by Laura Martin
Lucy turned away from the mirror, taking a moment away from smoothing down her dress to kiss him on the cheek.
Straightening his own clothes Oliver waited for Lucy to finish, before offering her his arm.
* * *
‘It’s a ball,’ Lucy said as they entered through the front door to the sound of musicians striking up their instruments.
‘But not any old ball.’
‘Delighted you could make it tonight, Lord Sedgewick... Lady Sedgewick,’ an effusive middle-aged woman gushed as she rushed towards them.
‘My wife is a devoted supporter of charities and good causes,’ Oliver said, causing Lucy’s eyes to widen in surprise. She supported the Foundation, that much was true, but she had never been involved with any other charities.
‘You must tell me about the charities you support, Lady Sedgewick,’ their host insisted.
‘This is Lady Wentwater.’ Oliver completed the introductions. ‘Our hostess for the evening.’
‘Gaming tables are that way, Lord Sedgewick. All proceeds go to support the Orphanage, of course.’
Lady Wentwater clutched hold of Lucy’s arm and guided her off in the opposite direction. Glancing back over her shoulder, Lucy saw Oliver giving her an apologetic shrug before wandering off towards the gaming tables.
‘It is wonderful you could make it this evening,’ Lady Wentwater said. ‘The Orphanage is always looking for new patrons and I find these annual charity events the best way to keep a cause at the forefront of everyone’s minds.’
Slowly Lucy was beginning to realise why Oliver had insisted they come this evening. She had told him of some of the financial struggles the Foundation was facing and he had suggested using her new status and connections to encourage new, wealthy patrons. At first she’d thought he was joking, but now she was wondering if it might actually work. Certainly the Foundation was as worthy a cause as an orphanage.
‘Tell me, Lady Wentwater, how do you put together a night like this?’
‘Oh, how sweet you are, my dear. It’s lovely to find someone who is interested. I started three years ago, when the Sand Street Orphanage was in dire straits. I’ve been a patroness for years, but many of the other supporters had drifted away, taking their interest and their money to other more fashionable causes.’
Lucy knew how fickle some of the wealthy patrons could be.
‘At first I bored all my friends, begging them at every opportunity to become involved. Then I realised there was a much better way of doing things.’
‘That’s when you decided to have your annual ball?’
‘Exactly. There are gaming tables for the gentlemen, any proceeds go directly to the orphanage and many of the men also donate any winnings. This raises a lot of money in the grand scheme of things.’
‘And the rest is publicity for the cause?’
‘Exactly. We have music and dancing, but everywhere there are subtle reminders of the purpose of the evening. Often I receive a few large donations on the night, but more importantly a few people are interested enough to become long-standing patrons.’
‘It’s all very clever.’
‘I think so, my dear,’ Lady Wentwater said, beaming. ‘Now I must return to greeting guests, but shall I introduce you to some of the ladies first?’
‘No need,’ a deep voice said from over her shoulder.
Lucy smiled as she recognised Oliver’s friend, Redmoor.
‘Would you grant me the honour of a dance?’ Redmoor asked.
Lucy inclined her head, allowing the tall man to lead her towards the dance floor.
‘How was your trip to the seaside?’ Redmoor asked as the dance began.
‘Certainly worthwhile,’ Lucy said, thinking of the closure she felt after confronting her father one final time.
‘I hear you had a small accident. I hope you are recovered.’
News travelled fast to London, but she shouldn’t be surprised. Someone in the Royal Pavilion would know someone else who knew someone else and soon the story would be all the way back to London, no doubt with a few embellishments.
‘A minor bump, that is all. Lord Sedgewick looked after me superbly.’
‘Yes, he has a habit of looking after people,’ Redmoor murmured.
‘He is very kind,’ Lucy agreed.
‘Perhaps too kind,’ Redmoor said. Lucy looked at him sharply, but could see no malice in his face. Sighing, Redmoor seemed to steel himself to say more. ‘He’s a good man, one of the best.’
‘I know.’
‘And I would hate to see him hurt. Again.’
‘As would I.’
‘He’s strong and he puts on a good show of having an impenetrable outer shell, but he is still a man.’
‘Is there something you want to say to me?’ Lucy asked, trying to keep her voice calm.
‘After you left he was a mess. He was frantic, didn’t rest for weeks. I mean, he carried on searching for you for a whole year.’
‘I understand that.’
‘Do you?’ He looked at her questioningly, as if he would open her head and check inside if he could.
Lucy hesitated. She had wondered at the length of time and devotion of energy Oliver had put into finding her. At first she’d assumed it was because he didn’t like to be beaten in some challenge he had thought up for himself—the challenge to find her. Then she’d thought he’d wanted a wife, someone to take out into society and stop all the rumours that abounded about him. But that didn’t quite fit either—he could have lessened the rumours by telling people she had died in childbirth or some such story, but, no, he’d let people gossip in the hope that one day he would find her.
‘Why did he look for me for so long?’ she asked eventually.
‘You don’t know?’
