The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda (11 page)

“Thank you,” she told Alexandra. “I do believe that’s very sound advice. I shall do my best to make him happy.”

“Do that, and I may not have to challenge you to a duel after all,” Alexandra remarked. Her eyes were deadly serious.

Lucy all but choked on the piece of bread she’d just bitten into. “A duel?”

Mary and Lady Lindhurst both rolled their eyes. “Must you always resort to violence?” the viscountess asked as she turned to Lucy. “She’s famous for throwing down the gauntlet at the slightest provocation.”

Alexandra started laughing. “I was joking, Aunt V. Must you always take me so seriously?” She turned her eyes on Lucy. “Treat him well, and you and I might one day be friends, but remember, Lucy, I protect those I love.”

So do I.

The words, however, never left Lucy’s lips. Instead, she merely nodded, understanding that if Alexandra had been in her shoes, she would probably have acted in much the same way.

A
fter breakfast the ladies decided to take a stroll in the gardens. Walking alongside Alexandra, Mary, and Lady Lindhurst while the unattached ladies trailed behind them (undoubtedly discussing the bachelors present, if their occasional snickers were any indication), Lucy allowed her guard to slip enough to let her true personality shine. She’d never really had any friends. Truth was, in Constantinople she’d lived a secluded existence under her parents’ protection, and after returning to England, her life at Ridgewood Estate had been equally devoid of companionship, albeit for an entirely different reason. Now, listening to the amicable verbal exchange of these women who were so familiar with one another, she felt a sense of longing pulling at her soul. This was what she wanted—friends, family, and love. She smiled as Mary listened to parenting advice from Alexandra.

“How old is Vanessa now?” she asked the minute a pause arose in the conversation.

“She’ll be three months in a couple of weeks,” Mary said, smiling the satisfied smile of a woman who’d brought a child into the world. “It’s incredible how easily someone so small can command an entire household. You should have seen my husband when he held her for the very first time. Although he’ll deny it, he was really quite emotional.”

“So was Michael when both Richard and Claire were born,” Alexandra said. “These men…they erect walls of steel around their hearts and put on a grave mask to conceal what they’re truly thinking, yet a small, dimply chuckle from their babes will disarm them immediately. And if their child happens to fall ill or some other threat presents itself? Lord help me but not even the chains of Prometheus would be able to keep them at bay.”

Lucy was stunned. They all seemed so tough and unapproachable, these men. In truth, Lord Summersby and his brother both made her feel uneasy with their serious expressions and scowls. Was William perhaps the same, she wondered—hard on the outside with an underlying thread of sensitivity? He’d already showed himself to be concerned and considerate toward her, but she now wondered if there wasn’t a softer spot somewhere deep down inside of him, a place he kept protected. The thought of uncovering it made her own heart beat a little faster.

“In answer to the question you’re not asking,” Alexandra continued, sending Lucy a lopsided smirk, “my brother’s no different, though developing closeness might be difficult in light of everything that you’ve done. Your actions don’t exactly inspire trust, you know. However, I dare say it’s not impossible for the two of you to recover from this. Just be honest with him.”

Lady Lindhurst snorted and all eyes turned to her. Eyeing each of them for a moment, she finally relented. “You shouldn’t be so quick to judge.” Her remark was directed at Alexandra. “It’s not as if you were the pinnacle of honesty when you met Lord Trenton.”

“I—”

Alexandra’s aunt wouldn’t allow her to continue however. “He thought you were a
man
for heaven’s sake. Not only that but you allowed him to continue believing so for several days. And after that . . . well, suffice it to say that you’re hardly in a position to criticize anyone, much less Lucy.”

“William’s life was in danger at the time,” Alexandra protested. “The scenario was completely different.”

Lady Lindhurst waved her hand as if this last bit of information was completely inconsequential. “And you, Mary.” Mary halted as if prepared to take the blow that her friend’s aunt seemed ready to deal her. Lucy felt as though she ought to somehow intervene but wasn’t sure of how to go about it. “We all know what you used to get up to in the middle of the night, and I know for a fact that Ryan wasn’t aware of it.”

