The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda (3 page)

“Miss Blackwell, I can assure you that I have no intention of marrying anyone other than Lady Annabelle. She and I have a mutual agreement. We are both honorable people. Neither one of us would ever consider going back on our word.”

“I didn’t think as much,” she mused, and before William had any time to consider what she might be about to do, she’d thrown her arms about his neck, pulled him toward her, and placed her lips against his.

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t was by no means a kiss of legend, though it did have the desired effect that Lucy was hoping for. As she pulled away from him, Lord Summersby’s eyes were not the only ones filled with shock. Indeed, the entire ballroom had fallen into a hushed silence, interrupted only by the low whispers that were making their way from person to person.

Straightening her spine, Lucy turned to face their assessing gazes. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, “as surprising as this may be in the light of the fact that most of you have yet to make my acquaintance, Lord Summersby has just now asked me to be his wife, and I have accepted.”

The clapping was a bit slow and hesitant at first but eventually took on a louder tone until the whole ballroom was resonating with applause.

“A word, if I may?” Lord Summersby’s tone was curt in Lucy’s ear. For a moment there, she’d almost forgotten his presence, though it was difficult to do so now that he was dragging her away toward the terrace, his grip so tight that she was quite certain she’d bruise from it.

“What the hell was that?” he fumed as soon as they were outside, away from the curious gazes of the
ton
.

“I told you that I was in need of your service, and—”

“Good God, woman. Are you insane? You couldn’t have what you wanted so you decided to trap me into marrying you? Have you any idea of the kind of scandal you’ve brought upon my family? Lord and Lady Forthright will be furious, and rightly so. Lady Annabelle will be furious. Everyone will think me a complete cad, though the fault lies not with me but entirely with you.”

“I am sorry, my lord, I did not—”

“Sorry? The devil you’re sorry, though I shall make bloody certain that you are indeed quite sorry by the time I’m through. I will not marry you.”

“Indeed you will, my boy,” Lord Moorland stated as he walked up to them with Alexandra and another gentleman at his side. “I don’t believe you’ve met my other son, Ryan.”

“Mr. Summersby,” the younger man corrected as he stared Lucy up and down. He was the tallest of Lord Moorland’s three children, and while he was certainly as handsome as his brother, he almost looked angrier, if such a thing was possible. Lucy shuddered, knowing that she’d crossed a family that was not to be trifled with.

“Papa, you cannot possibly be serious. We can still find a means by which to call this disaster off.”

“And how exactly do you plan to do that without making things worse? As it is, Lady Annabelle will no longer have you, of that you can be quite certain.”

Lord Summersby raked his fingers furiously through his hair. “There has to be a way.”

“None that I can see,” his father told him. “And since that is the case, we have come here to congratulate you instead.”

Lord Summersby groaned. Lucy, who stood beside him, was doing her best to avoid eye contact with any of them. She knew she’d done an abominable thing, but marrying Lord Summersby was necessary. She couldn’t very well travel to Constantinople on her own, much less with a man she wasn’t related to, without bringing scandal upon Lady Ridgewood. Besides, he needed a wife. He’d said so himself, and since he didn’t much care for Lady Annabelle anyway, then what harm was there in him marrying someone else? Her, to be precise.

“I must say that you surprised us all,” Alexandra stated.

Looking up, Lucy noted the hard glare in her eyes, accusing her with the swift precision of an executioner’s sword. Mr. Summersby’s expression had not grown any less severe.

“Well then,” Lord Moorland said. “Why don’t you join us for tea tomorrow afternoon, Miss Blackwell. I am quite sure that we would all like to become better acquainted with you. As for the wedding arrangements—I’m certain that my sister will be more than happy to oblige.”

With a quick succession of bows and curtsies, the Summersbys took their leave of Lucy, leaving her alone on the terrace, a little closer to her goal, but perhaps more miserable than she’d been in a very long time.

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aving strategically placed himself by the window, William stared out of it in a deliberate attempt to feign disinterest in the woman seated on the sofa next to his sister. He knew he was being extraordinarily rude, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The lovely redhead had just deprived him of his freedom, and part of him wanted to lash out at her for the audacity.

“I understand from my daughter that this is your first season in London?” he heard his father say from the other side of the room.

“Yes, my lord,” Miss Blackwell responded, her voice a little shaky. “When I turned eighteen, Lady Ridgewood thought it time for me to venture out into society.”

Only eighteen and yet so conniving?
William thought as he groaned.

“William,” his father said in a tone suggestive of his growing impatience with him, “won’t you join us?”

Knowing better than to argue, William turned his head and, seeing the dark glare in his father’s eyes, decided it might be best to comply. Still, he saw no reason to pretend that he was pleased about doing so. With a shrug of his shoulders, he walked across to the nearest armchair, sat down, and crossed his arms and legs. “If I must.” He made a point of staring directly at Miss Blackwell as he said this, hoping she would catch the double entendre. With her teacup rattling against its saucer, she hastily looked away.
Good
. Let her suffer a little discomfort for her arrogance.

His sister, brother, and father all stared back at him with open mouths, apparently stunned by his lack of manners. Did they really expect him to be pleasant, given the situation at hand? He could understand his father, for he certainly seemed to have fallen under Miss Blackwell’s spell, but considering that Alex and Ryan had happily criticized Miss Blackwell the night before, he would have thought they’d be more understanding. Undoubtedly their father’s words of warning prior to Miss Blackwell’s arrival had affected them more than they had him.

“Lady Ridgewood, you say?” Bryce had turned his attention back to Miss Blackwell. “It’s been years since I’ve had the pleasure of her company.”

“Her ladyship hasn’t ventured out much since the death of her late husband,” Miss Blackwell told him in a quiet voice as she returned her teacup to the table and folded her hands in her lap.

