The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda (4 page)

Bloody hell!

And through it all, his father just sat there with that annoyingly smug expression upon his face, right until Aunt V, bless her heart, decided that he should be the one to hire the musicians. Served him right.

But as the minutes ticked by, William began to feel an urgent need to assert himself before the situation got completely out of hand. “Aunt V, we are not planning a big event, just a small function with the closest family.”

His aunt tilted her head a little and frowned. “You are the heir to an earldom, William. Surely you must realize that there are notable members of the
ton
who must be invited for the sake of propriety.”

William groaned.

“Now then,” Aunt V continued, “where were we? Ah, yes…the menu…”

His aunt had just begun suggesting some sort of seafood roulade when Miss Blackwell unexpectedly said, “I do apologize, Lady Lindhurst, but I think I may be in need of some fresh air. Would you mind terribly if I stepped outside to the garden for a moment?” Even more unexpectedly, William found her turning to look directly at him. “Perhaps you would care to escort me, Lord Summersby?”

Would he ever? Trying not to look too happy about the promise of escape, he made a stoic effort not to smile as he offered Miss Blackwell his arm. “Certainly.”

L
ucy drew a sigh of relief the minute they stepped out onto the terrace. She’d accepted an invitation to tea only to find herself swept away in a dizzying array of wedding preparations. Noticing that Lord Summersby had looked quite put out by his aunt’s sudden interference, she’d waited as long as she’d thought necessary before excusing herself. Not that a stroll in the garden with a fiancé who held a grudge against her was much better. Hazarding a glance in his direction, she realized that he was looking at her a bit oddly. “What is it?” she asked, fearing that a piece of her attire might be out of place.

He frowned. “I was under the impression that you were unwell, and yet you look surprisingly healthy now.”

Oh…that.

“May I be honest with you?”

“Now would be as good a time as any,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

“Right.” Good Lord, he was making her nervous. “Well, it did seem a bit overwhelming in there and I…” He raised an eyebrow, and she felt the words cram together in her throat. He seemed far more imposing today than he had last night at the ball. She took a deep breath. “Well, the thought of fresh air did seem awfully tempting, and since you looked like you wouldn’t mind rescuing, I thought I’d ask you to join me.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Miss Blackwell, I have no idea what to make of you. Your actions last night were extremely selfish, you lie as if it is second nature to you, and you seem quite without regret about either. But still, there’s something…desperate about you. I have a feeling this doesn’t come as easily as you might want it to seem. What is it that you wish for me to do?”

Lucy wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She feared for her life and would now have to worry that the little she’d said in his family’s presence might place her in even greater danger. This was a family of spies; it was second nature for them to question everything, and she’d just offered them all a puzzle. If word got out that she was still alive…No, she couldn’t risk saying more until she was certain that they were in private and that he could be trusted. Turning back toward the house, she said, “My lord, I do believe it’s time for us to venture back inside. I’ve no desire for your aunt to think that I deliberately tried to avoid her company.”

He caught her by the arm. “Avoiding the truth will not endear you to me,” he told her firmly.

She looked down at where his hand touched her, hating the way her heart was responding. Forcing a serious expression, she looked up and met his gaze. “Sometimes, there is no choice.”

He let her go, but as she started making her way back inside, she heard him mutter, “On the contrary, Miss Blackwell, there is
always
a choice.”

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

“T
his is not what your parents would have wanted for you, Lucy.” Constance’s eyes were filled with concern as she watched the young woman who’d been in her care for the past six years. “You’ve made a tremendous sacrifice, and on top of that you’ve forced an unsuspecting man into marrying you. What were you thinking?”

“You know the answer to that,” Lucy said. As soon as the cake had been cut, she and Constance, the Countess of Ridgewood, had retreated to the parlor of Summersby House for a quiet chat while the rest of the guests continued to enjoy the celebration in the ballroom. “For six years I’ve been planning my revenge, and I swear to you, I
will
have it, no matter the consequences.”