Shaking her head, Lucy felt a hollowness developing in the pit of her stomach. She had a feeling she did know what Redmoor’s answer would be.
The music stopped and for a moment Lucy thought her dance partner was going to abandon her without revealing what he knew.
‘He loves you. He’s besotted with you. Surely you can see that?’
Without thinking Lucy began shaking her head. It was too much, too much responsibility to be so instrumental to another person’s happiness.
Redmoor shrugged. ‘Think about it. Why else would he pursue you for so long when you’d hurt him so badly?’
‘But he’s never said.’
‘He’s in denial. Won’t even admit it to himself. And a few weeks ago you were pressing him for a divorce of all things. Who would reveal their innermost feelings to someone who doesn’t seem to reciprocate them?’
Lucy felt a tightening in her throat and swallowed a couple of times to try to relieve it.
‘You don’t have to love him,’ Redmoor said softly, ‘although he’s certainly worthy of love. Just try not to hurt him again.’
Part of her felt embarrassed to have to be told all of this by one of Oliver’s friends; part of her was still a little disbelieving.
He loved her—could it be true? They’d spent such a short time together after their marriage—surely love couldn’t develop in just a few weeks. And he’d married her for such practical reasons—he’d needed a wife to produce heirs for his newly inherited estate. He hadn’t even chosen her himself—had let his mother draw up a shortlist of candidates.
‘How do you know all this?’ Lucy asked, wondering if Oliver confided so much in his friend.
‘I’ve known Sedgewick for a long time,’ Redmoor said with a slightly sad smile. ‘He’s told me bits and pieces, but I know him well enough to fill in the gaps.’
‘I won’t hurt him,’ Lucy said with more conviction than she felt. She might hurt him—having the responsibility of someone else’s love was serious and it was a responsibility she wasn’t sure she was read
y for.
‘Just don’t run away again.’
Redmoor bowed, kissed her hand and stepped away, leaving Lucy to wonder exactly how she was going to deal with this new information.
Chapter Eighteen
‘You’re skittish,’ Oliver said as they walked arm in arm through St Giles. It was a beautiful day, clear blue skies and a cool autumn breeze without a hint of the rain that had been falling on and off the last few days.
‘Skittish? Like a horse?’
‘Exactly. What are you scared of?’
He looked around, checking for danger, remembering when he hadn’t been alert enough to keep them from being threatened with a knife.
‘Nothing. I’m not skittish.’
Oliver shrugged, murmuring, ‘Look pretty skittish to me.’
In truth, Lucy felt more than skittish. Her insides were roiling in turmoil and every muscle in her body felt on edge. Ever since her talk with Redmoor at the charity ball she had been unable to be in the same room as Oliver without looking at him and wondering if what his friend had said was true.
‘It’s a big day today,’ Lucy said. It wasn’t exactly a lie; it was a big day today, but that wasn’t why she was feeling so unsettled.
‘I’d like to be there for you.’
‘There’s no need. I’ve been at these meetings many times before.’
‘But you just said it is a big day.’
Lucy cursed, trying to think quickly, but her brain refused to co-operate.
‘I’ll be more nervous with you there.’
He smiled at her with affection in his eyes and once again it set Lucy off to wondering if there were deeper feelings hidden inside Oliver.
‘It’s your choice,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I’d just like to see what you do.’
‘Perhaps another time.’
They reached the Foundation and went through the passageway to the courtyard beyond, where Mary was bustling about, dressed in a severe black dress, her normally wild curls pulled into a tight bun.
‘You’re here!’ Mary exclaimed, striding over to Lucy and clasping her tightly to her. ‘It’s a complete disaster. Lord Pennywater sent a note saying he would not be attending today and that unfortunately he cannot continue to support the Foundation.’
‘He didn’t even bother to tell you in person?’ Lucy asked.
‘No. Just a scribbled note. And you know what half the rest of the patrons are like. Once the first one leaves the rest follow, thinking it is fashionable to support only the causes that have a lord or lady attached to them.’
‘Surely they won’t all go, Mary,’ Lucy said soothingly. ‘Mrs Hunter seems keen and generous and only joined us a month ago and Mr and Mrs Felixstone have been supporters for years.’
‘But the rest. We can’t survive if the donations fall and I’m afraid this might be the beginning of the end for us.’
‘Lucy,’ Oliver said quietly, ‘a word please.’
She patted Mary on the arm once again and crossed the courtyard to join him.
‘What is the problem?’ he asked.
‘Mary is worried that now Lord Pennywater has decided to stop supporting us the rest of the patrons might follow.’
‘Is that likely?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘I’ve never seen Mary in such a state so she must believe it to be true.’
‘Perhaps I could help.’
She looked at him blankly.
‘I am a viscount,’ he reminded her. ‘And one who has a definite interest in seeing this place succeed.’
‘You’d become one of our patrons just for me?’
‘Of course.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, Lucy. If it makes your life easier and stops you from worrying.’
He saw the tears in her eyes the moment before she flung her arms around his neck and embraced him deeply.
‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ she murmured so quietly he barely heard her.
‘What’s true?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Let’s tell Mary.’
Pulling him by the hand, Lucy rushed back over to where Mary was still pacing and murmuring under her breath as if trying to find the solution to an impossible puzzle.
‘All is not lost,’ Lucy said firmly. ‘Oliver—Lord Sedgewick will step in as one of our patrons. Surely the others will not abandon us because a baron is replaced by a viscount?’
Mary turned to him with hope in her eyes. ‘You will?’
‘Of course. This is important.’
He wasn’t ready for the shower of gratitude from both women, thanks and praise which lasted for well over two minutes, and by the end he felt a little embarrassed. He’d only hoped to banish the worry and desolation from Lucy’s eyes. The Foundation was a good cause, of course, but he wouldn’t be doing this if it didn’t mean so much to his wife.
‘We’ll announce it at the governor’s meeting today,’ Mary said excitedly. ‘It will be the first item on the agenda—a change in our patrons.’
‘Let me take you upstairs,’ Lucy said, taking him by the hand to the office she and Mary usually shared. Today it had been cleared of the mountains of papers and the two desks had been pushed together to make one long table in the middle of the room. Twelve chairs were arranged around the table and Lucy indicated he should choose one.
‘Do I have to do anything?’ Oliver asked, realising he had never volunteered to become a patron of a charity before. Of course he’d donated money to various good causes, but usually never got more involved than that.
‘You can say a few words once we introduce you if you wish, but otherwise this is more of a business meeting. A few of our patrons like to attend to keep abreast of what is happening at the Foundation, but this is more about the governors going over our accounts and checking we are doing what we say we are with the money.’
‘I see.’
He took a chair and Lucy did, too, sitting sideways so she faced him.
‘This means the world to me, Oliver. I’m so grateful.’
‘I would do anything to make you happy,’ he said, feeling a little exposed with the admission, but seeing the nervous smile on her lips made it all worthwhile.
‘You would, wouldn’t you?’ she said and it was as much a statement as a question.
‘I just want you to be safe and happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’
‘I can’t believe I didn’t see it.’
‘See what?’
‘How much you care. When you first found me I wondered why you had spent so much time and effort tracking me down when you could have been building a new life for yourself.’
‘I couldn’t,’ he said quietly. It was true. Despite everything he’d told himself, all the lies about wanting to have his wife home because that was what society expected, he was coming to realise there had always been more to his search than that. He’d missed Lucy, yearned for her, and despite her betrayal, despite how she’d shattered his heart when she’d taken their son away, it was her he’d wanted, not just a wife back home.
‘I thought perhaps you had an issue with ownership, like some men do with their wives. They want to possess them completely, to rule their lives.’
‘I do want to possess you completely.’
‘But not in that way,’ she said softly.
He shook his head.
‘I never thought ours could be anything more than a convenient union,’ she said. ‘After the way it was arranged and the reasons behind both of us wanting to marry.’
‘Nor did I. But I know I would be devastated if you decided to leave again.’
Watching her closely, he saw her swallow, saw the tension creep back into her face.
‘Hush,’ he said. ‘One day, this past year will be nothing more than a distant memory. We’ll have the rest of our lives ah
ead of us.’
‘I want to stay,’ she whispered, leaning forward and kissing him.
Oliver believed her. Over the last few weeks their relationship had blossomed from an awkward arrangement where they barely spoke to a comfortable companionship to a marriage filled with passion. It was reassuring to hear the words, but he still felt a little bubble of concern deep inside him. Even though she told him she wanted to stay, even though he could see the growing affection in her eyes, he still worried one day she would just be gone without a trace.
* * *
Lucy barely registered when one of the governors criticised the way they recorded new residents, or when Mrs Hunter, one of their newest patrons, twittered on about putting more stringent measures in place to record what happened to their residents when they left the Foundation. Lucy delivered her piece on the accounts succinctly, but only because she was well practised.
Oliver sat quietly at the other end of the table with the patrons and governors, giving her encouraging smiles whenever she looked his way. All she could think was He loves me. The words were tumbling around in her head, repeating themselves over and over again. She’d never thought she would experience love, never expected it. When agreeing to marry Oliver she’d had her own selfish reasons, just as he’d had his. She’d hoped for mutual respect and perhaps even companionship, but from a young age she had resigned herself to a life without experiencing love.
He hadn’t said the words, not out loud, but she was beginning to realise that Redmoor was right. Oliver did love her—it was the only explanation for how he had never given up his search for her and why he was so patient with her now.
Considering carefully, she examined her own feelings for him. She cared for him, deeply, more than any other living person. She enjoyed spending time with him and couldn’t imagine being married to anyone else. But was that love? It wasn’t that instant gush she had felt for David, that overwhelming tenderness she’d experienced the first time she’d held her baby.
‘Thank you, everyone, for your time,’ Mary was saying and people were starting to rise.
Lucy smiled absently as the governors and patrons left the room, ushered out by Mary who would no doubt escort them safely out of St Giles.