Книга - The Regency Season: Blackmailed Brides: The Scarlet Gown / Lady Beneath the Veil

The Regency Season: Blackmailed Brides: The Scarlet Gown / Lady Beneath the Veil
Sarah Mallory


You will say ‘I do!’The Scarlet GownImpoverished Lucy Halbrook is to play fake fiancée to Lord Ralph Aversane, who has arranged a Midsummer’s Eve event on his estate. Lucy will act as hostess, while Ralph unravels the dark and dangerous mystery surrounding the death of his late wife. Lucy is the key and may also be able to unlock his guarded heart!Lady Beneath the VeilWhen Gideon Albury lifts his new bride’s veil he can’t believe his eyes – the woman before him is not the blonde beauty he’s been courting! Dominique Rainault is at the altar facing a very angry groom only because of her scheming cousin’s blackmail. Determined to seek a rapid annulment the married couple must keep their distance, but one stolen kiss may prove their undoing!



















SARAH MALLORY was born in Bristol, and now lives in an old farmhouse on the edge of the Pennines with her husband and family. She left grammar school at sixteen to work in companies as varied as stockbrokers, marine engineers, insurance brokers, biscuit manufacturers and even a quarrying company. Her first book was published shortly after the birth of her daughter. She has published more than a dozen books under the pen-name of Melinda Hammond, winning the Reviewers’ Choice Award from www.singletitles.com (http://www.singletitles.com) for Dance for a Diamond and the Historical Novel Society’s Editors’ Choice for Gentlemen in Question. As Sarah Mallory she is the winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s RONA Rose® Award for 2012 and 2013 for The Dangerous Lord Darrington and Beneath the Major’s Scars.


Table of Contents

Cover (#u3ebfefec-8ed2-5e86-9ca8-d040daed9e95)

Title Page (#u7c1cbdbe-bb03-59b6-b7ba-24d74145fc89)

About the Author (#u539b3bf4-7e85-51b8-a12e-c7dc057c7298)

The Scarlet Gown (#ud9c5596e-3c76-510d-a1a5-38ef99f1d859)

Back Cover Text (#ud0d3563f-ca4b-559b-92b3-8d3dae3a9eb6)

Dedication (#u6f183211-fda7-5e44-a92e-fedd932b769f)

Chapter One (#u951af696-f4e0-5d2d-b33f-73a79c845d11)

Chapter Two (#u3c9d7203-790c-52b6-9f8d-e8dda4af5f47)

Chapter Three (#u2322c5c6-2f61-5f9f-a7e0-2979528690e7)

Chapter Four (#uca5a7e7b-245f-59af-ba52-8fffb89d8ef3)

Chapter Five (#u165a14d5-610c-53dd-b7e9-6f7321e71266)

Chapter Six (#ufee7ccee-afc4-545a-8594-47d1dfa934a1)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Lady Beneath the Veil (#litres_trial_promo)

Back Cover Text (#litres_trial_promo)

Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


The Scarlet Gown (#u10b1f030-661b-5938-87fb-8ac8fe0105cc)

Sarah Mallory


WHAT IS HE HIDING FROM HER?

When impoverished Lucy Halbrook arrives at Lord Adversane’s estate she knows her assignment is unusual—not only will she act as hostess at his Midsummer’s Eve play, she must also pretend to be his fiancée!

What Lucy doesn’t know is that Ralph is hiding something dark and dangerous. He must uncover the truth behind his wife’s death—and Lucy is the key. She challenges him at every turn and, as each day passes, unlocks a little more of Ralph’s guarded heart….


To Cecilia and David, thank you for preserving the moor that inspired a large part of this story!


Chapter One (#u10b1f030-661b-5938-87fb-8ac8fe0105cc)

Mrs Killinghurst’s register office was well known as the saviour of many a gently bred young lady who had fallen upon hard times and needed to earn a living. Mrs Killinghurst specialised in finding employment for such young ladies as companions, governesses or even seamstresses, depending upon their accomplishments. Her offices occupied a suite of rooms above a hatter’s shop in Bond Street, and young ladies wishful of finding employment could slip along the narrow alley beside the shop and through the freshly painted doorway with its discreet brass plate.

Miss Lucy Halbrook had already made one visit to Mrs Killinghurst’s establishment and now, a fortnight later, she was returning to the office, as instructed by the proprietress herself, with high hopes of obtaining the gainful employment she so desperately needed. When her father had died twelve months ago Lucy had been prepared for life to change for herself and Mama, but it was only after the funeral that Lucy discovered just how poor they really were. They had been taken in by Mrs Halbrook’s invalid sister, but Lucy soon realised that although Mama had found a niche as nurse-companion to Mrs Edgeworth, she herself was constantly harassed by Mr Edgeworth. Lucy had always thought it a little odd that the female servants in her aunt’s house were all rather mature, but within days of moving in she knew the reason for it. She had so far managed to evade her uncle’s lascivious attentions but she must find somewhere else to live, and soon. If she was honest with herself, she also wanted a little more independence. Her father’s death had been painful, but her mother’s sudden revelation that they were penniless had been even harder to bear. They had never been rich, and it was not just their poverty, but the knowledge that Mama had kept the situation from her. And what of her father, a man she had adored? To find that he was not the hero she had thought him was a severe blow. If only they had told her. After all, it was not as if she was a child. Surely they could have trusted her with the truth when she reached her majority, three years ago? She might even have been able to help. By finding employment, for example, as she was doing now.

Lucy hurried along New Bond Street, dodging between the crowds of fashionable ladies and gentlemen who were taking advantage of the mild spring weather to stroll along, giving more attention to the shop windows than to where they were going. At last she reached the hatter’s and stepped quickly into the alley. It was darker than she had expected and it took her a moment to realise this was because someone was standing at the far end, blocking the light.

Her step faltered, but she pressed on. After all, Mrs Killinghurst was expecting her and she was not to be put off. She might wish she had worn a veil, but since there was no help for it, Lucy continued towards the door. The man—for it was undoubtedly a man—had apparently just emerged from Mrs Killinghurst’s door, so he was either looking for work or for someone to employ. The latter, she thought as her eyes grew accustomed to the shadows and she took in at a glance his coat of blue superfine, buckskin breeches and black boots. In fact, he might well have purchased his coat from Mr Weston’s hallowed portals in nearby Old Bond Street, for it fitted him perfectly with never a wrinkle to mar its elegance. His boots, too, shone with a smooth, highly polished gloss. The buckskins may well have been similarly free of creases, but Lucy had felt a frisson of something she did not quite understand when she had first observed the man and now she dared not let her eyes dwell on those muscular limbs.

Instead, she kept her head up, chin defiantly raised. She would not stare at the ground like some humble, subservient creature. Consequently she could not avoid at least one quick glance at the man’s face. It was rugged rather than handsome, black-browed and with a deep cleft in his chin. There was a latent strength about him that sat oddly with his fashionable dress—clearly he was no Bond Street Beau. Whatever his status, Lucy’s main concern was that he was blocking her way. His curly-brimmed hat almost brushed the roof of the alley and his broad shoulders filled the narrow space.

She observed all this in the time it took her to cover the short distance between them, and it struck her in the same instant that he was the most solid and immovable object she had ever encountered. She stopped, but refused to be intimidated and returned his direct gaze with a steady look. His grey eyes were curiously compelling and again she felt that tremor run through her. An odd, unfamiliar mixture of excitement and attraction that had her wanting to know more about this man and at the same time to turn around and run for her life.

Lucy quelled such feelings immediately. She was not the sort to run away from a problem—not that there had ever been many problems in her life until now. She realised a little sadly that her parents had protected her from the harsher realities of life. Perhaps a little too much. But all that was at an end. She must now stand up for herself and that meant not being intimidated by this solid wall of man standing in her way. She wondered if she was going to have to ask him to move, but at that moment he stepped back, pushing the door open with one hand.

Silently, Lucy sailed past him and up the stairs. She had the uncomfortable sensation that he was watching her ascent, for her spine tingled uncomfortably, but when she reached the landing and looked back there was no one below and the door was firmly shut.

* * *

An iron-haired woman was guarding the small reception room at the top of the stairs. She showed Lucy into Mrs Killinghurst’s office, invited her to remove her cloak and bonnet and sit down, then she shut the door upon her. Left alone, Lucy folded her cloak neatly and laid it on a chair then carefully placed her bonnet on top. There was no mirror in the room, so she could only put her hands up to make sure her soft brown hair was still neatly confined in a knot at the back of her head. She had put on the same high-necked gown she had worn for her first interview, a plain closed robe of pewter-coloured wool, and hoped she portrayed the modest, unassuming character that an employer would be looking for.

After a few moments alone, Lucy became prey to uncertainty. She thought over her previous visit, wondering if she had perhaps mistaken the day.

No, she had been sitting on this very chair, facing Mrs Killinghurst across the desk, exactly two weeks ago. Lucy had been encouraged by the lady’s businesslike air, and once she had explained her circumstances and answered a number of searching questions, the lady had risen and disappeared through a door at the back of the room. Some personal inner sanctum, thought Lucy, for she had glimpsed the carved and gilded edge of a picture frame. This had surprised her a little, for the walls of the office and the reception room were singularly bare of ornament, and Lucy had been puzzling over this when Mrs Killinghurst had returned, saying that, yes, she did think there was a suitable position for Lucy.

‘It is rather an unusual position but perfectly respectable, I assure you, and the remuneration is extremely generous, considering that it is only a temporary position. You will only be required for a short period—part of May and the whole of June. However, I need to ascertain from my client—that is—you will need to come back. Shall we say two weeks from today, at eleven o’clock?’

Lucy had agreed immediately. Another two weeks in her uncle’s house would be a trial, but she would manage, somehow. The date and time of the next meeting had been repeated and confirmed, Lucy remembered, with Mrs Killinghurst promising that she would then be in a position to explain the post in detail. Lucy had thanked her and prepared to leave, but now she recalled that at that point the proprietress had shown a diffidence that had not been apparent throughout the rest of their meeting.

‘Good day to you, Miss Halbrook and—my dear, should you find another post in the meantime I hope you will feel free to take it. A little note to me explaining the situation will suffice...’

Lucy had looked at her in surprise.

‘I assure you, Mrs Killinghurst, I am more than content to wait two weeks, unless perhaps you think there is some doubt about my suitability for the post you have in mind?’

‘Oh, no, no, I think you are eminently suitable.’ Thinking back, Lucy remembered the slightly anxious timbre of the lady’s voice, as if she regretted the circumstance. She had looked a little uncomfortable as she continued, ‘Of course, this post is by no means guaranteed, and if something else should come up I would be failing you if I did not advise you to accept it.’

‘But you do not have anything else to offer me?’

‘Well, no, not at present.’

Lucy had thought it an odd way to go about business, suggesting that she should look elsewhere for employment, but she guessed it was some sort of a test of her loyalty, and she had been quick to reassure Mrs Killinghurst that she would return in two weeks’ time at the agreed hour.

‘And here I am,’ she announced to the empty room. ‘Ready and waiting to know my fate.’

The rattle of the doorknob made her jump, and she wondered if someone had been listening, for at that moment the door to the inner sanctum opened, and Mrs Killinghurst came in, smiling and apologising for keeping Lucy waiting. She went to her desk and in her haste left the door slightly ajar.

‘Now then, Miss Halbrook, where were we?’ She sat down, pulling a sheaf of papers towards her. ‘Ah, yes. The character references I have received for you are excellent. As I mentioned when we last met, this is an unusual post. My client is looking for an accomplished young lady of gentle birth to spend some time at his house in the north.’

A movement from Lucy caused the lady to pause.

‘Excuse me, ma’am, but your client is a married gentleman, I assume?’

Mrs Killinghurst shook her head.

‘He is a widower, but quite respectable,’ she added quickly, a little too hastily perhaps.

Lucy felt her heart sinking. She decided she must speak frankly.

‘Mrs Killinghurst, is—is there anything, ah, questionable about this particular post?’

‘Oh, no, no, nothing like that! My client assures me that a chaperone will be provided, and you will be treated with the utmost respect during your stay. You are to live at the house, as his guest. And the remuneration is extremely generous.’

She mentioned a sum that made Lucy’s eyebrows fly up.

‘But I do not understand. Your, ah, client wishes to pay me to be a guest in his house?’

‘Yes.’

‘But, why?’

Mrs Killinghurst began to straighten the papers on her desk.

‘I believe he wishes you to be there as his hostess.’

Lucy’s disappointment was searing. For the past two weeks she had been looking forward to this meeting, speculating about the ‘lucrative post’ that Mrs Killinghurst had in mind. A governess, perhaps, or companion to some elderly and infirm lady, or even a gentleman. The temporary nature of the post had indicated that perhaps she was being engaged to make someone’s last months on this earth as comfortable as possible. Now she realised that her daydreams and speculation had been wildly inaccurate and naive. An unmarried man—even a widower—would not hire a hostess for any respectable purpose. Thoughts of Uncle Edgeworth and his wandering hands came to her mind.

She rose, saying coldly, ‘I am very sorry, Mrs Killinghurst, but this is not the kind of employment I envisaged. If you had only told me a little more about this post two weeks ago we might have saved ourselves a great deal of inconvenience.’

She had already turned to leave when she was halted by the sound of a deep, male voice behind her.

‘Perhaps, Mrs Killinghurst, you would allow me to explain to the young lady?’

Lucy whipped around. Standing in the doorway to the inner sanctum was the man she had seen below.

His solid form had filled the alleyway, but here in this small office he looked even more imposing. Mrs Killinghurst rose from her seat, but she barely reached his shoulder and only emphasised the man’s size. He had removed his hat to display his black hair, cut ruthlessly short, and his impassive countenance did nothing to dispel Lucy’s first impression of a stern, unyielding character.

She was aware of the latent power of the man. It was apparent in every line of his body, from the rough-hewn countenance, through those broad shoulders to his feet, planted firmly, slightly apart, as if he was ready to take on the world.

Ready to pounce on her. This man was dangerous, she was convinced of it, but some tiny, treacherous part of her found that danger very attractive.

Alarmed by her own reaction Lucy stepped back, one hand behind her feeling for the door handle.

‘I really do not think there is any need—’

‘Oh, but there is,’ he said. ‘You’ve waited two weeks to learn about this position; it would be a pity if you were to leave now without knowing just what it entailed, don’t you think?’ He spoke quietly, but with a natural authority that brooked no argument and when he invited her to return to her seat, Lucy found herself complying.

He indicated to Mrs Killinghurst that she should sit down and while the lady was settling herself Lucy made a mental note that if this stranger should try to get between her and the door to the reception area she would flee, however foolish and cowardly that might appear. Thankfully, though, the gentleman contented himself with moving to one side of the room where both ladies could see him. He nodded to Mrs Killinghurst.

‘Perhaps, ma’am, you would be good enough to introduce me.’

‘Yes, yes, of course. Miss Halbrook, this is Lord Adversane, my client.’

He bowed to Lucy, who was surprised at the elegance with which he performed this courtesy. For such a large man he had the lithe grace of a natural athlete. She inclined her head in acknowledgement, but remained silent, waiting to hear what he had to say.

‘Mrs Killinghurst has told you that I am in need of your services for my house in Yorkshire,’ he began. ‘Adversane is the largest estate and the most prominent house in the area. Since the death of my wife, I have lived there very quietly, but you will appreciate that this has had an adverse effect upon the neighbourhood since I am not employing so many staff, nor is the housekeeper ordering so much from the local tradesmen. I think it is time to open up the house again and invite guests—family and friends—to join me there. However, I require a hostess.’

Lucy nodded. ‘I understand that, my lord, but surely there is some lady within your family who would be more than willing to fulfil that role.’

A sardonic gleam lit his eyes.

‘Oh, yes, dozens of ’em!’

‘Then I do not see—’

‘The thing is,’ he interrupted her ruthlessly, ‘I have been a widower for nigh on two years now and my family and friends are all determined I should be much happier if I were to marry again. To this end they are constantly badgering me to find a wife.’ He paused for a moment. ‘What I am looking for, Miss Halbrook, is not only a hostess, but a fiancée.’

* * *

Lucy knew she was staring at him. She also knew that her mouth was open, but it was some moments before she could command her muscles to work so that she could close it. Lord Adversane continued as if he had said nothing out of the ordinary.

‘I have invited a number of guests to stay at Adversane for the summer and I need a young woman to pose as my future wife. She must have all the accomplishments of a young lady of good family and her reputation must be above reproach. From everything Mrs Killinghurst has told me, you are perfectly suited to fulfil this role.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucy responded with a touch of asperity. ‘Let me make sure I understand you. You wish to enact this...this charade to stop everyone, er, badgering you?’

‘Exactly.’

‘If you will forgive me for saying so, my lord, from the little I have seen of you I cannot believe that you would allow anyone to badger you!’

Ralph regarded the little figure before him and felt a stir of appreciation. The chit was dressed in a dowdy grey gown, demure as a nun, yet she was not afraid to voice her opinion or to meet his eyes with a challenging sparkle in her own. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

‘Ah, but then, you do not know my family.’ This was unanswerable, but clearly did not reassure the girl. He could tell she was seeking the words to decline gracefully and take her leave, so he added, ‘I realise this is not the post you were expecting to be offered, Miss Halbrook, but I have considered my dilemma and conclude that hiring a hostess is the best solution.’ How much more to tell her? He added, a shade of impatience in his voice, ‘I am an educated man. I have never yet found a problem that could not be solved by logic. Believe me, there is not the least risk to your person or your good name. Indeed, it is imperative that your stay at Adversane is perfectly respectable if we are to convince everyone that the engagement is genuine. When the time comes to part I shall make sure it is understood that the decision was yours—you may be assured that those who know me will not find that at all surprising—and you will walk away with enough money to allow you to live in comfort and style for at least the next year. A handsome remuneration for less than two months’ work.’ He paused. ‘So, Miss Halbrook, what do you say?’

* * *

Preposterous. Outrageous. Not to be considered.

These were the first words that came to Lucy’s mind, but she did not utter them. Her situation, living in her uncle’s house, was not comfortable. To spend six weeks as the guest of Lord Adversane, no doubt living very luxuriously, would not be a hardship, and with the money she earned she would not need to rush into another post for some time. In fact, she might even be able to invest the money—in a shop, say, or a little school—and provide herself with an income. She might even be able to travel. She forced her gaze away from those compelling grey eyes and addressed Mrs Killinghurst.

‘You can assure me there is nothing untoward in this?’

‘Nothing at all, Miss Halbrook. It is unusual, but you may be sure I looked into the matter thoroughly before I accepted Lord Adversane’s commission. After all, I have my own reputation and that of my business to consider.’ Mrs Killinghurst tapped the paper on the desk in front of her. ‘The contract is drawn up, which will make everything legally binding. All that is required is your signature.’

Lucy hesitated. The offer was very tempting, and neither Mrs Killinghurst nor the advertisements she had scanned in the newspaper could offer anything else. And what choice did she have? Her uncle’s attentions were becoming more persistent and it could only be a matter of time before her aunt and her mother became aware of a situation which Lucy knew would distress them greatly.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘I will do it.’

* * *

Ralph watched in silence as she came to the desk to sign the contract. A slight doubt shook him. Perhaps it would have been better to hire an actress to play the role he had envisaged, but the danger of being found out would be that much greater, and the matter was too important to take that risk. He would not put it past his family to investigate his supposed fiancée’s background.

No, overall Mrs Killinghurst had succeeded very well. Miss Lucy Halbrook was everything he required and her breeding was impeccable, his family would find no fault there. She was not quite as tall as he had hoped, and her hair was not guinea-gold but a soft honey-brown. She also had rather more spirit than he had expected and he found himself wanting to tease her, to bring that sparkle to her eyes. He would have to be careful about that. He had been brought up to believe a gentleman should not flirt with a lady under his protection. However, he needed someone who could fulfil the role he had in mind convincingly, so she needed to be at least moderately attractive, and beneath that dowdy gown Miss Halbrook’s figure looked to be good. His eyes dwelled on the rounded bottom displayed beneath the grey folds as she bent over the desk to sign her name. It might even be very good.

He quickly suppressed that line of thought. The woman was being hired for a specific purpose and that did not include dalliance, however enjoyable that might be. No, his reasons for taking her to Adversane were much more serious than that. Deadly serious.


Chapter Two (#u10b1f030-661b-5938-87fb-8ac8fe0105cc)

Lord Adversane insisted upon sending his luxurious carriage to carry Lucy to the north country. She had never travelled in such style, and as the elegant equipage bowled out of London she was forced to admit that there was something to be said for being betrothed to a rich man.

Two weeks had passed since that second visit to Mrs Killinghurst’s registry office. Lucy had signed her contract and stepped back into New Bond Street with a thick roll of banknotes in her reticule, her new employer requesting her to buy whatever was necessary for her journey to Adversane. He had also given her the name of a very exclusive modiste and told her she might order anything she wished and have it charged to his account.

Lucy had felt compelled to question this.

‘Forgive me, but if your wife is—that is, if you have been a widower for two years, will you still have an account?’

‘Oh, my wife never bought anything from Celeste.’

