Lucy glanced from the cards on the table to those in her hand and then back to the one she had just played. She chewed her lower lip and nodded her head.
“Oh, all right.” A resigned smile touched Isabelle’s lips as she placed her cards face down on the table. “If you insist on winning every game I teach you, I am just not going to play!”
Lucy smiled at her friend with affection. “You’ve let me win every time and I’m certain it’s part of your plan to brighten my spirits.”
“Has it worked?”
“Yes,” Lucy replied.
“Then why are you so sad today?”
“I don’t know.” She started to sigh, but caught herself and flashed what she knew was a too-bright smile. “I feel as though I’ve come to an impasse in my life. It’s odd how quickly I embraced the idea of a baby, and once I did, I was the happiest I have ever been in my life. Now I don’t know how I can reconcile myself to a life without children.”
“You may find yourself enceinte yet again,” Isabelle said with a meaningful smile. “Perhaps the captain will not return to America immediately.”
Lucy made no comment. What could she say? I no longer wish to have my husband’s child because I have realized he is a despicable man? But was that really the reason? Perhaps her aunt was right. Perhaps in the short amount of time she’d loved and grieved for her baby, she’d somehow decided not to have another child, regardless of the circumstances. She told herself it was because of Derek’s character, or rather, his lack of character, but was she being honest? Or was she simply too afraid to take the chance of losing another baby, another person she loved? She dismissed her musings when she noticed Isabelle’s penetrating stare.
“Ma cherie, you simply must put this tragedy behind you. Life cannot be lived in such a manner as you attempt to live it. At least you have the chance to try for another child, and for that, you should drop to your knees and thank the heavens. Believe me, I know of what I speak, for I…”
Isabelle’s voice broke as her eyes filled with tears.
“What is it, Isabelle?” Lucy reached out and took her friend’s hand, alarmed to find it trembling. “Whatever is the matter?”
Isabelle shook her head and shut her eyes. When she opened them she offered an apologetic smile. “Oh, Lucy,” she said, her voice infused with emotion, “I am so sorry to think of myself at this time when you are so unhappy. It is just that your losing this child, it reminds me of my own tragedy, of losing my son, when he was but seven years old. How I miss him still.”
Stunned, Lucy was beside Isabelle in seconds, putting her arms around her. “Isabelle, why didn’t you tell me? How selfish I am! To weep about all these days over a child I had not yet held in my arms, while you… you…” A lump of unshed tears formed in her throat, choking her speech.
“No, no, Lucy, it is all right. It has been five years since my Pierre died—”
“Oh, you poor, poor dear.”
Isabelle drew a long, shaky breath and nodded. “It is not my wish to speak of it, but only to say that you are fortunate for you can have more children if you desire. I am not so fortunate, and I envy you, for I would give anything to live that joy again. And you, Lucy, you must not let this one tragedy keep you from having that in your life. You will promise me, yes?”
Lucy nodded because she knew she must, but she saw no way out of her misfortune. Still, Isabelle’s confession was a lesson to her. Others suffered so much more and went on. She must set aside her self-pity and make a new life. One without her baby—and her husband.
*****
“Lord Aster,” announced Sturgeon in a grave voice as he moved aside to let the earl enter.
Lord Aster executed a polite bow, but ruined the formal effect that matched his elegant traveling attire when his face broke into a boyish grin. “Ladies, how wonderful to see you both again.”
“You are late,” scolded Isabelle, though her smile was teasing, “and for that I shall make you wait while I search through my trunks for my fan.” She arose in a swish of silk, displaying a flirty smile as she extended her hand. Lord Aster took the hint and kissed it with great charm.
Lucy remained seated. At another time she might have smiled over Isabelle’s antics, but today, for a reason which escaped her, she was embarrassed. For whom? Isabelle? Lord Aster? Herself? She did not know.
“Take as long as you like,” Lord Aster said. “I have no pressing engagements. My business in the north is finished, and I am to London now. Besides”—he directed an amiable smile at Lucy—“it will give me a chance to chat with Lady Louisa.”
“You should always wear blue,” he said to Lucy after Isabelle took her leave. “It brings out the color of your eyes.”
His gaze drifted over her, and when he raised his eyes back up to hers, she felt a rush of heat to her cheeks. He reminded her a little of Derek—he had the same cockiness, anyway—and she could remember similar times when Derek’s gaze had slid over her in such a manner. Why must she think of that now? Lord Aster was only being polite. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Stephen,” he said with an engaging smile. “Please call me Stephen. Your husband and I are practically brothers, after all.”
“Stephen,” Lucy said, nodding but uneasy. Had he asked Sara to call him Stephen as well? She motioned for him to sit. She tried to think of another gentleman of nobility whom she called by his first name, and couldn’t. Well, there was her uncle, of course, but she only thought of him as Nathan, she never said it aloud. To others she simply called him “my uncle.” She never called him Lord Chelton or even thought of him that way; she could not bear it. But as far as calling Stephen by his first name… These conventions were ridiculous, really. She was a married woman and Lord Aster—Stephen—was very close to her husband.
