The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda (21 page)

“Then perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me yourself, in your own words?”

Lady Ridgewood’s eyes narrowed, though her smile did not fade, and when she spoke again her voice was clear and even. “My first duty lies with Lucy, my lord, so unless you give me a compelling enough reason to betray her trust, I fear that I must remain silent, even to you.”

She would not be bullied, he realized, and noting the hard stare that his father was giving him, he silently cursed himself for assuming that she would. “Very well then, I have reason to believe that Lucy may be in grave danger.” From her stiffening posture and taut expression, it seemed that he now had Lady Ridgewood’s full attention.
Good
. “She’s been acting quite strange for the past couple of days, and last night I happened upon her as she was trying to make away with my pistol. She was terrified of something.”

Lady Ridgewood closed her eyes briefly, nodded, and then took a deep breath, which she exhaled before saying, “That changes everything. I must protect her, even if she doesn’t want me to. Tell me, Lord Summersby, what exactly do you wish to know?”

William blinked, then shook his head and tried to focus. “From what she’s told me, her father was the Earl of Hampstead, British Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire. When he and his wife were brutally murdered, Lucy managed to escape back to England where she’s spent the last six years in your care. She married me so that I could accompany her back to Constantinople, find the man who did it, and bring him to justice.”

Lady Ridgewood offered a thoughtful nod in response. Her gaze was distant for a moment, but then her eyes met William’s and she said, “All of this is true, though there’s one significant thing missing from your account. Did she tell you that the man who killed her parents wore a mask? She has no idea what he looks like.”

William paused as he reflected upon the conversation he’d had with Lucy. No, she hadn’t told him about a mask, though he didn’t believe the omission had been deliberate. Talking about the incident had visibly shaken her. Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “How did she expect me to help her find him when she has no idea what he looks like?”

“You are an excellent spy,” Lady Ridgewood told him seriously. “It’s the reason why Lucy picked you, you know. I advised her to be honest with you and to seek your help, but she feared the consequence of what might happen if her existence was made public. I’m glad she eventually did confide in you though. You’re a good man, Lord Summersby. I know you’ll do what you can to help her.” Picking up a biscuit, she took a bite while both men’s attention remained riveted upon her. She glanced at Bryce. “I suspected that you sought my company with the intention of discovering as much as you could about Lucy, but I couldn’t betray her trust. I hope you’ll understand, just as
I
understand
your
motivation.”

“It was only my reason for instigating our friendship. It’s not my reason for wishing to maintain it, for in all truth, I hold you in the highest regard,” Bryce told her as he reached for her hand and placed a kiss upon her knuckles.

“And I you, Lord Moorland,” she responded with a smile.

They certainly seemed to handle the situation in a mature fashion, William noted, deciding that a person’s ability to forgive and forget probably grew in accordance with their age.

“How long have you known that Lucy was the Earl of Hampstead’s daughter, William?” Bryce asked, his eyes narrowing just enough to suggest that he didn’t like being lied to either.

“A couple of days,” William told him.

Bryce nodded. “You might have mentioned it. I could have called off Percy’s agent.”

“I was sworn to secrecy, Papa. Besides, as far as Percy’s agent is concerned, it was too late to stop him by then. You sent the letter three days ago.” He hesitated only a moment before adding, “No one can know when a reply arrives, however. The mere thought of it sent Lucy into a panic when I told her about the possibility. I’ll ask the butler to keep all correspondences on his person and to deliver them to me only and in private.

Again Bryce nodded. He took a sip of his coffee, frowned a little, and said, “I thought she was dead.”

“As do most people, I’m sure,” Lady Ridgewood remarked with a wry twist of her lips, “but her body was never found, as you well know, and she’s done her best to keep it that way. It was quite an ordeal for her as you can well imagine—twelve years of age and forced to flee a foreign country after witnessing her mother’s murder.”