Lucy’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the marchioness, unable to imagine what Lady Lindhurst might be talking about. Apparently Mary felt the need to explain, for she quickly said, “She’s referring to my medical practice. I’m a surgeon, you see, something which my husband had a rather difficult time digesting. It’s become far more acceptable now that he and I have started work on building our own hospital, but, be that as it may, her ladyship is correct. I did keep my identity as a surgeon purposefully hidden from Ryan in the beginning, though I’d like to point out that unlike Lucy here, he and I weren’t married.

“That said, I, like you, Lady Lindhurst, believe that Lucy may have an honorable reason for what she’s done, and if that’s the case, then she probably has cause to keep it hidden, though I really would advise you to tell William about it, Lucy, however troubling it may be.”

“It’s settled then,” Lady Lindhurst remarked. “We shall judge Lucy based on her character and forget about the rest of it, unless she gives us a valid reason to question her conduct. If she and William are meant to be, they will surely find a way to muddle through this together. In the meantime, I for one intend to believe that she had a damn good reason for picking him instead of someone else. Let’s leave it at that for now, shall we?” And while Alexandra and Mary looked on in amazement, no doubt stunned by Lady Lindhurst’s use of profanity, the viscountess took Lucy by the arm and steered her away along a path that led directly toward the stables.

They arrived just as the men were returning from their morning ride, the horses panting heavily from the cross-country gallop that they’d just been subjected to. Spotting the women, William turned his mount toward them, tugged on his reins, and dismounted. “I would have thought that you might have preferred the rose garden to the smell of muck,” he said, his eyes drifting past each of the women until they came to rest upon Lucy. His eyes widened. “May I say that you look exceedingly lovely today, my dear.”

Her cheeks burned with self-consciousness as she grasped for an appropriate response. She knew that a mere
thank you
would suffice, but the words seemed to jam together in her throat all at once. Whatever was the matter with her? She suspected it might have a lot to do with William’s appearance.

His jacket was gone, and so was his cravat. The top buttons of his shirt had been opened, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows and, wet from sweat no doubt, it clung to his back and his chest, alluding to a masculine figure that had instantly made her mouth go dry. And his hair . . . the ride had whipped away all its neatness, ruffling it into something wild and unruly. He looked more rugged than usual, and heaven help her for thinking it—utterly wicked. The debutantes must have made a similar observation, for they were all huddled together and giggling like the green girls that they were.

“She does, doesn’t she,” Lady Lindhurst said, coming to her rescue and filling the silence.

Lowering his voice, he added, “However, next time you choose to visit the stables, I would recommend something less…overt.” His gaze dropped to her bosom. She’d deliberately selected her dress because of its particularly low décolletage, which she had hoped he would find alluring but apparently did not, given his sudden frown.

A rush of heat prickled her skin, in response not only to his comment but also to his closeness. It was enough to make her lose her wits entirely. Closing her eyes against his undeniable masculinity, she tugged at her shawl in an attempt to cover herself, her eyes seeking anything that wasn’t her husband. Her throat had begun to tighten and her vision to blur. She’d been so looking forward to seeing him again today but now wished that she had remained in bed instead.

“William Summersby! That is no way to talk to a lady. Can’t you see that you’ve upset her. She’s practically in tears,” his aunt scolded.

All Lucy wanted to do was turn and run from the ghastly situation. She’d become the center of attention now—and not in a positive way at all. She’d no desire for any of the people present to watch her crumble, least of all William. Why was he being so mean? Last night they’d laughed together over a glass of brandy, and now her heart felt as if it might crack. Somehow, she had to rise above it though. She was Lady Summersby now, and a hostess to all of these ladies. It really wouldn’t do for her to fall to pieces in front of them. So, swallowing hard, she straightened her spine, pulled her shoulders back, and lifted her chin. “My sincerest apologies, my lord,” she told William. “I shall endeavor to wear a more matronly gown in the future. After all, I seek to please only
you
.”