“Quite right,” Bryce muttered. Then, in a brighter tone, “Well, I do hope we’ll have the pleasure of her company for the wedding. As far as I recall, she’s a lovely lady.”

Miss Blackwell responded with a weak smile and a slight nod. “Yes. In fact, she did regret that she was unable to join me here today, but unfortunately she was otherwise engaged. My apologies, my lord—I realize that under the circumstances and as my guardian she should have been here.”

Bryce smiled. “Well, considering how quickly things have progressed, I completely understand if she was unable to alter her plans.”

“And yet, I was able to alter mine,” William muttered. He knew he was being childish, and as much as he disliked himself for it, he disliked Miss Blackwell more for bringing out the worst in him. This was not the sort of man he believed himself to be. He prided himself on being a gentleman in every aspect of his life, and yet the current situation was proving a difficult test of his courteous and honorable attributes.

What he didn’t expect was for Miss Blackwell to raise her chin a notch and turn her attention on him. “My lord, I realize how displeasing this situation must be for you. I apologize for ruining your plans in regards to marrying Lady Annabelle, but I needed your help and saw no other way…Had you married her, you—”

“I what?” William asked as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes focused intensely on Miss Blackwell’s face.

“You would have retired to the country. You said so yourself.”

“And?”

He saw her hesitate—watched as her eyes shifted about before focusing on a spot on the table. “You would not have been in a position to help me.”

Her voice was so low he barely heard her. Whatever it was she wished for him to do, it must be important to her. But the way in which her eyes had darted around the room before she’d answered him suggested that it was a matter she wished to keep private. He doubted she’d say more with the rest of his family present, so he decided to let the matter rest for the moment. They would have plenty of time to discuss it later. Instead, he determined to show her that he would not be her lapdog. “Very well. The wedding shall take place next Saturday by special license. You will arrive at St. George’s at precisely ten o’clock, or the deal is off and you may consider yourself free to find another unsuspecting fool who’ll marry you.”

“Did you just call yourself a fool, William?” Alexandra asked.

“Do not test me, Alex, or you may find yourself joining Miss Blackwell on my current list of unfavorable people.”

Biting down on her lip, Alexandra wisely chose to keep quiet this time.

“Once the ceremony is over, we shall reconvene here for a small reception and wedding breakfast, and when I say small, I mean it. We will be no more than twenty people at most.”

Miss Blackwell blinked. “I had hoped we might marry at the Grosvenor Chapel.”

There was no reason for William to deny her such a wish, provided that the Grosvenor Chapel was available at such short notice. But, seizing the opportunity to give her a taste of her own medicine, he found himself saying, “Considering that you’ve had a say in everything else so far, I do believe I’ll be the one deciding this.”

Miss Blackwell drew a breath as if to add something but apparently decided against it, for she quickly closed her mouth again and merely nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”

Were her eyes glistening?
Damn it all, but he felt awful.

He was trying to formulate an apology of sorts when the door to the parlor opened and his aunt marched in. “I hope you haven’t begun planning the wedding without me,” she said, sounding far too chipper for William’s liking.

“What a pleasant surprise,” William said as he rose to greet her, though his eyes remained fixed on his father. This was undoubtedly his doing.

His father smiled. “You did say that she would be able to help with the preparations.”

“Did I? As far as I recall, that was your idea.”

His father seemed to consider this for a moment, eventually shrugged, and said, “Ah yes, now that you mention it, I do believe you’re right.”

“Oh my,” Aunt V exclaimed, “is this your betrothed?”

William gave himself a mental kick. Once again he’d managed to forget about protocol, and while he might get by without it in his father’s company, his aunt was another matter entirely. Stepping forward, he held his hand out toward Miss Blackwell, who mercifully took it, allowing him the gentlemanly gesture of helping her rise. “Aunt V, it is my pleasure to present to you Miss Blackwell. Miss Blackwell, this is my aunt, Virginia Camden, the Viscountess of Lindhurst.”

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance, my lady,” Miss Blackwell said as she performed a perfectly executed curtsy.

The corner of Aunt V’s mouth drew upward to form a crooked smile while her eyes swept over Miss Blackwell’s entire form. By the time she was through, William felt confident that his aunt might have unnerved his betrothed more than he had done, for she looked far more concerned about her fate now than she had ever looked before—whatever confidence she’d had seemed to have vanished entirely under his aunt’s scrutiny.

But then Aunt V’s smile broadened, and her eyes took on that gleam that meant she was getting excited about something. “I have just the gown in mind for you, my dear, and with that hair and those eyes…William, you’ve no cause for concern as far as your children go—with a mother this stunning, they’ll be very precious indeed!”

“I…er…” was all William managed to get out before his aunt cut him off.

“Bryce, you must be so pleased, so very pleased indeed.”

“Oh, I can assure you I am,” Bryce said, beckoning for his sister to claim the remaining seat on the sofa. When they were once again comfortably seated and Aunt V had been offered a cup of tea, he said, “Virginia, I do believe you arrived at exactly the right moment. William was just telling us about his plans for the wedding.”

He wanted to strangle his father. This was clearly an ambush. His father must have known that he would try to make a stand against Miss Blackwell and had apparently decided to champion her cause against him—why, he could not imagine. And he’d certainly picked the right person for the battle, for when his aunt raised her eyebrows and said, “Pfft! Weddings are not for men to plan,” he knew he’d lost his footing.

Aunt V barely drew a breath before rattling off a list of things that would have to be attended to in preparation for the big day. Alexandra’s jaw dropped when she was issued orders to visit the florist, while Ryan began to squirm in his seat when he was told to accompany William to the jeweler’s. Apparently Miss Blackwell was deserving of a lovely new set of earrings for her big day.