William sank back against his chair and, elbows resting on the armrests, arched his fingers in front of him. “Considering her father’s position as ambassador, coupled with his rank as a peer in general, there may have been many who disliked him.”

“It could have been the bloody locals for all we know,” Bryce muttered. William knew that Hampstead had been a good acquaintance of his and that his father had mourned both his and his wife’s deaths. At least there was some measure of comfort to be had in discovering that their daughter had not been a victim as well.

“It’s possible, I suppose,” William remarked. “However, the mask does suggest that not only was it a planned attack but also that the assassin knew he might be recognized and took preventive measures in order to avoid it.”

“But it does sound rather unlikely that an incident that occurred so long ago and so far away would be the reason behind Lucy’s recent displays of nervousness. Surely there must be another explanation,” Lady Ridgewood said as she looked to each of the gentlemen for an answer.

“I have to agree,” Bryce said. He paused for a moment before saying, “She seemed all right until…well, the day before yesterday I suppose. Except when Reinhardt mentioned the pendant…”

“I asked her about that when I went to check up on her yesterday. It was her mother’s, you see, and I dare say I haven’t seen that gold heart since I last saw Eugenia eight or nine years ago—before they left for Constantinople. Lucy claimed she’d kept it hidden away in her jewelry box all this time.” Lady Ridgewood suddenly frowned. “And then she changed the subject all together. Do you think it’s possible that…No, it can’t be.”

“We can’t dismiss anything,” William said, feeling uneasier by the second. “Consider what we’ve deduced so far, Lady Ridgewood: Lord and Lady Hampstead’s murders were not incidental. Six years later, Lucy marries me, venturing back out into society and perhaps even drawing the attention of the man she escaped from so long ago. Then the pendant suddenly shows up after last being seen on Lucy’s mother, and when we factor in Lucy punching Reinhardt when merely he sought to cut her loose with his knife, her sudden need to keep a pistol by her bedside, and her odd behavior in general, I cannot help but think that not only is something very wrong but that Lucy might be in terrible danger as we speak.”

“Dear Lord,” Lady Ridgewood murmured, her teacup rattling against the saucer as she returned it to the table and prepared to rise.

William held up a staying hand. “I’ve asked Alexandra to keep her company until I return to her side. They’re upstairs in Lucy’s bedroom right now, so I do believe they’re quite safe for the moment. In the meantime, I’ve also asked Ryan to entertain the guests with a game of croquet outside in order to keep them occupied and consequently prevent drawing attention to Lucy’s absence. The fewer questions asked the better.”

Bryce concurred with a nod. “What’s your next move, William? Anything that we can do to help?”

William nodded and then took another sip of his coffee. It was tepid by now, making him wince slightly in response to it. “Lucy and I will be joining you for a ride in the landau. Your trip in the barouche will have to wait, I’m afraid. There’ll be less cause for suspicion if we venture out on a group picnic than if Lucy and I head out alone.” Picking up a biscuit, he bit into it to remove the taste of the coffee. “You’ll drop us off at a fair distance from the house and then enjoy a pleasant country ride while Lucy and I go for a walk.”

“You think you can make her talk?” Lady Ridgewood asked, her voice sounding hopeful while her eyes remained wide with concern.

“I hope so,” William said as he rose to his feet and straightened his jacket “because the more I consider the matter, the more inclined I am to believe that her life may very well depend upon it.”

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

L
ucy stared stiffly out of the window as the carriage rolled down the driveway and away from Moorland Manor, swaying slightly as it rounded a bend in the road, the loose gravel crunching beneath the wheels. She was sitting next to William, with Constance on the opposite bench with Lord Moorland. Nobody spoke, and although Lucy’s eyes were fixed upon the passing landscape, she didn’t register any of it. All she could think about was her encounter with the masked assassin the night before, not to mention her conversation with William after he had caught her in the act of stealing his pistol. He’d kept her under close guard ever since, insisting that she breakfast upstairs in her room along with his sister.

