The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda (10 page)

As she’d sat there in bed, her slim figure propped slightly up against her pillow and her red hair fanned out behind her, she’d looked as innocent as a newborn babe. When it came to the art of deception, William knew that he had met his match, yet it made him only more determined to discover the truth about her.

Crossing the floor with heavy steps, he shrugged out of his jacket, undid his cravat, and began rolling up his shirt sleeves. He needed a drink to calm his mood. Truth was, he’d never been more confused in all his life. Considering how much he liked having a situation under his command, he hated feeling as though he’d lost all control of his own life. He thought of Lucy. Nobody had ever confounded him more, and while he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, he also felt it prudent to tread with caution. He wasn’t about to risk having his heart broken. He scoffed at the notion, no chance of that happening as long as he didn’t love her. And the way things were between them right now, it seemed unlikely that he ever would.

Forcing himself to ignore the ache in his chest, he went to the tray that always sat upon his dresser and reached for the crystal carafe that beckoned. He’d just curled his fingers around the neck of it when a loud clatter reached his ears—it had come from Lucy’s room.

Without pause, he ran across to the door and yanked it open, his eyes roaming the darkness that greeted him. “Lucy?”

“I’m quite all right,” she replied. She sounded moderately embarrassed if he wasn’t mistaken. “Sort of, at least.”

Sort of?

Returning to his own room momentarily, he grabbed an oil lamp and marched back into Lucy’s room, instantly catching his breath. “What on earth happened?” he asked, making a stoic attempt at keeping his voice level. It was damn near impossible though when his wife was standing there before him in nothing but her nightgown—her very translucent nightgown. He swallowed hard and tried to focus, but the more he did, the more aware he became of the slow heat that slid over him before settling in his groin, stirring him more vigorously than ever before.

Her body was that of a goddess—slim hips below a curvy waistline and above that…his mouth grew dry and he swallowed again. Heaven help him if those weren’t the sort of breasts that every man fantasized about—plump and perky as they strutted against the flimsy fabric in a seemingly eager attempt to escape. Well, there was a part of him that was growing more and more eager for escape by the second. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“I was trying to go back to sleep but felt restless, so I thought I’d go for a midnight stroll in the garden, but when I tried to find my dressing gown and shawl, I stubbed my toe against the table over there, knocking over the vase.”

“You were planning to go for a walk in the garden, dressed in nothing but your dressing gown? Did it occur to you that any number of our guests could have happened upon you? It would have been highly inappropriate to say the least.”

“Everyone’s fast asleep, William…”

“We’re not.” If he didn’t want her to as much as waltz with one of his friends, did she really imagine that he might be all right with one of them seeing her in a state of deshabille?

“It’s what I’ve done in the past whenever I can’t sleep.”

“Even in winter?” He couldn’t imagine that she was that irresponsible, but he had to ask all the same.

“Of course not.” She seemed annoyed by the question. “When it was too cold to go outside, I’d merely roam the house.”

“Ah.” He studied her for a moment, and felt another wave of heat crash over him. “You’re not going anywhere dressed like that, not even if you’re covered up by your dressing gown. If you’d like something to calm your nerves and lull you to sleep, however, I will be happy to offer you a glass of excellent brandy as well as my charmingly good company.” He saw that her lips had begun to twitch in response to what he’d said. A moment later, she actually laughed, and when she did, it was as if her whole face lit up. William felt his heart swell with inexplicable pleasure.

“Very well then,” she acquiesced, “but if you don’t live up to your claim, I shall be thoroughly displeased.”

William found himself smiling as he waved her through to his bedroom. He’d always hoped for a wife with a sense of humor and couldn’t help but wonder what other charming attributes Lucy might possess. She’d apparently forgotten all about her dressing gown now that she wouldn’t be venturing outside, and as hard as he tried to refrain from ogling her, he simply couldn’t keep his eyes from taking the occasional peak at her breasts. It clearly hadn’t occurred to her that her nightgown might be rather see-through, for if it had he very much doubted that she’d be acting quite so casually. “Have a seat,” he offered as he headed over to his dresser and filled an extra glass with brandy. He took a deep breath and then forced the air back out again before turning back to face her, closing the distance between them with a few swift steps.

