Lady Libertine (11 page)

As for his interest in her, if it weren’t for the fact that he suspected she knew something of Lady Libertine, he would not have given her a second thought. The sensible thing to do, she reasoned, was to enjoy this small moment in time while she could and if that enjoyment meant kissing the Earl of Hamersley again, then so be it.

Having changed, Lucy met her mother coming out of Phoebe’s room next door. Lady Landon’s eyes ran over her daughter’s dress, obviously looking for a reason to snipe. ‘Where have you been?’ she demanded crossly. ‘I wanted you to help your sister. Her wretched maid burnt her hand on the fire, stupid creature that she is. I told Jenny to help with Phoebe’s hair.’

Which explained why Jenny hadn’t been waiting for her. Lucy knew better than to ask if Phoebe’s maid Sally was all right. Her mother would not know and would care even less. ‘I went for a walk.’

‘Well I expect you to stay where I can find you,’ her mother said, as they began to descend the staircase. She was looking resplendent in red brocade, liberally trimmed with Flemish lace around the neck and the wide sleeves. ‘Having Hamersley here is a wondrous stroke of luck and I will not have you ruining things. Although really,’ Lady Landon’s voice softened, ‘how could the man not be charmed by my dear girl? I’m sure that he is interested. He seemed to pay her the most particular attention.’

Lucy wondered on what her mother was basing that assessment. Wishful thinking, perhaps? What would Mama say if she knew what her eldest child had been doing in the orchard? ‘Indeed.’

She felt her mother’s glance. They were almost at the bottom of the stairs, but Lady Landon’s hand shot out to fasten around Lucy’s wrist, her grip surprisingly painful. ‘Remember what I said!’ she hissed. ‘Do not ruin your sister’s chances of making an excellent match.’

Lucy looked at her mother, shocked. Lady Landon’s blue eyes were hard as stone, lips twisting in a most unpleasant manner.
She really does hate me
, Lucy thought wonderingly.
My own mother actually hates me.

‘I have no intention of ruining anything,’ Lucy snapped, pulling her wrist free with an effort. ‘As hard as it is for you to believe, I want Phoebe’s happiness just as much as you do!’ And she walked into the dining room with an angry swish of her skirts.

Rand watched Lucy enter the room (despite the fact that he had been determined not to look), noting her heightened color and the angry sparkle in her eyes. She was followed almost immediately by her mother, which might explain her temper. Did Lady Landon suspect anything had happened between the two of them? It didn’t seem likely, especially when she bestowed a brilliant smile on him in passing. Clearly, the lady did not suspect a thing.

He had decided that leaving at lunchtime would be churlish. The afternoon would be more than enough time to take his leave.

More guests had arrived and the long table was growing more crowded. He found himself some distance from Lucy and seated beside Phoebe, something he was inclined to thank Lady Landon for. On his other side was an elderly gentleman who was obsessed with the food in front of him, making it easy for Rand to fulfill his conversation duties to the youngest Miss Landon. Unlike Lucy, Phoebe was hard work, conversationally speaking; a little shy, a little vague and, unlike her sister, she did not seem to hold an opinion on anything.

He smothered a sigh, wishing it were Lucy sitting next to him, despite his vow to avoid her at all costs, which did not bode well; he was definitely leaving during the afternoon.

The day passed, however, and still he remained. The last guests had arrived by dinnertime and he could see Lucy’s point about ‘stodgy old bores’, for Lord Billingsworth seemed to have stayed within his particular set and not one of them was under the age of fifty-five.
I will remain tonight
, he decided, as whist was organized as an after dinner entertainment.
But I will make my excuses in the morning, before I need to take the Misses Landon out.

Because remaining would be foolhardy; dammit, it would be irresponsible! No, come the morning and he would retreat in good order – possibly before the household had stirred – leaving his regrets that he had to depart so precipitously. Once he was back in London he could forget about the entire episode. Admittedly, he had discovered nothing about Lady Libertine but perhaps there was nothing to discover after all. Lucy’s rectitude on the subject was probably nothing more than her teasing him.