“Even if it means destroying the lives of others? What has Lord Summersby done to deserve a lot such as this?”

Pacing the room, Lucy ignored the question, offering only a reproachful glare in response. “He’s rated the best agent within the Foreign Office. If anyone can find the man I seek, then it surely must be him.”

“But to go as far as marriage?” Constance couldn’t hide her shock. She recalled how sweet and quiet Lucy had been as a child. The tragedy surrounding her parents’ deaths had made a detrimental impact on her. It was understandable of course, but she still worried that the path that Lucy now felt compelled to follow would only lead to more pain and suffering.

“You and I both know that it would be highly unseemly for a young, unmarried woman to travel alone with a single man whom she’s not related to and has only just met. My reputation would be ruined, but, most importantly, so would yours.”

Constance knew that she was right of course, but that was hardly enough to make the situation any better. It certainly didn’t excuse what Lucy had done, though she was finding it difficult to make her see that. “I worry for you, my dear,” she said softly. “All of these years, your heart has been so full of anger…I shudder to think of what you will do once you find the man you seek—if indeed you find him. More importantly, I fear for your safety. For whatever reason, he killed your parents and probably would have done the same to you if your mother hadn’t helped you flee.”

“I am reminded of Mama’s sacrifice every day.” Her voice was hard and unwavering as she turned her gaze on Constance, but as she briefly closed her eyes, Constance couldn’t help but notice the tears that were pooling beneath her lashes. “Sooner or later, I
will
find him, of that you may be quite certain.”

Constance sighed. She knew there was little point in trying to dissuade her; the whole affair had become a fixation. “What makes you think that Lord Summersby will even be willing to help you? The man will not be likely to grant you any favors in the near future after what you did to him.”

“I’ve still to find a solution to that problem,” Lucy agreed.

“I know that I am not in a position to change your mind, but please promise me that you will be careful. If anything were to happen to you…” Tears began to prick at Constance’s eyes as she thought of Eugenia. It was still difficult for her to believe that she was dead. “I would never forgive myself.” Lucy was the closest thing she’d ever had to a child. She was thirty-six years old. Her husband had died eight years previously, leaving her a widow—the two had never managed to conceive. Caring for Lucy had given her life purpose; she loved the girl with all her heart and considered her task a huge responsibility.

From her place by the window, Lucy offered Constance a sad little smile. Walking across to the sofa on which she sat, she took a seat beside her and pulled her into a warm embrace. “I promise,” she whispered.

“Will you tell Lord Summersby who you really are?” Constance then asked, easing away a little so she could meet Lucy’s eyes.

There was a pause, as if Lucy was weighing the pros and cons of doing just that. “I doubt it would be wise,” she finally said. “I’ve no way of knowing how well I can trust him. The entire
ton
thinks me dead, and if word gets out that I am still alive…Well, I should hate for the news to reach Constantinople before I do.”

A soft knock at the door sounded.

“Enter,” Constance called out.

The door opened to Alexandra who, on the occasion of her brother’s big day, had bought a lovely new gown—a lilac creation that suited her blue eyes and blonde hair rather well. “My apologies for interrupting,” she said, her tone too clipped to be deemed polite. She’d clearly not forgiven Lucy for whisking her brother so hastily off to the altar. “William wishes to know if you are ready to depart for Moorland Manor.”

Lord Moorland had gifted the great estate to William upon his marriage to Lucy, insisting that Summersby House in London would offer more than enough space for himself while Moorland Manor would be put to far better use by the young couple. He’d made it abundantly clear that he hoped for the place to teem with a multitude of grandchildren, thereby adding to Lucy’s guilt since the matter of producing babies was presently the furthest from her mind.

Lucy nodded somewhat numbly. She’d no desire to spend the next three hours confined to a carriage with a man who clearly despised her. What choice did she have though? She’d made her bed, and now she must lie in it—however flea infested that proverbial bed might be. “Yes, I shall be right there,” she replied, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. No time for regrets now.

