The Duke's Daughter (8 page)

‘So, you do live here?’

A shiver coursed down Lucy’s spine as she and Avery had their second encounter in under a week at Hatchards bookshop.

She looked up from where she knelt on the floor, next to the bottom shelf. The best shelf in the entire shop, as far as she was concerned. It was where they kept the gory, pirate-themed books, out of the direct view of delicate ladies.

‘Why, Mr Fox, don’t tell me you have already finished reading the book you purchased on Monday?’

‘Guilty as charged,’ he replied.

As she stood, their gazes met and a second, more powerful thrill heated her body.

The signs of his having successfully avoided his valet this morning showed in his ruffled hair and hint of a beard. She congratulated herself on having given up on her plans to make him into a copy of her brothers.

I hope never to see you fully as a
ton
gentleman. You are far too interesting a man as you are.

Something about his manner of dress made him alluring. He dressed more simply than most other men of the
ton
, but in doing so, he allowed his natural, charming self to shine.

She quickly closed the book she held in her free hand and put it absent-mindedly back on the shelf.

Taking in his warm smile and sun-kissed complexion, she decided he would make an excellent pirate. She pictured him clad only in a white linen shirt, skin-tight fawn breeches and boots. Her imaginary hero would leap from his ship and spirit her away to sail the seven seas together. Forever.

‘Lady Lucy?’

‘What?’

He laughed.

‘Whatever is in that book has certainly caught your imagination. I’m surprised you are not adding it to your purchases.’

She looked at the small pile of books which sat next to her lace-covered reticule on a nearby table. Her maid stood close by, doing her very best impression of being interested in a book on shipping tides.

‘I think perhaps I have enough books. My allowance will only stretch so far,’ she replied.

His face lit up and before she knew what was happening, he had reached down and retrieved the pirate book from the shelves. He examined the cover, flicked open the first page and began to read.

She exchanged a look of desperation with her maid Rose, who, having lost interest in her own book, was taking a keen interest in her mistress’s gentleman friend. Her maid nodded her approval.

‘Well! Not the sort of thing I would have thought suitable for a young lady,’ he said.

Lucy noted the laughter at the edge of his voice. She grinned as she found herself powerless in the face of his infectious humour.

‘You have caught me out, Mr Fox. If my father knew I was considering buying it, he would forbid me from coming here again. I . . .’ She leaned in closer and whispered. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I am ashamed to say that I
do
buy them, and have one of the footmen smuggle them in under his jacket.’

Avery closed the book and tucked it under his arm.

‘Considering it is a book on pirates, smuggling seems a very apt way for it to find its way into your home.’

He picked up the rest of Lucy’s purchases and skilfully balanced them in the palm of his hand. She motioned to take the other book he had tucked under his left arm, but he shook his head.

Reaching the shop counter, Lucy paid for her books. As the shopkeeper’s assistant wrapped them in paper, Avery handed over the pirate book.

‘Oh, and those as well. I plan to do a lot of reading,’ he said, pointing to a pile of books stacked neatly to one side of the counter. Lucy’s eyebrows lifted and a low whistle escaped her lips. Seven books was a good haul. When she peered over the counter at the topmost book, Avery’s look turned grim.

‘A double volume of recollections from the battlefield at Waterloo,’ he said.

She frowned. How odd that he would want to read about an event at which he had been personally present.

As Avery signed for the books on Lord Langham’s account, Lucy silently speculated about the terrible scars Avery hid from the world. What would happen if she did end up marrying him? Would he always hide them from her? How unsightly could they be?

He picked up the pirate book and handed it to her.

‘A small gift of thanks for all that you have done for me, though if you do get caught with it, I shall have to deny all knowledge of its existence,’ he said.

Lucy laughed.

Avery picked up his packages.

‘Well, I suppose this is the last time either of us will be visiting the bookshop for a while. Pity. Though I am looking forward to the dinner at Strathmore House tonight. It was very generous of your father to invite me.’

Lucy screwed up her nose.

