The poor thing was shivering from head to toe, although she seemed happy enough as Lucie knelt and scrubbed at her short fur until the greyhound was warm and mostly dry. Bella shoved her cold nose into the warm spot of Lucie’s neck then scampered across the stone flags to join the rest of her pack before the leaping flames of the fire. ‘Gee, thanks,’ Lucie muttered as she straightened up and closed the front door once more.
‘Good morning!’ Turning at the greeting, Lucie watched Igraine bounce down the last couple of steps.
‘Oh, hi there!’ She waved the soggy towel in her hand. ‘I just let Bella out and now I’m not sure what to do with this.’
Smiling, Igraine pointed to a doorway to the right. ‘Leave the towel on one of the hooks to dry out, we’ll no doubt need it later if this awful rain keeps up. You can wash your hands in there whilst you’re at it.’ Heading in the direction indicated, Lucie found a small washroom and did just that.
They made their way towards the dining room together, with Igraine chatting about her plans for the day. ‘I need to get out and check the fences. We lease out a couple of farms, well, smallholdings, really, and there was a nasty storm last week. I was hoping to ride out, but at this rate I’ll have to take the Land Rover instead.’ She turned to Lucie as they entered the dining room. ‘Do you ride?’
‘I had a few lessons, but that was a long time ago.’ There’d been a stables associated with the boarding school she’d attended, and although her father had been willing to listen to her pleas for a pony, her mum had insisted Lucie try it out first. She’d been a little upset at the time but was grateful now looking back because it had been barely six months later that he’d been arrested, and it had all gone to pot. Losing her personal possessions had been a terrible enough shock, how much worse to have had to give up something she’d have formed an emotional attachment to, like a pony.
‘Well, let me know if you want to go out sometime,’ Igraine said as she headed for the sideboard to make a cup of coffee. ‘We’ve got a couple of sturdy hacks, I’m sure one of them would suit you.’ She offered the large thermos to Lucie. ‘Do you want a drink?’
‘I’ll have a cup of tea, please, but I can make it myself.’ It felt a little awkward having a member of the family wait on her, but then Arthur had done the same the previous evening so perhaps they were just well-mannered, and Lucie was being a dolt by reading more into every situation than there was to see.
‘It’s no trouble. You can pour us some juice if you like?’
Within a few minutes they were at the table in the same seats they’d occupied the previous evening. Though they’d only spoken a little, Lucie had found the other woman to be genuinely warm and friendly, and she felt like given a bit of time there was the potential for a friendship there. It felt like so long since she’d had a proper friend, though there was nobody to blame for that other than Lucie herself.
There’d been plenty of invitations out with co-workers at the auction house, but central London prices were always through the roof and she never fancied the long trek back to the end of the tube line late in the evening. All pathetic excuses, really, but ones she’d used as a shield against letting anyone get too close. Perhaps it was time to let a few of those barriers down. After all, her time here at the castle was finite, and, once the spring was over, she’d be on the train back home again. Getting to know Igraine, and the rest of the family, didn’t seem like it would be a hardship. They’d all been very pleasant to her, even after the utter fool she’d made of herself to Tristan and Arthur. She raised a hand to her cheek as embarrassment struck once more.
‘What’s up?’ Sharp-eyed Igraine hadn’t missed her blush.
Lucie pulled a face, then confessed to a wide-eyed—and then hysterically laughing—Igraine. ‘Oh, it was awful,’ Lucie said, burying her face in her hands as she tried to stifle her own laugh.
‘I wish I’d been a fly on the wall! Poor Arthur, he’s never very good when it comes to confrontation. I bet Tristan loved it, though!’
Arthur did well enough when it came to confrontation, but Lucie kept that thought to herself as she recalled the annoyance flashing in his eyes, the way he’d drawn himself up to his full height and towered over her. Other than those few moments of ire, he’d been much more softly spoken, even a little defensive, so perhaps his sister was right. As someone with a first-class honours degree in defensiveness, Lucie knew the signs.
