All her fondness for him, based on respect and trust, began to crumble away, to be replaced by indignation. He had used her, taken her for a fool. Did he love her? She no longer cared if he did or not, but the cold tendrils of anger began to wind themselves around her heart. This was calculated deception, cold blooded plotting on his part.
“I wonder if he had me in mind all along?”
She heard Lord Royston sigh. “I don’t think so. It was well known in the clubs he was hanging out for a wife, but he spread his interests so widely there was a book running on which one would be the recipient of his hand.”
“Did you bet on me?” She turned to him, mouth twisted in self deprecation, but her bitterness was for herself.
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t bet on anyone. But you were in the front running from the start.”
“Oh, God.” She stared back at the papers. “There’s no doubt?”
“None at all.”
Not for a moment did she consider this was anything but the truth. If Mr. Chumleigh hadn’t been involved, she might have had her doubts, but he was not such a fool as to risk his reputation and his clientele on such a foolish effort to deceive her.
“What will you do?” Lord Royston asked her.
Her answer was instant. “Cry off of course.” With a pang she thought of his attentions to her which made her feel so protected, so loved.
She must have betrayed some of what she felt, because Lord Wenlock put his hand out and gently covered her own where it lay on the table. She looked up and tried a small smile. “Thank you.” Then she turned to Lord Royston. She knew what was due. “And thank you too. I don’t know how you feel about this, but I appreciate your efforts in making me see. I could have lost everything.” She didn’t just mean her fortune.
He smiled slightly, and a flash of understanding passed between them, the first for years. “I had to try. Your mother ignored Mr. Chumleigh’s efforts to contact her, so he turned to me. I had no luck with her ladyship either, but I had to try to see if you would talk to him.”
“I appreciate it,” she said gravely, and looked at him properly. Perhaps the shock of this terrible discovery heightened her awareness, but the antagonism fell away, and she remembered the boy she had played with and saw the man he had become. He wasn’t her enemy at all. He had never mentioned her fortune or marrying her for it because he didn’t want it. “Have I wronged you?”
He smiled. “Maybe. But with Bernard constantly harping on about your fortune, and your mother’s constant antagonism to me you can hardly be blamed for it.” He paused at the mention of his dead brother. “Believe me, Lucy, I don’t desire your fortune. Not as Bernard did. Your father was very fair; he left the estate in good heart. I have more than I need, more than I ever expected to have.”
Some cynicism still remained. Who wouldn’t want her fortune? But she could believe that he wasn’t as eaten up by her money as some of her suitors had been. And now, she could believe he had her interests at heart. Of course, he wouldn’t want to see such a fortune dissipated, but now she thought afresh, she realised he had never made an extraordinary push to get it.
Tentatively, she smiled at Lord Royston. He smiled back, warmly. “Truly, Lucy, I value your friendship more than I do your money.”
She didn’t know whether she should believe him, but she would always be grateful to him for his actions today. “It was very good of you to persist. You could have left me to my fate.”
He shook his head. “I’ve heard rumours about Sir Geoffrey, and not just his money. This difficulty is of recent date, but
- delicacy doesn’t permit me to say what I’ve heard.”
This, naturally, made Lucy more agog. “What have you heard?” she demanded, just as if she was the imperious schoolgirl once again, demanding he climb an apple tree for her.
She thought he remembered it too, since he laughed a little, despite the nature of the conversation. “Truly I should not say.”
“He’s had mistresses?” She shrugged. “All men have had mistresses.”
He drew back a little. “He doesn’t keep them for long. And that, Lucy, is as far as I’m prepared to go.” She could see he meant it by the firm line of his mouth, but determined to find out more. Perhaps the scandal-sheets would have something. She didn’t usually read such rags, but she might make an exception this time.
Mutely she turned to Lord Wenlock, but he shook his head. “Suffice it to say that I, too, am glad you’ve decided to break it off.”
“Is this – whatever - is it widely known?”
