The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda: A Summersby Tale

by Sophie Barnes

  “I think I’ll see how Stanton and Fairfield are getting on with their game,” William said. Turning to Lucy, he offered a heartfelt smile. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

  Lucy would have been happy to join him. Following their walk together, she felt that they’d finally started getting onto the right track, and she longed to continue with their conversation, which, she hoped, signaled the beginning of a true friendship. However, it was also her duty as hostess to entertain her guests, and, truth be told, she really hadn’t spoken more than a few words with any of the young debutantes since their arrival. “Not at all,” she said, returning William’s smile. “I’ll see you again soon.”

  Bowing, William lifted Lucy’s hand to his lips and placed a lingering kiss upon her knuckles. Her heart instantly skipped a beat, while each of the young ladies sighed and tilted their heads as if with longing. “If only I could form an attachment to a gentleman as handsome as Lord Summersby,” Lady Amanda mused as soon as William was out of earshot. “You truly are very lucky.”

  “Yes, I do believe I am.” It was impossible for Lucy to contain her smile. She hastily went on to add, “You must agree though that both Lord Fairfield and Lord Stanton are rather striking.”

  “Oh, they most assuredly are,” Miss Cleaver hastily agreed as she nodded her head. “And one mustn’t forget Lord Reinhardt. In fact…” She lowered her voice to a low whisper. “When I spoke to him yesterday, I was very much under the impression that, had we not been in the company of others, he might have attempted to kiss me—on the cheek of course.”

  “Noooo…” Lady Hyacinth said, sounding quite astonished. “Really?”

  “Oh, indeed,” Miss Cleaver assured her in a most serious tone. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been afforded the opportunity to explore the situation any further, though I do hope that one will present itself soon.”

  “I’m sure that it will,” Lucy agreed, though she very much doubted that Miss Cleaver was correct in her assessment of the situation. As far as she knew, Reinhardt had very little intention of getting himself attached to anyone, so she couldn’t help but wonder if he might be seeking a dalliance and decided to say, “I do feel that I must caution you, however, for there are gentlemen who have a more rakish personality than most. I’m not saying that this is the case with Lord Reinhardt of course, for I hardly know the man, but I do think that it would be wise of you all to avoid being alone with any singular gentleman at any given time. One never can tell what might happen.” Heavens, she sounded like an old matron giving advice, when in fact she was no older than them. It really was quite absurd.

  “That’s very sound advice,” Miss Scott said, reaching for a plate of cookies and offering it to Lady Amanda who in turn passed it on to Lucy. “Naturally, it would never occur to any of us to deliberately seek the private company of a bachelor. It would simply scream ruination. However, one does hear of such things happening, so, by all means, we shall take your advice to heart, Lady Summersby. Shan’t we ladies?”

  “Oh, we shall,” Lady Hyacinth exclaimed. “Though I must admit that I personally wouldn’t mind a walk in the garden with Lord Fairfield. There’s a boyish charm to him that I find very enticing.”

  “He’s not serious enough for me,” Miss Cleaver remarked. “I’d much rather set my cap for someone like Galensbury or Stanton. Both are exceedingly handsome and with that touch of enigma about them that makes you wonder whether they’re actually listening to what you’re saying or wondering what it might be like to kiss you.”

  “Heavens,” uttered Lady Hyacinth. The other ladies gasped a mere second before they all erupted into a fit of giggles.

  Lucy, of course, maintained her composure, wondering if she’d ever been as silly as these four women. She didn’t think so, but then again, she’d never put herself on display in the hopes of capturing a gentleman’s attention. Life had been too hard on her for that.

  She had to wait another fifteen to twenty minutes or so before an appropriate gap in the conversation allowed her to take her leave. Luncheon was no more than half an hour away, and she’d decided that she wanted to change into another gown first—one that she hoped William would have no cause to take issue with.

  Entering her bedroom, she immediately removed her shawl, laying it carefully on the bed before ringing for her maid. Walking across to her full-length mirror, she then regarded her own reflection, turning this way and that, until she’d decided that while her bosom did seem to swell against her bodice, William really had overreacted; it wasn’t nearly as low cut as some of the gowns she’d seen other ladies wear. However, she did want to please him, and if covering herself up a bit was what it would take, then so be it.

  She was just about to cross to her wardrobe when something caught her attention; a small, purple box with a gold ribbon wrapped around it was sitting on her vanity table. She stared at it for a moment, then approached, a smile beginning to tug at her lips while her stomach tightened with anticipation. William must have brought the gift for her while she’d been sitting outside. A wave of warmth rushed through her. Surely this was a sign that their time together in the garden had meant as much to him as it had to her.

  Picking up the box, she ran her fingers over the smooth surface, her heart quickening its pace as she wondered what it might contain. Her curiosity eventually got the best of her, and she quickly tugged on the ribbon and eased the lid open to gaze inside, only to stiffen, her breath caught in her throat. A cold shiver ran down her spine as she staggered across to the nearest chair and sank down onto it. Burning tears were already pressing against her eyes, and when she tried to calm herself with a deep breath, a shaky sob escaped her lips instead. With trembling fingers, she reached inside the box and gently removed the small, gold, heart pendant that had been her mother’s. It was impossible. It couldn’t be here, for it was the very same one that she’d worn the day she’d died.

