The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda: A Summersby Tale

by Sophie Barnes

  THE SECRET LIFE OF LADY LUCINDA

  A Summersby Tale

  SOPHIE BARNES

  DEDICATION

  For Helene, because I know you’ll squeal when you see this!

  Contents

  * * *

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Acknowledgments

  An Excerpt from Lady Alexandra’s Excellent Adventure

  About the Author

  Also by Sophie Barnes

  An Excerpt from Three Schemes and a Scandal by Maya Rodale

  An Excerpt from Skies of Steel by Zoë Archer

  An Excerpt from Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman by JB Lynn

  An Excerpt from The Second Seduction of a Lady by Miranda Neville

  An Excerpt from To Hell and Back by Juliana Stone

  An Excerpt from Midnight in Your Arms by Morgan Kelly

  An Excerpt from Seduced by a Pirate by Eloisa James

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  PROLOGUE

  * * *

  Constantinople, 1811

  “Run, Lucy, run—as fast as you can!”

  Rounding a corner, Lucy looked back over her shoulder to see the absolute terror in her mother’s eyes. Footsteps were coming fast behind them. Surely there wasn’t enough time.

  “Through here.” Eugenia grabbed her daughter’s wrist and gave it a hard tug, pulling Lucy backward and through an archway. They stopped in the open space beyond to listen, their chests rising and falling rapidly as they fought to catch their breaths.

  “Mama?” Lucy was shaking with fear. She’d been fast asleep in bed when she’d suddenly found herself startled awake by her mother urgently shaking her. When she’d told Lucy to hurry up and come with her, her voice had been filled with unmistakable panic.

  “Hush,” her mother now cautioned in a soft whisper as she pressed her hand firmly over Lucy’s mouth.

  A door swung open further down the hallway, revealing muffled voices—Turkish, as far as Lucy could tell. She stiffened, her heart pounding in her ears as she clutched her mother’s hand. A moment’s silence followed, and then…the steady click of deliberate footsteps coming closer and closer.

  “Come,” Eugenia whispered, ushering Lucy forward toward an open doorway. “Just a little bit further and we’ll be safe.”

  The strain in her mother’s voice did little to reassure her. Why was this happening? Lucy had no time to ponder before her mother ushered her inside a room that had always been reserved for informal visits. She watched as her mother closed the door softly behind them and locked it firmly in place. “We don’t have a moment to lose.”

  “But what about Papa?”

  She saw the answer in her mother’s eyes but failed to believe it. “Those men…” Lucy’s voice quivered and broke before she could get the rest of the words out. A tremor swept along her spine and her eyes pricked with the onset of tears as her mother swiftly shook her head.

  “Your papa will not be joining us, my love,” Eugenia said, her face filled with despair as she answered Lucy’s unspoken question. “Now come along.” Hurrying across the mosaic-tiled floor, Eugenia quickly reached the window. She swung open the delicately carved shutters and glanced out over the rooftops before lowering her gaze to the alley below. “You will have to jump. Do you think you can manage it?”

  Lucy peered out over the ledge of the window. They were only one floor above the street, yet such a leap seemed practically impossible. She shuddered at the thought of it, just as a loud bang sounded against the door to the chamber. The next thing she felt was her mother’s arms about her in a tight embrace, her lips grazing her cheek in a succession of quick kisses.

  “Take this,” Eugenia said, shoving a small leather pouch into the palm of Lucy’s hand. She then lifted her startled daughter up onto the windowsill. “It isn’t much, but it will help you return to England. Run as fast as you can, and whatever you do, do not look back.”

  “But where will I…” Everything was happening so fast. With her feet dangling over the edge, Lucy half turned in the opening. “Mama, what about you? I won’t leave you!” Life without her parents was unthinkable—she couldn’t do it.

  “You must, my love. If we both go, they will catch us and all will be lost. I will try to delay them as long as I can.” Eugenia’s voice was calm, in stark contradiction to her tear-drenched cheeks. “Stay away from the family. If you go to them, they will find you.”

  “Who will, Mama?”

  Another bang resonated through the air to the sound of angry voices.

  “There is no more time. Find my friend Constance. You remember? She will take good care of you. Just promise me that my sacrifice will not be for nothing.”

  “I…Mama…I…”

  “Promise me,” Eugenia insisted, her fingers clutched tightly around her daughter’s shoulders. All Lucy could do was stare back at her in confusion. She didn’t understand what was happening, much less why. “Promise me!”

  The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes until Lucy eventually nodded. “I promise, Mama.”

  Relief flooded Eugenia’s face. She hugged her daughter against her once more, as if the memory of it would have to last her a lifetime. “Remember that I love you.” It was the last thing she said before pushing her unsuspecting, twelve-year-old daughter out of the window to face her fate alone. A moment later the door sprang open, giving way to five armed men, each wielding a yatagan as they moved forward to face her. A tall figure garbed in a crisp black suit, his white cravat tied to perfection and a beaver hat placed neatly upon his head, followed in their wake. Upon his face, he wore a mask that concealed his every feature—a shiny black thing, the sight of which made Eugenia shudder. He cast a careful glance about the room before asking the only question that seemed to concern him, “Where is she?”