Perhaps that was why they rubbed each other up the wrong way a bit? Only time would tell. Lucie had suggested a fresh start that morning, so she would have to play her part and not be quick to jump to conclusions. Easier said than done, but she could treat it as part of her experiment. No one at the castle knew anything about her, other than what she chose to tell them. She didn’t have to be worried about them judging her for what had happened in the past: not the terrible mess with her dad, or the awful misunderstanding at Witherby’s. She could be anyone she wanted to be—within reason of course. What would it be like to be as self-assured as Igraine appeared to be? How refreshing to not be in a blind panic all the time, not to feel the weight of opinion pressing down her. As long as she was diligent in the job they were paying her to do, that was all that mattered.
She didn’t have to be poor Lucinda, the conman’s daughter, or shy Lucie who didn’t fit in with the other people at school. Dutiful Lucie, trying to protect her mum and not rock their already waterlogged boat, or her latest, and worst, re-creation—timid, pathetic Miss Kennington desperate to do a good job and impress everybody at work. She could be…Lucie stared down into her rapidly cooling tea, stunned to realise that she had no idea who or what she really was. It was like she’d spent her life stuffed into pigeonholes of other people’s design.
Maybe she shouldn’t be looking to play another role whilst she was here at the castle, maybe she should use the time to try and figure out who she really was, and more importantly, who she wanted to be.
Feeling almost giddy, she helped herself to a couple of slices of brown toast from the silver rack in the centre of the table. Her hand was halfway towards the low-fat spread when she hesitated. When was the last time she’d allowed herself the luxury of butter? With a little grin, she tugged the golden rectangle sitting in a silver tray that matched the toast rack closer. Perhaps it should’ve bothered her, the overt displays of wealth everywhere, but it didn’t. The Ludworths weren’t showing off, this was normal to them. It wasn’t flash to have silver on the dining room table, it was just…their stuff. And it was one thing to be rich in possessions, but quite another to be financially secure. Hadn’t Arthur intimated as much?
The reality of her situation dawned. If she did find something valuable, some rare and refined treasure, it wouldn’t be going on display somewhere in this magnificent building, it’d be heading straight for the auction block and no doubt into the private vault of some millionaire. It was quite depressing. Maybe being surrounded by such fabulous things all the time took some of their power to impress away, maybe that was why he’d sounded so blasé about the prospect of selling the family’s treasures. Lucie couldn’t imagine feeling the same way, but not everyone had the same appreciation for art as she did. Their loss.
Turning her attention back to her breakfast, she took a bite of toast. As the rich butter melted across her tongue, she allowed her lashes to flutter closed. ‘Wow, I think I’m having an out of body experience.’
Igraine laughed. ‘Betsy makes it herself, it’s rather magnificent, isn’t it?’
‘Betsy?’ The two ladies who’d served them at dinner had been introduced to her, but she didn’t remember either of them being a Betsy.
‘She’s our cook.’
Cook, housekeeper, butler, ladies to serve dinner…goodness, how many more members of staff did they have in this place? There must’ve been some of her shock on her face because Igraine rolled her eyes. ‘God, we must seem horribly spoilt to you.’
Given where and how they lived, she was finding them all s
urprisingly down to earth. ‘No, not at all. You can’t run a place like this yourself. It’s just taking a bit of getting used to.’ She took a deep breath. Wasn’t she in danger of shoving Igraine and her brothers in the kind of pigeonhole she hated? Any insecurities she was suffering from in comparing her home and background were her problem, not theirs. Reaching over, she placed a hand on Igraine’s arm. ‘Please, don’t feel like I’m judging you. I think this place is incredible. It must’ve been an amazing experience growing up here.’
Igraine smiled, the tension around her eyes softening. ‘We’re world class hide-and-seek champions, that’s for sure.’
They were laughing over that when Arthur walked in. ‘Morning, Lucie, morning, Iggy.’
Lord, if he looked appealing in the shadowy light of evening, he was devastating in the daylight. Curling the hand she held in her lap into a ball, Lucie dug her nails into her skin and willed herself to stop staring at him. ‘Morning.’ She managed a quick smile, then dragged her eyes away.
Apparently oblivious to Lucie’s discomfort, Igraine waved her half-eaten piece of toast towards her brother in greeting. ‘Hey, did you sleep well?’
