Anything but Innocent

by Dayna Quince

  “Mr. Lawrence Jeffrey?” Jonathan looked up from the book.

  “I believe that is his full name, yes.”

  “He attended university with Winchester and me.” Jonathan now stood beside him

  “Oh?” Lucy turned to them. “Did you find him likable?”

  “He has his charms,” Winchester said dryly.

  Lucy took a deep breath. His voice still had its way of vibrating through her. “Would you say he is suitable?” she said pointedly.

  He looked up and met her eyes. “Suitable, you said?”

  “Suitable for what?” Jonathan asked.

  “Would you consider him to be an unsuitable gentleman for an acquaintance with me?” Lucy said to Winchester, a touch of anger taking hold. She didn’t know what reaction she was looking for, jealousy? That was a fool’s hope.

  “It isn’t my place to determine what gentlemen are suitable for your acquaintance, Lady Lucy.”

  “Perhaps not. I only ask because you know him, and Father does not.” Lucy switched her gaze to Jonathan. “What are your thoughts, brother?”

  “Are you asking me if he is a suitable husband? Let me think on this.” He stroked his chin.

  “Husband?” Winchester said.

  Lucy turned to her father. He watched them silently while leaning against the settee.

  “Should I expect a visit from this gentleman?” he asked her.

  “Heavens, no.” Lucy laughed, and then she noticed his peculiar frown as he looked over her head. She spun around to face Jonathan. He froze and Winchester coughed to cover a laugh.

  “What are you doing behind my back?”

  “It seems your brother and Winchester find him unsuitable,” her father said.

  “How so?”

  “I really shouldn’t say,” Jonathan said.

  “If you won’t tell, then that only makes him more interesting. So what is it?”

  “I’m going to question your mother on this matter.” Their father departed.

  “He’s a rake,” Winchester said.

  “That isn’t a deterrent.” Lucy smiled slyly.

  “It bloody well should be,” Winchester growled.

  Jonathan scoffed. “He is more in love with himself than he could ever be with a woman.”

  “He is given to cruelty,” Winchester said.

  “Is he? How so? I’ve known men who claim to be such vile creatures and are more akin to sheep in wolves clothing.” She watched Winchester’s expression as she walked past him and reclaimed the chaise lounge. “I may invite him to stay with us, or perhaps I can ask Mrs. Farris? She may not want to encourage me to find interest in anyone other than her son, though.”

  Winchester sat across from her in an empty chair. She couldn’t read his expression.

  “What do you think?” she asked him.

  “To be honest, I don’t have any strong opinions on the matter,” he said

  But there was something about him. His voice had dropped lower, and his features looked harder.

  “Absolutely none?” she needled. “Should I marry him? Or is he more suitable for dalliance?”

  “Lucille Eloise, I don’t want to hear you utter the word dalliance. Ever,” Jonathan scolded. “You’ll be banished from London for life.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes and resumed her investigation of Winchester’s mood. “Your thoughts, Lord Winchester?”

  He stared back at her. “I haven’t any.”

  “I assumed you an authority on the subject of dalliance. No?”

  “Lucy,” Jonathan said sternly.

  “Calm down, brother. I’m only asking questions. Shouldn’t I seek answers from those deemed safe?” She looked back at Winchester. “I couldn’t be any safer here with the two of you than if I were asking a herd of sheep.”

  His eyes narrowed at her.

  Jonathan was muttering angrily. “Mr. Jeffrey would make sport of you and toss you aside.”

  “Sport? What is sport?” Lucy giggled. She knew exactly what he meant but loved driving him mad with her indecent questions.

  He strode away from her and back into the study. Lucy chased after him. She caught sight of the open invitation on the desk and paused to pick it up.

  “What is this?”

  Jonathan ripped it from her hand and crumpled it up, tossing it into the fire. “Nothing to do with you.”

  “It was an invitation to a masquerade,” Lucy stated.

  “How did you know?” He poured himself a drink.

  “I have eyes and I read quickly.”