Lucy had blushed hotly at the implication of his careless response, and had immediately given him back his card. He had grinned at that, giving Lucy the unsettling feeling that he was teasing her.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘There is a very good dressmaker near Adversane who will provide you with everything you need for the duration of your stay. I shall arrange for her to call on you once you are settled in.’

Recalling the incident, she wondered again if she had been wise to accept employment with a stranger and in a house so far away from everyone and everything she knew. She had looked out her uncle’s copy of The New Peerage and learned that Ralph Adversane was the fifth baron, that he owned several properties, his principal seat being Adversane Hall, in Yorkshire. There was no mention of a wife, but she knew this edition of the Peerage was at least five years old, so presumably the marriage had taken place after that date.

Discreet enquiries of her family had brought forth very little information. Her aunt, who was an avid reader of the Court and Society pages, admitted she had heard of Lord Adversane, but it appeared he was an infrequent visitor to London, or at least, thought Lucy, to those circles that warranted a mention in the newspapers, even if he was well known in less respectable circles, whose ladies patronised a certain expensive modiste. She must therefore trust to Mrs Killinghurst’s assurance that she made thorough enquiries into the veracity of every client who came to her.

However, just as a precaution, Lucy had kept back some of the money Lord Adversane had given her and stitched it into the hem of her cloak. It was not a lot, but sufficient to pay for her journey back to London, and knowing that she had a means of escape should she need it, she now settled back against the comfortable squabs of the travelling carriage and prepared to enjoy herself.

* * *

Lord Adversane was waiting for her when she arrived at his country seat. He was dressed very much as she had last seen him, in blue coat and buckskins, and as the coach drew up on the sweeping drive he strode across to open the door and hand her down.

‘Welcome, Miss Halbrook. How was your journey?’

‘Extremely entertaining.’ Lucy gave a little gurgle of laughter at his look of surprise, her head still buzzing with the excitement of all the new sights and sounds she had experienced. ‘I have never before been farther north than Hertfordshire, you see, so it was an adventure. Of course, I doubt I would have enjoyed it so much if it had not been undertaken in a fast and comfortable vehicle, with your servants to take care of everything for me, and overnight stops arranged at the very best coaching inns. I am very grateful to you for your solicitude, my lord.’

‘I could do nothing less for my future wife.’

Lucy blushed, but quickly realised that his words were for the benefit of the servants, as was the kiss he bestowed upon her fingers. After all, if this charade was to work then everyone must believe it.

Collecting her thoughts, she stood for a moment looking up at the house. It was a very large building in the Jacobean style with stone transom and mullion windows set between diapered red brickwork. Her first impression was that it had a frowning aspect, but she put this down to the overcast day and the fact that they were standing on the drive and the house appeared to tower over them. Her eyes moved to the stone pediment above the entrance, which framed an intricately carved cartouche.

‘The Adversane coat of arms,’ he said, following her glance. ‘The house was built for the first Baron Adversane at the time of the Restoration.’

Still buzzing with the excitement of the journey, Lucy could not resist giving voice to a mischievous thought.

‘And will the shades of your illustrious ancestors approve of me?’

‘I have no idea. Shall we go in?’

Chastened by his stony retort, Lucy allowed him to escort her into the house. The butler was waiting for them in the entrance passage with a line of servants, all of whom bowed or curtseyed as Lord Adversane led her past them.

‘Byrne will not introduce them to you today,’ he said as he took her into the Great Hall. ‘You are here ostensibly as a guest, but of course they all know we are betrothed because I mentioned it to my cousin in front of the housekeeper. Come along and meet her. She is waiting in the drawing room.’

‘The housekeeper?’ asked Lucy, suddenly quite daunted by the grandeur of her surroundings.

‘My cousin, Mrs Dean.’

There was no mistaking the impatience in his voice, and Lucy gave herself a mental shake. It was too late now for second thoughts. She must concentrate upon her new role.

* * *

Ralph swore silently, ashamed of his own ill humour. Perhaps it was understandable that he should be on edge, knowing how important it was that the girl fulfil her role to perfection, but surely he did not need to be quite so serious? He gave an inward sigh. How long had it been since anyone had teased him? Even his sisters rarely did so now. Since Helene’s death they had treated him with more sympathy than he deserved. After all it was not as if he had loved his wife. He had cared for her, yes, but the strain of living with such a nervous, timid creature, of watching his every utterance, curbing every impatient remark, had taken its toll. He had forgotten what it was like to laugh...

He escorted Miss Halbrook into the drawing room where his cousin was busy filling a teapot from a spirit kettle.

‘Ah, there you are, Ralph. And this must be our guest.’ Ariadne carefully set down the teapot and came forwards to greet them. As she approached she fixed her rather myopic gaze upon Lucy, frowned a little then turned a puzzled look upon him. He spoke quickly, before she could voice her thoughts.

‘It is indeed, Cousin.’ He added quietly, ‘I thought it best to tell Mrs Dean the truth, Miss Halbrook. She will introduce you to everyone as a young friend who is spending a few weeks with her, but in reality everyone will believe that you are my fiancée, is that not so, Cousin?’

He was relieved to see Ariadne’s frown clear as she took Miss Halbrook’s hands.

Lucy. He must get used to calling her Lucy.

‘Oh, indeed. You know how quickly gossip spreads in the country, my dear. Now, before we go any further I should tell you that I am so pleased my cousin has asked me to help him with this.’

He smiled. ‘I persuaded Ariadne to leave her comfortable little house in Bath and join me for the summer.’

‘There is very little persuasion needed to bring me to Adversane, Cousin, and you know it.’ Mrs Dean chuckled. She pulled Lucy close and kissed her cheek. ‘Welcome, my dear. Ralph has indeed told me all about it, although I really do not see—but there, it will be a pleasure to have this house filled with people again.’

Lucy relaxed in the face of such a friendly welcome. Mrs Dean led her over to a sofa and gently pushed her down onto the seat, chattering all the time.

‘Now, my dear, I have prepared some tea, if you would like it. I find it very restorative after a long journey. You have come all the way from London, Ralph tells me—more than two hundred miles! You must be exhausted.’

‘In which case brandy might be more appropriate,’ put in Lord Adversane.

Lucy ignored him. He had snubbed her once already, so she would not risk responding to his remark.

‘Tea would be very welcome, Mrs Dean, thank you.’

‘Oh, do call me Ariadne, my dear. And I shall address you as Lucy, if you will allow me.’

‘Gladly.’ She glanced around to make sure they were alone. ‘Is it safe to talk in here?’

‘Perfectly, as long as we do not raise our voices.’ Lord Adversane poured himself a glass of brandy from the decanter on the sideboard and took a seat opposite the sofa. He said conversationally, ‘What do you want to talk about?’

‘I should have thought that was obvious,’ she retorted. ‘We have not had the opportunity to discuss my story. We will need to agree on the particulars, if I am to be at all convincing.’

He sat back in his chair and stretched out his legs, crossing one booted foot over the other.

‘It would be sensible to keep as close to the truth as possible. There is no need for false names or imaginary families. We met in London, but our betrothal has not yet been made public because you have been in mourning for your father—’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Mrs Killinghurst apprised me of all your details, naturally.’

‘Naturally.’ She eyed him with growing resentment. ‘You appear to know everything about me, my lord.’

‘Not everything, Miss Halbrook.’ There was a sardonic gleam in his hard, grey eyes as they rested upon her. So he was amusing himself at her expense, yet her light-hearted comments had met with a chilly rebuff. She put up her chin.

‘I know no more of you than I have been able to discover from The Peerage,’ she told him. ‘I am ill prepared for this role.’

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘We have three weeks before the first house guests arrive. Time enough to get to know one another. It will be my pleasure to tell you anything you wish to know.’

His very reasonable response made Lucy grind her teeth, but she swallowed her irritation and tried to match his cool tone.

‘Perhaps the first thing we need to ascertain is why my mother did not accompany me on this visit.’

‘If we are keeping to the truth, then you have not told her about me. She thinks you have been employed as companion to some elderly invalid, is that not correct?’

‘Well, well, yes, that is what we agreed I would tell her—’

‘And it gave you the excuse to remove yourself from your uncle’s unwelcome attentions.’

‘I never told Mrs Killinghurst that,’ Lucy retorted, her face flaming.

Mrs Dean gave a little tut and busied herself with the tea tray, but Lord Adversane merely shrugged.

‘It is the truth, is it not? I made a few enquiries of my own before engaging you, Miss Halbrook, and what I learned of Silas Edgeworth did not lead me to think he would be able to keep his hands off a pretty young girl living beneath his roof.’

‘Ralph, you are putting Miss Halbrook to the blush,’ Mrs Dean reprimanded him in her gentle way. She handed Lucy a cup of tea. ‘You may be sure there will be nothing like that going on at Adversane, my dear. My cousin may have hired you to prevent his family from importuning him, but his reasons for inviting me to act as your chaperone are to make sure that your stay here is not marred by any impropriety.’ She rose. ‘Now, if you will excuse me for a moment, I must go and check that your trunks have been carried upstairs and everything is as it should be.’

With a vague smile she bustled off, leaving Lucy alone with Lord Adversane. There was an uneasy silence as the door closed behind her. Lucy’s glance slid to her host.

‘I know,’ he said, a measure of understanding softening his hard eyes. ‘She tells you there will be no indecorum here, then promptly leaves us alone. I’m afraid you will have to accustom yourself to it. We are supposed to be engaged, you know.’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘If I have made you uncomfortable then I am sorry for it.’

His blunt apology surprised her. She put down her cup and, to cover her agitation, she raised her eyes to the fireplace. ‘The overmantel is very finely carved. Grinling Gibbons?’

‘Yes. My ancestor paid him the princely sum of forty pounds for it. Heaven knows what it would cost today.’

‘If you could find someone skilled enough to do it,’ she replied. ‘My father was an artist, but of course Mrs Killinghurst will have told you. He was a great admirer of the old masters like Gibbons.’

‘I am aware of that. And I knew your father.’ Her brows went up and he explained. ‘At Somerset House. It is the home of the Royal Society as well as the Royal Academy. We met there once or twice when I was attending lectures. My condolences for your loss.’

The words were spoken in a matter-of-fact tone, but Lucy felt the tears prickle at the back of her eyes. Rather than show any weakness she rose and went across to the window, where she stood looking out at the fine prospect, although she saw little of it, her thoughts going back to happier times.

‘Papa used to take me to his studio sometimes, and encourage me to try my hand at painting.’

‘There are many fine views at Adversane for you to capture.’

‘I brought my sketchbook with the intention of doing just that, but as for painting—I enjoy working in oils and watercolours but I do not have Papa’s gift. When I was a child I loved best to curl up in a chair and watch him at work. He had a passion for the picturesque. Vast, dramatic landscapes.’ She thought of the hills and valleys she had seen on her journey. How her father would have loved them. She gave a little shrug. ‘But everyone wanted portraits.’

‘From the work of your father’s I have seen he was very good and in demand.’

‘You wonder, then, why it is I need to earn a living.’ Lucy bit her lip. She had never spoken of this to anyone, but now felt a need to explain. ‘He drank to excess. And gambled. I only discovered the truth after his death. With his talent, the money he earned might have paid for one or other of those vices and still allowed him to provide for his family, but together...’

‘Disastrous,’ he said bluntly. ‘And your mother, did she—was it an arranged marriage?’

‘Yes. She had a large dowry. He was a younger son, you see, and needed to marry well. Unfortunately the settlements were badly drawn up and very little was secured upon her. The money was all spent years ago.’

The room seemed to grow a little darker. The cloud outside the window had thickened and a blustery wind agitated the trees, threatening rain. She turned and came back to the sofa, throwing off her melancholy to say brightly, ‘For all that they were very much in love.’

So much so that they united to keep me in ignorance of our poverty.

The swift, unbidden thought twisted like a knife in her ribs.

* * *

Ralph saw the sudden crease in her brow and the way she folded her arms across her stomach, as if to defend herself. But from what? Her parents’ happiness? Not all arranged marriages ended in love, as he knew to his cost. Bitterness made him reply more curtly than he intended.

‘They were very fortunate, then.’ Her eyes were upon him, questioning, but he did not wish to explain himself. He looked up with relief as the door opened. ‘And here is Ariadne returned. I take it the rooms are in readiness for our guest, Cousin?’ He rose, glad of the opportunity to get away. This young woman unsettled him. ‘If you will excuse me, I have business that requires my attention. Until dinnertime, Miss Halbrook.’

* * *

Mrs Dean escorted Lucy to her room, talking all the way. She was very knowledgeable about the house and by the time they reached the upper floor Lucy knew its history, including the improvements made by the fourth baron, Ralph’s father. Lucy let the lady’s chatter flow over her while she tried to take in the stunning beauty of the interior. Baroque carvings and plasterwork vied for her attention with dozens of magnificent paintings.

‘And here we are in the Long Gallery,’ said Mrs Dean, puffing slightly from having talked all the way up the stairs. ‘The principal bedchambers lead off the corridor just along here and at the end of the gallery is the passage to the east wing, where all the guests will be accommodated.’

‘I have never seen such splendid interiors,’ remarked Lucy. She stopped to watch two servants carefully hanging a large painting upon the far wall, while a third stood back and directed them as to the correct alignment. ‘Has Lord Adversane made a new purchase?’

‘No, no, it is not new. I suppose my cousin thought it would look better here.’

Lucy regarded the painting with some surprise. It was a dark and rather nondescript view of some classical ruins, and looked out of place amongst the portraits of past barons and their wives. Mrs Dean touched her arm.

‘Shall we go on?’ She led the way into a dim corridor running parallel to the gallery and threw open a door at one end. ‘The two main bedrooms are here. You will be occupying the mistress’s bedchamber—’

‘Oh, but I do not think I should!’

Lucy stopped in the doorway, but Mrs Dean urged her to enter.

‘Lord Adversane thought it necessary,’ she said, closing the door behind them. ‘If my cousin truly intended to make you his wife then this is the apartment he would choose for you.’

Lucy’s reluctance must have shown clearly on her face, for Mrs Dean smiled and patted her arm.

‘You need have no fear of impropriety, my dear. Believe me, Adversane was not at all happy about putting you in his wife’s room, but he knows it must be so, if his family are to believe he is serious about marrying you. There is a dressing room through that door where your maid will sleep—he has appointed one for you, of course. She has already unpacked your trunk, you see, and has probably gone off to fetch your hot water.’

Lucy made no further protest, and when Mrs Dean left her she wandered around the room, taking in her surroundings. The furniture was dark and heavy, the huge tester bed hung with faded brocade and while the walls were covered in a pretty Chinese wallpaper it was of no very recent date. In fact, there was nothing new in the room at all, and nothing to give any clue to the character of the last occupant. The brushes resting on the dressing table were Lucy’s and the linen press held only the meagre supply of clothes she had brought with her. All the other drawers and cupboards were quite empty. One part of her was relieved, for she would have felt even more of an impostor if the chamber had been redolent of the late Lady Adversane. As it was, there was nothing to say this was not a guest room, albeit a very grand one.

Knowing it would be sensible to rest before the dinner hour, Lucy stretched herself on the bed, determined to go over all the questions she wished to put to her host when they met again, but within a very few minutes she was sound asleep.

She awoke when the door to her room opened and a shy, breathless voice said, ‘Ooh, ma’am, I’m didn’t mean to disturb you, but Mrs Green says its time I brought up your hot water and made you ready to go down to dinner—’

‘That is quite all right.’ Lucy sat up, stretching. ‘You are to be my maid, I take it?’

‘Aye, ma’am—miss.’

‘And who is Mrs Green?’

‘The housekeeper, miss. She sent me up.’ The young girl put down the heavy jug on the wash stand and bobbed a curtsey. ‘And I am Ruthie, miss, if you please.’

‘Well, Ruthie, perhaps you would help me out of this gown.’ Lucy slid off the bed. ‘I am afraid it is sadly crumpled and not a little grubby. I have been travelling in it for days.’

‘I know, miss. From London,’ said Ruthie triumphantly as she unfastened Lucy’s travelling dress and laid it over a chair. ‘Everyone’s that pleased to see you. Mrs Green says the house has been too long without a mistress.’

‘Oh, but I am not—’

Lucy’s involuntary exclamation had the effect of making the maid jump back, her hands clasped nervously in front of her.

‘Ooh, miss, I’m that sorry, I forgot we wasn’t meant to say anything!’

Lucy gazed in some dismay at the maid’s woebegone face. So word had spread, just as Adversane had planned. She nodded and said gently, ‘Well, do not mention it again. Now, I think I saw my green gown in the press, perhaps you will lay that out for me.’

It was her only evening gown, a plain robe of French cambric with puff sleeves and a modest neckline. Lucy thought it would look very dull against the splendid interiors of the house, but it was all she had and it would have to do.

* * *

Lucy found her new maid very willing and eager to help. Ruthie carried away Lucy’s travelling gown and half-boots, promising to clean them up as good as new, then came hurrying back, determined to help Lucy to dress for dinner. Her enthusiasm was endearing, but Lucy was a little reluctant to let her do more than brush out her hair.

‘Oh, but I can do it, miss,’ said Ruthie, as Lucy sat before the looking glass. ‘Lady Adversane’s maid showed me how to dress hair in several styles. O’course that were a couple of years ago now, but I’m sure I can remember.’

Lucy glanced at the little clock. There was plenty of time to brush it all out and start again, if necessary.

‘Very well, let us see what you can do,’ she said, smiling. ‘All I wish this evening is for you to put it up in a simple knot.’

Ruthie’s face fell. ‘No ringlets, miss?’

‘No ringlets.’

The young maid looked a little disappointed, but she set about her task with a will.

‘You were training to be a lady’s maid?’ asked Lucy as Ruthie concentrated on unpinning and brushing out each shining lock.

‘Oh, aye, miss, I was. Lady Adversane’s maid broke her arm, you see, so Mrs Green sent me up to help her.’ She gave a gusty sigh. ‘Oh, my lady was so pretty, with her golden curls and blue, blue eyes, like the china doll they keep in the nursery! It was such a pleasure to dress her. I learned such a lot from Miss Crimplesham, too—that was my lady’s maid, you see—she was a tough old stick, and all the servants was a bit in awe of her, even Mrs Green, but she wasn’t so bad when you got to know her, and so devoted to my lady.’

She paused to look at the honey-brown curls that cascaded over Lucy’s shoulders. Lucy knew she should reprimand the maid for chattering, but she was amused by her artless talk and besides, for one accustomed to looking after herself, it was so very pleasant merely to sit quietly and have someone fuss over her.

‘I was hoping that my lady would give me a reference,’ Ruthie continued, beginning to gather up the heavy locks again. ‘So I could become a proper lady’s maid, but then of course there were that terrible accident.’

‘Accident?’ Lucy met her maid’s eyes in the mirror. ‘You mean Lady Adversane?’

‘Yes, miss. She fell to her death, from Druids Rock.’

‘Oh, heavens.’

Lucy had been wondering how Lady Adversane had died. She had decided she would ask Mrs Dean at some point, for she did not think she would be able to pluck up the courage to ask Lord Adversane.

She said slowly, ‘How tragic. When did it happen?’

‘Two years ago, on Midsummer’s Eve.’ Ruthie nodded, her eyes wide. ‘Oh, ’twas perfectly dreadful, miss! They found her the next morning, dashed to pieces at the foot of the crag. I thought they’d all blame me, at first, for letting her go out alone, You see, I’d fallen asleep in my chair waiting for her to come up to bed.’

‘I am sure it was in no way your fault,’ Lucy told her.

‘No, that’s what Miss Crimplesham said. In fact, she was more inclined to blame herself. In a dreadful state she was, crying and saying she should’ve waited up for her mistress, but how could she undress her with her broken arm? No, we had a house full of guests, you see, and that night the players had come up from Ingleston to perform, and then after supper there was dancing far into the night, so it was very late before everyone went to bed. Only my lady didn’t come upstairs but went off to see the sunrise, as she often did. Only this time she didn’t wait to change her shoes and her thin little slippers wouldn’t grip on the rock and she slipped and fell to her death.’ The youthful face reflected in the mirror looked sad for a moment, then brightened. ‘And now you’re here, perhaps you’ll keep me on as your maid, miss.’ Ruthie placed the final pin into the topknot and stood back to cast a last, critical look at her handiwork. ‘I’m sure I can pick it up very quickly.’

Lucy smiled. ‘Have you not learned enough yet, then?’

‘Oh, no, not by a long chalk. Miss Crimplesham said it would be months before I had learned enough to even think of offering myself as lady’s maid. She’d started as my lady’s nurse—called her “my baby”, she did—and had spent years learning how to look after her, so even if Lady Adversane hadn’t been dashed to pieces that night it wouldn’t have done no good, for there wouldn’t be time for Miss Crimplesham to teach me everything before they went away.’ Lucy might have thought nothing of this artless speech, if Ruthie hadn’t dropped her hairbrush and stared aghast into the mirror. ‘Ooh, miss, I shouldn’t’ve said that. No one was meant to know. My lady said it was a secret.’

Lucy held her eyes in the mirror.

‘Are you saying,’ she spoke slowly, carefully, ‘that Lady Adversane was planning to...to run away?’