‘I thought you said you planned to do a lot of reading. It wouldn’t surprise me if you manage to get through all those books in the space of a week and then find yourself back here,’ she replied.

‘I am headed to Hampshire the day after tomorrow; I plan to take these with me,’ Avery replied.

Hampshire?

‘Why are you going to Hampshire?’ she asked.

As she prayed Avery knew someone in Hampshire from his soldiering days, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

‘A week-long house party at Viscount Owen’s estate. I wasn’t that bothered about attending, but Lord Langham said it would do me good to get to know some people away from the restrictions of London’s formal events. He wants me to make some new friends before he takes me up to Langham Hall. What sort of party lasts a week is beyond me, so I thought it prudent to stock up on some reading material.’

Lucy felt faint. She had not planned on others making such a bold move for Avery’s time. Lord and Lady Owen had not one but two unwed daughters. No doubt they had marked the future earl out as a possible husband. The Owens had made the decisive move to cut Avery from the herd.

While Lucy was off wandering the mountains and valleys of Scotland, the two young Owen sisters would be doing everything they possibly could to ensure one of them was the next Countess Langham. If Avery had any sense of the potential danger he faced, he hid it well.

‘I see; how lovely. And who else will be in attendance?’ she replied. The more she knew about her opponents, the better.

‘I’m not certain. I don’t actually know many people. Viscount Owen was rather vague about the details when he extended the invitation,’ he replied.

I bet he was.

Lord and Lady Owen were playing a smart game. They were not going to show their hand too early. If Avery was typical of most
ton
gentlemen, marriage was something which suddenly happened to them. One day they were a bachelor, the next they woke up with a bride sleeping next to them.

A Strathmore House footman took Lucy’s package and stepped back from the counter. She stared at the wrapped books. It was time to leave.

‘I just hope my meagre social skills are up to the task of a whole week at a stranger’s house, otherwise I could be coming back to London earlier than expected,’ Avery said.

Lucy’s mouth went dry. By assisting Avery with learning the correct manner of behaviour, had she unwittingly polished him up and handed him to another?

All her careful plans for playing a long innings crumbled before her eyes. After tonight it would be many months before they saw one another again.

Fool.

‘I am sure you will pass muster,’ she replied.

‘Well, until tonight, Lady Lucy,’ Avery said and gave her a bow.

Oh, why did I have to teach you to be a gentleman? I should have left you as you were.

‘Yes; until tonight.’

He escorted her to her carriage and they parted with a friendly smile. As the carriage pulled away and into the street, Lucy sat staring out the window, watching as Avery walked down Piccadilly with his books. And her heart.

Disappointment and anguish swirled through her mind. What on earth was she to do?

‘We must get you home soon so you can be ready for this evening, Lady Lucy,’ her maid ventured.

With her gaze still fixed on Avery’s diminishing figure, a soft smile crept to Lucy’s lips. She still had tonight. A whole evening in which she could show him how truly suited they were to one another.

She sat back in the seat and looked at her maid. Her new gold silk gown had been bought on the proviso she keep it for special occasions only. What better purpose could there be than securing the heart of her future husband?

‘I think I’ll wear my new gown tonight. But no tiara, just a simple hairstyle. What do you think?’

Rose straightened in her seat and nodded sagely.

‘The gown and your hair should be enough,’ she replied.

‘I thought you said this was going to be a small, private affair,’ Avery noted as he stepped into the front entrance of Strathmore House.

It was a milling throng of well-dressed people.

David Radley chuckled. ‘For our family, this is a small gathering. You saw the crush that was Clarice’s and my wedding ball. I wouldn’t be surprised if when Lucy eventually marries, my parents try to top that number.’

The elegance of Langham House paled into insignificance against the majestic size of the Radley family residence. To one side of the main entrance were not one but two enormous ballrooms. Avery recalled the ornate ceiling of the summer ballroom, with its array of picture panels depicting Aesop’s fables, from his previous visit for David and Clarice’s wedding ball. With his natural eye for art, he appreciated the intricate paintings and their dazzling colour palette.