  Lucy wanted to scream and toss the box across the floor, but it wouldn’t do to draw that kind of attention, not until she figured out what was going on. Instead, she drew a ragged breath and wiped away the tears that threatened to overflow at any moment.

  She was just about to set the box aside when she noticed that it wasn’t completely empty. There was something else inside—a piece of neatly folded paper with her name on it. Lucy froze. For a long moment, she simply sat and stared at it, wondering what it might say and too afraid to find out. But, she also knew that she’d have to read it eventually. There was only one person she could think of who could have sent this to her, and if this letter would bring her closer to discovering his identity, she really had no choice but to take courage.

  Picking it up, her hands shook as she unfolded the paper, and as she read, it became impossible for her to hold back the tears any longer.

  Dear Lady Summersby,

  Please accept this small gift as a token of my admiration. You have managed to elude me for much longer than I ever would have imagined possible. However, as you well know, all things must come to an end, even this little chase of ours, as enjoyable as it has been. Naturally, it goes without saying that you must mention no word of this to anyone, for if you do your darling husband shall quickly suffer the same fate as your dear Mama and Papa. To make my point clear, I suggest you consider this before acting rashly: I know you care for him, or you wouldn’t have told him about your past. Oh, I suppose you thought yourself alone when you were dallying in the garden?

  Think twice before you try to outwit me, my lady. It would be a foolish endeavor on your part, especially since it has come to my attention that Lady Ridgewood secretly enjoys a glass of brandy in her bedroom before retiring. How unfortunate it would be if one of these days her nightcap fails to agree with her.

  Wear this pendant as a sign of your cooperation, and I promise that no harm shall come to either of these people.

  With fond memories,

  Your masked friend

  He’d found her then. But how? Lucy didn’t need to spa
re much thought on that. Her marriage to William had been discussed at great length among the gentry, from what Constance had told her. Like all society weddings, it had also been announced in the papers, and while she might have changed her family name, she’d not only kept her Christian one but also knew that her appearance—her hair and her eyes—was unusual enough to stand out. All the assassin would have had to do was find an opportunity in which to see her with his own eyes.

  A knock on the door sounded, and Lucy practically leapt out of her seat she was so startled. “Come in,” she said, taking a step backward and reaching for a pair of scissors that lay upon her vanity table. She’d last used them for cutting a ribbon that she’d felt was too long but now grabbed the tool in the hope that it might serve as a weapon in case she needed it.

  “My lady, I…” Lucy breathed a sigh of relief. It was only her maid Marjory whom she’d called upon to help her change. “Dear me,” Marjory exclaimed, closing the door and hurrying across to her mistress. “You look a fright. What on earth happened?”

  “No…nothing,” Lucy stammered, her voice still shaky from the sudden shock of discovering that the man she’d spent six years hoping to find so she could exact her revenge had not only found her instead but was presently residing in her own home. She felt ill at the mere thought of it. “I was just reminiscing about my parents. I lost them both when I was quite young, you see.”

  Marjory gave Lucy a sympathetic smile. “I’m very sorry to hear it, my lady. The loss of a parent can be very difficult to bear. Perhaps you ought to feign a headache for the remainder of the day. I can bring you a tray of food if you like.”

  “No,” Lucy told her, sniffing a little as she dabbed at her eyes. “There’s no need for that, though I appreciate your concern. I am the hostess after all, so I should attend to my guests unless I’m really unable to do so. Feigning a headache would be not only cowardly but also dishonest.”

  “Well, then we really should wash your face with some cold water. It will help reduce the redness around your eyes.”

  With a nod of approval, Lucy allowed Marjory to take command of the situation, while her own thoughts returned to the letter that she still held clutched in her hand. Four names crowded her mind: Fairfield, Stanton, Galensbury, and Reinhardt…perhaps Trenton and Mr. Summersby too, if she dared to consider the worst possible outcome. Frowning at the thought of it, she quickly dismissed them again. Neither seemed capable, but then again, none of the gentlemen did. And yet she knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that one of them was a cold-blooded killer.

  William was standing in the parlor talking to Ryan when Lucy made her entrance. After leaving her side about an hour earlier, he’d watched Stanton beat Andrew in a very intriguing game of chess. Still, he’d found himself missing the easy companionship he’d begun to develop with his wife, and, looking to pick up where they’d left off, had arrived in the parlor early, hoping to find her there. Instead, he’d found his brother in the process of reading a medical book that his wife, Mary, had apparently recommended.

  “I must admit that as captivating as this is, I’d much rather immerse myself in a novel by Defoe or Fielding,” Ryan had said as he closed the book and put it aside in favor of the conversation William offered. Alexandra and Trenton had joined them soon after, followed by the rest of the guests—all except the one woman whom he now found himself eagerly awaiting.