  “Well, that masquerade is an event not attended by our society.”

  “Then why do you get an invitation?”

  Jonathan turned to her. “I’m a man. I get to do all the fun things you can’t do without censure.”

  Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Believe me, I’m aware of it.” She turned and left him in the study. Winchester was standing just on the other side of the door.

  “I bet you’re happy you don’t have a sister like me, my lord.”

  “I was just about to say something to that effect,” Jonathan said from inside the study.

  “Did you truly enjoy Bath?” He paused beside her and said this quietly.

  “I did. Mr. Jeffrey helped me see things from a different view. The experience was quite pleasurable,” Lucy lied.

  His eyes didn’t change, but she saw the tightening of his jaw. “Like what?”

  “I wish I had the time to tell you, but I really must get ready for dinner.” Lucy moved away, wary of letting herself feel any sort of triumph for garnering whatever little emotion she got from him. He already claimed so much of her heart, and she, so little of his. She wasn’t going to give more until she got more.

  Warm fingers touched hers. She froze. He moved behind her. She could feel his breath on the little hairs on her nape.

  “Mr. Jeffrey is not good for you.”

  “Is that so? You think you know what is good for me?” Lucy waited for an answer, but when none came, she turned her head and found he was no longer there. Damn him. He’d gone back to her brother in the study. She heard the murmur of their talking. Slinking forward, she stood out of view of the doorway and listened.

  “Would you like to go?” Jonathan said.

  Silence.

  “You look like you could use the distraction and perhaps a bit of companionship.”

  “Perhaps,” Winchester answered.

  Lucy covered her mouth to hide her gasp. She quickly slipped out of the Library and headed for her room. The pain of that single word was so overwhelming, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She reached her room, startling Marigold as she was preparing her bath before dinner.

  “Good heavens! My heart jumped to my neck!” Marigold laughed in surprise. She focused on Lucy. “What is wrong?”

  Lucy shook her head. Her throat felt so tight she couldn’t speak.

  Marigold poured her a glass of water and brought it to her. “Drink up.”

  Lucy did, then she exhaled as she brought the glass down. “I’m so stupid, Marigold.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “As much as I want him to love me, he cares nothing. I’m merely another woman vying for his affections and as interchangeable as the next.”

  “The stupidity is his. If he can’t see how special you are, then he isn’t worthy of you.”

  Lucy wished that were true. She set the glass down on her vanity and collapsed on the stool. It was there she saw the letter. “What is this?”

  Marigold began to unpin her hair. “A boy brought it for you.”

  “A boy?”

  “Yes. Very mysterious.”

  Lucy ripped open the letter, hope flaring that it was some sort of secret communication from Winchester. She began to read quickly, hope fading to confusion. She frowned.

  “Is something wrong?” Marigold looked over her shoulder and brushed her hair.

  “It’s from Mr. Jeffery.”

  “From Bath?”

&n
bsp; “He is visiting his aunt, Mrs. Farris.”

  “Oh? He wants to see you.”

  Lucy nodded. “Yes.”

  “You must have made quite the impression in Bath.”

  Lucy looked at her reflection and thought of Bath. In her mind, she pictured the lovely little courtyard where she and Mr. Jeffrey sat. He’d whispered things in her ear, and she’d waited to feel anything of the excitement she’d felt with Winchester—Dean, as she’d began to think of him. She waited and had still felt nothing. It’s why she hadn’t reacted when Mr. Jeffrey’s lifted her chin, bringing his lips to hers and pushing her down on the bench. She had turned away then, but he lay upon her and kissed her neck. She should have been frightened, she should have pushed him away with all her strength, but at that moment, she hadn’t felt like she was there at all. She felt empty.