“You must have some lemon cake,” she said, pouring a cup of tea for him. “I would say it is Mrs. Mulligan’s specialty, but everything she prepares seems to be her specialty.”
Stephen popped one of the small cakes into his mouth and chewed. A close-mouthed but broad smile immediately followed. “You are certainly right there,” he said when he had swallowed the treat. “And quite fortunate that she has worked out so well.” He studied Lucy, tilting his head to one side as he did so. “I must say, though… you don’t appear to have taken advantage of her cooking. I hope you are recovering from your illness. Derek will be unhappy if he returns to find you in ill health.”
“Did you know he was selling slaves on this voyage?” Lucy blurted out, shocking herself with her outburst. What on earth had made her say that? She had meant to say something about Sara.
Stephen sat up, startled. “Selling slaves? Certainly not.”
“He was seen by a reliable acquaintance on his ship in the West Indies. The ship was overflowing with slaves, sick and dying slaves. And not only men but women too.”
“That’s preposterous. It’s a rumor, surely. Your acquaintance is a prattle box.”
“I don’t think so,” Lucy said, her voice trembling. “I’m sure we both know Lord Fenick to be a reliable source. He said his captain went to help my husband, taking doctors with him, and sailmakers for wrapping the dead.”
Stephen said nothing, his face registering several fleeting emotions before it sagged, his features suddenly drawn and tired-looking.
The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock. Outside in the hall, muffled footsteps approached the door and then stilled for several moments before softly retreating. A silly thing, really, and yet, somehow ominous. When the clock chimed three times, it sounded to Lucy like a death knell.
“I don’t know what to say. There must be some explanation.”
“What if there isn’t? Then what would you say?”
“I don’t know,” Stephen replied, raking his fingers through his dark hair. “I simply can’t believe that even he would do such a thing for money.”
Lucy couldn’t ignore his emphasis on the word he and her heart sank, leaving her f
eeling sick and weak. Even Derek’s business partner knew him to be driven by greed, and who could possibly know him better? She rose but found her legs unsteady, and she clutched at the back of the chair she’d risen from.
“Are you all right?” Stephen moved quickly to her side, offering his arm for support before leading her to the sofa. He sat beside her and leaned forward, watching her face anxiously. “Shall I fetch the salts?”
Lucy shook her head and drew a long breath in an effort to slow the furious beating of her heart. “I’ll be fine in a moment,” she said, feeling the lightheadedness abate. She stared back at dark eyes that were full of concern and something that looked remarkably like guilt, and she realized at once that Stephen felt responsible for the actions of his friend. He had, after all, introduced Derek into society, and perhaps felt that had he not, she wouldn’t be in this situation today. She wished she could blame someone else for the turn her life had taken, but she knew there was no one to blame but herself.
Still, Stephen’s guilt gave her hope and, as ashamed as she was of doing it, she decided to take advantage of that guilt, wanting to learn anything about Derek that she could.
“I have a few questions I deserve answers to,” she said in a determined voice.
Stephen sighed and rose from the sofa, moving to the fireplace where he stood, his arms braced against the mantel as he stared into the flames for a few silent moments. When he turned around, his look of sad resignation told her she had won.
“How long have you known him?” she asked.
“For many years,” Stephen replied tonelessly. “Since we were boys.”
Lucy tried to make sense of his words. “But how did you know him as a boy? He’s an American, and he went to sea at the age of fourteen.”
Stephen frowned. “Did he tell you that? Did he actually say he was born in America and lived there as a boy or did you just assume it to be so?”
“I don’t know. He must have told me. At least I am certain he said he went to sea at fourteen.”
“That much is true, but he was born in England and spent the first part of his life here, and that is how I know him. We knew each other as children and went to school together for a while. A very short while.”
Lucy stared. “He’s an Englishman?” She shook her head in confusion, remembering Derek’s words about his early schooling and misbehaviors. Had he ever actually said the schools were in America? Exhaustion settled upon her. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, he’s an American now, I guess. He’s been there the last half of his life. Look, if you want to know anything else about his upbringing, ask him. It’s not my place to tell you, and I think he would answer your questions honestly if you only asked.”
Lucy pondered his words, realizing she had never asked such questions of her husband. Perhaps he would have told her. “Fair enough, but I have other questions I’d like to ask you, questions he cannot answer. Do you trust him?”
Stephen hesitated for the briefest moment. “Of course. We’re business partners, are we not?”
“Yet he was seen in the islands with a cargo of slaves, and you say you know nothing of it.”
“I tell you that has to be a rumor. I have the paperwork on the shipments. There was only brandy and whiskey and—” He stopped short and swallowed hard, his eyes shifting away from hers.
“And what?”
“Nothing. Not slaves, anyway.”
Lucy lifted her brows in haughty challenge. “Is he involved in something illegal?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what? Lord Fenick’s report is only one of my concerns. Other things have happened, and I deserve to know the truth.”
“What other things?” Stephen asked sharply.
“What was his cargo?” Lucy returned with an unwavering stare.
“Wheat,” Stephen said dully. “He was carrying Stonecrest wheat.”
Lucy drew back as though she’d been slapped. The thought that Derek might be selling her property had never occurred to her.