  He forced himself not to stare at the doorway, reminding himself that he wasn’t a green lad in short pants. There was no reason for this ridiculous longing that he now felt in her absence. For heaven’s sake, he was a secret agent for the Foreign Office, a man who’d faced countless enemies, gotten himself out of numerous near-death situations, not to mention bedded more women than he cared to remember. Surely he ought to feel a bit more together where his own wife was concerned, and yet he found his eyes straying to the door once more, except this time she was there.

  An unwilling sigh of relief escaped him, and he quickly eyed Ryan, wondering if he might have noticed. Sure enough, the scamp was openly grinning at him. He served him a frown in return. “If you’ll please excuse me. I do believe that I ought to escort my wife to the table.”

  Leaving his brother behind, he made his way over to Lucy, noting how pretty she looked in her lovely white gown. She’d apparently taken his earlier words of the day to heart, for beneath her neckline she wore a fichu, a piece of delicate white lace that framed a golden heart pendant suspended at the base of her neck.

  Considering himself an imbecile for denying himself a view of her creamy white skin, he also felt his heart leap at the thought that she’d tried to please him. He could only hope that it wouldn’t be too long before he caught a glimpse of her delicious breasts again. Reaching her side, he offered his arm. “You look beautiful,” he told her with a smile.

  “Thank you,” she muttered as she returned it, and yet he couldn’t help but notice that her eyes no longer held a sparkle to them. It was almost as if the light behind them had faded, giving way to a dull sense of lifelessness.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered, after lowering his lips to her ear. “You seem tense or perhaps preoccupied with something.”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding her head as her eyes surveyed the room. “Yes, I’m perfectly well, thank you. I’m just hungry, that is all.”

  But William knew she’d just dismissed him with a lie. It was clear upon her face and in the sound of her voice. Something had obviously distressed her since they’d last spoken. He wanted to press the matter further but knew better than to have such a private conversation in public, so instead he announced that the food was ready and led his guests through to the dining room with Lucy on his arm.

  It was the longest meal that Lucy had ever had to endure. Seated at one end of the table, she couldn’t help but notice that William was watching her from the other. Somehow, she’d have to hone her acting skills if she was to keep him safe from harm. The thought of him being killed because of her was enough to send chills down her spine. She had to protect him at all cost; the alternative was simply unthinkable.

  Feigning interest in what Lord Moorland was saying, she studied each of the young gentlemen in turn. All were immersed in conversation—all except Reinhardt, who met her assessing gaze. A moment later, his serious demeanor softened into a smile. “That’s a very pretty pendant you’re wearing, my lady,” he said as he took a sip of his wine. “A family heirloom perhaps?”

  Lucy felt her nerves grow taut. Was he the one then? Or had he merely tried to be polite? “It…it was my mother’s,” she replied, studying his features for any sign that he might be the man who’d tormented her for so long. When she didn’t find what she sought, she allowed her gaze to flitter to the other men, but none appeared to have taken the slightest interest in her exchange with Reinhardt.

  “If I recall, my mother has a similar one,” Reinhardt was now saying. “Her initials are engraved upon the back of it. Is that also the case with yours?”

  “I…er…yes, as a matter of fact it is.” She noticed that William was staring at her again with marked intensity. She really had to get a grip of herself if she was to avoid his asking questions later. With a polite smile in Reinhardt’s direction, she returned her attention to Ryan and Lord Moorland who’d begun discussing what Lucy could only deem to be Ryan’s and Mary’s plans for the hospital they’d soon be opening. Again, she smiled politely and nodded her head, but if either gentleman would have asked her a question, she would have been completely stumped, for she could think of nothing but how to try to beat the assassin at his own twisted game.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  * * *

  The following afternoon, while the other young ladies went to town with Lady Lindhurst, Lucy decided to go for a walk in the gardens. After another troubled night plagued by bad dreams, she knew she needed some time alone in which to think, and since the men had decided to postpone their ride until later in favor of walking out into the fields and ad
miring the crop, she saw this as the perfect opportunity to do so.

  Passing the rose garden, she followed the path leading down toward the lake. There was a spot there beneath a willow tree that she’d frequented in the days following her wedding, when she’d worried about what the future might hold. Reaching it now, she spread a blanket on the ground and then seated herself upon it, delighting in the rays of sunshine that flittered through between the branches and the ducks that quacked merrily on the water.

  With a heavy sigh, she thought of everything that had happened—of everything she’d been through so far in order to survive. It hadn’t been easy, but none of it was as difficult as the challenge she was now faced with. She didn’t even know the killer’s intent. If he wanted her dead, she’d surely be so already—unless of course he merely found some sort of pleasure in toying with her first. Or perhaps he was just waiting for the right opportunity, a moment when she’d find herself secluded and alone.

  Glancing about, she cursed her own stupidity. There was safety in numbers. How could she possibly have thought that it might be a good idea to venture so far away from the house on her own? As it was, the vegetation around parts of the lake made the spot quite secluded. If someone were to…The rustling of leaves in the undergrowth made her gasp. A moment later, a squirrel appeared, pausing momentarily to look around before darting up a tree. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief, shook her head, and chastised herself for being so jittery. Her imagination was clearly getting the better of her.