Once seated comfortably, his legs firmly crossed in the hopes of concealing any further attraction he might feel for her, he raised his glass to hers. “To new beginnings,” he said as their two glasses clinked together.

She smiled in response—a genuine smile, meant only for him, and it filled his heart with hope. “To new beginnings.” She hesitated a moment after taking a sip, then said, “I’m sorry about earlier, William. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much in front of your friends, but when you insinuated that marriage was such a terrible thing to subject oneself to…I have to admit that it hurt.”

He stared at her in befuddlement. He’d thought she would ignore the issue entirely and pretend it never happened; he certainly hadn’t expected an explanation or an apology, and while he hadn’t understood her actions at the time, he felt like a complete cad now that he did. “I should be the one apologizing, Lucy. I only meant that Andrew and Charles are hoping to maintain their state of bachelorhood. It wasn’t a jibe directed at you.”

“I know that now.” She let out a bit of a shaky sigh and offered him a shy smile. “You know, I actually think you’re a rather wonderful man, when you’re not so busy hating me—quite dashing too.”

William grinned. Oh she did, did she? “You’re not so bad yourself, as far as accidental brides go.” She immediately smiled. “And I don’t hate you, Lucy. I just don’t like having important decisions in my life, like marriage for instance, decided by someone else. But everyone seems quite determined to sing your praises, so I dare say I’ve become a bit eager myself to discover what you’re really like.” And with a little more effort at gallantry on his part, he hoped she might soon grant him the opportunity to sample what she was presently keeping on such prominent display.

C
HAPTER
T
EN

W
hen Lucy awoke the following morning, she took more care than usual in getting dressed. Her amicable conversation with William the night before had given her a sense of comfortable companionship, renewing her hope that he might still warm to her—especially if she allowed herself to open up a little. With this in mind, she had confided in him her reason for insisting they marry at Grosvenor Chapel. Her parents had married there, and with both of them gone from her life, she’d hoped to bring them a little bit closer in spirit. William had held silent as she’d spoken, his eyes growing soft with sympathy. He hadn’t said much in response—just a simple, “I’m sorry.”

Donning a pale green muslin gown, Lucy asked her maid to fetch her cream-colored shawl, for although it promised to be a warm day, she didn’t want to catch a chill if she happened to find herself in the shade.

Regarding her appearance with a critical eye, she wondered if William might find her appealing. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of it, and she secretly hoped that he would. It had never before occurred to her to try to win a man’s affection, and she’d certainly never considered that she’d have to make a deliberate effort to do so with her own husband. He had every reason to be annoyed with her, yet last night it was almost as if he’d enjoyed her company.

Consequently, she’d spent a great deal of time later on in her bed, before falling asleep, considering how to tell William about her past. She wanted to trust him, but she also knew that men often felt they knew best when it came to matters of danger and gravity. If he knew what her real motivation was for wanting to go to Constantinople, she feared he’d insist that she remain at home where she’d be safe and try to put the entire matter behind her. Or, even worse, word would get out that the Earl of Hampstead’s daughter had resurfaced, and the man who’d killed her parents would seek her out and kill her too.

She felt her hands begin to shake at the thought of it. No, she couldn’t continue to live in such fear, forever looking over her shoulder. Besides, she needed the closure that the death of the assassin would offer. She only hoped that William wouldn’t be too furious once he discovered that she’d chosen to deceive him even further. Of course, there was still the possibility that he’d have their marriage annulled when he learned the truth, for as he’d said, fraud would make for a valid reason, and she
had
lied about her family name. It wasn’t Blackwell but rather Etheredge.

With a heavy sigh, she took one last glance at her own reflection to ascertain that she looked her best and then grabbed her straw bonnet and headed for the door.

“Would you care for a cup of tea?” Lady Lindhurst asked as Lucy took her seat at the table in the dining room. Only the women remained, the men having apparently finished their meal already and departed for the stables.