‘Yes—no!’ Ruthie’s face crumpled. ‘Miss Crimplesham said I wasn’t to tell no one. She was that angry when she found out my lady had let it slip. Said I should be turned off if I breathed a word of it, and I haven’t, miss. I haven’t said nothing until today, but I got so carried away, pinning up your hair and enjoying myself so much that it just came out.’ As Lucy swivelled around on the stool to face her, the girl fell to her knees, sobbing. ‘Pray, don’t tell the master, miss! He’ll be so angry that he’ll turn me off for sure. I’ll be sent off without a character and I’ll never get another position, not even as scullery maid!’

‘I promise I shall not tell anyone,’ Lucy assured her. She handed the maid one of her own handkerchiefs and bade her dry her eyes. It behoved her now to send the girl away, but instead she said quietly, ‘It was an arranged marriage, perhaps.’

‘Yes.’ The muffled affirmative was followed by Ruthie blowing her nose very loudly. ‘Only M-Miss Crimplesham said her mistress was very unhappy. And once my lady had determined to run away then she had no choice but to go with her, to look after her.’ Lucy’s thoughts raced, and as if reading them Ruthie continued. ‘My lady never loved the master—well, who could? He is so stern and cold, and when he’s angry...’ She shuddered. ‘He frightens me, and I’m not a beautiful, delicate little flower like my lady was.’

‘And what happened to Miss Crimplesham after the accident?’

‘She went back to my lady’s family. They have another daughter, you see, so she’s gone to be her maid now.’ Ruthie sighed. ‘And I became second housemaid again. And I suppose I shall have to go back to that now.’ She fixed Lucy with an imploring gaze. ‘Only pray don’t tell Mrs Green why you are displeased with me—’

‘I have no intention of turning you away,’ Lucy told her, patting her hands. ‘From what I have seen of you so far you have the makings of an excellent lady’s maid, only you will have to learn to curb that runaway tongue of yours.’

‘I swear to you, miss, I haven’t said a word to a soul before today—’

‘Very well then, we will forget everything that has been said, if you please. Now, you had best remain here until you look a little less distressed. Then go downstairs and have your own dinner. And remember, a good lady’s maid must learn to be discreet!’

‘Yes, miss, thank you.’ Ruthie bobbed another curtsey, then impulsively clutched at Lucy’s hand and kissed it. ‘I’ll never open my mouth again, I promise you.’

Lucy went off, leaving the girl happily tidying her room. She doubted that such a chatterbox could ever be totally relied upon not to gossip, but that did not worry Lucy overmuch. The girl’s services would suit her very well for the duration of her stay.

* * *

Lucy made her way downstairs and found the drawing room deserted. She supposed Ariadne and Lord Adversane must still be in their rooms, changing for dinner, and rather than sit and wait, she decided to explore a little. She soon found the dining room, situated on the far side of the entrance passage. The servants were there, setting the table for dinner, and when they saw her they all stopped to bow or curtsey, which made her retreat hurriedly. Another door opened on to a pretty chamber that she guessed might be the morning room, since its windows faced east. The next door she tried opened onto a room lined with bookcases. At first she thought it was the library, but then she realised it must be Lord Adversane’s study, and the man himself was present. He was standing before the window but turned as he heard the door open.

‘Oh.’ Lucy stopped in the doorway. ‘I did not mean to disturb you.’ She tried a little smile. ‘I was exploring...’

‘Come in, Miss Halbrook. You find me examining a new acquisition.’ He stepped aside to reveal a narrow table standing before the window, and on it a strange device consisting of a brass tube fixed to a mahogany base. ‘My new microscope.’

‘Is that what it is?’ She came farther into the room. ‘I have read about them, and heard of Hooke’s masterful book full of the drawings he made using a microscope to enlarge the tiniest creatures, but I have never seen one.’

‘Then come now and look.’ He beckoned to her to approach. ‘Fix your eye over the eyepiece, the mirror at the base will direct the light onto the slide. Now, tell me what you see.’

‘Something quite...monstrous.’ She took her eye away from the microscope and peered at the tiny object in the slide. ‘Is that what I am seeing—is it a beetle’s head?’

‘Yes. Magnified about a hundred times.’

‘But that is quite astounding.’ She studied it again for a few moments.

‘And there are others,’ said Lord Adversane. ‘Look here, this is a flea...’

Lucy was entranced as he positioned one slide after another for her to study.

‘But that is quite marvellous, my lord,’ she exclaimed. ‘I had no idea one could see so much. Why, one might look at anything, a hair from my head, for example!’

She straightened, laughing at the thought, and found Lord Adversane standing very close. Too close. Her mouth dried, she dared not raise her eyes higher than his shirt front. Once again she had the impression of standing before a solid wall, only the slight rise and fall of the snowy linen above his immaculate waistcoat told her this was a living, breathing man. A sudden hot blush spread through her body and all coherent thought disappeared.

* * *

Ralph swallowed. Hard. He was shaken to find how much he wanted to reach out and drag the young woman before him into his arms. She had shown such enthusiasm for the microscope, had asked intelligent questions and he had been enjoying sharing his knowledge with her, so that the sudden rush of lustful thoughts that now crowded into his head was quite inexplicable. And the hectic flush on her cheeks only heightened his desire to kiss her.

The air around them was charged with danger. She remained motionless before him in a way that suggested she, too, could feel it. He was powerless to move away and stood looking down at her, wondering what she found so fascinating about his neck cloth. The distant chiming of the long-case clock in the hall broke the spell. She glanced up, a look of fearful bewilderment in her green eyes.

Hell and confound it. This should not have happened!

Ralph knew it was his duty to put her at her ease, if he could. Turning aside, he drew out his watch.

‘It is getting late. Ariadne will be in the drawing room by now and I must change for dinner.’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was quiet. She sounded dazed. ‘I beg your pardon for delaying you—’

‘There is no need. I enjoyed showing you the microscope. I will look out more specimens for you, if you are interested.’

‘Thank you, yes, I would very much like—that is...perhaps.’ With a faint smile and a muttered ‘Excuse me’ she hurried away.

Ralph closed his eyes. Good Lord, what was he about, offering to show her more slides? Surely he should avoid putting them in this situation again. But it would not be the same, he argued. She had taken him by surprise. Next time he would be prepared. After all, he was not the sort to lose his head over any woman.


Chapter Three (#u10b1f030-661b-5938-87fb-8ac8fe0105cc)

Lucy did not go directly to the drawing room. Instead, she went back to her bedchamber and splashed her cheeks with water from the jug on the washstand. Lord Adversane had said earlier that she would have to get used to being alone with him, since they were supposed to be engaged, but just then, in the study, she had felt a profound sense of danger in his presence. She wiped her cheeks and considered the matter. He had said nothing, done nothing that could be construed as improper, yet just having him stand so close had raised her temperature and set her heart thumping in the most alarming manner.

‘He is so, so male,’ she said aloud, and almost laughed at her foolishness.

Lord Adversane had no interest in her at all, save as an employee. She must never forget that. She tidied her hair, shook out her skirts and went downstairs again to find Ariadne waiting for her in the drawing room.

‘Ah, there you are, my dear. Ralph has just this minute gone up to change, so we have plenty of time to get to know one another, and I know you are anxious to be well versed in your role. I agree that it is most important if you are to convince everyone it is for real. Now, what would you like me to tell you first?’

Lucy recalled Ruthie’s earlier disclosures.

‘I am naturally curious to know a little more about Lady Adversane,’ she explained, ‘but I am loath to mention such a delicate subject to my host.’

‘Oh, I quite understand, my dear. One does not want to open old wounds, and Ralph was quite devoted to her, you know.’ She signalled to Lucy to sit beside her on the sofa.

‘How long were they married?’ asked Lucy.

‘Less than twelve months.’ Mrs Dean sighed. ‘They met at Harrogate in the spring and were married before the year was out. I believe that as soon as he saw her, Ralph was determined to make Helene his wife.’

‘So it was not an arranged marriage.’ Lucy felt a little lightening of her anxiety. Perhaps Ruthie had embellished her story out of all proportion. She knew that old retainers could be very jealous of their charges, and it was very likely that Miss Crimplesham had not wished to acknowledge her mistress’s affection for her new husband.

‘But of course it was arranged,’ said Mrs Dean. ‘After a fashion. There is no doubt that the Prestons went to Harrogate in search of a husband. I wondered at the time why they did not take Helene to London. She was such a diamond that in all likelihood she could have caught a far bigger prize than a mere baron—although it is unlikely it would have been a richer one. But London is such a distance and Helene was never very strong. I think perhaps her parents decided she would not cope with the rigours of a season in Town. Or mayhap they were planning to take her there later, when she was a little more used to society. Only once Helene had met Ralph, she persuaded her papa to let her have her way, and it was always obvious to me that Sir James could deny her nothing.’

‘So they fell in love?’

‘Oh, yes, they were devoted to one another.’ Mrs Dean nodded. ‘And there is no doubting they were well suited, Helene so beautiful and Ralph wealthy enough to make the required settlements. I did think that perhaps Helene’s sweet, compliant nature might—’ She broke off, gazing into space for a moment before saying with a smile, ‘Ralph was so gentle with her, so patient. I have no doubt that he loved her very much indeed. One only has to think that in the two years since she died he has not so much as glanced at another woman.’ The butler entered at that moment, and she added swiftly, ‘Until now, of course, my dear.’

Conversation stopped as Byrne served the ladies with a glass of wine, and when Adversane came in they talked in a desultory manner until the butler had withdrawn again. As her host took a chair on the opposite side of the fireplace, Lucy thought how well Ruthie’s description of Lord Adversane suited him. Stern and cold. There was no softness in the craggy features, no yielding in his upright posture, the muscled shoulders filling the black evening coat so well that not a crease marred its sculpted form. He might have been hewn from the grey rocks she had seen on her journey to Adversane. At that moment he looked across the room and smiled at her. Immediately his face was transformed, the hard lines softened and the grey eyes warmed with amusement. She could not prevent herself from smiling back.

‘So, ladies, what have you been discussing?’

‘You,’ said Lucy. ‘Or rather, your wife.’

The warm look that had made her speak so recklessly was immediately replaced by a black frown, yet she had no choice but to continue.

‘I—I thought, for the role you have engaged me for, that I needed to know a little more about Lady Adversane.’

‘Do you think anyone would dare mention her to you?’

The haughty reply should have warned her to desist, but instead she considered the question.

‘They might.’ She met his challenging look steadily. ‘And it would certainly appear most odd if I did not evince some interest in my predecessor.’

The icy look vanished, replaced by a more disquieting gleam in his eyes.

‘You are quite right, Miss Halbrook. Unless we put it about that you are marrying me for my money. In which case you need show no interest at all in me or my family.’

‘Oh, dear me, no. I would not wish to feature as a fortune-hunter.’ He laughed at that, and, emboldened, she continued, ‘I looked in the Long Gallery on my way here tonight. I thought I might see a portrait of Lady Adversane.’

Mrs Dean fidgeted beside her, and Adversane’s gaze shifted from Lucy to his cousin.

‘You shall see her likeness,’ he said coolly. ‘But not tonight, for here is Byrne again to tell us dinner is served.’

* * *

By the time they had dined, the days of travel were beginning to catch up with Lucy, and when Mrs Dean suggested that instead of retiring to the drawing room after the meal she might like to go to bed, Lucy agreed. Ruthie was waiting in her bedchamber, taking such pains to say nothing while she helped her undress that Lucy was amused, but too exhausted to tease the girl. Once she had ascertained that Ruthie would be sleeping in the dressing room, she fell into bed and was asleep almost before her head touched the pillow.

* * *

Lucy woke very early the following morning. She had asked Ruthie to leave the window shutters open and not to pull the hangings around the bed and the sun was streaming into the room. Lucy stretched and plumped up the pillows, then she lay down again, thinking of the change in her circumstances. A maid was sleeping in the dressing room, there for the sole purpose of looking after her, and once dressed Lucy would be obliged to do very little except amuse herself. All day.

And she was being well paid for it.

With a contented smile she put her hands behind her head. She had imagined herself struggling to control a schoolroom of spoiled children, or running back and forth at the bidding of a querulous invalid, instead of which she was living the life of a rich and cossetted lady.

She slipped out of bed and walked over to the window, throwing open the casement and leaning on the sill to breathe in the fresh summer air. Her room overlooked the front of the house, where the gravelled drive snaked away between neatly scythed lawns and out through the gates. Beyond the palings lay the park, bordered by an expanse of woodlands, and beyond that she could see the craggy moors stretching away to meet the sky. How could anyone be unhappy in such surroundings?

Lucy had a sudden desire to be outside, while the dew was still on the grass. Rather than disturb her sleeping maid she dressed herself in a morning gown of primrose muslin, caught her hair back with a ribbon and, picking up her shawl, she left her room. There would be a quicker way of getting to the gardens than down the main staircase and through the Great Hall, but Lucy did not yet know it and was afraid of losing herself in the maze of unfamiliar corridors. It was still early, and although she heard the servants at work she saw no one as she made her way to the long through-passage and out of the doors that opened onto the formal gardens.

A broad terrace ended in a shallow flight of steps leading down to flower beds separated by wide gravel paths. A series of statues decorated each bed and at the far end of the gardens was a small pond and fountain. It was very beautiful and the air was already heavy with the scent of flowers, but the formal layout did not fulfil her wish to be at one with nature, so she made her way around to the front of the house, where she could stroll across the smooth grass, leaving a trail of footprints in the heavy dew.

Although it was early, a skylark trilled ecstatically somewhere above her and she thought how wonderful it would be to live here through the seasons. Immediately upon the thought came another, less welcome idea, that the late Lady Adversane had not thought so. From what Ruthie had said Helene had been very unhappy here, although Lucy suspected that it was not because of the property but its owner. As if conjured by her thoughts two horses emerged from the distant trees, galloping across the open park, their riders bent low over their necks.

Even at a distance there was no mistaking Ralph, Lord Adversane. He was riding a magnificent black hunter and was a good horse’s length ahead of his companion. Man and beast were as one, flying across the turf with strong, fluid movements that made their progress look effortless. He slowed as he approached the drive, waiting for his companion to come up to him before they trotted between the stone pillars of the main entrance.

Lucy knew they must see her, a solitary figure standing in the middle of the lawns, but she determined not to scuttle away like some timid little mouse. She thought they would ride around the side of the house to the stables, and she was not a little surprised when they turned their horses onto the grass and came directly towards her.

Lord Adversane touched his hat.

‘You are about early, Miss Halbrook.’

‘Not as early as you, my lord.’

His brows rose a little, and she wondered if he had expected her to explain her presence. As if—and she bridled a little at the idea—as if she had no right to be there. However, he did not appear to be offended by her response and replied quite cheerfully.

‘I often ride out in the morning. It is a good time to see just what is happening on my land.’ He indicated the man beside him. ‘This is Harold Colne, who acts as my steward here at Adversane.’

Lucy nodded. ‘Mr Colne.’ She shot him a quick, questioning glance. ‘Acts? Is that not your main role?’

‘Harry is also a lifelong friend and a business partner for some of my ventures.’ Ralph grinned. ‘In fact, the partnership is flourishing so much that I fear I shall soon have to find myself a new steward. However, for the present Harry manages everything here at Adversane. If you are in need of anything, you may ask him.’

‘I will be delighted to help you in any way I can, Miss Halbrook.’

Mr Colne touched his hat and gave her a friendly smile. Lucy warmed to him immediately. He looked to be a similar age to Lord Adversane, but instead of short black hair he had brown curls and a kindly face that looked as if it was made for laughter.

‘I have a great curiosity about this place, Mr Colne,’ she told him. ‘And I shall undoubtedly seek you out, if you can spare a little time.’

‘As much as you require, ma’am, although I assure you Lord Adversane knows everything there is to know about the estate.’ He held out one hand to his companion. ‘If you will give me your reins, my lord, I will see to the horses and leave you free to walk with Miss Halbrook.’

‘What? Oh. Of course.’

Lucy kept her countenance until the steward had ridden away, then she said, her voice rich with laughter, ‘I suppose you told Mr Colne I was your fiancée, Lord Adversane?’

‘Not as such. It was implied, and I did not deny it.’

‘Then you cannot blame him if he assumes you wish to spend time with me.’

‘Of course not.’

She chuckled.

‘Your expression tells me you would like to add “and very inconvenient it is, too!” Although, of course I am sure you would use much stronger language.’

Again that swift grin transformed his countenance.

‘You are right, much stronger!’

‘Well, I am very happy with my own company, sir, so if you have business requiring your attention, please do not feel you have to humour me.’

‘No, there is nothing that cannot wait.’

Lucy dropped a curtsey.

‘I vow, my lord, I do not know when I have received such a handsome compliment.’

She wondered if her impetuous remark might bring his wrath upon her, but although his eyes narrowed there was a gleam of appreciation in them.

‘Vixen,’ he retorted without heat.

He held out his arm to her, and she laid her fingers on the rough woollen sleeve. She remarked as they began to stroll towards the house, ‘If Mr Colne is such a good friend I wonder that you did not confide your plan to him.’

‘It has been my experience that secrets are best shared as little as possible. It was necessary to take Mrs Dean into my confidence, but no one else need know of it.’

‘Your reasoning is impeccable, but to deceive your friends must cause some uneasiness.’

‘And are you not deceiving your family?’

She bit her lip. ‘I am, in a way.’ She added, firing up, ‘But at least there is some truth in what I told them. I am employed.’

‘And do I figure as your elderly invalid?’

She gave a little choke of laughter at the absurdity of the idea.

‘I suppose you must be, although you are far too—’ She broke off, blushing.

‘Far too what? Come, Miss Halbrook. You intrigue me.’

‘Healthy,’ she said lamely. It had not been the adjective she had intended to use. Young. Strong. Virile. They were the words that had come to her mind, but impossible to tell him so, and she was grateful that he did not press her on the matter.

‘So what are you doing out here so early?’ he asked her.

‘Communing with nature.’ Her soulful response earned her a sudden, frowning look, and she abandoned her teasing. ‘It is such a lovely day that I wanted to be outside. From what Mrs Dean told me yesterday I believe breakfast will not be for another hour or so yet.’

‘Breakfast can be whenever you wish,’ he replied. ‘Did your maid dress you?’

She stopped, glancing down at her gown. ‘No—why, is there something wrong?’

‘Not at all. I prefer your hair like that, with a bandeau and hanging loose down your back.’ He reached up and caught a lock between his fingers. ‘It curls naturally?’

‘Why, y-yes.’ She was thrown off balance by the gesture, which seemed far too intimate. ‘I usually wear it in a knot because it is more...’

‘More suitable for a governess, perhaps,’ he finished for her. They began to walk on. ‘While you are here you will oblige me by not looking like a governess.’

‘Very well, if that is your wish, my lord.’

‘Now I have offended you.’

‘Not at all.’

‘You should know from the outset, Miss Halbrook, that I have no turn for soft words and compliments.’

‘That is quite evident.’

Her sharp retort earned nothing but a swift, sardonic glance. Lucy knew she was fortunate; she guessed he was more than capable of delivering a brutal snub if she pushed him too far.

Lucy curbed her hasty temper. After all, it was not for her to criticise her employer. She decided to enjoy the morning stroll. Lord Adversane led her around the perimeter of the lawn and seemed disinclined to talk, but Lucy had no intention of allowing him all his own way. A gravelled spur off the main drive caught her attention and her eyes followed it to a small wicket gate set into the palings.

‘Where does that lead?’

‘To the moors.’ Did she imagine the heartbeat’s hesitation before he added, ‘And Druids Rock.’

‘Oh, is it far?’

‘Too far to walk there now.’

She was beginning to recognise that implacable note in his voice. It told her he had no wish to continue with the conversation, but that was understandable, since Druids Rock was where his wife had met her death. Their perambulations had brought them round in a circle and she could see that they were now wending their way back towards the house. She decided to make the most of the remaining time alone with her host.

‘This might be a good opportunity for me to learn something about you,’ she began. ‘Perhaps you should tell me...’ she paused, waving one airy hand ‘...the sort of things a fiancée would want to know.’

‘The state of my fortune, perhaps?’

‘That is the sort of thing my parents would want to know,’ she corrected him. ‘No, tell me about you.’

‘I am thirty years of age. I inherited Adversane some nine years ago and it has been my principal home ever since. I have other estates, of course, and a house in London that I use when the House is sitting or to attend lectures and experiments at the Royal Society—what have I said to amuse you, Miss Halbrook?’

‘Nothing, only I am at a loss to see what would have brought us together.’

‘I appreciate art—you will admit that we have that in common, madam.’

‘But that is such a wide-ranging subject that I am not at all sure we would enjoy the same artists,’ she countered, unwilling to concede anything just yet.

He shrugged. ‘I enjoy riding—’

‘Ah, then we do have a common interest.’

‘You ride, then?’

‘It was amongst the accomplishments I listed for Mrs Killinghurst.’

‘But do you ride well?’

‘That you will have to judge for yourself.’ She sighed. ‘It is not something I was able to do very often in London.’

‘There are plenty of horses in the stables that my sisters use when they are at Adversane. We shall ride out this afternoon. That is—you have a riding habit?’