T
he first hour of their journey was spent in complete silence. As much as Lucy kept trying to come up with something to say to her husband, she could think of nothing that did not sound pitiful or stupid. Eventually it was William who spoke. “Did you enjoy the ceremony?” he asked. He’d been looking out of the window but had now turned to face her, his eyes lacking any emotion whatsoever.

Lucy nodded. “Yes, thank you, my lord.”

“Do not thank me, for I had nothing to do with it. It was entirely my aunt’s doing.”

As calm as his voice sounded, there was a level of annoyance to it that made Lucy cringe. “Yes, I know…I mean…” She shifted nervously in her seat. When she’d first met him, she’d barely been able to keep her mouth shut, yet now it was practically impossible for her to speak to him at all without her tongue tying itself into knots. “I merely meant to show my appreciation.”

“You may do so tonight, my dear—in the bedroom.” He gave her a meaningful smirk.

Lucy gasped. “Have you no sense of decency, my lord?”

“When it comes to my wife? None.” He leaned slightly toward her, his arms crossed, with his elbows resting on his knees. “May I remind you that I did not enter into this marriage willingly? However, since I do find myself in the undesirable predicament of having you as my wife, and since I really have no means of escape, I will at least take whatever pleasures I may get out of it, no matter how loathsome that may be for you. Do I make myself clear?”

Lucy could barely breathe. Her immediate instinct was to punch the insufferable man for saying such outrageous things to her, but it was his right—he was her husband. An unusual feeling assailed her, as if she was falling from a very high place and with no one to catch her. She tried to compose herself. “As I mentioned before, my lord, all that I request from you is a little assistance. As far as this…undesirable union goes, I would not have forced it upon you without being able to offer you some means of escape.”

Raising an eyebrow, William leaned back in his seat and fixed his gaze upon hers. “Go on.”

“If you help me, then I shall grant you an annulment. You will be free to marry another lady of your choosing, and considering how eligible you are, I dare say you won’t have much trouble with that, scandal or not.”

A smile of amusement spread its way across William’s lips. “And pray tell, how will you manage that?”

“If we do not consummate the marriage, then…”

William grinned in open amusement. “Is that your great plan?” Lucy stared back at him with a large degree of uncertainty. The sarcasm that dripped from his words made her edgy. “You stupid woman—lack of consummation is hardly grounds for an annulment. Where the devil did you get such a harebrained notion?”

“But I thought…”

“There are only three possible grounds: fraud, incompetence, and impotence. Let’s examine each of these, shall we? I trust that Lucy Blackwell is your actual name?”

Lucy nodded, for she could not under any circumstances give him her real name; he’d know who she was immediately.

“Now, I know that Lady Ridgewood gave her consent to our union, for I spoke to her myself, so no grounds there I’m afraid. As to whether or not you are of sound mind…If you ask me, then you are undeniably as mad as a March hare, though I doubt any judge or jury will agree. As for impotence, I assure you, that I would rather hang myself before declaring anything of the sort, especially since such a claim would be matrimonial suicide. So there you have it—it seems that you and I are very much stuck with each other.”

Lucy gaped at him. His expression was one of arrogant condescension. It was unfathomable. She’d been so sure of herself, so quick to act with the assumption that it could all be reversed. He’d assist her, she’d compensate him for the trouble she’d caused, and they would part ways. What a bloody little fool she’d been—too rash and blinded by her own purpose. The result: she’d trapped herself as much as she’d trapped him, as it turned out. Ironically, the last thing she wanted was a husband. She’d forced the marriage out of necessity alone, but once she found her parents’ killer and exacted her revenge, she’d hardly be able to return to a quiet family life at her husband’s side. Besides, what did she and her husband even know about one other? Nothing, absolutely nothing. It was galling.