“Yes, thank you,” Lucy replied, raising her cup and allowing William’s aunt to pour.

“I must say that you do look particularly lovely today.”

The comment came from Alexandra and held no sense of mockery or sarcasm to it as Lucy might have expected a compliment from her to do. Instead, it seemed as if she’d given her honest opinion, which led Lucy to believe that William must have had a word with her. It unnerved her that Alexandra had so bluntly addressed the issue of her marriage to William the previous evening, but if she wished to make an attempt at amends, then it would be rather badly done on Lucy’s part to ignore the olive branch she’d just been handed, so she hastily shot her sister-in-law a smile. “As do you. I especially love that shade of blue on you. It goes so well with your complexion and really brings out the color of your eyes.”

“And I do so adore the color of your hair,” Mary added from the other end of the table, where she’d been advising Lady Amanda and Lady Hyacinth about the uses of a variety of different herbs. “It’s absolutely stunning! Has it always been so vibrant?”

“I believe so,” Lucy murmured as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She appreciated how kind they were being, but all of the attention was making her feel more than a little bit uncomfortable. Needing to occupy herself with something so she didn’t feel too much like an artifact on display, she took a sip of her tea.

“And, may I add,” Lady Lindhurst remarked as she nudged the bread basket, cheese, and jam in Lucy’s direction, “few men are able to resist a striking redhead, you know.”

“Aunt V, I hardly think…” Alexandra protested, clearly attempting to prevent her aunt from making any inappropriate comments.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Lady Lindhurst exclaimed, to which the younger women at the table stilled so as to give the countess their complete and undivided attention, expectantly hanging on her every word, “anyone with a pair of eyes in their head can see how tightly wound Lucy is, not to mention how terse William has become. I dare say that their marriage is already under a tremendous amount of strain, so it really wouldn’t hurt for Lucy here to try and charm the breeches off her husband.”

Miss Scott instantly burst out laughing but quickly stifled it by slapping a hand over her mouth. Everyone else looked marginally appalled, except for Lucy who felt as though she must have paled to such a degree that she feared she might fade away altogether.

“What?” Lady Lindhurst asked unblinkingly.

“Please excuse her bluntness, Lucy,” Alexandra said. “She does mean well, but as you can see, she’s still a little rough around the edges. Indeed, it can be quite a challenge to bring her out into polite society.”

Lucy gaped. She simply couldn’t believe that Alexandra had just said such a thing about a peeress, regardless of their blood ties, and in her presence no less. She knew by now that her sister-in-law was a bit…
different
from other young ladies, but really this was incomprehensible. She rather expected Lady Lindhurst to rise from the table and walk away in disgust, but instead she just snorted and said, “You’re one to talk.”

Alexandra merely cast a disapproving glance toward her aunt, as if hoping to stop any further comment from leaving the older woman’s lips. She then returned her attention to Lucy. “Truth be told, we’ve all been hard on you for the manner in which your marriage to William came about, but in all fairness, this is between you and him. Still, I do believe that it will be much easier on both of you if you make an effort to get along.”

Lucy stared back at her. Was she seriously receiving marital advice from the same woman who’d threatened to uncover her devious agenda the last time they’d spoken? She wondered how long it might take for her to grow accustomed to the many eccentricities that the Summersbys had to offer. The women, in particular, were an unusual breed.

That aside, she had to agree with Alexandra’s suggestion, for she’d come to the same conclusion herself and had to admit that it did hold a great deal of appeal. A soft shiver tickled her spine. She was attracted to William. It would be pointless denying it, and since they
were
married…If his aunt had noted that their relationship seemed strained, then Lord only knew what the servants might be discussing below stairs. As much as it frightened her, she knew she’d have to make an effort to get them back on a smoother path, if for no other reason than to remove all speculation. For, she concluded, as long as she and William appeared to be happy together, the less likely it would be for others to question her motives for marrying him. Of course, there was much more to it than that—her growing appreciation of the man for one thing.