‘Yes, an old one. I wore it to travel here.’

‘Very well, then.’ They had reached the garden door, and he opened it and stood back for her to precede him. ‘I have business with Colne to attend to, but it should be finished by four. I will send for you to come to the stables as soon as I am free.’

Her brows went up. ‘Send for me? Perhaps I will not be able to respond to your...your summons, my lord. I may have found another occupation by then.’

Ralph heard the frosty note in her voice. What cause had she to complain? If he wanted to summon her he would do so, by heaven. She was, after all, only an employee. He gave a shrug and responded, equally coldly.

‘I have already said you will get no fine speeches from me, Miss Halbrook.’

‘Then you will understand if I respond in kind, Lord Adversane!’

Her spirited retort surprised him, but he did not resent it. In fact, he rather liked it and raised her fingers to his lips.

‘I shall be delighted if you do so, ma’am.’

He strode off then, but not before he had seen the look of shock on her face. He felt a smile growing inside him. He was beginning to enjoy his encounters with Miss Lucy Halbrook!

* * *

Lucy’s boots were sodden from walking on the grass, and she went upstairs to change them before making her way to the breakfast room. She did not know what to make of her host. He was blunt to the point of rudeness, showed no inclination for polite conversation, yet that kiss upon her fingers was as gallant as any she had ever received. It had shaken her, along with the disturbing glint she had more than once seen in his eyes. She could believe he was autocratic and impatient, but she did not think him cruel. However, she was not really engaged to him, merely an actor, hired for a few weeks. Perhaps she might feel differently about Lord Adversane if she was his wife, and in his power.

* * *

Over breakfast it was agreed that Mrs Dean would take Lucy for a gentle drive into Ingleston.

‘It is but three miles away and a very useful place to buy little things like stockings and gloves and ribbons,’ Mrs Dean explained. ‘We can also call upon Mrs Sutton, the dressmaker—’

‘No need,’ said Adversane, coming in at that moment. ‘I have arranged for Mrs Sutton to call here tomorrow.’

Mrs Dean stared at him. ‘Oh, have you, Ralph? Well, then...I suppose we need not see her today...’

Lucy chuckled. She was now on very good terms with Mrs Dean and did not scruple to tease her.

‘Ariadne is deeply shocked,’ she murmured. ‘She does not know whether to attribute your actions to consideration for my comfort or to an arrogant high-handedness.’

The widow protested and cast an anxious glance at Adversane, but he merely looked amused.

‘And which of those would you choose, Miss Halbrook?’

She met his gaze, quite fearless with Mrs Dean present and the width of the breakfast table between them.

‘Oh, I think the latter, my lord.’

‘Baggage,’ he said, grinning at her.

Lucy was inordinately pleased with his reaction, but thought it best not to say any more. Instead, she gave her attention to the bread and butter on her plate, which was all she required to break her fast. As she finished drinking her coffee she asked Ariadne how long she thought they would be out.

‘Oh, not long, my dear. We shall drive around the town, that you may see it, and then if you wish we shall stroll along the High Street and look at the shops. There are not that many, and we may well be back by two o’clock or soon after.’

‘Oh, that is excellent,’ said Lucy. She rose. ‘I shall fetch my coat and bonnet and meet you in the hall, Ariadne.’

As she passed Adversane’s chair he reached back and caught her wrist.

‘Four o’clock, Miss Halbrook, do not forget.’

The touch of his cool fingers brought the heat rising in Lucy’s cheeks. His grip was loose, casual, the sort of informal gesture that might occur between good friends, but her heart missed a beat and now it was hammering far too heavily, preventing her from thinking clearly. Thankfully, Adversane did not notice her confusion, for he was explaining to his cousin that he had invited Lucy to ride out with him.

‘Oh, perhaps then, my dear, we should put off our drive to another day,’ suggested Ariadne.

‘There is not the least need for that,’ cried Lucy, struggling to recover her composure. ‘I am not one of those lacklustre females who is prostrate after the slightest exertion!’

She had spoken in jest, but an uneasy silence fell over the breakfast room. Ariadne looked taken aback and the air was taut as a bowstring. Adversane released her, his chair scraped back and without a word he strode out of the breakfast room.

‘What is it, Ariadne? What did I say?’

Mrs Dean dabbed at her lips with her napkin.

‘Lady Adversane was not very strong,’ she said quietly. ‘At least, she could walk well enough when it suited her, but she would often take to her room for the rest of the day after the most gentle exercise, pleading exhaustion. You were not to know, of course.’ She rose and came round the table to Lucy, taking her arm. ‘Come along, my dear, we’ll go upstairs to fetch our things and be away.’

* * *

Ariadne was right, of course. Lucy had spoken in all innocence, but she could not forget the effect of her words. She did not mention it again to Mrs Dean, but later, when she changed into her riding habit and went out to the stables, she knew she would have to say something to Lord Adversane.

He was waiting for her at the stable yard, holding the reins of his black hunter while the groom walked a pretty bay mare up and down. When Lucy appeared, the groom brought the bay to her immediately and directed her to the mounting block. As soon as she was in the saddle Adversane handed his reins to the groom and came close to check the girth and stirrup.

She said quietly, as the groom moved away, ‘My Lord, what I said at breakfast—I must apologise, I did not know...about your wife.’

‘I am aware of that, Miss Halbrook.’

‘I did not intend any offence.’

‘None was taken.’ He gave the girth a final pat and stood back. ‘Shall we go?’

Discussion ended, she thought sadly. He had withdrawn from her again.

* * *

It was a long time since Lucy had last ridden, and for the first ten minutes she gave her attention to staying in the saddle and controlling the bay’s playful antics as they trotted out of the gates. Adversane waited only to assure himself that she was comfortable before he set off at a canter across the park. Lucy followed, and when he gave the black hunter his head she experienced a surge of delight as she set the mare galloping in pursuit. She forgot their earlier constraint and when at last her companion slowed the pace she came alongside and said with heartfelt gratitude, ‘Thank you, my lord! I do not know when I have enjoyed myself more!’

‘Really? But you ride very well, you must have learned that somewhere.’

‘Yes, on friends’ ponies and for a short time when Papa had funds enough for me to have a horse of my own, but we only ever rode on the lanes or rough pasture. To be able to gallop—really gallop across the park like that—it was...it was exhilarating!’

‘I am pleased, then, Miss Halbrook, and happy for you to ride Brandy whenever you wish. You do not need to refer to me. Send a message to the stables when you want to ride out and Greg, my groom, will arrange for someone to accompany you.’

‘Was Brandy your wife’s horse?’

For a moment she thought he had not heard her.

‘No,’ he said at last. ‘Helene had a grey. Beautiful to look at, but no spirit at all. Now, which way would you like to go?’

She accepted that he did not wish to talk more about his wife and looked about her before answering his question. ‘I am not sure...which is your land?’

‘All of it.’ He glanced up at the sun. ‘There is time to ride as far as the Home Wood and around the southern perimeter, if you wish.’

‘Oh, yes, please—I feel as if I could ride for ever!’

Lord Adversane grinned, putting his severe expression to flight, and Lucy wondered if it was just such a look that had made his first wife fall in love with him.

The idea surprised and embarrassed her. Her hands clenched on the reins and the mare snatched at the bit, unsettled. She gave her attention to quietening the horse and by the time she brought the bay alongside the black hunter again she had regained her equilibrium. They left the park and soon found themselves on a high ridge, with the moors climbing even higher on one side, while a vista of wooded hills and steeply sided valleys opened out before them.

Lucy was enchanted and eager to know more about the country—she asked him the name of the thick wood in the distance, and what river it was that tumbled through the valley, and did he really own everything as far as the eye could see? She was relieved that he did not appear to be offended by the questions that tumbled from her lips. He responded with patience and good humour, even expanding his answers and offering more information when he realised that she was genuinely interested.

* * *

Ralph found himself looking closely at this slight figure riding beside him. Her faded habit only enhanced the peach bloom in her cheeks and the sparkle in her green eyes. He usually went out alone, or with Harry, but riding with Lucy Halbrook, seeing his world afresh through her eager eyes, was surprisingly enjoyable.

As they continued their ride he told her about the family members she would meet at the forthcoming house party. She listened to him intently, her head a little on one side as if trying to commit it all to memory. It was with something very like regret that Ralph noticed the sun’s shadow had moved on and he told her they should turn for home.

‘Will we have time to visit the moors today?’

‘I’m afraid not.’ He saw the disappointment in her face and added, ‘The moors are so extensive they deserve at least a day to themselves. However, we can ride back across the fields, and there will be a few dry stone walls to jump, if you are able.’

Immediately, the absurd chit was smiling at him as if he had offered her a casket of jewels.

‘Oh, yes, please, only...perhaps you can find a couple of tiny walls for me to jump first, since I am so horribly out of practice!’

* * *

Laughing, Ralph set off across country, choosing a route that would not overtax the mare or her rider. He soon realised that he needn’t have worried. Lucy was a natural horsewoman. She rode beside him, jumping everything fearlessly and with such delight that he wished the return journey was twice as long. All too soon they were back in the park with the house just visible on the far skyline and in between a vast expanse of green, springy turf. He reined in his horse.

‘You appear to be at home upon Brandy now, Miss Halbrook. Would you like to lead the way to the stables?’ He saw the speculation in her eyes, the quick glance she threw towards his own mount. ‘Don’t worry about Jupiter. He will be happy enough to follow in your wake.’

‘I was thinking rather that we might race for the gates.’

His brows went up.

‘Oho, are you so confident of your ability, madam?’

‘Yes, if you will give me a head start.’

He regarded her with a slight frown. Sheer foolishness, of course. Childish, too. It would be reckless in the extreme to hurtle at breakneck speed across the park. One stumble could mean disaster. He opened his mouth to say so, but found himself subject to such a hopeful gaze that he could not utter the words. Instead, he pointed to a single tree standing alone some distance away.

‘I’ll give you to the oak.’

She needed no second bidding. He watched her careering away from him and found himself enjoying the view. She had almost outgrown the faded habit, for it clung to her figure, accentuating the tiny waist and the delectable roundness of her buttocks, seated so firmly in the saddle. She rode well, and he imagined her in his bed, thought how satisfying it would be to rouse that same passion and spirit in her by covering her soft, pliant body with kisses.

The image enthralled him and it was Jupiter’s fretful protest that made him realise Lucy had reached the oak. With a word he gave the hunter his freedom and Jupiter leapt forward. He was soon in his stride and catching up with the smaller bay. Ralph leaned low, urging his horse on while keeping his eyes upon Lucy’s shapely figure, trying to prevent his imagination from picturing what he would like to do when he caught up with her.

Jupiter stumbled and Ralph held him up, steadying him with a word. They were on the bay’s heels now, the hunter’s longer stride giving him the advantage. Sensing a victory, the black lengthened his neck and strained to come up with the bay. Ralph was so close now he could almost reach out and touch Lucy’s back. The open gates were looming. She would check soon, and he would shoot past. But Lucy did not slow—she pushed Brandy on and they raced through the narrow entrance side by side, with only inches to spare.

Lucy was laughing as they brought both horses to a stand on the lawn. Glancing back, Ralph could see where they had ridden by the deep gouges the hooves had made in the turf. Old Amos would ring a peal over him for this. He had been head gardener for decades, and Ralph could almost hear him, demanding in outraged accents to know just what my lord was about, behaving like a schoolboy.

And looking into Lucy’s smiling eyes, Ralph realised that was just how he felt, like a schoolboy ripe for a spree, rather than a man bent upon a plan of action that was no laughing matter.

Sobered by the thought of the dangerous game he had in mind, Ralph began to walk Jupiter towards the stables. Lucy brought the bay alongside.

‘I am afraid your groundsman will be most unhappy with us, sir.’

He knew she was looking up at him, but he thought it best not to meet her eyes. She had an uncanny power to disconcert him. When they reached the stable yard, the grooms ran out to take the horses. Ralph jumped down and walked around to Lucy, holding out his arms to lift her down. It was a duty, he told himself. It was what any man would do for the woman he intended to marry and therefore it was necessary for him to do so, to convince his staff that all this was real.

She was light as a feather and her waist was so tiny his hands almost spanned it. Ralph needed all his iron will to stop himself from holding her a moment longer than was necessary. In fact, so eager was he to ensure Lucy could not misunderstand his intentions he released her a little too soon and she stumbled, off balance. Immediately, his arms were around her, even as her own hands clutched at his riding jacket. The flush on her cheeks deepened, and he was shaken to the core by a strong desire to kiss the cherry-red lips that had parted so invitingly. The grooms had walked the horses into the stables, there was no one to see them. Why should he not lower his head and take advantage of the situation?

The way his body hardened immediately at the thought caught him off guard. He had to conjure every ounce of resolve to prevent himself from giving in to it. He tried to summon up a reasonable response, but could only find anger—at himself for his weakness and at Lucy for tempting him. With rigid control, he brought his hands back and put them over hers, pulling her fingers from his lapels.

He said coldly, ‘Please do not throw yourself at me, Miss Halbrook. That might be how one conducts oneself in your world, but at Adversane we expect a little more decorum.’

Her face flamed, those green eyes lost their shy smile and darkened with hurt and bewilderment. Damnation, why had he not cut his tongue out before allowing himself to utter such words? She had put out her hands to steady herself, he knew that, but he had been thrown off balance by the hunger that had slammed through him when she was in his arms. He had not known such strength of feeling since the heady days of his youth and, unnerved, he had attacked her cruelly, coldly, in a manner designed to depress any pretensions she might have.

These were the thoughts of an instant. He felt as if time had stopped, but it could only have been a moment. He said quickly, ‘I should not have spoken so. It was unforgivable—’

But she was already backing away from him, her cheeks now white as chalk, and her hands raised before her, as if to ward him off.

‘No, no, you are quite right. I beg your pardon.’

Her voice was little more than a thread. She turned and hurried away, head high. He should go after her, tell her it was not her fault, that the blame was all his, but he did not move. What could he say? That he had lost control? That he had suddenly been overwhelmed with the desire to ravish her? She was an employee, here for a purpose. If she thought him in any way attracted to her it would compromise her position. She would be unable to play her part for fear of the consequences. All his planning would come to naught.

Ralph watched her walk through the arched entrance and out of sight. Only then did he move, striding into the stables, stripping off his coat as he went. He made his way to Jupiter’s stall and tossed his coat over the partition. He would rub down the horse himself, brush the black coat until it shone and then he would put his head under the pump in the yard. After that he thought he might just be able to face meeting Lucy Halbrook at the dinner table.


Chapter Four (#u10b1f030-661b-5938-87fb-8ac8fe0105cc)

‘I will not cry.’

Lucy kept repeating the words to herself as she made her way back to her room. She kept her head up, teeth firmly biting into her lip to offset the bitter shame and revulsion that brought hot, angry tears to clog her throat and prickle behind her eyes.

They had been getting on so well, it had been the most perfect outing until Adversane had lifted her down and she had lost her balance. She had been exhilarated, in love with the whole world, and when she had put her hands against his chest to steady herself she had had no thought other than to laugh and apologise for being a little giddy.

Then she had looked up into his slate-grey eyes and her world had fallen apart. Her foolishly heightened sense had thought that he had taken her in his arms instead of trying to hold her upright, and she had imagined such a look that it had turned her bones to water. Instead of being able to stand up straight, she had been in even greater danger of falling over and had clutched at his coat like a drowning man might cling to a wooden spar. In her silly, dizzy brain she had thought herself a princess about to be kissed by her fairy-tale prince. That, of course, was pure foolishness. No one, absolutely no one, would ever think of the saturnine Lord Adversane as a prince.

‘At least he is not a rake,’ she muttered as she ran up the grand staircase. ‘You were standing there, looking up at him, positively inviting him to seduce you. Thankfully he is too much of a gentleman for that.’

She flinched as she remembered his reprimand, but it was justified. In fact, she would be very fortunate if he did not pack her off back to London immediately.

* * *

She went down to the drawing room before dinner in a state of nervous apprehension. When Ariadne asked her if she had enjoyed her ride, she answered yes, but hurriedly changed the subject, and when Lord Adversane came in she retired to a chair by the window and hoped that if she kept very still he would not notice her.

It seemed to work. Apart from an infinitesimal bow Lord Adversane ignored her until dinner was announced, when he gave his arm to his cousin. Lucy was left to follow on as best she might. Thankfully, Mrs Dean was never short of small talk at the dinner table. She chattered on, rarely requiring a response, while Byrne kept the wineglasses filled and oversaw the elaborate ritual of bringing in and removing a bewildering array of delectable foods. Lucy was too unhappy to be hungry and ate almost nothing from the dishes immediately before her. She was pushing a little pile of rice about her plate when Byrne appeared at her elbow with a silver tray.

He said quietly, ‘His lordship recommends the salmon in wine, miss, and begs that you will try it.’

Lucy glanced along the table. Lord Adversane was watching her, unsmiling, but when he caught her eye he gave a little nod of encouragement. She allowed the butler to spoon a little of the salmon and the sauce onto her plate. It was indeed delicious and she directed another look towards her host, hoping to convey her gratitude. Her tentative smile was received with another small but definite nod. Whether it was that, or the effects of the food, she suddenly felt a little better.

When dinner was over the ladies moved to the drawing room. Having boasted earlier of her stamina, Lucy did not feel she could retire before Lord Adversane joined them. Mrs Dean settled herself on one of the satin-covered sofas but Lucy could not sit still. To disguise her restlessness she pretended to study the room. There was plenty to occupy her: the walls were covered with old masters and the ornate carving of the overmantel was worthy of close attention. Adversane did not linger over his brandy and soon came in. He made no attempt to engage Lucy in conversation and took a seat near his cousin, politely inviting her to tell him about her day. Ariadne needed no second bidding and launched into a long and convoluted description of her activities.

It was a balmy evening, and the long windows were thrown wide, allowing the desultory birdsong to drift in on the warm air. Lucy slipped out onto the terrace. The sun was dipping but was still some way from the horizon and she could feel its heat reflecting from the stone walls of the house. The earlier breeze had dropped away and a peaceful stillness had settled over the gardens spread out before her, the statuary and flowerbeds leading the eye on to the trees in the distance and, beyond them, the faint misty edge of the high moors. Lucy drank in the scene, trying to store every detail in her memory. She suspected such summer evenings were rare in the north and she wanted to remember this one.

It was very quiet in the drawing room and she wondered perhaps if Lord Adversane had had enough of his cousin’s inconsequential chatter and retired. She stepped back into the room, and gave a little start when she realised that it was Mrs Dean who was missing. Her host was standing by the empty fireplace.

‘You are very quiet this evening, Miss Halbrook.’

She sat down and folded her hands in her lap. She must take this opportunity to say what was on her mind.

‘I was wondering, my lord, if you wished me to leave. If I go now there is still time for you to find someone else.’

‘Do you wish to go?’

She shook her head. ‘My circumstances have not changed. I am still in need of employment.’

‘And I am still in need of a fiancée. It seems logical, therefore, that we should continue.’ He paused. ‘You are smiling, Miss Halbrook. Have I said something to amuse you?’

‘You make it all sound so simple. A mere business arrangement.’

‘Which is what it is.’

She looked down at her hands.

‘But this afternoon, in the stable yard—’

‘A little misunderstanding,’ he interposed. ‘Brought on by the excitement of the ride. It will not be allowed to happen again.’

‘No, my lord?’

‘You sound sceptical.’

‘I am, a little.’ She continued, with some difficulty, ‘I know—I have been told—that when a man and a woman are thrown into a situation, when they are alone together...’

She blushed, not knowing how to go on.

‘I understand you,’ he said quietly, ‘but you have nothing of that nature to fear. Let us speak plainly, madam. I have no designs upon your virtue and no intention of seducing you.’

His blunt words should have been reassuring, but she was contrary enough to feel slighted by them. She kept her eyes lowered and heard him exhale, almost like a sigh.

‘Believe me, Miss Halbrook, you will be quite safe here. I can assure you that even strong passions can be assuaged with hard work and exercise. And if not... Well, for a man at least there are establishments that cater for his needs.’ Lucy bent her head even more to hide her burning cheeks. He continued after an infinitesimal pause, ‘But perhaps that is a little too much plain speaking, and a subject not suited to a young lady’s ears.’

‘Not at all. I value your honesty, sir.’

She had not raised her head and now she heard his soft footsteps approaching. She looked up to find him standing over her.

‘And I value yours. You are a sensible young woman, which is what I require in my hostess. A simple business transaction, Miss Halbrook. Can you manage that?’

She did not answer immediately. It should be easy, he made it sound so reasonable. Yet some instinct urged caution. She stifled it. If Lord Adversane could approach this in a logical fashion, then she could, too. After taking a few deep breaths she straightened her shoulders.

‘Yes, my lord, I can.’

* * *

A simple business transaction.

The words echoed around Lucy’s head when she lay in her bed through the dark reaches of the night. She could do this. The remuneration was worth a little sacrifice, surely. And if she was honest, the only sacrifice was that she should not allow herself to flirt with Lord Adversane. He roused in her a girlish spirit that had no place in her life now. When he was near she wanted to tease him, to make him laugh and drive away the sombre look that too often haunted his eyes. But his sorrow was none of her concern and she must be careful not to compromise herself.

