William?
Opening her eyes, she found herself staring back at her husband’s handsome face. Her breathing was still ragged, her heart still pounding against her chest as he lifted her enough to hold her against him, and as he did so she lowered her head against his shoulder, reveling in the firmness of his embrace. With slow, even strokes he ran his hand over her hair, and she couldn’t help but think that she had truly done him a disservice by forcing him to marry her. He was far too good a person to be burdened by her problems.
It felt good though, this moment between them. There was a tenderness about it that made her wish things could be different between them, and she suddenly realized that she was crying—whether from the shock of her nightmare or from knowing that she longed for something that would in all likelihood never be hers, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she didn’t want it to end. She wanted to stay this close to him forever, and she wondered what it might take for her to right the wrong she’d made.
Complete honesty.
He must have sensed that she’d somewhat recovered from her moment of fear, for he eased away a little and reached for the glass of water sitting on a tray beside her bed. Picking it up, he held it to her lips and helped her drink. “Are you all right?” he then asked, concern marking his eyes.
She nodded her head. “Yes. Thank you, I…I sometimes suffer from bad dreams.”
“Would you like to share this particular one with me?”
She considered it but eventually decided against it. Their marriage would require work before she dared to share such personal details about herself with him. In fact, the thought of sharing what she’d gone through with anyone at all—of reliving each and every detail of that fateful night with a vividness that would surely be unavoidable—terrified her. As it was, the only person she’d ever spoken to about it was Constance. And even though she’d avoided going into too much detail then, it was not an experience she wished to endure again anytime soon, least of all with a husband who held her in low regard. So, rather than say anything, she slowly shook her head, averted her eyes, and fixed them upon her hands. “It was nothing really, just…” She shook her head again, drawing a deep breath. “Nothing.”
She sensed him stiffen next to her and reluctantly looked back up at him, noting that he had eased back a little, and she quickly attempted a smile. “I’m sorry, I just…”
“Not to worry,” he told her gently as he gave her hand a little squeeze. “Would you like me to stay for a while? Until you fall asleep again?”
She stared at him in wonder and said, “Why are you being so nice to me?” She couldn’t comprehend it. She’d acted terribly toward him, and yet he was being so wonderful in return. It only served to magnify her guilt.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he muttered. His smile was warm and kind—no, sympathetic would best describe it—and the way his eyes suddenly sparkled with wonder and curiosity…Lucy felt her heart trip. It was as if the whole world had stopped around them. All she could see was William, a man so beautiful of both body and soul that regardless of what she’d put him through, he’d still be there, ready to stand by her side. It was a ridiculous moment—in truth, the most absurd she’d ever encountered—and yet her heart opened against her will and allowed him in just enough to claim a tiny corner of it.
Closing her eyes, she forced herself to ignore the giddy feeling that washed over her. She had to stop this ridiculous effect he was starting to have on her. What good would it do either one of them?
She paused with indecision. She did want him to stay, but she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression either. Constance had advised her to get on with the matter of consummating their marriage, and while Lucy did desire to do so, she still felt as if there was a gaping canyon between herself and William. Over the next few days, she would try to make more of an effort to develop a friendship between them, and once that happened, then…She felt her cheeks begin to blush at the prospect of what they might then share. In the meantime, however, she simply shook her head. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” she said. “After all, it was just a dream. It was kind of you to come and see to me though.”
“Well then,” he said, his voice completely even and devoid of all emotion, “I wish you a good night.” He rose, turned to go, and then paused. Looking back over his shoulder he added, “Should you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Lucy nodded her appreciation and then watched him go, his broad frame disappearing out of sight as he closed the connecting door between their bedrooms behind him.
Pausing for a moment outside her door, William expelled a breath that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He’d hoped his outward display of sympathy and consideration would have chipped away at her barriers enough to grant him the opportunity to win a little more of her confidence—a confidence that had become essential to discovering her true motive for marrying him. But the determination to keep whatever secrets she had bottled up inside of her was all too apparent.
Time, he reasoned, coupled with patience and persistence would serve him far better than any display of the anger he felt coursing through his veins. It took every ounce of his willpower to stop his jaw from clenching and to stop the harsh words sitting on the tip of his tongue from spilling forth. And she made it no easier for him as she gazed back at him with a pair of big round eyes that effectively concealed her true, meddlesome nature.
As she’d sat there in bed, her slim figure propped slightly up against her pillow and her red hair fanned out behind her, she’d looked as innocent as a newborn babe. When it came to the art of deception, William knew that he had met his match, yet it made him only more determined to discover the truth about her.
Crossing the floor with heavy steps, he shrugged out of his jacket, undid his cravat, and began rolling up his shirt sleeves. He needed a drink to calm his mood. Truth was, he’d never been more confused in all his life. Considering how much he liked having a situation under his command, he hated feeling as though he’d lost all control of his own life. He thought of Lucy. Nobody had ever confounded him more, and while he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, he also felt it prudent to tread with caution. He wasn’t about to risk having his heart broken. He scoffed at the notion, no chance of that happening as long as he didn’t love her. And the way things were between them right now, it seemed unlikely that he ever would.