‘Amazing,’ Avery said.

‘It doesn’t quite match Rubens’ painting on the Banqueting House ceiling in Whitehall, but we like it,’ David replied.

He took a glass of champagne from a tray held by a nearby footman and handed it to Avery.

‘Try to enjoy yourself tonight. You are among family and friends; no one will think poorly of you if you allow yourself to relax.’

Relax?

Avery’s mouth was as dry as the morning after a heavy night of drinking. The palms of his hands, hidden by his evening gloves, were pooled in sweat.

After a pleasant hour or so spent with David, Clarice and some other members of the Radley family, Avery excused himself. He couldn’t find fault with Lord Strathmore, his family or his guests. They were all very interesting people and they had welcomed him as if he were one of their own.

But as he made his way outside into the dim light of the garden, away from the terrace doors, he knew he would never truly be one of them. He began to dread the forthcoming week at Lord Owen’s Hampshire estate.

‘I should have said no,’ he muttered to himself.

His new clothes were cut from the finest cloth; his pure white cravat expertly tied by the valet Lord Langham had insisted he take into his service. Catching his reflection in the glass of the large terrace doors, he stopped.

The clean-shaven, well-groomed man who stared back at him was a stranger. Only his deep green eyes, half hidden in the poor light, reminded him of who he was. As well turned out as he was in his fine clothes, he still felt like a first-class fraud.

There were times he wanted to escape this new life. Unbeknown to the Langham family, he had indeed packed his old travel bag several times and made to leave the house in Mill Street. But every time something made him stop. Every time he thought of the pain Thaxter had caused the Langham family, the resulting guilt made him put the old bag back into the wardrobe and leave it there.

He snorted. How ironic was it that he was now trapped in this life of wealth and privilege because of his villain of a brother?

Adding to his discomfort this evening was the inexplicable absence of Lucy. She had not been at the pre-dinner drinks and by the end of the second course at dinner he had been forced to accept she was not coming.

No one else in her immediate family made mention of her absence and he took this to mean the matter was not open to discussion. She had appeared well when they met earlier that day in the bookshop, but women were still largely a mystery to him.

The first two courses were an interesting proposition. No sooner had he congratulated himself for successfully navigating the soup than a new challenge arrived. Periwinkles.

He looked down at his plate and his heart sank. Being from a fishing village, he had spent many hours picking the little shells off the rocks and eating their delicious contents.

He gave a sideways glance to the other guests. They all had special forks in their hands and were easily extracting the meat from the shells.

‘Not partial to periwinkles, Fox?’ Alex Radley asked.

Avery hesitated. If he told the Marquess of Brooke the truth – that he had only ever used a pin and sucked the periwinkle from the shell – would that confirm his status as a fortunate upstart? An uncouth lad from Yorkshire?

‘No; I had a bad experience with some when I was younger and have not been able to touch them since,’ he lied.

Rather than sitting and staring at the untouched plate, he excused himself from the table, claiming the need for a spot of night air.

As he walked through the massive adjoining ballroom and headed out through the doors, he silently berated himself. Was it even polite for him to leave the table when there were ladies present?

How many social
faux pas
would he commit tonight and not even be aware of them? And where the devil was Lucy, his touchstone? He felt the lack of her presence as a dull throb in the back of his head.

As soon as he got clear of the terrace, he wandered down to a small rose arbour and took a seat. He pulled out a cheroot, lit it and sat back, drawing deeply on the tobacco, savouring the solitude. The high stone wall of the garden shut out any ambient noise from the street, creating an oasis of silent calm.

‘I wish I could stay out here all night,’ he said.

‘But that wouldn’t be very sociable,’ a soft, feminine voice replied.

Lucy.

He rose quickly from the seat and threw down his cheroot, twisting it into the stone pavement with his boot. A huge sense of relief coursed unexpectedly through him. Now that she was here, the awareness of how keenly he had missed her earlier shocked him.