‘I must not be alone with him, that is all,’ she told herself.

Surely that was no very arduous task when he had even brought in Ariadne to act as chaperone. All she had to do was to live like a lady in this beautiful house for another few weeks and she would walk away with more money than she could earn in a year. She turned over and cradled her cheek in her hand, finally falling asleep while engaged in the delightful task of thinking just what she might do with such a sum.

* * *

Lucy awoke to another brilliantly sunny day. Her spirits were equally bright. For a while, yesterday, she had thought she would be leaving all this luxury behind. Instead, she had a delectable prospect ahead of her. A visit from the dressmaker.

* * *

‘Byrne, where is Lord Adversane?’

Miss Halbrook’s enquiry echoed around the stone walls of the Great Hall. If the butler noted her flushed cheeks or the martial light in her eye he showed no sign of it and calmly informed her that she would find his lordship with Mr Colne.

It took Lucy a little time to find the steward’s office for she had not before entered the service wing of the house, but the delay did nothing to cool her temper. She knocked briefly and walked in without waiting for a response.

Lord Adversane and Mr Colne were standing by a large table, studying a plan of the estate.

‘I would like to speak to you, my lord,’ she said without preamble.

He raised his brows.

‘Can it not wait?’ One look at her face gave him his answer. He turned to Mr Colne. ‘Harry, will you go on to the stables and have the horses saddled? I will join you in five minutes.’ As the door closed behind the steward he leaned back against the table. ‘Very well, Miss Halbrook, what is it you want to say to me?’

‘It concerns the dressmaker.’

He glanced at the clock. ‘Has she not arrived?’

‘Oh, yes, she is here, my lord. She informs me that you have given her instructions—precise instructions—on the gowns she is to provide, down to the very colours and fabrics to be used.’

‘What of it?’

‘What—?’ She stared at him. ‘It is usual, my lord, for ladies to make their own decisions on what they wear.’

‘Do you not like the colours?’

‘That is not the point—’

‘And are the gowns too unfashionable for you?’

‘Not at all, but—’

‘Then I really do not see the problem.’

Lucy drew in a long and angry breath.

‘The problem,’ she said, with great emphasis, ‘is that I have no choice. I am to be measured and pinned and fitted like a—like a doll!’

‘Surely not.’ He picked up his hat and gloves from a side table. ‘I have no doubt Mrs Sutton will ask your opinion on trimmings and beads and so forth.’

‘Minor details!’

‘But it must suffice.’

He began to move towards the door and she stepped in front of him.

‘What you do not understand—’

‘What you do not understand,’ he interrupted her curtly, ‘is that this discussion is ended.’

She glared at him. ‘When I accused you of high-handedness yesterday, my lord, I did not think it would go so far!’

He fixed her with a steely gaze and addressed her in an equally chilling voice.

‘Miss Halbrook, remember that I am paying you very well for your time here. If I wish you to wear certain colours and styles of gown while you are under my roof then you will do so. Do I make myself clear?’

He was towering over her, as unyielding as granite. The cleft in his chin was more deeply defined than ever and there was no softness about him, not even in the grey wool of his riding jacket. He would not give in; she knew that from the implacable look in his eyes, but she would not look away, and as their gazes remained locked together she found other sensations replacing her anger.

Such as curiosity. What it would be like to kiss that firm mouth, to have his arms around her, to force him to bend to the will of her own passion...

Shocked and a little frightened by her thoughts, Lucy stepped back and dragged her eyes away from that disturbing gaze. There must be no repeat of yesterday. He must not think she was trying in any way to entice him. Better to summon up the resentment that had brought her here in the first place.

‘You have made yourself very clear, my lord.’

She ground out the words, staring at the floor, but he put his fingers under her chin and obliged her to look at him again.

He said softly, ‘I am not an ogre, Miss Halbrook. I have my reasons for this, believe me.’ He held her eyes for a moment longer before releasing her. He went to the door and opened it. ‘Now go back upstairs and continue being—ah—fitted and pinned. You are going to have more new clothes than you can count. When this is over you may take them all away with you. Most women would be delighted with the prospect.’

She found she was trembling. Despising her own weakness, Lucy dragged together her pride and managed to say with creditable calm, ‘I am not most women, my lord.’

‘No.’ His mouth twisted into a wry smile as she stalked out of the room. ‘No, you are not, Miss Halbrook.’

* * *

Lucy went back to the morning room where Mrs Dean and the dressmaker were engaged in discussing fabric samples and looking through the portfolio of drawings that Mrs Sutton had brought with her. She was shaken by her encounter with Lord Adversane, and a little chastened, too. He was, after all, her employer, and quite within his rights to dictate what she should wear. A little spirit flared to argue that it would have been better if he had explained all this at the outset, but it was a very tiny spark and soon died.

She gave herself up to the task of looking at the various designs and samples of fabrics. She soon discovered—as she had known all along, if only she had thought about it—that she did indeed have a degree of freedom in the choice of ribbons and trimmings to be added to each gown. By the end of the session her head was spinning with all the talk of closed robes, morning and day dresses, walking dresses and evening gowns, as well as the pelisses, cloaks and shawls required to go with them. Also—a last-minute addition that Lord Adversane had ordered in a note, delivered hotfoot to the dressmaker yesterday evening—a riding habit.

* * *

Although she knew she had no real choice, Lucy nodded and approved all the samples and sketches put before her. They were without exception elegant creations, not overly burdened with frills and ribbons, which suited her very well. As the dressmaker and her assistant began packing away the drifts of muslin, samples of fine wool, worsted and sarcenet, Lucy spotted a large square of red silk. She picked it up.

‘What is this?’

Mrs Sutton looked around and gave a little tut of exasperation.

‘Heavens, miss, as if I should forget that!’ She pulled out the sheaf of loose papers again and selected a coloured drawing, which she handed to Lucy. ‘Lord Adversane was most insistent that you should have this gown.’

Lucy gazed at the impossibly slender figure in the painting. She was swathed in red silk, the high waistline and low neck leaving little to the imagination.

‘It is shown exactly as his lordship directed,’ said Mrs Sutton, waiting anxiously for Lucy’s reaction. ‘Even to the diamond set of earrings, necklace and bracelet.’

‘Scarlet and diamonds.’ Lucy pictured herself in such a gown, the jewels sparkling in the candlelight, her skirts floating about her as she danced around the ballroom. ‘Very striking but...it is not suitable for an unmarried lady. What say you, Ariadne?’ She handed the picture to Mrs Dean, who stared at it in silence. ‘Ariadne?’

The widow gave a little start.

‘Oh, I do not...’ She tailed off again, her troubled glance fixed upon the drawing.

‘It is far too grand for me to wear,’ Lucy continued. ‘If we were in London, perhaps, but here in the country, what use can I have for such a creation?’

‘Unless Adversane means to invite the neighbourhood,’ murmured Ariadne.

Lucy frowned. ‘Why should he do that?’

Ariadne made a visible effort to pull herself together, saying robustly, ‘I suppose he thought you must have it. Who knows what invitations you might receive? And everyone wears such colours these days. You will not always want to be wearing those pale muslins, now will you? And I recognise the diamonds. They are a family heirloom. As Ralph’s fiancée I have no doubt he will wish you to wear them.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Lucy dismissed her doubts, relieved by Mrs Dean’s approval of the scarlet gown. To appear in public so beautifully apparelled was every girl’s dream. And what did it matter that it was all a sham, a charade? It would be a wonderful memory for her to take away with her.

* * *

When the dressmaker had departed Ariadne carried Lucy off to the shrubbery, declaring that one needed to clear one’s head after being bombarded with so much detail.

‘I must confess,’ she added, as they strolled arm in arm along the gravelled paths, ‘when you went off so angrily I thought I should be sending Mrs Sutton away and ordering the carriage to take you back to London forthwith.’

Lucy’s free hand fluttered.

‘It was foolish of me to allow such a little thing to make me angry. I assure you, I never had any intention of leaving over such a matter.’

‘Oh, no, my dear, I was not thinking of your intentions. I thought Ralph might order you to go. I thought he would call a halt to this whole business—not that that would be a bad thing.’ She muttered these last words almost to herself and when she found Lucy’s considering gaze upon her she coloured and said, as if in apology, ‘My cousin is not used to having his will crossed.’

‘I am well aware of that. Autocratic to the point of tyranny!’

‘But he is not a bad man, Lucy. It is just that... You should understand, my dear, that he was the only surviving male child, and much loved. Although he was brought up on strict principles he was allowed to go his own way from an early age. I suppose you might say he was too much indulged—’

‘I should,’ put in Lucy emphatically.

‘But he was not rebellious, you see, so his sainted parents never needed to curb him. They had him late in life, too, which I think made them a little more inclined to spoil him, and then, of course, they were carried off within weeks of each other by a vicious bout of influenza, and he inherited the title soon after he was one-and-twenty. From being a carefree young man he suddenly found himself with half a dozen estates and hundreds of people dependent upon him. And things were not so comfortable as they are now. The old lord had spent so much on improvements to Adversane that the finances were severely stretched when Ralph took over. He has had to struggle to rebuild the family fortunes. He needed a steady nerve and a firm hand on the reins to bring it back to prosperity. He demanded that everything should be done his way and it has worked. The fortune is restored.’

‘But he rules his household with a will of iron,’ objected Lucy.

‘All the Cottinghams are strong-willed, my dear, and as the heir and only son, Ralph’s will has never been opposed. Is it any wonder that he has grown used to his own way? That was why his marriage to Helene was so fortuitous. She was all compliance and perfectly suited to his temperament.’

‘Perfectly suited to make him even more despotic,’ declared Lucy. ‘The poor lady must have been wholly downtrodden.’

Ariadne quickly disclaimed.

‘He never bullied her, I am quite certain of it. But then, Helene was so very sweet-natured, I doubt she ever gave him cause to be angry.’

‘Well,’ said Lucy, thinking of the small sum she had sewn into the hem of her travelling cloak, ‘Lord Adversane may be as autocratic and demanding as he wishes, but I shall not allow him to bully me, and so I shall tell him!’

* * *

However, Lucy had no opportunity to tell Lord Adversane anything that evening, for when she joined Mrs Dean in the drawing room before dinner she learned that their host had gone off to visit friends and would not be back for two days. The news left her feeling a little disconsolate and she gave a little huff of exasperation.

‘And how am I supposed to learn everything I need to know if he is not here?’

‘My dear, no one will expect you to know everything about Ralph,’ replied Mrs Dean, looking amused. ‘In fact, I doubt anyone could do that.’

‘I beg your pardon, Ariadne, it is just that... Well, I had worked myself up to challenge him about his high-handed ways and now I feel a little...cheated.’

‘You enjoy confronting him?’

Her shocked expression made Lucy smile.

‘I like matters out in the open wherever possible.’

She thought of her uncle’s unwanted attentions and felt a little guilty that she had not brought that out into the open, but it would have caused too much distress to her mother and her aunt. Lucy had every reason to be discreet in that case. Lord Adversane, however, was another matter entirely. She added a little pugnaciously, ‘If that means confronting your cousin, I will not shirk from it.’

‘Then perhaps it is as well Ralph is away, or we should see the sparks fly,’ retorted Mrs Dean, chuckling. ‘Never mind, my dear, there is plenty for us to do. You can help me with the arrangements for the forthcoming house party. The guests have already been invited, of course—Ralph has seen to that—but there are the rooms to be allocated, furniture to be arranged, menus to be planned.’

‘And just who is invited, Ariadne?’

‘Well, there are Ralph’s two sisters and their husbands,’ said Mrs Dean, counting them off on her fingers. ‘Adam Cottingham—Ralph’s cousin and heir—and his wife, or course. And Sir James and Lady Preston.’

‘Do you mean the late Lady Adversane’s parents? But surely they will not wish to come to Adversane—’

‘Oh, yes, they will! They are even bringing their daughter Charlotte with them.’

‘But—do they know, about me?’

‘Oh, lord, yes. Ralph told them himself when he invited them to come and stay.’

‘And they still accepted his invitation?’

‘Yes. I doubt they hesitated for a moment.’ She patted Lucy’s arm. ‘I do not think I am speaking out of turn if I tell you that the Prestons virtually threw Helene at Adversane. They wanted her to marry well. Lady Preston would have preferred a higher title, perhaps, but the Cottinghams are an old family. Their line goes back to the Conqueror. And besides that, Ralph’s wealth made him a very acceptable parti.’

Lucy frowned. ‘But surely they will not be comfortable staying here, knowing what happened two years ago.’

‘As to that, they must feel it, of course, as we all do, but life must go on. Ralph’s sisters are already pressing him to marry again, which is why he has installed you here. And I hear even Lord Preston has been hinting that young Charlotte could fill her sister’s shoes.’

‘But that is monstrous.’

‘It is hard-headed sense,’ replied Ariadne drily. ‘Preston will naturally want to maintain his connection with Adversane, if he can.’

Byrne came in to tell them that dinner awaited them and no more was said that evening about the house guests, but Lucy thought she understood a little better now just why Adversane had hired her.

* * *

The following days were spent in preparations for the forthcoming house party. Ariadne took Lucy on a tour of the east wing, preparatory to allocating the guest rooms. There was also a trip to Ingleston to buy additional gloves and slippers to go with all her new clothes. It was like being caught up in a very pleasant whirlwind, thought Lucy. She loved being busy and happily threw herself into all the arrangements. She discussed menus with the housekeeper and accepted the gardener’s invitation to show her around the gardens and select the flowers she would require for the house. Lucy discovered that the staff was eager and willing to help, and once she had accustomed herself to the thought that she was regarded as the next Lady Adversane she found she could work very well with them all. It was impossible for Lucy not to enjoy herself, but at the back of her mind was the realisation that this would not last. At some point she would have to leave Adversane.

She pondered the idea as she sat at her open bedroom window, where the night air was scented with summer flowers.

‘And when that day comes I shall go with many happy memories,’ she told herself, smiling up at the sliver of moon suspended in the clear sky. ‘Until then, I shall continue to enjoy every minute of my stay here!’

* * *

Lord Adversane returned the following afternoon. His arrival coincided with the first delivery from the dressmaker. He walked into the morning room to find Lucy and his cousin surrounded by a chaotic jumble of gowns and boxes and tissue paper.

‘Ralph, my dear, you are back!’ Ariadne smiled at him and waved a hand at the disorder. ‘Mrs Sutton and her assistants must have been sewing night and day to have so many things finished already.’

‘Evidently,’ he murmured. ‘I trust the gowns are to Miss Halbrook’s satisfaction?’

Lucy had been feeling a little shy and not sure how to greet him after their last confrontation, but the challenging look in his eye roused her spirit.

‘They are indeed,’ she replied. ‘I have yet to try them on, but the styles and colours cannot be faulted. You have impeccable taste, my lord.’

‘Handsomely said, madam.’ He grinned at her, then cast a faintly bewildered glance about the room. ‘I am definitely de trop here, so I will go away and change out of all my dirt.’

‘Oh, dear, how remiss of me,’ cried Ariadne, ‘Have you been travelling all day, Cousin? Shall I ring for refreshments?’

‘No need,’ he said, going back to the door. ‘I shall ask Byrne to send something up to me. I shall see you at dinner.’

‘My lord!’ Lucy called him back. As he turned she held up two of the new creations, saying innocently, ‘I have these new evening gowns now, sir. The white drawn-thread muslin with a twisted pink sash, or the cream sprigged muslin. Which would you like me to wear tonight?’

‘I have not the least—’ He broke off, his eyes narrowing. ‘I see. You have not forgiven me for my high-handedness in dictating what should be made, is that it?’

‘He who pays the piper may call the tune, my lord.’

He met her limpid gaze with a hard stare.

‘But one would hope, Miss Halbrook, that the piper knows how to play. I have provided your wardrobe, madam, I leave it to you to present yourself to best advantage.’

He closed the door behind him with a decided snap.

Ariadne gave a little tut of reproof. ‘Lucy, my dear, I really do not think you are wise to tease Ralph in that manner.’

‘No?’ A smile tugged at the corners of Lucy’s mouth. ‘I think it is high time someone teased your cousin. In my opinion he has had his own way for far too long!’

* * *

Lucy might well want to tease her host, but she was also eager to wear one of her new gowns, and the look of relief upon Mrs Dean’s countenance when she presented herself in the drawing room before dinner caused Lucy to chuckle.

‘You see I have behaved myself and chosen the cream muslin. The embroidery on the shawl Mrs Sutton sent with it exactly matches the pink sash.’ She gave a twirl. ‘Does it not look very well? And Ruthie found a matching ribbon for my hair, too. I hope his lordship will be pleased.’

‘He is.’

The deep voice made her turn quickly to the door. Adversane had come in and was walking towards her. His dark evening coat contrasted with the white waistcoat and knee breeches, and his black hair gleamed like polished jet in the soft light of the summer evening. Lucy found herself thinking how attractive he was. That made her laugh inwardly, for no one could call Lord Adversane’s craggy face handsome. Strong, yes. Striking, even. Yet the impression persisted and she quickly sat down on the sofa next to Ariadne, conscious that she was blushing.

Ralph raised his quizzing glass to look at her. He did not need it, and the gesture was more to cover his own confusion. He had entered the room in time to see her spin around, the skirts of her gown lifting away from a pair of extremely neat ankles and her honey-brown curls bouncing joyously about her head. Once again he had been surprised by the way she roused his desire.

She was no beauty, certainly not a diamond as his wife had been, but he had never seriously expected to find anyone to equal Helene. Yet there was a vivacity about Lucy Halbrook, and he found himself wondering if that liveliness would translate itself to passion if he was to take her in his arms.

Impossible. She was a lady, not a courtesan, and he had never dallied with gently bred ladies—not even Helene, although he had known from the start that he would marry her. Ruthlessly, he suppressed all improper thoughts and when he spoke his tone was at its most neutral.

‘My compliments, Miss Halbrook. You look very well tonight.’

‘Any tributes are due to Mrs Sutton and to my maid, sir, the one for providing the gown and the other for arranging my hair.’

She answered calmly enough and the becoming flush on her cheeks was dying away. He was relieved. It formed no part of his plan to become entangled with his employee. He helped himself to wine from the decanter on the side table and addressed his cousin.

‘I have had a letter from Caroline. She and Wetherell are coming on the nineteenth.’

‘Was there ever any doubt?’ Ariadne turned to Lucy to explain. ‘Lady Wetherell is Ralph’s sister and eight years older than he. She is very eager to meet you, Lucy, but I should warn you that Caroline can be a little forthright—’

‘She is damned interfering,’ he said brutally.

‘A family trait, perhaps,’ murmured Lucy.

His eyes narrowed. The minx was teasing him again, but he acknowledged the justice of her remark with the flicker of a smile while Ariadne continued, unheeding.

‘You may recall, Lucy, I told you that Ralph’s sister Margaret is also coming. She is only four years older than Ralph but equally...’

‘Interfering?’

Ralph laughed. ‘There you have it, Miss Halbrook. Perhaps now you see why I need a fiancée to protect me?’

‘Your sisters are concerned for the succession,’ put in Ariadne.

‘They need not be. I have an heir.’

‘Adam Cottingham? He is merely a cousin.’

‘He bears the family name. That is sufficient.’

‘But they would prefer to continue the direct line, Ralph—’

His cousin’s persistence hit a nerve. He had heard all these arguments before.

‘Enough,’ he said impatiently. ‘I have married once for the sake of an heir. I do not intend to do so again. I shall never take another wife.’ He rose quickly before anyone could respond. ‘Shall we go in to dinner?’

* * *

Lucy accompanied Lord Adversane into the dining room, her fingers resting lightly on his sleeve. She could feel the tense muscles, strong as steel beneath the expensive Bath coating. He was angry, and she had some sympathy with him. His wife had been dead for but two years and he was being nagged to marry again. He must have loved her very much.

In an effort to divert his mind she asked him about his trip. He told her that he had been in Leeds, discussing the prospect of a steam railway. She dragged from her memory whatever she had learned of steam power in order to ask questions that would not result in his dismissing her as a fool. She succeeded very well, and the conversation continued during dinner. Lucy included Ariadne where she could, but although Mrs Dean professed herself interested, she was content to allow the discussion to continue around her while she concentrated upon her meal.

* * *

‘Steam power has a lot to offer,’ concluded Lord Adversane, when the covers had been removed and they were sitting back in their chairs, choosing from the dishes of sweetmeats left on the table. ‘It has even more potential than the canals, I think, and we will be able to move huge quantities of goods to and from the new manufactories.’

‘And will it mean the demise of the horse?’ asked Lucy.

‘Good God, no. Or, at least, not for a long time.’ He pushed a dish of sugared almonds towards her. ‘Which reminds me. Did I see your new riding habit amongst all those new clothes delivered today?’

‘Why, yes, sir.’

The high-waisted style was very different from her old habit, and the soft dove-blue linen not nearly so hard-wearing as the olive-green velvet, but, she thought wryly, the future Lady Adversane did not need to worry about such practicalities.