“Surely he plans to give you his share of the profits from its sale. You shall have it, I promise you. He just forgot to mention it to you, that’s all. Derek has enough money for anything he could possibly want. He could not want yours too. He…”
“He what?”
“Nothing. I refuse to relay unfounded gossip, especially about a friend.”
Lucy recalled the day she took Derek on the tour of Stonecrest and told him about her uncle absconding with the little harvest they’d had. He’d said nothing, but his compassionate expression had borne a trace of uneasiness, and now she knew why. He was helping her uncle sell the wheat and profiting from it as well. “I rather doubt he forgot to mention it, but either way, he did not have the right.”
“No, he didn’t,” Stephen agreed, “but he must have had a reason. I know him well and I refuse to think ill of him. What else has been troubling you?”
She hesitated. “He gave all the servants the day off and took me on a picnic. When we returned, my study had been ransacked.”
“Ransacked? Was anything missing?”
“No.”
“You see!”
“That only means the thief didn’t find what he was looking for, not surprising since I keep everything of value locked in my personal safe.”
“Derek must have known that, so it doesn’t stand to reason he would have your study searched, does it?”
Lucy bristled at his remark. “Why should Derek know about my personal safe? I don’t owe him explanations. My personal keepsakes are not his property, and neither is Stonecrest wheat,” she added bitterly. “I don’t care what the normal legal conventions are; Derek and I signed a marriage agreement and my property did not become his.”
Stephen shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just that a husband and a wife usually… Well, never mind. I don’t know what to say. He’s been consumed by something, something I gave my word I wouldn’t discuss, and I won’t go back on my word.”
“The maps?” she asked, and watched surprise flood his face.
“He told you?”
“Yes. Why does he want them?”
“Why would anyone want treasure maps?”
“These have no value. He admitted as much when he looked at them, so I don’t understand—”
“He looked at them?”
Lucy nodded. “And found nothing.”
“Perhaps you didn’t have the particular map he was interested in. Are you sure you had all of them locked in your safe? Your father didn’t hide any of them away?”
“Yes, I am quite sure. I know every inch of this house. If Papa had hidden anything, I would know it.”
“Well, I must say I’m surprised Derek didn’t mention this to me. I knew he wanted to study the maps, and we spent a day together in London before he sailed, yet he said nothing about it, probably because I’d told him more than once he was wasting his time. Perhaps he simply forgot to mention it. I do believe he was preoccupied with thoughts of you at the time,” Stephen added with a knowing smile.
Lucy looked away. Surely Derek wouldn’t have told Stephen the intimate details of their marriage, especially of that last night, would he? That would be a terribly rude and unforgivable act if he had, but she would put nothing past him at this point. She glanced back at Stephen to find him studying her with calculating eyes.
“I refuse to believe he’s up to anything dishonorable,” he said. “It would be unlike him.”
“As you say the selling of slaves would be,” she replied.
“Yes. I can’t believe that, either. Look, I don’t know what to think. I wish I didn’t have to think about this at all.” He ran his fingers through his hair again and opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. Shaking his head, he was silent for a moment, then rummaged through his pocket and withdrew a card. “May I write something?” he asked.
Lucy nodded toward the desk in the corner of the parlor where she often sat to write instructions
for Mrs. Gray.
After dipping the quill into ink, Stephen wrote on the back of the card and then dried the ink. He carried the card to her. “This is my London address with directions on the back, should you need to contact me. Just send a message and I’ll come immediately, at any time.” He took her hand between both of his and held it, his touch gentle. “I want you to send me a note when Derek returns, to let me know he’s come home. Will you promise me that?”
“You will surely know before I,” she said, surprised at his request. “Doesn’t his ship dock in London? There will be the profits from the voyage to settle with you and…” She let the sentence trail off as she realized the full implication of Stephen’s words.
“I’m not concerned about my finances,” Stephen said quickly, “and I’m not worried about Derek’s actions. I’m sure he can explain everything to your satisfaction, so I think you should put all this out of your mind until he returns. However, I’m not leaving until you promise you’ll send me a note when he returns. It’s quite possible he will come straight to Stonecrest to rest before he attends to business, and my mind will be eased to know he’s back and you’re safe.”
His explanation didn’t fool Lucy for a moment, but she told him about Kirkpatrick to alleviate any fears he might have regarding her safety. Her assurances seemed to agitate rather than console him, confirming her suspicion that it wasn’t her safety at all that had him worried, but the fact that Derek might never contact him to settle the profits of the voyage. She finally agreed to send Stephen a note upon Derek’s return, but her heart was heavy.
Derek’s own partner didn’t trust him, was afraid of his intentions. She knew then that all the ghastly rumors about Derek might be true. There was every possibility that he had plundered all those ships and stolen fortunes and perhaps even killed people. He wanted money more than he wanted anything, and he would take it any way he could get it.
She clutched at Stephen’s card and tried to set aside her sadness. It was best she learned all this now. She didn’t love Derek anymore anyway, but just in case she might have felt tempted to waver, this would surely end it. She needed to know the worst of him so she could get on with her life. She was grateful, in fact, grateful to learn the truth now, rather than later.
Duke Of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) Page 25