  Mr. Jeffrey was handsome and rich. He was exciting and clever with his sardonic wit and mischievous laughing eyes. He was easy to like, especially for Lucy. He wanted trouble as much as she liked to make it. They’d become cohorts in Bath, finding each other at every party and spending the evening searching for ways to make mischief. Poor Mr. Farris had watched them woefully, and Thea… She lectured Lucy every night of the dangers of encouraging him. He wasn’t Winchester, she would say. And Lucy knew it well. That was the whole point. He wasn’t Winchester. He was interested and Winchester was not.

  She let him kiss her neck, and he even went so far as to grope her breast. That was when she’d pushed him back. The emptiness had turned to a bitter feeling of betrayal. She was betraying herself by letting another man touch what she wished Dean would want.

  She blinked and looked down at the note. He wanted to meet her. What should she do?

  “Where is the boy, Marigold?”

  “He’s waiting in the kitchen. Mrs. Hart declared him too thin and set about fattening him up in a single afternoon.”

  “We must send him with my response before he’s too full to move.” Lucy reached for her quill and paper.

  Chapter 21

  Lucy slowed her horse as her brother and Winchester raced on over the hills. She deviated north toward the spire of the chapel and urged Penny into a gallop. She had to be out of sight before either of them thought to look back and find her missing. Hidden by the forest that separated the village from most of the estate, she relaxed and slowed her horse as she crossed onto the chapel land and rode along the low stone wall that bordered the cemetery. She had seen him before he saw her, walking along a row of headstones.

  She dismounted and tied her horse next to his at the gate. This part of the cemetery was the oldest and often secluded. It’s why she chose to meet him here and also because it was the least romantic place she could think of. She didn’t want to have to fight off his advances.

  He turned as she drew near and smiled at her. She returned his smile and admired his way of turning the simplest of gestures into something sultry.

  “Good morning, Lady Lucy.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Jeffrey. What brings you to York?”

  “I think you know.” His eyes warmed as he stared at her, and Lucy had to look away. His reddish blonde hair shone with streaks of gold when the sun shone on it and she found it pleasing.

  “Come walk with me.” He held out his hand.

  She chose to take his arm instead.

  They walked along the headstones for some time without saying anything. Lucy let the peace of the cemetery wash over her. She didn’t have much time. Soon, Jonathan would come looking for her, and they were not far enough away to not be found.

  “I’d like to see you again soon,” Mr. Jeffrey said.

  “Oh?”

  “There is a masquerade nearby. It isn’t something you or I should normally be invited to, but I’ve friends who attend, and it is very enchanting. I’d like for you to come. In secret.” He winked at her.

  “I think I’ve heard of this masquerade.” There was little else she could think about since the word perhaps became the most hated word in the English world, at least to her.

  “Have you?”

  “I saw my brother’s invitation.”

  He nodded. “Yes, but this isn’t a party your parents would allow you to attend. I fear it may be too difficult.”

  “Jonathan will not take me if that is what you are suggesting.” Lucy stared at the ground as they walked.

  Mr. Jeffrey slowed and turned her to face him. She looked up. He ran his thumb over her lip and Lucy hoped he wouldn’t try to kiss her. She wasn’t sure what she was doing or why she was encouraging Mr. Jeffrey. Her head and heart were not in accord and they fought viciously inside her.

  “I want to see you, and I know you would enjoy yourself immensely. I see the way you are caged, Lady Lucy. Held by the love of your family, but also restrained from experiencing the things that make life worth living. Don’t deny yourself.”

  She swallowed. Could Mr. Jeffrey see what Winchester did not? She was so tired of this ache in her chest. Was Mr. Jeffrey the remedy for her battered heart?

  “Perhaps…” she cringed internally as she uttered the word, “I can get away. I saw the address and I can ride there.”

  He grinned and stole a quick kiss. “I knew you could, but I wouldn’t have you ride. It’s far too dangerous. I will send a carriage to meet you somewhere close but out of sight.”

  Lucy thought for a moment. “There is a thicket of trees outside our drive. The carriage can wait there and I can sneak out.”

  “I so look forward to our adventure, Lady Lucy. In two days, we will see each other again.” He bent again but Lucy ducked her head and avoided his lips. He kissed her forehead instead. “I must go. My brother will be looking for me by now.”