‘Good,’ remarked her host. ‘Then perhaps you would like to ride out with me tomorrow. Greg tells me you have not been near the stables since that first ride.’

Lucy hoped her face did not show her embarrassment at the memory.

‘No, I did not like to presume.’

‘It is no presumption, madam. Brandy needs exercising and you may as well do that as the stable hands. You may order the mare to be saddled whenever you wish, and Greg will find someone to accompany you.’

‘Th-thank you, my lord.’

‘So? Are you free tomorrow? It will have to be after breakfast. Colne and I have business before that, but I should be free soon after ten.’

Mrs Dean gave a little cluck of admiration.

‘You are so industrious, Ralph, to be conducting your business so early.’

‘If I do not then the day is lost.’ He looked again at Lucy, who met his enquiring glance with a smile.

‘I shall be ready, my lord.’

* * *

Lucy was already in the stable yard and mounted upon the bay mare when Lord Adversane appeared the following morning.

‘I wanted to accustom myself to this new habit,’ she told him as she waited for him to mount up. ‘The skirts are much wider than my old dress. I hope Brandy will not take exception to them if they billow out.’

‘She is used to it, having carried my sisters often enough.’

They trotted out of the yard and as soon as they reached the park Lord Adversane suggested they should gallop the fidgets out of their mounts. The exercise did much to dispel any lingering constraint Lucy felt, and her companion also seemed more relaxed. When they left the park he took her through the little village of Adversane, where she noted with approval the general neatness. All the buildings were in good repair and it did not surprise her to learn that most of the property belonged to the estate. They met the parson on his way to the church, whose square tower was visible beyond a double row of cottages. They drew rein, introductions were performed and the reverend gentleman smiled up at Lucy.

‘So this is your second week here, Miss Halbrook.’

‘It is.’

Her eyes flickered towards Adversane, who said easily, ‘I was away last Sunday, Mr Hopkins, and Miss Halbrook was reluctant to attend church alone.’

Lucy cast him a grateful glance. It was almost true. Mrs Dean had cavilled at taking her into the church and, as she put it, continuing the pretence of the betrothal in such a holy place.

‘We will wait until Adversane is here to escort you,’ Ariadne had said. ‘The Lord’s wrath will come down upon his head then. Not that he will care much for that!’

Mr Hopkins was directing a sympathetic look towards Lucy and saying gently, ‘Ah, yes, quite understandable, in the circumstances. You were afraid everyone would be gawping at you, Miss Halbrook. And they would be, too, I’m afraid. Perhaps you would like to come and see the church now? It has some quite wonderful examples of Gothic architecture. And I doubt if there will be anyone there at present—’

‘Thank you, Mr Hopkins, but next Sunday will have to do for that. We must get on.’

‘Ah, of course, of course.’ The parson nodded and stepped back. ‘And there is plenty of time for all the arrangements, my lord. You need only to send word when you wish me to come to discuss everything with you.’

Lucy knew not what to say and left it to Adversane to mutter a few words before they rode off.

‘He meant the arrangements for the wedding, I suppose,’ she said, when they were safely out of earshot.

‘Of course.’ His hard gaze flickered over her. ‘Feeling guilty?’

‘Yes, a little,’ she admitted.

‘Don’t be. Our betrothal has given the locals something to talk about, and when it ends they will have even more to gossip over. A little harmless diversion, nothing more.’

‘I suppose you are right, my lord.’

‘I think it is time that we abandoned the formality, at least in public.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You cannot keep calling me “my lord”. I have a name, you know.’

Lucy felt the tell-tale colour rising up again.

‘I do know,’ she managed, ‘but—’

‘No buts, Lucy. There, I have used your name, now you must call me Ralph. Come, try it.’

She felt uncomfortably hot.

‘I—that is, surely we only need to do so when other people are near—’

‘And how unnatural do you think that would sound? We need to practise.’

‘Of course. R-Ralph.’

He grinned. ‘Very demure, my dear, but you look woefully conscious.’

‘That is because I am,’ she snapped.

‘Which proves my point,’ he replied in a voice of reason that made her grind her teeth.

Observing her frustration, he merely laughed and adjured her to keep up as he trotted out of the village.

It was impossible to remain at odds. There was too much to see, too many questions to ask. The hours flew by and Lucy was almost disappointed when Adversane said they must turn for home.

‘We are on the far side of Ingleston,’ he told her. ‘It will take us an hour to ride back through the town, longer if we skirt around it. Which would you prefer?’

‘The longer route, if you please.’ Lucy recalled her meeting with the parson and had no wish to be stared at and pointed out as the future Lady Adversane.

They kept to the lanes and picked up the road again at the toll just west of Ingleston. Lucy recognised it as the road she had travelled when Mrs Dean had taken her to the town. She recalled there was a narrow, steep-sided valley ahead, where the highway ran alongside the river. It had felt very confined in the closed carriage, with nothing but the green hillside rising steep and stark on each side, and Lucy was looking forward to seeing it from horseback. She turned to her companion to tell him so and found that his attention was fixed upon something ahead, high up on the hills. Following his gaze, she saw the moors rising above the trees, culminating in a ragged edifice of stone on the skyline.

‘Is that Druids Rock, my lord?’

‘Yes.’

She stared up at the rocky outcrop. The sun had moved behind it, and the stone looked black and forbidding against the blue sky.

‘Your cousin told me that the old track to Adversane ran past there, before this carriageway was built.’

‘That is so.’

‘And can one still ride that way?’

‘Yes, but we will keep to the road.’

She said no more. His wife had died at Druids Rock and it must be very painful to have such a constant and visible reminder of the tragedy. She longed to offer him some comfort, at least to tell him she understood, but he had urged Jupiter into a fast trot, and quite clearly did not wish to discuss the matter any further.

By the time they arrived back at Adversane Hall Lucy felt that she had achieved a comfortable understanding with her host. Glancing up at the clock above the stable entrance, she wondered aloud if there would be time for her to bathe before dinner.

‘I have not ridden so far in a very long time,’ she explained.

‘You had probably forgotten, then, how dusty one can get.’

‘And sore,’ she added, laughing. ‘I have a lowering suspicion that this unaccustomed exercise will leave my joints aching most horribly!’

‘I shall tell Byrne to put dinner back an hour and have Mrs Green send up hot water for you.’ He helped her dismount and led her towards a small door at the back of the stable yard. ‘This is a quicker way,’ he explained. ‘A path leads directly from here to a side door of the house, which opens onto what we call the side hall, and from there we can ascend via a secondary staircase to the main bedchambers. It is much more convenient than appearing in all one’s dirt at the front door.’

‘I guessed there must be a way,’ she told him as she stepped into the house. ‘Only I had not yet found it. Does it lead to the guest wing, too?’

‘No. They have their own staircase, over there.’ He pointed across the side hall to a panelled corridor, where Lucy could see another flight of stairs rising at the far end. ‘My guests have perfect freedom to come and go as they wish.’

There was something in his tone that made her look up quickly, but his face was a stony mask. She began to make her way up the oak staircase, conscious of his heavy tread behind her.

‘How useful to have one’s own staircase,’ she remarked, to break the uneasy silence. ‘Was it perhaps the original way to the upper floor? Mrs Dean did say that the grand staircase was added when the house was remodelled in the last century.’

She knew her nerves were making her chatter, but when her companion did not reply she continued, glancing at the dark and rather obscure landscapes on the wall. ‘And of course it gives you somewhere to hang paintings that are not required elsewhere...’

Her words trailed away as they reached the top of the stairs, and her wandering gaze fixed upon the large portrait hanging directly in front of her. But it was not its gilded frame, gleaming in the sunlight, nor the fresh, vibrant colours that made her stop and stare. It was the subject. She was looking at a painting of herself in the scarlet gown.


Chapter Five (#u10b1f030-661b-5938-87fb-8ac8fe0105cc)

‘My wife.’

It did not need Adversane’s curt words to tell her that. Only for an instant had Lucy thought she was looking at herself. A second, longer glance showed that the woman in the picture had golden curls piled up on her head, and eyes that were a deep, vivid blue.

‘I had forgotten it was here.’

She dragged her eyes away from the painting to look at him.

‘Forgotten?’ she repeated, shocked. ‘How could you forget?’

His shoulders lifted, the faintest shrug.

‘My cousin had it moved from the Long Gallery the day you arrived. She thought it would upset you. Personally I would not have done so. You were bound to see it at some time.’

She found her gaze drawn back to the painting.

‘She is wearing the gown I saw in Mrs Sutton’s sketch.’

‘Yes.’

‘And the diamonds.’ She swallowed. ‘My hair is a little darker but...there is a striking resemblance between us.’

‘Is there?’

Anger replaced her initial astonishment.

‘Come now, my lord. Please do not insult my intelligence by saying you have not noticed it.’ She had a sudden flash of memory: the open door in Mrs Killinghurst’s office, the gilded picture frame on the wall of the inner sanctum. ‘Did you deliberately set out to find someone who looked like your wife?’

‘Pray, madam, do not be making more of this than there is.’

He indicated that they should move on, but Lucy remained in front of the portrait. He had not denied the allegation, so she could only surmise that his reasons for hiring her were not quite as straightforward as he had said.

‘And your choice of gowns for me—are they all the same as those worn by your wife? Every one?’

‘If they are it need not concern you.’

‘My lord, it does concern me.’

‘Well, it should not.’ He frowned. ‘I have already explained what is required of you. I can assure you there is nothing improper in it.’

‘I am very glad to hear it!’

‘So, does it matter what you wear?’

‘No-o...’

‘Then pray do not concern yourself further. Instead, enjoy living in luxury for a few weeks!’ With that, he turned and strode off, leaving her to make her own way to her bedchamber.

* * *

Damn the woman, must she question everything?

Ralph stormed into his room, tearing off his neck cloth as he went. He had enjoyed their morning ride, much more than he had expected. Lucy Halbrook was spirited and intelligent and for a few hours he had put aside his cares and given himself up to pleasure. So successful had it been that he’d completely forgotten Ariadne had moved the painting and he’d been unprepared to see Helene staring down at him, large as life, from the top of the stairs. He had looked up and seen the portrait when he put his foot on the first tread, but by that time it was too late. Lucy was already before him, and all he could do was to try and think what on earth he would say to her when she saw the painting.

He was not surprised at her look of astonishment. Even Ariadne had questioned why he had hired someone who looked so much like Helene to play his fiancée. Lucy had seen the resemblance immediately and had turned to him, a question in her eyes. Green eyes, he recalled, and they changed with her moods. They looked like a stormy sea when she was angry and today, when she was exhilarated from the ride, they shone clear and bright as moss. Nothing like Helene’s blue eyes, which he had once thought so alluring.

He gave his head a little shake to dispel the unwelcome thoughts that came crowding in. Kibble’s voice intruded and Ralph looked up to see his valet coming out of the dressing room.

‘I have prepared a bath for your lordship.’

‘Thank you. Go down and tell Mrs Green to send up water to Miss Halbrook’s room, if you please.’ When Kibble hesitated he said curtly, ‘Damn it, man, I can undress myself, you know!’

Not visibly moved, Kibble gave a stately little bow and retired. Going into the dressing room, where scented steam was gently rising from a hip bath, Ralph threw off his clothes and lowered himself into the water.

Kibble knew him well enough not to be offended by his rough tone, but what of Lucy? He had spoken harshly to her on several occasions now. A slight smile tugged at his mouth. She appeared quite capable of standing up to him, but that last look she had given him nagged at his conscience. If he told her everything, would she understand?

He could not risk it. He had known the woman barely two weeks, it would not make sense to trust her with such a dangerous secret. Safer to keep his own counsel. Much more logical.

He heard a movement in the bedchamber, and Kibble appeared in the dressing room doorway.

‘A bath is even now being carried up to Miss Halbrook’s room, my lord.’

Ralph was immediately distracted by the image of Lucy undressing and stepping into the warm water. There was a golden sheen to the skin of her neck and shoulders. Did that extend, he wondered, to the rest of her body...?

Kibble spoke again, in a voice with just a hint of rebuke. ‘Mrs Green hopes there will be enough hot water, since she did not anticipate anyone other than your lordship requiring a bath today.’

Ralph sat up with an oath, not so much angry with his valet as with himself for not being able to dispel the thought of Lucy Halbrook.

Finding his master’s wrathful eye turned towards him, Kibble unbent sufficiently to add, ‘With so few guests in the house, Monsieur deemed it wasteful to light the new range in the kitchen and has been cooking on the old open range—it has a much smaller water cistern, my lord.’

‘I know precisely what the difference is,’ barked Ralph. ‘You may tell Monsieur that since I pay him an extortionate wage to run my kitchens, I can afford to use that new range whatever the number of guests in residence, do you understand?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Very well.’ Ralph nodded towards the pail of hot water standing on the hearthstone. ‘Miss Halbrook can have that to top up her supply.’

‘Won’t you be needing it, my lord?’

‘No, I won’t.’ The vision of Lucy bathing was still tantalising Ralph. Great heavens, what was wrong with him? ‘In fact, you had best pour in the rest of the cold water before you go.’

* * *

Lucy rubbed herself dry, her skin and spirits glowing. To be able to call up a bath at a moment’s notice was luxury indeed and she could forgive her employer a great deal for that.

She could not forgive him everything, however, and the idea that she had been brought here to imitate his dead wife made her decidedly uneasy.

She left the chaos of the bath, buckets and towels in the dressing room and went into her bedchamber, where Ruthie had laid out a selection of gowns upon the bed. They were all new, and had all arrived that day. Lucy was tempted to wear the French cambric that she had brought with her, but she knew enough of her employer by now to be sure that if she did so, he would order her back upstairs to change.

In the end she chose a simple round gown of green silk over a white chemise. Ruthie dressed her hair in loose curls, caught up in a bandeau of matching ribbon, along with a pair of satin slippers dyed the same colour as her gown.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Lucy wondered if Helene had worn a gown like this, but of course she already knew the answer to that. Lucy derived some small, very small, satisfaction from the fact that however well the gown might have looked with guinea-gold curls, it could not have enhanced cornflower-blue eyes as it did green ones. Dismissing the thought as unworthy, Lucy placed a fine Norwich shawl about her shoulders and set off for the drawing room.

As she descended the main stairs she heard voices in the hall. One, which she recognised as Lord Adversane’s, came floating up to her.

‘Adam. What the devil brings you here?’

Adam. Lucy searched her mind and remembered that Adam Cottingham was Adversane’s cousin and heir. A cheerful male voice now made itself heard.

‘Don’t sound so surprised, Cos. I came to take pot luck with you, as I have done often and often.’

‘Aye, but not since the accident.’ She heard Ralph hesitate over the last word. ‘I thought you had vowed not to come here again.’

‘No, well...the past is over and done. Time to let it rest, eh? We should not allow it to cause a rift in the family.’

‘I was not aware that it had done so.’

‘Well, there you are, then. And here I am. I take it you can spare a dinner for me, Cousin?’

Lucy continued to descend, smiling a little at Adversane’s rather guarded response.

‘Of course, it will be a pleasure to have you stay.’

‘Thank you. So, Ralph, you old devil. What is this I have heard about a betrothal? Judith tells me you wrote to say you have installed your fiancée— Good God!’

This last exclamation was occasioned by Lucy’s appearance in the Great Hall. She found herself being stared at by a fair-haired stranger. He picked up his eyeglass the better to study her and said sharply, ‘Ralph, what the devil—?’

Lucy was tempted to run away from such astonished scrutiny, but Lord Adversane was already approaching and holding out his hand to her.

‘My dear, this boorish fellow is my cousin. He has come to join us for dinner.’ He pulled her fingers onto his sleeve, giving them a little squeeze as he performed the introduction.

Mr Cottingham dropped his eyeglass and made her an elegant bow.

‘Delighted, Miss Halbrook.’

Lucy’s throat dried as she responded. Suddenly, she felt very ill prepared. Now that she had met one of Adversane’s relatives in the flesh she was very nervous at the thought of being caught out. When Ralph smiled and patted her fingers she realised that she was clutching his arm rather tightly.

‘Let us go to the drawing room,’ he suggested. ‘I expect Mrs Dean is waiting there for us.’

The short walk across the hall gave Lucy time to collect herself, and once Ariadne had greeted their guest, expressed her surprise at his arrival and assured him that there was plenty of time for him to change before dinner, she was able to sit down and join in the conversation with reasonable calm.

‘Such a long time since I have seen you, Adam,’ said Mrs Dean, fluttering back to her seat. ‘I suppose there is no surprise about that. After all, we used to meet here at Adversane regularly, but of course all that changed when...’ She trailed off, looking self-conscious.

‘When Helene died,’ said Ralph bluntly. ‘I am aware that I have not entertained since then.’

‘Indeed, Cousin, you have become something of a recluse,’ declared Mrs Dean, recovering. ‘But thankfully all that is ended now.’ She turned back to Mr Cottingham. ‘And will you stay overnight, Adam? I can have a room prepared in a trice.’

‘No, no, I will not put you to that trouble. The long evening will give me time to get home before dark.’

‘Do you live nearby, sir?’ asked Lucy.

‘At Delphenden, about fifteen miles hence. I am on my way home after visiting friends in Skipton and thought, since I was passing—’

‘That is hardly passing,’ Ralph broke in. ‘You have come a good deal out of your way to get here.’

Adam laughed. ‘True, but your letter intrigued me and I wanted to know more—and to meet your future bride, of course.’

He turned to Lucy as he said this, but although his words were uttered with a smile Lucy thought the look in his eyes was more speculative than welcoming.

‘There is very little more to know,’ Ralph responded calmly. ‘Miss Halbrook and I met in London and she has done me the signal honour of agreeing to become my wife.’

‘No, no, Ralph, you will not fob me off like that,’ cried Adam, laughing. ‘What a fellow you are for keeping things close! I am determined to know all about this engagement.’

‘And so you shall.’ Ralph smiled. ‘There is nothing secret about it.’

‘No, no, I never— That is...’ Adam coloured. ‘I was not suggesting there was anything... The news came as something of a surprise, that is all.’

‘Miss Halbrook’s father died twelve months ago and she has only recently come out of mourning. That is why we have made no announcement yet.’

Ralph’s tone indicated that this explained everything. Lucy was well aware that it did not and was relieved when Mrs Dean asked Mr Cottingham about his wife.

‘How is dear Judith, Adam?’

‘She is well, thank you.’

‘Oh, that is good. I vow I have not seen her since the last house party here at Adversane—and how are the children?’ She turned to Lucy. ‘Adam has two fine boys, my dear. I suppose they are both at school now, are they not?’

‘Yes, Charlie joined his brother last term...’

The conversation turned to family matters and Lucy felt she could relax, at least for a while, although she was aware of Adam Cottingham’s thoughtful gaze frequently coming to rest upon her. She was not surprised, therefore, when he turned his attention towards her once more but by that time she was more prepared to answer his questions, adhering to Ralph’s advice that they should tell the truth wherever possible.

* * *

When Mr Cottingham went off to change for dinner, Lucy sank back in her chair and closed her eyes.

‘Good heavens, I feel completely exhausted!’

‘You did very well, my dear,’ Ariadne told her. ‘Although I thought it a little impolite of Adam to ask you quite so many questions.’

‘He is my heir,’ Ralph reminded her. ‘He has more of an interest in the matter than anyone else.’

Lucy sat up again. ‘Do you think he suspects the engagement is a sham?’

Ralph’s brows went up. ‘Why should he?’

‘It was the way he kept looking at me.’ Lucy hesitated. ‘I think he noticed my resemblance to the late Lady Adversane.’

‘She has seen the portrait, Cousin,’ said Ralph in response to Mrs Dean’s gasp of mortification.

‘And it is hardly surprising if he did notice, since all the clothes I have to wear are identical to Lady Adversane’s.’ Lucy lifted her chin and met his eyes defiantly. ‘What is it you are not telling me, my lord?’

‘There is nothing that need concern you,’ said Ralph dismissively. ‘However, I do think the portrait should be reinstated in the Long Gallery.’

Mrs Dean looked at Lucy. ‘As long as that will not upset you, my dear?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘I think it would cause a great deal more comment if you do not put it back.’

‘I agree.’ Ralph rose. ‘Now if you will excuse me, since we will have to wait for my cousin before we can eat, I shall use the time to attend to a little more business.’

He went out, leaving the two ladies to sit in silence.

‘Did you know?’ said Lucy at last. ‘Did he tell you he hired me because I look like his wife?’

Ariadne shook her head, her kindly eyes shadowed with anxiety.

‘At first I thought it was merely a coincidence. Then, when Mrs Sutton brought the sketches for your gowns—I asked Ralph what he meant by it, but he merely brushed it aside.’

‘I wonder what game he is playing?’

‘Oh, surely nothing more than he has already told you,’ Ariadne was quick to reply.

‘I am sure it is,’ said Lucy, adding bitterly, ‘No doubt he thinks I am not to be trusted with his secrets!’

‘I think it is merely that he misses Helene a great deal more than he is prepared to admit.’

Lucy had already considered that idea and found it did not please her.

Mrs Dean sighed. ‘Adversane prides himself upon his logical mind, you see. He says every problem can be solved by the application of logic, so to find him grieving so much for his late wife is quite touching, is it not?’