Forcing himself to ignore the ache in his chest, he went to the tray that always sat upon his dresser and reached for the crystal carafe that beckoned. He’d just curled his fingers around the neck of it when a loud clatter reached his ears—it had come from Lucy’s room.
Without pause, he ran across to the door and yanked it open, his eyes roaming the darkness that greeted him. “Lucy?”
“I’m quite all right,” she replied. She sounded moderately embarrassed if he wasn’t mistaken. “Sort of, at least.”
Sort of?
Returning to his own room momentarily, he grabbed an oil lamp and marched back into Lucy’s room, instantly catching his breath. “What on earth happened?” he asked, making a stoic attempt at keeping his voice level. It was damn near impossible though when his wife was standing there before him in nothing but her nightgown—her very translucent nightgown. He swallowed hard and tried to focus, but the more he did, the more aware he became of the slow heat that slid over him before settling in his groin, stirring him more vigorously than ever before.
Her body was that of a goddess—slim hips below a curvy waistline and above that…his mouth grew dry and he swallowed again. Heaven help him if those weren’t the sort of breasts that every man fantasized about—plump and perky as they strutted against the flimsy fabric in a seemingly eager attempt to escape. Well, there was a part of him that was growing more and more eager for escape by the second. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.
“I was trying to go back to sleep but felt restless, so I thought I’d go for a midnight stroll in the garden, but when
I tried to find my dressing gown and shawl, I stubbed my toe against the table over there, knocking over the vase.”
“You were planning to go for a walk in the garden, dressed in nothing but your dressing gown? Did it occur to you that any number of our guests could have happened upon you? It would have been highly inappropriate to say the least.”
“Everyone’s fast asleep, William…”
“We’re not.” If he didn’t want her to as much as waltz with one of his friends, did she really imagine that he might be all right with one of them seeing her in a state of deshabille?
“It’s what I’ve done in the past whenever I can’t sleep.”
“Even in winter?” He couldn’t imagine that she was that irresponsible, but he had to ask all the same.
“Of course not.” She seemed annoyed by the question. “When it was too cold to go outside, I’d merely roam the house.”
“Ah.” He studied her for a moment, and felt another wave of heat crash over him. “You’re not going anywhere dressed like that, not even if you’re covered up by your dressing gown. If you’d like something to calm your nerves and lull you to sleep, however, I will be happy to offer you a glass of excellent brandy as well as my charmingly good company.” He saw that her lips had begun to twitch in response to what he’d said. A moment later, she actually laughed, and when she did, it was as if her whole face lit up. William felt his heart swell with inexplicable pleasure.
“Very well then,” she acquiesced, “but if you don’t live up to your claim, I shall be thoroughly displeased.”
William found himself smiling as he waved her through to his bedroom. He’d always hoped for a wife with a sense of humor and couldn’t help but wonder what other charming attributes Lucy might possess. She’d apparently forgotten all about her dressing gown now that she wouldn’t be venturing outside, and as hard as he tried to refrain from ogling her, he simply couldn’t keep his eyes from taking the occasional peak at her breasts. It clearly hadn’t occurred to her that her nightgown might be rather see-through, for if it had he very much doubted that she’d be acting quite so casually. “Have a seat,” he offered as he headed over to his dresser and filled an extra glass with brandy. He took a deep breath and then forced the air back out again before turning back to face her, closing the distance between them with a few swift steps.
Once seated comfortably, his legs firmly crossed in the hopes of concealing any further attraction he might feel for her, he raised his glass to hers. “To new beginnings,” he said as their two glasses clinked together.
She smiled in response—a genuine smile, meant only for him, and it filled his heart with hope. “To new beginnings.” She hesitated a moment after taking a sip, then said, “I’m sorry about earlier, William. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much in front of your friends, but when you insinuated that marriage was such a terrible thing to subject oneself to…I have to admit that it hurt.”
He stared at her in befuddlement. He’d thought she would ignore the issue entirely and pretend it never happened; he certainly hadn’t expected an explanation or an apology, and while he hadn’t understood her actions at the time, he felt like a complete cad now that he did. “I should be the one apologizing, Lucy. I only meant that Andrew and Charles are hoping to maintain their state of bachelorhood. It wasn’t a jibe directed at you.”
“I know that now.” She let out a bit of a shaky sigh and offered him a shy smile. “You know, I actually think you’re a rather wonderful man, when you’re not so busy hating me—quite dashing too.”
William grinned. Oh she did, did she? “You’re not so bad yourself, as far as accidental brides go.” She immediately smiled. “And I don’t hate you, Lucy. I just don’t like having important decisions in my life, like marriage for instance, decided by someone else. But everyone seems quite determined to sing your praises, so I dare say I’ve become a bit eager myself to discover what you’re really like.” And with a little more effort at gallantry on his part, he hoped she might soon grant him the opportunity to sample what she was presently keeping on such prominent display.