‘Not bad, thanks.’ He moved to the sideboard to make himself a coffee. The thick muscles packed across his shoulders rolled beneath the cotton of his rugby shirt as he went through the motions of making the drink. Unable to stop herself, Lucie followed the line of his spine to where his waist tapered in slightly, then further down to the impressive thighs cased in faded denim. Everything about him was solid, physical. Vital. She recalled walking beside him the previous evening, the way he’d curled his big frame slightly as though trying not to over-power her, or as if his natural instinct was to protect her. What would it feel like to curl up against all the warm strength? To rest her head upon his shoulder and let him shield her from the outside world for just a few moments? Like being behind the thick walls of this castle, she supposed. Secure; sheltered.
Dangerous ground, Lucie, you’re treading upon such dangerous ground. Clearly being in the fantasy environment of the castle was doing funny things to her head. She needed to put an end to these ridiculous daydreams once and for all. Arthur wasn’t a hero. He was just a man. A very handsome man who lived in a freaking, bloody castle, but a man just the same. And for all the fabulous things surrounding him, he was still obsessed with money, just like her father had been. Yes, they had very different reasons for it, but he could only see beautiful things in terms of what they were worth to him. He’d never walk the halls of this place and be able to see it the way she did—not like Piers would. Yes. Piers. She needed to think about him, concentrate on a man who understood her, who appreciated the aesthetic over the monetary value of art. Coffee in hand, Arthur strolled towards the window to cast a frown outside. ‘This rain is never going to end, is it?’ He sighed, then raised the mug to his lips and Lucie found herself watching the way they pursed around the edge.
Think of Piers! The admonishment fell on deaf ears. She’d never found his mouth fascinating, not even when it’d been pressed against her own. It was all she could do to sit still and not thunk her head against the rich mahogany of the table.
‘That’s March in Derbyshire, for you,’ Igraine answered, briskly. ‘I’m taking the Land Rover over to Tumbledown Farm, check those fences.’
Arthur nodded but didn’t say anything, his back still to them. Lucie snuck a quick glance at her watch. It was almost eight-thirty, her self-imposed start time. Arthur had said something about holding their initial meeting in the library, so she could make her way there and begin reviewing the documents until he was ready. It would give her time to get her head straight her and shake off this ridiculous infatuation.
If only she had the first clue which of the maze of rooms on the ground floor was the library. She could excuse herself and go exploring, she supposed, but wouldn’t he find it weird if she upped and left? As she wrestled on the horns of her dilemma, the discreet door tucked in the far wall swung open and one of the women who’d served them at dinner appeared with a fresh rack of toast.
‘Lord, you half scared the life out of me!’ she exclaimed, clutching at her chest with her free hand. ‘I didn’t know anyone was down yet. Nobody rang.’ The last was said with a faint air of accusation.
‘Apologies, Vera, I’ve only just come down and hadn’t quite decided what I wanted for breakfast.’ Arthur turned to face inwards as he spoke but made no move to approach the table.
Vera placed the fresh toast on the table, swapping it for the couple of cold slices left in the other rack then straightened up. ‘No rush, sir. You take your time and give us a tinkle when you’re ready.’ Her kind blue eyes scanned over Lucie. ‘And what about you, Miss?’
Still not entirely comfortable with the idea of someone fetching and carrying for her, Lucie shook her head. ‘I’m happy with some toast, thank you.’
Vera didn’t seem convinced. ‘That won’t keep the wolf from the door. You sure I can’t get you a poached egg, maybe a slice or two of bacon? It’s proper local stuff, prepared and cured by the village butcher. Not like that supermarket rubbish, all preservatives and added water.’ She shuddered in horror.
Though tempted, Lucie wasn’t sure her stomach was up to it. In addition to her dilemma over Arthur, nerves over the task she faced ahead had been building since she’d opened her eyes. She cast a quick glance at her watch again, then up to see Vera was still waiting for a reply. ‘Another morning, when I have a bit more time…’
‘Speaking of which,’ Igraine said, pushing her chair back, ‘I need to get on the move. Vera, can you ask Betsy to rustle me up a packed lunch? I’ll be out and about for most of the day. Tell her I’ll come and collect it in a few minutes as I want to talk to her about the menu for Aunt Morgana’s birthday next month.’