Lucy hadn’t minded the confinement too much. Indeed, she’d felt too rattled to entertain anyone and too nervous at the prospect of having to face Reinhardt, Galensbury, Stanton, or Fairfield with a smile upon her face. One of them had killed her parents six years earlier, and the thought that she’d entertained and laughed with the man had made her sick to her stomach.

Now, William’s insistence upon taking this drive filled her with trepidation, for she sensed that he had an ulterior motive behind it—that he wished to speak with her privately.

“This was a splendid idea,” Constance suddenly remarked, startling Lucy out of her reverie. “The weather’s wonderful—perfect for a picnic.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Lord Moorland said cheerfully.

Lucy wasn’t so sure she agreed. She eyed her husband, who looked completely calm and collected as he sat there beside her. He was no fool; his job was to solve riddles, for heaven’s sake. There was no way that he would be satisfied by what she’d told him last night. As it was, she doubted that he’d slept much, for he looked more tired than usual. And if he hadn’t slept, then he must have been thinking…contemplating and deducing.

As if to confirm this nagging suspicion, he suddenly leaned out of the window on his side of the carriage and called for the coachman to halt. “This is far enough,” he said as he reached down and opened the large picnic basket that stood on the floor between their feet.

Turning to look, Lucy saw him pull out a smaller basket from inside the larger one, realizing that he’d asked Cook to pack two separate meals. Apparently he meant to get her completely alone.

For some reason, she’d imagined that he’d merely pull her aside at some point or take her for a walk, away from the others. But no—he didn’t seem to desire anyone else’s company at all. She forced herself to remain calm. If he only knew the danger that he was placing them all in with this stubborn determination of his. Rising, he grabbed one of the carriage blankets and then moved toward the door. “Come back for us in a couple of hours, will you?”

“Certainly,” Lord Moorland agreed, tipping his hat toward Lucy. “Enjoy your outing.”

Feeling ambushed, Lucy’s eyes shot toward Constance in alarm, but her friend simply smiled. “Go on, Lucy—we’ll see you later.” And before she had time to fully analyze the situation or issue any form of complaint, she felt herself being pulled out of the carriage by William who was already on the ground waiting to assist her.

“I needed to get you alone for a while without drawing too much attention,” he said as she helplessly watched the carriage roll away into the distance. “We have a lot to discuss, without prying eyes or anyone close enough by to listen. Come—let’s go this way.”

As if in a daze, she started walking, her hand resting firmly upon his arm as he led her forward along a path that quickly took them away from the road and through a thicket of trees. As the path narrowed, he went ahead of her, turning occasionally to offer his hand as they stepped over some rocks and fallen trees that were blocking their way. Eventually, the path widened into a clearing, and as William moved aside, Lucy stilled, her breath catching in her throat, as the beauty of the scenery around her filled her with awe.

“I used to come here as a child,” he told her as he took her hand in his and led her forward toward the small lake, the surface of which was dotted by pale, pink water lilies in full bloom.

Towering trees, lush with bright green leaves, flanked the edges of the lake like soldiers, while dense vegetation filled the embankment on all sides except for where they stood. Here the ground was flat and firm, covered by grass and moss instead. A gentle breeze moved the air, rustling the leaves, and Lucy instinctively tilted her head backward to stare up at the pale, blue sky overhead, her eyes squinting against the sun as it weaved its way in and out between the branches. “Thank you for sharing it with me,” she whispered, squeezing William’s hand as she turned back to face him. “It’s a very special place.”

“And completely private,” he quietly added, meeting her gaze.

Lucy felt her stomach flutter, once again wary of what he might say. But he said nothing yet. Instead, he set down the small basket he’d been holding and spread the blanket out upon a sunny patch of ground.

Crouching down and opening the basket, William then pulled out some ham and cheese, two rolls of bread, a small bowl filled with slices of apples and pears, a couple of scones, and finally a bottle of red wine. “Hungry?” he asked, handing her a plate and a napkin once she’d settled herself on the opposite corner of the blanket.