CHAPTER TEN
* * *
When Lucy awoke the following morning, she took more care than usual in getting dressed. Her amicable conversation with William the night before had given her a sense of comfortable companionship, renewing her hope that he might still warm to her—especially if she allowed herself to open up a little. With this in mind, she had confided in him her reason for insisting they marry at Grosvenor Chapel. Her parents had married there, and with both of them gone from her life, she’d hoped to bring them a little bit closer in spirit. William had held silent as she’d spoken, his eyes growing soft with sympathy. He hadn’t said much in response—just a simple, “I’m sorry.”
Donning a pale green muslin gown, Lucy asked her maid to fetch her cream-colored shawl, for although it promised to be a warm day, she didn’t want to catch a chill if she happened to find herself in the shade.
Regarding her appearance with a critical eye, she wondered if William might find her appealing. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of it, and she secretly hoped that he would. It had never before occurred to her to try to win a man’s affection, and she’d certainly never considered that she’d have to make a deliberate effort to do so with her own husband. He had every reason to be annoyed with her, yet last night it was almost as if he’d enjoyed her company.
Consequently, she’d spent a great deal of time later on in her bed, before falling asleep, considering how to tell William about her past. She wanted to trust him, but she also knew that men often felt they knew best when it came to matters of danger and gravity. If he knew what her real motivation was for wanting to go to Constantinople, she feared he’d insist that she remain at home where she’d be safe and try to put the entire matter behind her. Or, even worse, word would get out that the Earl of Hampstead’s daughter had resurfaced, and the man who’d killed her parents would seek her out and kill her too.
She felt her hands begin to shake at the thought of it. No, she couldn’t continue to live in such fear, forever looking over her shoulder. Besides, she needed the closure that the death of the assassin would offer. She only hoped that William wouldn’t be too furious once he discovered that she’d chosen to deceive him even further. Of course, there was still the possibility that he’d have their marriage annulled when he learned the truth, for as he’d said, fraud would make for a valid reason, and she had lied about her family name. It wasn’t Blackwell but rather Etheredge.
With a heavy sigh, she took one last glance at her own reflection to ascertain that she looked her best and then grabbed her straw bonnet and headed for the door.
“Would you care for a cup of tea?” Lady Lindhurst asked as Lucy took her seat at the table in the dining room. Only the women remained, the men having apparently finished their meal already and departed for the stables.
“Yes, thank you,” Lucy replied, raising her cup and allowing William’s aunt to pour.
“I must say that you do look particularly lovely today.”
The comment came from Alexandra and held no sense of mockery or sarcasm to it as Lucy might have expected a compliment from her to do. Instead, it seemed as if she’d given her honest opinion, which led Lucy to believe that William must have had a word with her. It unnerved her that Alexandra had so bluntly addressed the issue of her marriage to William the previous evening, but if she wished to make an attempt at amends, then it would be rather badly done on Lucy’s part to ignore the olive branch she’d just been handed, so she hastily shot her sister-in-law a smile. “As do you. I especially love that shade of blue on you. It goes so well with your complexion and really brings out the color of your eyes.”
“And I do so adore the color of your hair,” Mary added from the other end of the table, where she’d been advising Lady Amanda and Lady Hyacinth about the uses of a variety of different herbs. “It’s absolutely stunning! Has it always been so vibrant?”
“I believe so,” Lucy murmured as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She appreciated how kind they were being, but all of the attention was making her feel more than a little bit uncomfortable. Needing to occupy herself with something so she didn’t feel too much like an artifact on display, she took a sip of her tea.
“And, may I add,” Lady Lindhurst remarked as she nudged the bread basket, cheese, and jam in Lucy’s direction, “few men are able to resist a striking redhead, you know.”
“Aunt V, I hardly think…” Alexandra protested, clearly attempting to prevent her aunt from making any inappropriate comments.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Lady Lindhurst exclaimed, to which the younger women at the table stilled so as to give the countess their complete and undivided attention, expectantly hanging on her every word, “anyone with a pair of eyes in their head can see how tightly wound Lucy is, not to mention how terse William has become. I dare say that their marriage is already under a tremendous amount of strain, so it really wouldn’t hurt for Lucy here to try and charm the breeches off her husband.”
Miss Scott instantly burst out laughing but quickly stifled it by slapping a hand over her mouth. Everyone else looked marginally appalled, except for Lucy who felt as though she must have paled to such a degree that she feared she might fade away altogether.
“What?” Lady Lindhurst asked unblinkingly.
“Please excuse her bluntness, Lucy,” Alexandra said. “She does mean well, but as you can see, she’s still a little rough around the edges. Indeed, it can be quite a challenge to bring her out into polite society.”
Lucy gaped. She simply couldn’t believe that Alexandra had just said such a thing about a peeress, regardless of their blood ties, and in her presence no less. She knew by now that her sister-in-law was a bit…different from other young ladies, but really this was incomprehensible. She rather expected Lady Lindhurst to rise from the table and walk away in disgust, but instead she just snorted and said, “You’re one to talk.”
The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda: A Summersby Tale Page 8