‘Crikey, I’d forgotten all about that.’ Arthur finally stirred himself from the window. ‘I’ll have some scrambled eggs, Vera.’
‘Right you are, sir.’ With a nod, Vera left the room.
Strolling towards the table, Arthur assumed the seat at its head. Now was the time to excuse herself, to let him know she was going for a look around and that he could find her once he’d finished his breakfast. She hesitated a moment too long for it to feel natural and ended up blurting his name. ‘Arthur!’
Pausing in the act of shaking out a napkin to lay across his lap, Arthur glanced up. ‘Yes?’
Lucie cringed inwardly. If she didn’t get a grip, he’d know something was up. And if he found out she’d been mooning over him…God, it didn’t bear thinking about! He was still looking at her, that imperfect brow quirked in a quizzical arch, and she realised she’d been silent for too long. ‘Oh. I, err, I just wanted to say how much I was looking forward to getting started this morning.’
Arthur glanced at the napkin still in his hand. ‘Right. Did you want to start now? Sorry, if I’d known you were champing at the bit, I wouldn’t have ordered anything.’ He placed the crumpled linen beside his plate and looked ready to rise from his chair.
‘No!’ Lucie all but shouted, then bit her lip. ‘What I meant was there’s no rush. I’m keen to get started, of course I am, but not to the point where I’m expecting you to skip your breakfast. Take your time, really, it’s fine.’ It’s fine. God, they were going to chisel those bloody words upon her headstone.
Bemused, Arthur smoothed the napkin across his lap. ‘As long as you’re sure.’
‘Of course, you’re the boss, after all!’ Lucie’s laugh sounded so horribly forced to her own ears that a little bit of her curled up inside and died to hear it. Grabbing for her cup, she took a large mouthful of tea, then had to choke it down as she realised it had gone cold. With a grimace, she stood up. ‘I’ll make a fresh one,’ she muttered before scurrying to the relative safety of the sideboard.
To her relief, Arthur and Igraine chatted for a few moments about the arrangements for their aunt’s birthday celebration. Either they hadn’t noticed her off behavi
our, or they were both too polite to mention it. Reaching for a fresh cup, Lucie decided against any more caffeine and rummaged instead in the bowl for one of the camomile teabags she’d spotted the previous evening. Something to soothe her nerves would be just the ticket. So much for all her grand plans for a fresh start. ‘You can be anyone you want to be, Lucie Kennington,’ she mocked herself silently. Unless Arthur was in the room it seemed, and then all she was capable of being was an absolute ninny.
A light hand touched her shoulder, making her jump and sending the teaspoon skittering across the sideboard. ‘I’ll catch up with you at dinner,’ Igraine said. ‘You can tell me how you get on with everything, and maybe we can fix up a day for that ride we talked about.’
Lucie nodded, pleased that Igraine seemed as keen to be friends as she was. ‘That would be nice. Have a good day, and I hope the rain lets up soon.’
Igraine grinned, her cheek dimpling in the exact same spot her brother’s did. ‘Me too.’ And with a flick of the thick plait hanging over her shoulder, she was gone. With no other choice, Lucie resumed her seat at the dining table, resolving to keep her mouth shut and leave Arthur in peace to enjoy his breakfast. Once they were in the library and she could get on with what she was supposed to be doing, things would be easier.
Arthur it seemed, had other ideas.
CHAPTER NINE
Arthur watched Lucie closely as she resumed her place at the table. She seemed different this morning, a little bit skittish like she had been when she’d first arrived. She’d been much more relaxed before bed last night, and he’d been relieved at her suggestion for a fresh start, had resolved on his walk around the castle that he would lay all his cards on the table that morning and ensure she was fully apprised of the position the family was facing. He felt sure that once she understood the urgency and importance of what he hoped to achieve through appointing her, she would be more receptive to helping to curate the Arthurian collection alongside everything else. Arthur sighed. At least she and Iggy had been getting on well. ‘I heard my sister mention something about the two of you going out. Do you get much opportunity to ride in London?’
The Bluebell Castle Collection Page 10