.”
“And then you went to sea?”
“Yes.”
Lucy took a bite of chicken and thought about that, sad for the little boy Derek had been. “Do you think he would be proud of you now?” she asked, immediately regretting her question. What a thing to ask of a man who had chosen privateering as his business, especially a man whose father had preached certain rules of conduct.
“Yes,” Derek said, his answer surprising not only Lucy but himself. “I do think he would be proud of me. I never thought so before, but I do now.”
He wondered about it, though. Would his father be proud of him? Or was it just that he was finally proud of himself and assumed his father would be too? Did it even matter? His father was gone. The man had lived his life as he had wanted, and now his son was living his, and he was proud of the way he was living it. Did anything else matter?
“I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, that’s all right. What about your father? What was he like?”
“Oh,” Lucy said, her expression taking on a faraway look, “I wouldn’t know where to begin. He was kind and caring. He had a silly sense of humor. Sometimes he could make me laugh right in the middle of crying. He taught me so many things—how to groom a horse, how to speak to servants, how to manage a household—and he treated me as he would one of his friends, as deserving of respect, as though my concerns and questions were important and worth discussion. I’m proud to be carrying on his dream for Stonecrest, and I think he would be proud of me too.”
Derek leaned back on his elbows and stretched out his legs until they rested against Lucy’s skirts, considering her statement as he drank in her beauty. Her simple cotton print dress was a bold mixture of blue and green that made her eyes appear almost turquoise, and the effect against the natural pink of her cheeks and lips and the dark brows and lashes was quite startling. He didn’t think he had ever seen a woman with such beautiful features, especially those eyes that could look so helplessly vulnerable one moment and so full of fire the next.
As he listened to her recount her relationship with her father, he thought about the sacrifices she must have made in order to save her dowry for Stonecrest. According to Stephen, her social life had been non-existent, and how could it be otherwise if she was determined to hold suitors at bay? Instead of morning parties, afternoon teas, and evening soirees with friends, she’d been hiding away at Stonecrest, making sure the fields would produce enough to feed and clothe the tenants.
He wondered how her father would feel if he knew the huge dowry he’d left, the dowry that was supposed to ensure her married future, had instead caused her to give up hope for such a life and settle for something less out of a sense of responsibility. His heart filled with compassion for her.
“I’m sure your father would be proud of you, but do you think his dream for you was the same as the dream for himself? Isn’t it possible he wanted you just to marry and have children and be well provided for?”
Lucy set her plate aside and took a long sip of champagne before answering. “You sound like my aunt. No doubt he wanted that for me, but the livelihoods of my tenants and servants and the villagers are at stake. Without the manor restored and carrying its load of the responsibility, the village will dry up, and most of the villagers have nowhere to go. Their families have been here for generat
ions, hanging on through long period when fields were fallow and the house in disrepair. Papa would first and foremost want to ensure their security, don’t you think?”
“What I think,” Derek said with careful consideration, “is that sometimes it’s hard to let go of someone else’s dream, at least when that person is no longer here to see it become reality. I’ve begun to realize that myself.”
“This wasn’t just my father’s dream, it was—is—mine too, and I don’t want to let go of it,” insisted Lucy. “Besides, it’s my responsibility to finish what he started, I guess because”—her voice caught with emotion—“Papa would be alive today if it weren’t for me.”
Derek sat up in surprise. “What do you mean?”
Lucy reached up and grasped the large locket that hung from a gold chain around her neck. He’d noticed the necklace many times; she was seldom without it.
“If I hadn’t complained about the broken latch on this locket, Papa wouldn’t have gone to London that day. He was taking it to a jeweler for repair, all because I had complained that the latch was stuck shut. If he hadn’t been on that road at that exact time…” Her voice caught again and she looked away, but not before Derek saw the tears filling her eyes.
He reached for her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “You aren’t responsible for what happened, Lucy. That highwayman would have struck the next week or the one after that. It’s the way they work. They stake out an area until they get what they want. Chances are your father would have been attacked the next time he went to London, regardless of when it was.”
“Perhaps. I don’t know,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “But I do know the broken latch wasn’t important. Just having the locket means everything. It’s precious to me because it belonged to my mother, and aside from her wedding dress, it’s all I have of her.”
She raised her unsteady gaze to his, all the sadness and heartache in her voice evident in her eyes, and he wished he could take her grief, or at least her guilt, away.
Duke Of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) Page 17