“It’s not discussed a great deal,” Lord Wenlock replied. “Just that - most people seem to know it.”
“Men you mean.” Her mouth curled in disgust.
“Yes,” said his lordship, but he wouldn’t say any more either. Perhaps Mr. Chumleigh would tell her, Lucy thought, but not today, with these two prudes present. She would have to come back sometime soon, and she would ask him then.
Putting the thought to the back of her mind to be pondered on later, she turned back to the papers in front of her and studied them one last time before she drew them together and gave them to Mr. Chumleigh to put with the others. “There’s no mistake?”
“None at all.”
“And it couldn’t be his steward, or another employee?”
“It seems that some of the entries are in his own handwriting. And there are some notes, written by Sir Geoffrey, pertaining to the matter.” Lucy didn’t ask how Mr. Chumleigh got those notes. He had his methods. She did know he was totally reliable.
She got to her feet and reached for her bonnet. The gentlemen followed. “I’ll tell them before dinner that I cannot marry him. Geoffrey is the only guest tonight. That way my mother will hear at the same time.”
Lord Royston took Lucy home in his carriage but very little was said on the return journey. She let him hand her into the carriage without a qualm, knowing she had nothing to fear from him now.
She sat in silence for a while, gripping her hands tightly together, and mentally said goodbye to the sweet dreams of the past week or so. But she didn’t cry. That might come later, but not here.
Finally she turned to look at his lordship, who was watching her with concern in his eyes. “Do you think this is why Geoffrey warned me against you?”
He nodded. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he is jealous of you. He might care for you, Lucy, but he is not the man you have imagined him to be, the man he displays in public. Be careful.”
She agreed, but couldn’t see how Sir Geoffrey could have any power over her, once she had broken off her connection with him. “I hope it doesn’t create too much scandal.”
“I think,” said Philip, a militant gleam in his eye, “I can persuade him to take it like a gentleman and not make a fuss.” Lucy didn’t doubt it.
At the end of the journey she let him take her hand and kiss it, and hand her down himself. She wouldn’t have done that an hour or two before. With a friendly smile she hurried indoors, followed by her hulking bodyguard and went straight upstairs to change for dinner.
Lucy decided on a rich blue that evening. She wanted to appear in control, stately, not a frivolous girl, and so she tried to dress the part. Her only jewellery was a sapphire pendant, suspended by a fine gold chain, and a pair of small sapphire studs for her ears. She drew on her long evening gloves and studied herself in the mirror. Her gown suited her dark hair and brought out the brilliance of her eyes. It was a rich, heavy satin, glowing dully in the light of the fire and the candlelight. It wasn’t quite dark outside, but it had been a damp March, so the lights had been set early.
When she went downstairs her fiancé was waiting for her, but her mother and aunt weren’t down yet. He moved to take her in his arms but she moved a little to the side, so she wasn’t facing him, and her kiss wasn’t a lingering one. This would be more difficult than she had thought.
“Why what is it my dear?” A look of perturbation crossed his handsome face. “Is there something amiss?”
She moved away from him, towards the fire. “Maybe.”
“Are you feeling quite well?” His look of concern would have touched her yesterday.
“Quite well,” she assured him in a firm voice.
To her relief her mother came in, closely followed, as ever, by Aunt Honoria. She smiled broadly at her future son in law and gave him both her hands, which he kissed before he released them. Lucy watched the performance cynically. She had heard the expression “the scales fell from her eyes” but she had never experienced it before. How could she have let herself be borne away by a handsome face, a powerful body? If she had any vestiges of feeling for him they were of wonder that anyone could set out to deceive their fellow beings so thoroughly. Her emotions were such that she almost wanted to defer the scene that would inevitably come, but she knew if she didn’t face it now, she would be tempted to procrastinate.