  “How will I know you at the ball?” He turned them and they headed back toward their horses.

  “I will be dressed as an angel.” Lucy grinned.

  “And I the devil.” He leered at her.

  Lucy laughed uncomfortably. She let him lift her to her saddle.

  “Until then, Mr. Jeffrey.”

  “I will be counting the seconds.” He mounted his horse and they rode in opposite directions.

  Lucy felt jittery with excitement as she left the cemetery and turned her horse to cut through the forest. She’d never had clandestine meetings such as this with a man before, and now she was planning to attend a masquerade alone to meet him? Was she losing her mind? Did she even want to go? She didn’t know what she wanted to do. The things she did want, she couldn’t have. She wanted to not feel like the fool she was. She wanted to not care that Winchester was attending this ball and perhaps would find himself a bit of sport. She cringed and she felt sick.

  “What are you doing, Lucy?”

  His voice jerked her from her restless thoughts. She twisted and found him sitting silent as a statue on his horse. He nudged his horse forward until they faced each other, their legs almost touching. He looked at her sternly.

  “What are you doing?” he repeated.

  “What business is it of yours?” She returned his scowl.

  “Is this how you meant to wait for me?”

  She gasped in outrage. How dare he throw her words back at her as if he were the one hurting! “Perhaps I’ve come to realize how futile it is to wait for a man who cares not for me, but again, what business is it of yours? You don’t want me.”

  “And Mr. Jeffrey does?” Dean could taste his rage on his tongue, but he kept it leashed. He could see exactly what Jeffrey wanted from his vantage point in the forest that looked directly into the cemetery.

  “He certainly isn’t afraid to act like it.”

  “And when he’s had you, what then?” Dean asked bitterly.

  “Why should you care?” she cried. Birds scattered from the trees around them.

  He shouldn’t care, but he did. He seethed and burned with hatred for Lawrence Jeffrey. The man didn’t deserve to lick the dust from her slippers, but twice, Dean watched him kiss her and with enough
familiarity that Dean was sure it wasn’t the first time.

  “You’ve been too blessed, Lucy. You don’t realize the hurt you cause your family by acting so recklessly.”

  “Hurt? Yes, I am blessed. Yes, they love me and I love them, but I’m not going to find what I want the way they expect me to. My family would happily marry me to Mr. Farris and smile happily at my wedding. But what of my hurt, Dean? Will it not hurt to spend the rest of my life with someone I don’t love?”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do.” Her voice broke. “You’ve shown me that much.” She yanked her horse away then and rode off into the woods.

  Dean cursed aloud and kicked his horse into a gallop to follow her. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. So she wanted to blame him for being a willful, thoughtless hoyden? He had something to say about that.

  “Lucy!” he shouted after her once he’d caught up with her.

  She shook her head, tears being ripped from her cheeks by the wind.

  “Slow down.”

  She threw him a glare and flicked her reins. He hadn’t realized her mare was so fast.

  This was getting dangerous now. He looked ahead and could see Rigsby waving at them from atop a hill. He waved back. Lucy raced on, turning west from her brother but still toward the house. He chased after her, Rigsby now in pursuit.

  “Lucy!” he shouted after her. She cut around a copse of trees and was out of his sight for a second. He rounded the trees and she was gone.

  “Dean!” she shouted.

  He pulled on the reins and turned. She was waiting just behind the copse of trees.

  “Are you insane?!” he said as he pulled up to her.

  “Are you going to tell?” she said as she panted.

  “What?”

  “Are you going to tell Jonathan what you saw at the cemetery?”

  He leaned forward in his saddle and tried to catch his breath. “I should.”

  “But you won’t.” She raised one brow. “We’ve both things we’d rather not have shared with my family, haven’t we, Dean? Or am I only allowed to say your name when you’ve pinned me against a door?”

  Dean sat up straight. He ground his teeth so hard they hurt. “Touché.”