  “I cannot possibly imagine to whom you might be referring,” Eugenia said as she bravely straightened her spine and silently prayed that her daughter would be saved from the fate she herself was about to suffer.

  CHAPTER ONE

  * * *

  London, 1817

  William Summersby stared into the darkness that surrounded the terrace of Trenton House. He’d stepped outside with his father in order to escape the squeeze inside the ballroom. Taking a sip from the glass of Champagne in his hand, he shot a quick glance in his father’s direction. “I’ve made up my mind, Papa.”

  Bryce said nothing in response to this, but merely waited for his son to continue, the cigar he held in his hand seemingly forgotten for the moment.

  “I’ve decided to marry.”

  “Oh?” His father’s surprise was clear. “I
suppose you must have some candidates in mind then?”

  William turned away from the darkness to face his father, knowing that what he was about to say would probably be met with disapproval. “I have done far better than that, Papa. In fact, I have already proposed.” He paused for a moment, allowing his father to digest this surprising piece of news. “It may please you to know that the lady in question has accepted, and that we hope to marry before the year is out.”

  “I…er…I see,” his father muttered in a half-choked tone that did little to conceal how astonished he was. “I always imagined that you would consult me first when it came to choosing a bride. However, you’re grown, undoubtedly capable of making such a decision on your own. What, if I may ask, is the name of the lady who has so suddenly captured your heart, William?”

  “Lady Annabelle—Lord and Lady Forthright’s daughter, if you recall.”

  An immediate frown appeared on his father’s forehead. “Yes, I know her well enough, though it did not occur to me that you were so well acquainted with her.”

  William merely shrugged. “I’m hardly getting any younger, you know. It’s bad enough that both of my siblings are now married. I’m your heir, and, as such, I have a certain responsibility.”

  His father’s frown deepened. “You aren’t even thirty years of age.”

  “Perhaps not, but I’ve attended enough social gatherings by now to have met all the eligible young ladies, and I am forced to admit that not one has made my heart beat faster. Thus, my decision has been based on logic. Lady Annabelle will make a most agreeable wife. She is from a very respectable family. She has a level head on her shoulders, and I dare say that her looks suggest that our children shall not be lacking in physical attributes.”

  Bryce stared back at his son with sad eyes. “I always hoped that you would marry for love, William. I was fortunate enough to do so, and it is quite clear that Alexandra and Ryan were as well.”

  “We can’t all be that lucky, Papa. First comes duty, however unfortunate that may be. But I will not run from it. I’ve tried long and hard to make a match that would put Romeo and Juliet’s love to shame but with no success. I see no point in wasting any more time. Lady Annabelle will suffice. She’s quite pleasant, really.”

  “Well, if your mind is made up, then the least I can hope for is that you might, in time, find more appropriate words with which to describe your bride. ‘Most agreeable’ and ‘quite pleasant’ are rather lacking, if you ask me. And don’t forget that if you both live long and healthy lives, you will be stuck with each other. Do you really wish to spend the remainder of your days with a woman who merely suffices?”

  William let out a lengthy sigh. He’d always longed for the sort of happiness his father and mother had shared, but as time passed he’d gradually been forced to acknowledge that he would be denied that sort of marriage. The woman he longed for didn’t exist. “There’s no one else. Besides, I’ve already proposed, and she has accepted. It would be badly done if I were to go back on my word now.”

  “Perhaps.” His father patted him roughly on his shoulder. “But whatever you do, you have my full support. I hope you know that.”

  Lucy Blackwell’s gaze swept across the ballroom like a hawk seeking out its prey. She’d barely made it through the door before finding herself assaulted by a hoard of young gentlemen, all wishing to know her name and why they’d never seen or heard of her before. She’d favored each of them with a faint smile but had otherwise done little to enlighten them. She wasn’t there to elaborate on her pedigree in the hopes that one of those young gentlemen might find her eligible enough to merit a courtship. No, she’d done her research as meticulously as any detective, and, consequently, she already knew whom she planned to marry. All she had to do now was make his acquaintance.

  Moving forward, she slowly made her way around the periphery of the room until she found her path blocked by a small gathering of women who appeared to be quite caught up in whatever subject it was that they were discussing. Lucy was just about to squeeze past them when one of these ladies—a lovely blonde with bright blue eyes, stopped her. “Please excuse my ignorance,” the woman said, “but I don’t believe that you and I have been formally introduced.”

  Lucy stared back at her, making an admirable attempt to hide her annoyance. How many people would delay her this evening?

  “I am the Countess of Trenton, and these ladies who are presently in my company are the Marchioness of Steepleton and my sister-in-law, Lady Cassandra.”