Her mother began to make small talk with Sir Geoffrey, and Lucy used the time to work out how she could start the tricky topic. Geoffrey, after one quizzical look at his betrothed, went to sit next to her ladyship, while Aunt Honoria came to sit next to her niece. “Did you bring any books home today, Lucy?” she asked mildly. Lucy at once felt guilty. Her aunt loved to read, and preferred the lighter kind of material available. She had few enough pleasures of her own. Most of her day was spent pandering to Lady Royston’s needs and desires. The books were her chance for solitary pleasure, and Lucy felt sorry she had deprived her aunt of it. “I’m sorry, Aunt Honoria, I didn’t get any. I was distracted - something else came up.”
Aunt Honoria’s thick brows went up in query, but she didn’t ask anything else.
Lady Royston was pursuing the subject of mutual acquaintances with Sir Geoffrey and was charmed to discover she had several things in common with the baronet’s (now sadly deceased) mother. “How strange we did not meet.” she was saying. “I too attended Miss Turlington’s seminary in
Bath
for a short time. What year was she there?”
“In about ’80, I believe,” Sir Geoffrey replied after a moment’s thought.
“Why, so was I.” Lady Royston cried. “How delightful. But she must have been just a little older than me, I fancy, otherwise we would have been bound to meet. Of course, I met her later when we were both out, and yes - I think I could give her a year or two. Such a shame she isn’t here to see our families conjoined. The Sanders’s are an old family, I think?” she knew very well; it had formed part of her enquiries.
“Indeed, we’ve been in that part of Hertfordshire for seven hundred years now. The house is very ancient, but my grandfather had it remodelled, so it has a very modern aspect from the outside.” He turned to look at Lucy. “I hope you will learn to love it as much as I do.” He gave her one of his charming smiles and without thinking, she smiled back.
Brought to a new awareness of her purpose she stared at him for a moment until a gentle, “Lucy.” from her side recalled her to her decision.
It was time. She took a deep breath. “I do not think it will be possible to continue our engagement, Geoffrey. I’m very sorry.”
She saw the blackness descend on to his face; a frown creased his brow. The silence fell heavily between them. “What do you mean?” Lucy heard menace in his voice.
“Certain things have come to my notice,” she explained, careful to keep perfectly still. “In the light of them I think it may be inadvisable to continue.”
Her mother sat bolt upright by his side, her mouth a perfect ‘o’ of astonishment. Closing it, she swallowed, and demanded. “If there was anything to be found, I would have found it. I’m surprised at you, Lucy. Can this be capriciousness?”
“No, Mama.” She gripped the sticks of her closed fan tightly, trying to find support from somewhere. “I met Lord Wenlock in Hookham’s this afternoon, and he took me to see Mr. Chumleigh. Lord Royston was there.”
“My God.” Sir Geoffrey exclaimed in sudden fury. “Didn’t I tell you to keep away from him? You were lucky to escape with your life.”
“Lucy what do you mean by this?” her mother demanded, her voice rising in anger. “How could you go against my word in such a way? And those two men? Your reputation.” She took a deep breath in preparation for what her daughter could see would be a tirade, and so Lucy took the chance to speak.
“It seems Sir Geoffrey has less to his name than he led us to believe - “ she began, but she was cut short by Lady Royston’s onslaught.
“You would believe the word of a Cit over the word of a gentleman? I thought I had brought you up better than that, Lucy. You went with these men - men who may want to encompass your early demise - to an address in the City.”
“I took Greene,” she protested, but her mother swept this aside with one imperious wave of her hand. Her eyes blazed with fury. “He has orders to protect you against such assaults and he will be dealt with. This is more than a mother can be expected to bear. How could you be so stupid, so blind to the proprieties, so unaware of your own safety?”
“They mean me no harm –“
“I think Sir Geoffrey has proved that they do. Why anything could have happened. Lord Royston could be standing in this room now, gloating over his increased fortune. Do you know how many bodies they find in the
Thames
every year? Do you?”
Lucy decided to let her mother say what she needed to. She would say it anyway. “No, Mama.”