‘It is also a little embarrassing,’ replied Lucy tartly. ‘Everyone will think he is marrying me because I look like Helene. They will pity me, which I shall dislike intensely.’

‘Yes, but he is not going to marry you,’ Ariadne reminded her, brightening. ‘So it does not really matter, does it?’

Lucy could not disagree with this reasoning, but she knew, deep down, that it did matter to her, although she had no idea why it should.

* * *

Lucy enjoyed Adam Cottingham’s company at dinner. He was an entertaining guest, witty and knowledgeable, and although she thought his manner a little insincere she was grateful to him for making sure she was not left out when the conversation turned to family matters.

‘You will meet Adversane’s sisters, of course, when they come here for the house party,’ he said as they helped themselves to sweetmeats once the covers had been removed. ‘Fearsome ladies, both of ’em.’

‘No, Adam, you know that is not so,’ protested Mrs Dean, laughing. ‘You are not to be frightening Lucy out of her wits.’

‘Of course not, but it is as well to be forewarned.’ Adam grinned at Lucy. ‘They can be very outspoken, but you will do very well as long as you stand up to them.’

‘Now you have terrified me,’ she replied, chuckling.

‘You need not fear,’ said Adam. ‘I shall be here to protect you.’

The look that accompanied these words was surprisingly intense. Lucy suspected he was trying to flirt with her and was at a loss to know how to respond. However, Adam’s attention switched to Lord Adversane when he announced that he had invited the Ingleston Players to entertain his guests on Midsummer’s Eve.

‘The devil you have!’ exclaimed Adam.

The room was filled with a sudden tension that Lucy did not understand. Adversane’s dark brows rose a fraction as he regarded his heir.

‘Do you have any objections to them coming?’

‘No, of course not. It is a tradition that goes back generations...’

‘Precisely. They were very sorry not to be performing here last year.’

‘Who are these players?’ asked Lucy. ‘Are we to have theatricals?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Ariadne responded. ‘Ingleston has its very own troupe of thespians who perform plays at certain times of the year, such as Easter and Christmas time.’

‘They have been performing here every Midsummer’s Eve for as long as I can remember,’ put in Lord Adversane. ‘Last year was the exception.’

Midsummer’s Eve. Lucy felt a little chill run down her spine. So Lady Adversane had died on the night of the performance. No wonder he had not wanted them to play there last year. Surely their appearance would bring back unwelcome memories? She glanced across at her host. There was no telling what he was thinking from that stern, inscrutable countenance.

An uncomfortable silence began to fill the room, and Lucy was thankful when Ariadne stepped into the breach.

‘And when shall you and Judith be coming to stay, Adam?’

‘Three weeks’ time, Cousin. On the nineteenth.’

‘Oh?’ Ariadne sounded surprised. ‘But that is when the other guests are expected.’

‘Adversane suggested it.’

‘Yes,’ said Ralph shortly. ‘There will be no need for you to arrive weeks in advance this year.’

Adam turned to Lucy to explain.

‘In the past we spent a deal of time at Adversane, it was almost a second home. My wife was a great help to Lady Adversane, especially with all the arrangements for the summer house party. We would spend weeks here so that Judith could assist her, but of course Cousin Ariadne is taking care of everything this year, and she has you to support her, Miss Halbrook.’

‘Precisely.’

An awkward silence followed Adversane’s curt response. Mrs Dean rose and quietly invited Lucy to come with her to the drawing room. She said nothing as they crossed the hall, but immediately they were alone in the drawing room she burst out with unwonted spirit, ‘If Judith Cottingham did anything to help anyone I should be surprised. Whenever I’ve seen her here at Adversane she has either spent her time lying down in her room, or wandering about the garden, looking forlorn.’

Lucy blinked at her.

‘Why, Ariadne, I have never heard you speak in such a forthright manner before.’

‘No, well, usually I am prepared to give anyone the benefit of the doubt, but to hear Adam talking in that fashion—!’ Her pursed lips and frowning expression told Lucy just what she thought. She continued scathingly, ‘Judith Cottingham is a poor little dab of a woman with a perpetual air of gloom about her. And I did not think Helene was ever that fond of her. In fact, I think she resented her interference, because she told me once that she could not prevent Adam and his wife from coming here so often because they were Ralph’s nearest relatives. Heavens, to listen to Adam you would think Judith was essential to the running of Adversane!’

‘Mayhap Mr Cottingham is very much in love with his wife. I believe such affection can blind one to a partner’s faults.’

Her companion gave a most unladylike snort. ‘The only person Adam Cottingham is in love with is himself! His father was a wastrel, you know. Quite profligate, but thankfully he went to his grave before he lost everything. However, although Adam managed to keep the house at Delphenden, there was never enough money—at least not to keep Adam in the manner he wished. Even his marriage did not bring him the fortune he expected, so Ralph set up an annuity for him. Not that Adam was ever grateful. It is my belief that he envies Ralph his fortune and his lands, although I doubt he appreciates just how hard Ralph has worked to make Adversane so prosperous.

‘Adam positively haunted the place while Helene was alive, for the house was always full of visitors and that gave him the opportunity to shine, which there is no doubt he does in company. But since the accident I believe he has not been near the house, when you would have thought he would be here to support his cousin in his grief. As Ralph’s heir I think he should have done more to help him over the past two years, rather than to stay away. To my mind it shows a sad lack of family loyalty—but there, it is not my place to say so, and Ralph has not encouraged visitors for the past two years. He was in great danger of becoming a recluse, you know, which would have been a very bad thing for the family, so we must be grateful that he is holding the summer house party again this year and I shall say no more about Adam’s behaviour.’

Lucy was inclined to think Mrs Dean a little harsh in her judgement of Mr Cottingham. Despite his propensity for flirting, as the evening progressed Lucy decided that he was a very friendly, cheerful gentleman and a complete contrast to his cousin, whose unsmiling countenance and taciturn manner were even more marked than usual.

* * *

Lucy found only Mrs Dean in the breakfast room the following morning, Lord Adversane having already gone off to Ingleston on business with Harold Colne. Her thoughts turned to the forthcoming house party.

‘Is there anything you would like me to do, ma’am?’ she asked.

‘I rather thought we might go over the arrangements together later today,’ said Ariadne. ‘I have several urgent letters that I must write this morning so Byrne can have them taken to catch the mail. I am sorry, my dear—’

‘No, no, that suits me very well,’ replied Lucy. ‘It is such a lovely morning that I thought I might walk to Druids Rock.’

‘Alone?’

‘Of course, alone. It is Adversane land, I believe, so surely it is safe enough.’

‘Well, yes, my dear, of course it is safe, as long as one does not ascend the rock itself—but I have always thought it such a forbidding place, especially since Helene’s accident...such tragic memories.’

‘It holds no such memories for me, although I admit I was reluctant to ask Adv—Ralph to take me for that very reason.’

‘If you will only wait until later I will come with you—’

Lucy chuckled. It had not taken her long to discover that while Ariadne liked to busy herself around the house, her idea of exercise was a gentle stroll in the shrubbery.

‘No, no, ma’am, I would not dream of troubling you,’ she said now. ‘Besides, it promises to be very hot later, and we would be better employed indoors than walking in the midday sun. No, I shall go this instant and thoroughly enjoy myself.’

Shortly after, attired in her sensible boots and carrying a shawl in case the breeze should be fresher on the moor, she made her way out of doors, pausing only to ask directions from one of the footmen, explaining with a twinkle that she did not wish to lose her way and put the staff to the trouble of finding her.

‘Nay, ma’am, that’s not likely, for Hobart’s Moor ain’t large and the path is well marked.’

‘I believe the lane leading from the wicket gate will take me there,’ she prompted him.

‘Aye, ma’am, that it will. Follow the lane through the trees and that’ll bring you to Hobart’s Bridge. Cross that and you’ll be on t’moor. There’s a good track then that brings you round to Druids Rock.’

Armed with this information, and the footman’s assurance that she could not miss her way, Lucy set off. The gate was in fact wide enough for a horse and she guessed the path through the trees had originally been intended as a ride. However, the undergrowth now encroached upon it and the trees grew unchecked, their branches almost meeting overhead. She was glad of her shawl for the morning shade was cool. The trees ended where the ride joined an ancient track that curved away around the belt of woodland in one direction and in the other it stretched out before her, winding down across a picturesque stone bridge and cutting through the distant moors.

She walked on and crossed what she guessed to be Hobart’s Bridge, pausing to look over the side at the fast-flowing little stream that tumbled over its rocky bed. Lucy followed the track, striding out briskly beneath the cloudless blue vault of sky. The path ran around a natural ridge in the moor, the land falling away to gorse bushes and the stream on one side while rugged slopes covered with rough grass and heather rose up on the other.

As the path wound onwards the views of Adversane were left behind and the dramatic landscape of hills and steep-sided valleys unfolded before her. She stopped several times, taking in the view and thinking how much her father would have loved to paint such scenery. She had captured some of it in her own sketchbook, but everywhere she looked there was another vista. So many views, she knew she would not be able to sketch them all before the house party was over and her employment at Adversane was ended.

She rounded a bend to find the ground ahead rising steeply and suddenly there was Druids Rock soaring above her. There could be no mistaking it, for it towered over the path at this point, dark and brooding, even in the sunshine. The old track ran to the south of the rock and continued down into the wooded valley below, which she guessed was the way to Ingleston, but Lucy chose a narrow path winding up through the heather. As she drew closer to Druids Rock she could see it was not one solid piece but a jumble of huge stones, pushed together as if by some giant hand. The southern face reared up like a cliff, but the northern side swept upwards in a gentle slope, easily ascended. Lucy did not hesitate. She walked up to the top of the ramp and stood there, revelling in the feel of the fresh breeze on her skin. It was like standing on top of the world.

Behind her, the natural rise of the moors blocked her view of the track and only the chimneys of Adversane were visible. Looking south, with the sheer drop at her feet, the valley opened up and beyond the belt of trees directly below her she could see the town of Ingleston nestling between the hills. Leading from it was the white ribbon of road that she had ridden with Ralph yesterday.

Lucy sat down on the edge of the rock, enjoying the peace and solitude. Below her, a few wagons and horses were moving silently along the road while the surrounding land below the moors looked green and well-tended, a network of tidy walls and neat farmsteads. Most of it, she knew, belonged to Adversane. Ralph. It was a good spot from which to see the extent of his domain, but she understood why he did not come here, if his wife had fallen from this very rock. Glancing down, she remembered Ruthie’s incautious words. Helene had come here in her evening dress. Had she really been so unhappy that she—?

No. She would not speculate. That would be a despicable thing to do. She scrambled to her feet and left her high perch. She would go back to the house and ask Mrs Dean what exactly had happened. She regained the track and set off back the way she had come. She had not gone far when she heard the thunder of hooves. Looking around, she saw the dark figure of Adversane cantering towards her. Lucy stopped and waited while he brought his horse to a plunging halt beside her.

‘Was it you, on top of the rock?’

He barked out the words, a thunderous scowl blackening his countenance.

‘Yes.’ She fought down the urge to shrink away or apologise. ‘It was such a lovely morning I wanted to explore.’

‘Explore! Don’t you know how dangerous those rocks can be?’

She replied calmly, ‘I am sure in the wet they are extremely treacherous, but the ground is dry, and my shoes are not at all slippery.’ She twitched aside her skirts to show him the sturdy half-boots she was wearing.

He glared down at her, and Lucy waited for the furious tirade that she felt sure he wanted to utter. After a moment’s taut silence she said quietly, ‘I am very sorry if I alarmed you.’

She thought she might have imagined his growl as her apology robbed him of the excuse to harangue her. He jumped down and by tacit consent they began to walk, with Jupiter following behind them.

‘I saw someone on the rocks and thought it was you. I came up to make sure you were safe.’

‘That was very considerate, sir, when I know you do not normally use this track. Is that because of what happened to your wife here?’

He threw a swift, hard glance at her.

‘Who told you? What have you heard about that?’

‘My maid said Lady Adversane fell to her death from the rock.’ She added quickly, ‘Please do not blame Ruthie. If she had not told me I should have asked Mrs Dean.’

‘I am surprised you were not told I’d killed her.’

Lucy stopped in her tracks. He gave a harsh laugh.

‘Oh, not literally. I was at the house when she fell, but it was known she was not happy.’

‘You mean they think she killed herself.’ Lucy’s parents had often deplored her blunt speaking and she glanced a little uncertainly at Lord Adversane, but he did not appear shocked so she continued. ‘Would she have done such a thing?’

‘I do not think so, but—’

Lucy put out her hand to him. ‘If she did take her own life, you must not blame yourself, sir.’

He was looking down at her fingers where they rested on his sleeve. Gently, she withdrew them. It had been an impulsive gesture, but he was, after all, almost a stranger. They began to walk on again and despite a little awkwardness Lucy did not want to let the moment pass.

‘Will you tell me?’ she asked him. ‘Will you explain what happened the night she died?’ When he did not reply immediately she added, ‘I beg your pardon. I have no right to ask—’

‘But you want to know, don’t you? If I will not speak of it then you will find out from someone else.’

She could not lie.

‘Yes.’

‘Then it is best you hear it from me. Helene walked here a great deal. Her father, Sir James, is—calls himself—a druid. Have you heard of The Ancient Order of the Druids, Miss Halbrook? Not so ancient, in fact. They were founded about five-and-twenty years ago by a man named Hurle and they are an offshoot of an older order, which Hurle considered too profane. They have their own beliefs and rituals, many based on nature and astrology. And of course they believe there is a link with the ancient standing stones.’ His lip curled. ‘There are no such stones at Adversane, but we do have Druids Rock. The name of the place goes back generations. No one seems to know why it was called thus, but certainly there have been no druidic rituals here in my lifetime, or my father’s. When Preston learned that Druids Rock was on my land he was even more eager for me to become his son-in-law. Even before the marriage had taken place he began to come to Adversane regularly to visit the rock. As did Helene during that last spring and summer when we were living at Adversane. She even went there in the dark, ostensibly to watch the sunrise.’

‘Ostensibly? You did not believe it?’ Lucy closed her lips. That was not the sort of thing one asked a man about his wife.

‘I did not question her beliefs,’ he said shortly. ‘But I did insist that she never went there unaccompanied. She agreed always to take her maid with her, and I was content with that.’ A faint, derisive smile curled his lip. ‘The locals fear the place is haunted by fairies and hobgoblins, but I never heard that they injured anyone. If she wanted to get up before dawn to go there I would not forbid it.

‘That is what she is thought to have been doing on Midsummer’s Eve. It is thought to be the reason she was still wearing her evening gown.’

‘Why did you not come with her?’

‘I have no time for superstition, Miss Halbrook.’

‘But what about romance?’ Those dark brows rose and she blushed. ‘Some would think it romantic to watch the dawn together.’

‘That would be as nonsensical as my wife’s druidical beliefs.’ His hard look challenged Lucy to contradict him, and when she said nothing he continued. ‘She was not missed until just before breakfast time, when her maid realised she had not gone to bed. I organised search parties, but it did not take long to find her. Druids Rock was the first place we looked.’

‘How dreadful for you.’

‘Not only for me, but for everyone who was staying at Adversane.’

‘And yet, you have invited the same people to join you here again?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you have invited the players to come in, just as they did the night she—the night Helene died.’

‘The Midsummer’s Eve play is a tradition, Miss Halbrook. It goes back generations, far beyond the tragedy of my wife’s death. It is not logical that it should cease because of one tragic event.’

‘But surely—’

He stopped her, saying impatiently, ‘Enough of this. We will talk of something else, if you please, or continue in silence.’

* * *

She chose silence, and Ralph found himself regretting it. She might infuriate him with her incessant questions but she was only voicing what others would think. It was as well that he had the answers ready. He acknowledged to himself that he had been misled by her appearance. In Mrs Killinghurst’s office, she had looked positively drab in the enveloping grey gown and quite demure. If he had known she would show such spirit he would never have employed her. A faint smile began inside him. He should be honest with himself. He did know, from that very first encounter in the alley.

He had deliberately positioned himself at the door of Mrs Killinghurst’s office so that he could observe the candidate for this post and he had seen Miss Lucy Halbrook walking towards him. He had noted the slight hesitation as she found her way blocked, then the way her head had come up as she approached him, determined not to be intimidated.

Yes, he knew from that first moment that she was not one to accept his demands without question. He should have told Mrs Killinghurst to send her away, to find someone more biddable. Even as the thought formed he realised that after Lucy Halbrook, anyone else would seem very dull indeed.

* * *

Lucy hardly noticed the continuing silence. Her mind was too full of what she had heard to make idle conversation. Lord Adversane was lost in his own thoughts and did not appear to object so she occupied herself with studying her surroundings, the rough grass and darker patches of heather, the view of the distant hills. Everything was new and interesting. Suddenly a swathe of white caught her eye, a shifting, snowy carpet nestling in a wide, flat depression a short distance from their path.

‘Oh, how pretty. What is it?’

‘Cotton grass.’ He strode across to the dip and picked a handful of the fluffy, nodding heads. ‘It grows on boggy ground. It can be used to stuff pillows, though it is not as good as goosedown.’

‘It looks very fine,’ she observed.

‘It is. Feel it.’

The breath caught in her throat as he brushed the white heads against her cheek. The touch was gentle, as light as thistledown, but it sent a thrill running through her body. She became shockingly aware of the man standing beside her. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to connect herself to his rugged strength. It was an immense struggle to compose herself and respond calmly.

‘It, um, it is as soft as silk.’

He held her eyes for a moment, a look she could not interpret in his own, then he turned away.

‘Unfortunately the strands are too short to be spun into thread.’

A faint disappointment flickered through her as he cast aside the grasses and began to walk on.

Did you expect him to present them to you like some lovesick swain?

With a mental shrug, she fell into step beside him again, walking on in silence until they had crossed Hobart’s Bridge and were approaching the belt of trees that separated the moors from Adversane Hall.

‘Does that way lead to the Hall, too?’ she asked, pointing to the old track where it disappeared around the trees.

‘Yes. It leads to the main gates, but it will be quicker if we go through the old ride.’

‘Is that what it is called? I came out that way,’ said Lucy. ‘I suppose Lady Adversane rode through it when she went to Druids Rock.’

‘No, my wife was a nervous rider and preferred to walk. I never come this way.’

She looked up at the overhanging branches.

‘And you have not had many guests since the accident, so consequently it is much overgrown.’

‘You are right. The only people to use it now are the servants, if they are walking to Ingleston.’

‘But it is such a delightful route, my lord. It seems such a shame that one cannot ride this way any more.’

‘It is a loss I can bear.’

They had reached the gate leading into the grounds of the house. Ralph was about to open it, but Lucy was before him, lifting the latch and walking through, as if declaring her independence. He found himself smiling as he watched her. She was a strange mix, quiet and a little shy, yet not afraid to challenge him, and not at all cowed by his sharp retorts. He had not spoken to anyone of Helene’s death for so long that it had been a relief to talk of it, so much so that he had had to stop himself from confiding his suspicions. But he could not do that, he was playing far too dangerous a game to involve anyone else. If he was wrong then innocent names would be mired by suspicion. It was his plan and he would share it with no one. He alone would take the credit for it. Or the blame.

Ralph guided Jupiter through the gate and closed it firmly behind him. Lucy was waiting for him. The wind had sprung up and she was busy trying to untangle her shawl.

‘Here, let me.’ He dropped Jupiter’s reins so that he could use both hands to take the shawl and drape it around her shoulders.

‘Thank you. There are rainclouds on the horizon. I am glad we are back in time to avoid a soaking.’

She was laughing, completely unaware of how pretty she looked, her windswept curls rioting around her bare head and her skin glowing from the fresh air.

Kiss her.

She was knotting the ends of her shawl, oblivious of his hands hovering over her shoulders. He snatched his hands away as she turned her head to address him.

‘What say you, my lord, will it last? Shall we be confined indoors by the inclement weather?’

She was peeping up at him through her lashes and he felt his blood stirring. It was unconsciously done, he would swear to it, but by God that look was damned inviting! With a silent oath he tore his eyes away from her. She was here for a purpose and he would not allow himself to be distracted.

‘There is rain on the way, certainly.’ He picked up Jupiter’s reins. ‘You can see the house from here, so there is no reason for me to come farther with you.’

Without another word, he threw himself into the saddle and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. Soon they were flying across the park, and he had to concentrate to keep the big hunter steady. As Jupiter settled into his stride Ralph found the unwelcome feelings were receding. It was the novelty of having a young woman in the house, that was all.

Since Helene’s death he had thrown himself into his work on the estate and shunned female society. He saw now that it had been a mistake. If he had not been so reclusive he would not now find himself so desirous of Lucy Halbrook’s company, and he would not be so quickly aroused when they were together. After all, she was no beauty. It was her resemblance to Helene that had persuaded him to employ her, but the longer she was here the less he could see any similarity. Damnation, had he been mistaken? No, Adam had seen the likeness, he was certain of that.