There was a bite to her tone that clearly caught him off guard, for he took a retreating step backward and stared at her in surprise. Before she had the chance to examine the situation any further, the sound of male voices carried on the breeze. She turned her head, shading her eyes against the sun with the palm of her hand to find Lords Fairfield, Reinhardt, Galensbury, and Stanton approaching. Ignoring William entirely, with the intention of making a point, she left the safety of her group and stepped lightly toward her other guests. And then, attempting a smile more genuine than that of a child’s on Christmas morning, she drew their attention. “It appears as though you have had quite an exerting ride!”

“We certainly did, my lady,” Reinhardt replied, his step quickening as if he hoped to reach her faster. She sent her husband a meaningful look; he could learn a thing or two about gallantry from this friend of his. Her attention was swiftly returned to Reinhardt however, for he was now before her, taking her hand in his and bowing over it as he pressed a kiss against her knuckles. He straightened and offered her a charming smile. “William lent me one of his geldings—a fine specimen to be sure.”

Fairfield drew up next, with both Galensbury and Stanton in his wake. “Do you ride?” he asked with genuine curiosity as soon as he’d made his address, going so far as to offer her a dandelion that he must have picked on his walk back from the stables. The cheeky expression in his eyes told Lucy that he’d done so with the express attempt at outdoing Reinhardt. Unable to help herself from warming to his mischief, she gave him a thankful smile, accepted the dandelion, and placed it behind her ear.

“Perhaps tomorrow, if my husband will be kind enough to wait for me . . .” She threw a scowl in William’s direction. “You’ll have the opportunity to judge for yourself.”

“Nothing would give us greater pleasure,” Stanton told her with a broad smile. “We’re all quite keen on getting to know you a bit better.”

“The thing is,” Galensbury added, “that none of us ever expected Summersby to get hitched so quickly. You must be a very special woman to have managed such an extraordinary feat.”

“Shall we return to the house, my lady?” Fairfield asked as he offered her his arm. “I dare say I could use a glass of lemonade.”

“Me too,” Reinhardt said, offering his arm as well so that she found herself pinned between the two attentive gentlemen.

Starting on their way, with Galensbury and Stanton following behind, they passed William and the ladies. Again, the debutantes erupted in a fit of annoying giggles. Lucy, however, responded to William’s glare with the sweetest, most innocent smile she could manage. If he had no desire to shower her with attention, then she would simply have to seek the company of his friends until, she hoped, he’d become sufficiently jealous.

C
HAPTER
E
LEVEN

W
illiam was in a foul mood as they walked back toward the house, mostly due to his own stupidity, he was forced to acknowledge with an even greater sense of annoyance. Why had he been so brusque with Lucy? He’d been hoping to improve upon their relationship, to make an attempt at developing true friendship, yet with one critical remark he’d as good as put himself back a thousand paces. He’d seen it in her face, seen the pain and the anger that had flickered in her eyes. For a moment he’d expected her to burst into tears and run off, but by some miracle that he couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend, she’d drawn from some inner strength he hadn’t even known she possessed. It had been astonishing to watch.

And then, with his friends she’d been the perfect hostess, all grace and smiles, though he imagined she’d done so while battling the urge to pummel him. He’d seen her scowl.

He knew he’d overreacted, but after seeing her last night in her nightgown, an overwhelming sense of possessiveness had come over him. He didn’t want any other man to admire the creamy white skin of her bosom or to as much as consider what her bosom might look like without the restraint of her gown. He knew how it looked, and he wanted it, and her, for himself.

Watching her now as she walked ahead of him, his friends clearly hanging on her every word, he felt his stomach tighten. He couldn’t ignore the feeling that crashed over him with overwhelming force, for it was as real as the ground he was walking upon: envy. William steeled himself, shook his head, and frowned. How could he possibly be jealous of the smile she was presently favoring Charles with? He watched through stormy eyes as she turned her head in Galensbury’s direction and laughed in response to something he’d said. The knot in his stomach tightened as, with a heavy blow, he realized that he’d give anything if she would only laugh or smile like that with him. Last night it had happened, but then he’d gone and ruined it like the idiot he was.