  “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances,” Lucy told them, managing an even broader smile at the realization that the woman before her was not only her hostess but also Lord Summersby’s sister. “My name is Lucy Blackwell. I am Lady Ridgewood’s ward.”

  “I had no idea that she had a ward,” Lady Trenton said, looking to her companions as if to see if either of them had ever heard of such a thing. Both ladies shook their heads.

  “As you may know, Lady Ridgewood favors the country,” Lucy told them by way of explanation. “And since I have only recently turned eighteen, there hasn’t been much reason for us to come to London until now. But her ladyship has most graciously agreed to grant me a season, so here I am.”

  “And not a moment too soon,” Lady Cassandra blurted out. “One can never start scouring the masses quickly enough. Finding a good match can often take more than one season.” She followed her statement with a nervous giggle, which led Lucy to believe that Lady Cassandra had probably been on the marriage mart for some time.

  Lucy responded with an awkward smile. “I dare say that I hope it won’t take more than this one.”

  “Have you perhaps set your sights on someone already?” the marchioness asked with a great deal of curiosity as she moved a little closer.

  “I was practically stampeded on my way in here,” Lucy remarked, unwilling to divulge any important details to these women for fear that they might sabotage her plan. “Surely there must be a potential husband among them.”

  All three women nodded in agreement.

  “But for now, I am actually searching for a certain Lord Summersby, for he and I are meant to dance the next set together, and with the crowd being as dense as it is, I’m finding it rather difficult to seek him out.”

  Lady Trenton served her a bright smile. “I would be delighted to be of service. Are you not aware that he is my brother?”

  “Forgive me, my lady, but I really had no idea.” It was a small lie perhaps but one that Lucy deemed necessary.

  “Well, he most certainly is. And if I am not entirely mistaken, I saw him not too long ago on the terrace with our father. Come; I will take you to him directly.”

  “That is most kind of you, my lady, but really quite unnecessary. I should hate to impose.”

  “First of all,” Lady Trenton began, linking her arm with Lucy’s, “you shall call me Alexandra from now on, for I am quite certain that the two of us shall be wonderful friends. Second of all, it is no imposition at all.”

  Lucy could think of nothing more to say. She was quite certain that she and Alexandra would be far from friends once she put her plan into motion, but she couldn’t help but admit that she did need her, if for no other reason than to lead her to the right man.

  “Shame on you, William,” Alexandra teased moments later as she stepped out onto the terrace with Lucy in tow. “It seems that you’ve quite forgotten your dance partner—a bit out of character for you and rather ungentlemanly, I might add.”

  If Alexandra continued speaking, Lucy found it impossible to focus on what it was she was saying, for the man who presently turned toward her, the very one she planned to ensnare, would undoubtedly be capable of taking her breath away ten times over. In short, he was the most perfect, the most handsome, the most memorable of any man she’d ever set eyes upon. That Mother Nature had taken it upon herself to create such a fine specimen must surely be a crime against all the other poor creatures who’d have to walk in his shadow. She d
rew a sharp breath.

  “Lucy?” a distant voice from a far-off place seemed to ask.

  Lucy’s first instinct was to ignore it, but then she felt Alexandra’s hand tugging gently on her arm, hurtling her with startling force right back to reality. “Hm?” She couldn’t for the life of her imagine what she might be expected to say, much less overlook the puzzled expression on Lord Summersby’s face.

  “I don’t believe we’ve ever met, Miss Blackwell.”

  Panic swept over her from head to toe until she realized that the words had been spoken not by Lord Summersby but by an older gentleman who stood to his right. He wasn’t quite as tall as Lord Summersby, but he still had an imposing figure, and Lucy considered how terrifying he must be when he was angry. Thankfully, he looked rather cheerful at present. His eyes were a tone lighter than Lord Summersby’s, his chin a little rounder around the edges, and his nose slightly bigger.

  “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am the Earl of Moorland. It seems I must apologize for detaining my son from his prior engagement.”

  There was a flicker of something in the old man’s eyes that was by no means lost on Lucy. Mischief perhaps? How odd.

  Lord Summersby, on the other hand, had taken on a rather stiff stance, his gray-blue eyes regarding Lucy with a mild degree of interest.

  “It is a pleasure, my lord,” Lucy responded, offering the earl a graceful curtsy.

  “William, you’ve not said a single word to Miss Blackwell as of yet.” Lord Moorland’s voice was stern—the mark of a man who was used to being in command. “I dare say you’d do rather well to make your own apology. A lesser woman would already have had a fit of the vapors in response to your lack of attention.”

  There was a momentary pause. Lucy held her breath, wondering if Lord Summersby would act as a gentleman or declare her a liar before all. Her heart hammered and her palms grew sweaty, but then, like her very own knight in shining armor, he gave a curt nod and took a step toward her, not only saving her from utter humiliation but unwittingly helping her realize the next part of her plan.