‘She will have to do,’ he muttered as he bent low over Jupiter’s glossy black neck. ‘Only another couple of weeks and it will be finished. She will leave Adversane and I need never see her again. All I require of Lucy Halbrook until then is that she plays her part.’


Chapter Six (#u10b1f030-661b-5938-87fb-8ac8fe0105cc)

‘Well, was there ever anyone so rude?’

Lucy watched Ralph gallop off across the park. She had thought they were getting on well. They had talked quite freely during their walk, which had gone a long way to allowing her to put aside some of her own reserve, but now he had rebuffed her. Lucy tried to be angry, but honesty compelled her to admit that she was more wounded by his abrupt departure.

‘But why should he walk you back?’ she asked herself as she turned her steps towards the house. ‘If he was truly your fiancé it would be a different matter. You would have every excuse to feel aggrieved. As it is, he is paying you very well and that should be sufficient. Surely you do not want to spend more time with such a difficult man.’

She thought back to what he had told her about his late wife. Ariadne thought them a devoted couple, but Lucy was sceptical. Ralph himself had admitted Helene was not happy and she had detected no sign of affection in his manner when he talked about his wife. She stopped and uttered her thoughts to the open air.

‘But if that is the case, why does he want me to look like Helene?’

She fixed her eyes on the darkening sky, as if the black clouds might give her an answer. The only response was a fat raindrop that splashed on her nose. She hurried on, reaching the house just as the heavens opened.

* * *

The heavy rain continued for the rest of the day, making the sky so dark that when Lucy went down to the drawing room before dinner she found that Ariadne had ordered the candles to be lit.

‘These summer storms are so depressing,’ said Mrs Dean, staring despondently at the rain cascading down the windows.

‘Best to be thankful there is no thunder and lightning,’ remarked Ralph, walking in at that moment. ‘That sends even the most sensible females into a panic.’

Lucy, still smarting from the way he had left her that morning, bridled immediately.

‘Not all females, my lord.’

He raised his brows, looking at her as if her comment was not worthy of a response. She watched him sit down beside his cousin and engage her in conversation.

Good. She was glad and did not wish to talk to him when he was determined to be so disagreeable. She had to admit that he was being perfectly civil to Ariadne, but whenever he was obliged to acknowledge Lucy he did so with such brevity that it bordered on curt. Byrne came in to announce dinner and Lucy hung back. With only the briefest hesitation Ralph offered his arm to his cousin.

It was what Lucy had intended, what she wanted, yet following them across the hall she felt decidedly alone. The rain did not help, for it made the Great Hall cold and gloomy, and when they reached the dining room she was glad to find that an abundance of candles burned brightly, giving the room a cosy glow that offset the sound of the rain pattering against the window. Mrs Dean remarked that they would need to ensure they had a good supply of candles for the forthcoming house party.

‘Colne sent off an order for another twelve dozen only yesterday,’ replied Ralph. ‘Which reminds me, have you made up the guest rooms yet?’

‘Lucy and I allocated the rooms today. There is a little furniture to be moved, but apart from that nothing need be done now. We shall make up the beds the day before your guests arrive.’

He nodded. ‘And when does Mrs Sutton anticipate the rest of your gowns will be ready, Lucy?’

‘She has promised them next week, my lord.’

He did not respond immediately, but when Byrne followed the servants out of the room he said, ‘I thought we were agreed that you would call me by my name?’

‘I beg your pardon, my—Ralph. It slipped my mind.’

‘Then pray do not let it happen again.’

Ariadne shook her head at him.

‘Fie upon you, Cousin, how can you expect Lucy to address you informally when you are acting so cold and...and lordly this evening?’

‘I am paying her to do so.’

And very handsomely, Lucy acknowledged silently. However, it did not mean that she would be browbeaten. She remarked, as the servants returned with more dishes, ‘Ralph cannot help being cold and lordly, ma’am. It is all he knows.’

With Byrne filling the wineglasses and the footmen in attendance, only the narrowing of Adversane’s eyes told Lucy that her comment had hit home.

The dinner was excellent, as always, but Lucy felt a tension in the air. Perhaps it was the weather. It was very close in the dining room, but the driving rain made it impossible to open the windows.

Ariadne did not seem to notice, but whenever Lucy looked at Ralph, he appeared to be frowning and distracted. He contributed little to the conversation and by the time the covers were removed Lucy was so incensed by his conduct that she barely waited for the door to close behind the servants before asking him bluntly what he meant by his boorish behaviour.

Those black brows flew up.

‘I beg your pardon, ma’am?’

Ariadne fluttered a warning hand at Lucy, but she ignored it.

‘You have barely said two words together during dinner,’ she retorted. ‘If there is something pressing upon your mind then do please share it with us. Otherwise it would be courteous to give us at least a little of your attention.’

‘If there are matters pressing upon my mind, madam, they are my business, and not for general discussion.’

‘Dinner is a social occasion,’ she retorted. ‘My father always said if you cannot talk about a problem then it should be left outside the dining room. He considered family dinners to be most important.’

‘When he was sober enough to attend them!’

He saw her flinch as if he had struck her, and it did not need Ariadne’s outraged gasp to tell him he was at fault.

‘Lucy—Miss Halbrook, I beg your pardon, I—’

She held up a hand to silence him. Slowly, she rose to her feet.

‘If you will excuse me, Ariadne, I think I shall retire.’

‘My dear!’ Mrs Dean put out her hand, then let it fall and looked instead to her cousin. ‘Ralph, how could you say such a thing? You must apologise.’

‘I have done so, Cousin.’

‘It is unnecessary, I assure you,’ said Lucy in freezing accents.

Keeping her head high, she left the room. She closed the door behind her with exaggerated care, determined to keep her anger in check. To her annoyance she could feel the hot tears coursing down her cheeks. She dashed them away but more followed. The through-passage was empty but she could see shadows moving in the Great Hall and hesitated, unwilling to allow the servants to witness her distress.

She heard the dining room door open and a hasty tread upon the boards behind her. Heedless of decorum, she turned and raced through the passage, heading for the gardens.

‘Lucy!’

She wrenched open the garden door and flew across the terrace, heedless of the drenching rain. The only light came from the house windows, illuminating the terrace with a pale gleam but leaving the rest of the gardens in darkness. Without thinking Lucy plunged down the shallow steps into the blackness. She had reached the bottom step when Ralph caught up with her, catching her arm and forcing her to stop. She kept her back to him, rigidly upright, anger burning through every limb.

‘Forgive me.’

She shook her head, unable to trust her voice, but thankful that the rain had washed away all evidence of her tears. She would not allow him to think she was so weak.

‘Lucy, you are right, I have had something on my mind. I have been distracted, ever since our meeting at Druids Rock this morning, but it is not something I could share with you in company.’

‘That does not give you the right to throw my father’s weakness in my face.’

‘I know, but I was taken aback by your reproof.’ An unsteady laugh escaped him. ‘No one has dared to admonish me at my own dinner table before.’

‘More’s the pity. Now leave me alone!’

She shook off his hand, only to find herself caught by the shoulders and whirled about so violently that if he had not maintained his hold she would have fallen.

‘Damn you, woman, you shall not leave me like this!’

‘Like what, my lord?’

‘Will you not at least be open with me?’

The injustice of his words made her swell with indignation.

‘It seems to me, my lord, that it is you who will not be open with me! You bring me here, make me masquerade as your wife yet you will not tell me why. I abhor these secrets, sir!’

She glared up at him, trying to see his face, but the darkness was too deep. She could see only his outline and the gleam of his rain-soaked hair. Then she could not even see that, for he swooped down, enveloping her in darkness as his lips met hers. The shock of it was like a lightning bolt. Her limbs trembled and she leaned against him, clutching at his wet coat as she reeled under the shocking pleasure of his kiss.

But only for a moment. Then she was fighting, some unreasonable panic telling her that she must get away from him or risk destruction. He raised his head, but he was still holding her arms and she began to struggle.

‘Let me go!’

‘Lucy, I beg your pardon. I should never—’

Anger swelled within her as she tried to shake off his hold. He was her employer; he owed her his protection, yet he was betraying her trust—just as her uncle had done—by attempting to ravish her as soon as she was under his roof. And had her father not betrayed her, also, by keeping his gambling a secret instead of sharing it with her, allowing her to help him?

Her sense of injustice grew. She tried again to break free but he held her firm, and she said furiously, ‘Do you think to impose your will upon me by this ruthless seduction?’

His hands fell from her shoulders and she took the opportunity to turn and flee to the safety of her room, where she relieved her anger and distress in a hearty bout of tears.

* * *

The rain had gone by the morning and the sun was shining in a clear sky, but the prospect did little to raise Lucy’s spirits. She had not slept well; the night had brought counsel and she knew what she must do. Quietly, she rose from her bed, heavy-eyed and depressed. It was still early and she could hear Ruthie snoring noisily in the dressing room, so she went to the linen press and brought out the grey wool robe she had worn for her interviews with Mrs Killinghurst. She needed no maid to help her into it, and she could dress her own hair, too, catching her curls back from her face with a black ribbon. A glance in her glass confirmed her sober, even severe appearance. Squaring her shoulders, she quietly left her room.

* * *

She found Lord Adversane in the Great Hall.

‘Good morning, my lord. I wonder if you could spare me a few moments, alone?’

When he turned to face her she thought he looked a little haggard, and there were dark shadows under his eyes, as if he, too, had not slept well. His searching gaze swept over her but with a silent nod he led the way to his study.

He closed the door and invited her to sit down.

‘Thank you, my lord, I would rather stand.’

He walked over to the large mahogany desk and turned to face her, leaning on its edge and folding his arms across his chest.

‘That, and your funereal garb, tells me this is important.’

‘Yes. I am resigning my position here.’

‘Indeed?’ One word, uttered quietly. No emotion, no surprise. Lucy found it difficult to keep still while he subjected her to a long, long look. ‘Is that because of my behaviour yesterday?’

‘In part, yes.’

‘For which I have apologised, and I will beg your pardon again, here and now. My behaviour was unforgivable and I give you my word it shall not happen again. Will you believe that?’

Her eyes slid to the floor.

‘It makes no difference.’

‘You still wish to leave Adversane.’

‘Yes. Today.’

He pushed himself upright.

‘Strange. I had not thought you the sort to give up at the first hurdle.’

‘I am not giving up,’ she replied indignantly. ‘I do not believe I am the right person for this post.’

‘Adam Cottingham found no fault with you.’

‘He saw me for only a few hours. In a longer period he would realise that it was a sham.’

‘And why should he do that?’

‘Because our characters are not suited.’

‘I fail to see that it matters.’

She looked at him rather helplessly.

‘How are we going to convince everyone that we are betrothed?’

He was looking at her, something she could not read in his eyes.

‘It is like marriage, madam. We shall have to work at it.’

‘My lord, I cannot pretend to be your fiancée.’

‘May I ask why not?’

She blushed. ‘I do not feel for you any of the...the warmer feelings that are necessary to make everyone believe that I—that we—’

‘Really? That was not the impression I had last night. I thought your feelings for me were very warm indeed.’

‘They are, sir,’ she retorted, goaded. ‘I dislike you, intensely!’

‘That is not important. As long as we are polite to one another people will assume it is a marriage of convenience. You are here to meet my neighbours and relatives, your chaperone has been taken ill at the last moment and Ariadne has kindly stepped in. Come, Miss Halbrook, is it so very onerous a task? I thought we were agreed the settlement I am prepared to make will more than make up for any gossip that may arise when you jilt me.’

‘The gossip does not worry me but being caught out in this charade does. I should find it very difficult to hide my true feelings.’ Lucy raised her head, determined to be brutally honest. ‘I find you rude and overbearing, my lord. In fact I find you totally abhorrent!’

Her declaration did not appear to disconcert him in the least.

‘Then you will just have to act a little, Miss Halbrook.’ He laughed at her stunned silence and stepped towards her, reaching for her hand. ‘You have spirit, Lucy Halbrook. I like that, although sometimes I find it hard to accept your home truths about my character. My temper is cross, as you know to your cost, but I have apologised, and I will try to curb it for the next few weeks. You have my word on that, if you will but reconsider.’

His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist, causing an extraordinary reaction. Her pulse was jumping erratically, his touch awakening an inexplicable longing from somewhere deep inside her. She was aware of a pleasant languor spreading through her body and it was difficult to think clearly. However, she had to try.

‘It is not just your temper, sir. You took advantage of me.’ The memory of it sent the hot blood pounding through her body again, enhanced this time by the continued assault upon her wits caused by the light-as-a-feather touch of his circling thumb.

‘A kiss,’ he said shortly. ‘A brief sensory exploration, brought on because our senses were heightened by the ongoing disagreement. It could happen to any two people caught in those circumstances. We have my cousin here as your chaperone and as long as we are civil to one another it will not occur again.’

It all sounded so reasonable, thought Lucy, yet they were being civil now, and her senses were still heightened. He was standing very close, surrounding her with his strong masculine presence. His broad-shouldered torso blocked out the light, the grey riding coat reminding her of the shadowed cliff-like face of Druids Rock. He smelled of soap and clean linen. She could almost taste the faint hint of citrus and spices that clung to his skin, feel the strength emanating from his powerful form. Her eyes were on a level with the diamond pin nestled deep in the folds of his neck cloth, and she fixed her gaze upon it, trying to cling to some semblance of reality and stop herself stepping closer, inviting him to enfold her in his arms and repeat the embrace they had shared in the rain. She heard the soft rasp of his breath as he exhaled.

‘We can do better than this, Lucy.’ His voice was low and soft, melting the last of her resistance. ‘Say you will stay. It is only for two more weeks, and we need only give the appearance of being happy together when we are in company. If I am boorish, then I give you leave to upbraid me as much as you wish.’

She looked up at that, grasping at a mischievous thought to put an end to her languor.

‘Do you mean you will accept my strictures meekly, my lord?’

He was smiling down at her and the warm look in his grey eyes set her pulse jumping again.

‘I never promise the impossible. We shall battle most royally, I fear.’

To her surprise, Lucy did not find the thought daunting. She was aware of a tiny frisson of disappointment when he changed his grip on her hand and stopped caressing her wrist.

‘So, cry pax with me, Lucy?’

No. Impossible. There can be no peace between us. Even just standing here I can feel it.

‘Very well.’

‘And you will stay and be friends?’

Friends. Lucy found the idea very tempting. Despite all she had said to the contrary she would dearly like to be friends with this man, to have him trust her.

No! The danger is too great. Go. Now.

‘Yes. But I shall not allow you to bully me.’

Amusement gleamed in his eyes.

‘Then it should prove a very eventful two weeks.’

He lifted her hand to his lips before releasing her. Lucy trembled inwardly as the gesture sent more shockwaves racing through her body. She did not think Ralph had noticed, for he had turned to his desk and was sorting through the papers.

He said, over his shoulder, ‘Very well. If that is all, I have work to do before breakfast. You can go upstairs and change out of that abominable gown!’

No relief, no word of thanks—Lucy felt a gurgle of laughter bubbling up inside her as he resumed his usual autocratic tone. It would indeed be an eventful two weeks!

* * *

Having cleared the air, Lucy threw herself into life at Adversane. Ariadne was glad of her help with the arrangements for the house party, and Lucy cultivated the acquaintance of Amos, the aged gardener who promised her enough fresh flowers to fill the house. She also made a friend of Greg, Ralph’s groom, who accompanied her on her daily rides.

Of Ralph himself she saw very little. He accompanied her and Ariadne to church on Sunday, but after that he spent most of his time with Harold Colne or on the estate, going out before breakfast and joining the ladies only in time for dinner each evening. When Ariadne jokingly remarked that he was neglecting them he said they would see more than enough of him when the guests arrived.

Lucy discovered that she missed his company. She began to take more care over her appearance when she prepared for dinner each evening. Ruthie proved herself a proficient coiffeuse, and Lucy was happy to sit still while the maid arranged her hair, chattering merrily all the while.

However, after her first incautious speech, Ruthie never mentioned her late mistress, and Lucy was increasingly curious to find out more about the woman whose place she was supposed to be filling. A casual remark to Mrs Green brought forth the information that Lady Adversane had been eager to learn how to run the household to his lordship’s satisfaction.

‘Not that the master wanted her to pander to him,’ remarked the housekeeper, smiling at the memory. ‘Quite nonplussed he was, whenever he found she put his comfort before her own. Told her she was mistress now, and must order things the way she wanted. He even gave her leave to have her bedchamber redecorated in any style she wished, but she wouldn’t change a thing. To my mind I think she would have preferred to live in the London house, but she would not say so. Never one to make a fuss. But that was my lady’s way.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘A saint, she was, always looking to everyone else’s happiness.’

Lucy found herself stopping in the Long Gallery to look at the portrait of Helene, now back in its original position. She tried to read her expression, to discern if she was happy or miserable, but the painted face merely stared down at her, a faint, wistful smile lifting her mouth. She wished she had the courage to ask Ralph about his wife, but even though she thought they had achieved an excellent understanding they only met at dinner or in the drawing room with Mrs Dean present, and Lucy did not feel she could mention it in company.

* * *

Mrs Sutton arrived towards the end of the following week, bringing with her all the remaining outfits, save the scarlet gown. She explained that she had had to send to London for the silk. However, she had brought so many other gowns and pelisses that Lucy was in no way disappointed. After trying them all on, she left the dressmaker and her assistant in the morning room, making the final adjustments while she went off to the stables. She had sent word earlier that she wanted to ride out and she found Brandy saddled and waiting for her. A young stable hand called Robin helped her to mount and explained that Mr Greg had gone off to Ingleston with Lord Adversane.

‘So I’m to come with you today, miss,’ he ended with a grin.

Brandy was fresh, and as soon as they entered the park Lucy gave him his head and enjoyed a gallop. It was only when she reached the trees and slowed up that she realised the young groom was quite some distance away. She stopped and waited for him to catch up with her. He was looking a little red in the face, and she laughed.

‘I did not mean to leave you so far behind.’

‘Nay, miss, that were my fault. Fair took me by surprise, you did, setting off so fast. I weren’t expecting you to be such a good rider.’

He looked at her with new respect in his cheerful, open countenance, and as they turned and walked on Lucy could not resist asking if he had accompanied Lady Adversane on her rides.

‘Aye, miss, for she wouldn’t ride out alone. Wouldn’t travel anywhere on her own, and that’s a fact. Very nervy she was, which didn’t suit my lord. Neck or nothing, he is. Bruising rider.’

‘Yes, he is.’ Lucy knew she should not ask, but Robin was a friendly lad, and there was no harm in her questions, surely. ‘How did they get on, riding out together?’

‘They didn’t, miss. My lady was frightened of all his lordship’s cattle, especially Jupiter. Horses knows, see, they can smell that sort of thing. The master said at first that my lady would have to get used to ’em, but it was no good, and after a few weeks he asked Sir James to send over the grey my lady had always ridden.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Overfed old mare, no pace at all. Mr Greg said he’d never expected to see such a slug in the master’s stables, and ’twas no wonder my lord never rode out with his lady.’ He stopped, flushing. ‘I beg yer pardon, miss. I should not be saying this to you.’

Guiltily aware that she had encouraged his confidences, Lucy hastened to reassure Robin that she would not repeat it to anyone. She knew she should put all thoughts of Lady Adversane out of her mind, but Lucy was beginning to feel a little sorry for her, if she did not share her husband’s love of horses. She could well imagine Ralph’s impatience, but surely he could have curbed it and indulged his wife in a gentle ride around the park occasionally? She shook her head. It was not her concern. She would only be here for another two weeks. After that nothing at Adversane would be her concern at all.

* * *

Lying in her bed, Lucy stared into the enveloping darkness.

‘You would think,’ she said aloud, ‘that after spending the day helping Ariadne arrange all the guestrooms I would be exhausted. So why am I now wide awake?’

She clasped her hands behind her head. Perhaps working in the house had brought it home to her that Ralph’s family would be arriving soon. She had grown very comfortable at Adversane with only her host and his cousin for company, but she would have to be on her guard once their guests arrived. She sighed, realising how happy she had been for the past week, but it could not continue. She had been employed for a reason, and she must play her part. Lucy blinked. The inky blackness around her was almost total, only relieved by the bluish square of the window. Silently, she slipped out of bed and padded across the room. After wrestling for a moment with the catches, she threw both casements wide.

Balmy night air flooded in, bringing with it the heavy fragrance of the newly scythed lawns and the faint, tantalising hint of roses from the flower garden. Lucy curled up on the window seat and rested her arms on the sill, leaning out to catch the cool air on her face. With a sigh, she dropped her chin on her arms and gazed across the drive to the park beyond. She felt the heavy weight of the single plait of her hair slide over her shoulder to dangle into nothingness. The darkness was not so thick out of doors, for although there was no moon the clear sky was sprinkled with stars.

“Well, Rapunzel, what are you doing out of bed at this hour?’

Lucy jumped and looked down to see a figure standing beneath her window. His face was little more than a pale blur in the darkness, but the deep voice was instantly recognisable.

‘One might ask the same of you, Lord Adversane,’ she retorted. ‘And what did you call me?’

‘It is from a German folk tale. Rapunzel is a maiden who is locked in a high tower and the only way her lover can reach her is to climb up her hair.’





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