She did love to tease.

So the morning came, but he found that he had slept in and it was breakfast time. Unfortunately, Lucy was already down and he got caught up in a lively debate about the previous nights hands of whist; they had twice been paired together and she thought to criticize his calls. Naturally, he had to defend himself.

Somehow the morning slipped away and then it was luncheon and then, well, he could hardly
not
take the Misses Landon out, when he had promised to do so the previous day. They had a delightful time, all the more so when Phoebe, realizing that nothing extraordinary was expected of her, relaxed enough to actually participate in the conversation. Lucy, he had to admit, was very good with her and they ambled through several villages, stopping along the way if they found a particularly appealing place. Rand found himself relaxing, enjoying the idle chatter and, if he had the occasional lustful thought about Lucy, he managed to rein it in. It helped that she was being so circumspect for he could emulate her – more or less – keeping things well within the bounds of propriety. As they headed back to Fendleton Hall, he realized that he had not had so much fun in a long time. Simple, unassuming fun.

It had been quite… well, refreshing, actually.

But his good mood did not last for, when they returned, they found that a new arrival had come, in the form of Mr. Henry Bristow. Lord Billingsworth’s nephew had unexpectedly joined the house party. It also seemed that, as soon as he laid eyes on
Lucy
Landon, he did not care to look away.

Rand observed the young man’s interest grimly and decided that leaving now was out of the question. Clearly, Mr. Henry Bristow was an Undesirable. Equally clearly, it was up to him to ensure that Miss Lucy Landon, a self-confessed innocent, was protected from his machinations for she seemed oblivious to the fact that she was in the presence of a wastrel.

No, Rand thought, eyeing the newcomer with disfavor. His duty was clear. He would ensure Lucy was shielded from the undue attentions of a man who was clearly unsuitable.

And quite possibly, as soon as an opportunity arose, he would endeavor to punch Mr. Henry Bristow squarely on the nose.

Chapter Six

Lucy prepared for dinner absently, puzzled by the turn of events that had taken place. She had very much enjoyed spending time with the earl who, surprisingly, had not once mentioned Lady Libertine the entire afternoon. Instead, they had spent a truly marvelous day. Hamersley had shown himself to be kind and patient with Phoebe, something that had earned him additional merit in Lucy’s eyes.

She had tried very hard not to think about their kiss the previous day because thinking about it made her feel warm all over and, of course, there was no reason to believe that it would happen again. Not that there had been any opportunity to; they had not been alone together since the orchard. Just the same, she rather wished they
could
be alone, just to see if he would kiss her again. Because she wanted him to - Lucy could not think of anything she wanted more.

So how had a man who had been so warm and amusing one moment, turned into a scowling, sullen beast the next? Because that was exactly what had happened, shortly after their return to Fendleton Hall.

Mama had been waiting for them, emerging from the drawing room almost as soon as they came through the front door, gushing that it was so good of the earl to have taken care of her ‘two little darlings’ and how terribly grateful she was. Hamersley had been amiability itself, assuring her it had been a pleasure.

‘Come with me, all of you. Dear Lord Billingsworth’s nephew has joined us unexpectedly. He is very eager to meet my two daughters.’

Mr. Henry Bristow had indeed been in the drawing room, having a rather challenging conversation with Lady Onslow, who was quite deaf, despite the ear horn she wielded.

Their arrival had been greeted with relief by Mr. Bristow, whose voice was the first they had heard as they were coming in, bellowing desperately, ‘I think that might be ginger cake!’

It had been so funny that Lucy could not help laughing and the young man had looked up in relief, immediately rising to his feet, eager for escape.

‘My dear, Mr. Bristow!’ Her mother had crowed. ‘Here they are at last. May I present my daughters, Phoebe and Lucy, and their distinguished escort for the afternoon, the Earl of Hamersley.’ Naturally, Mama had made it sound as having an earl in the house was due to her talents as a hostess.

Both she and Phoebe had curtsied and Henry Bristow had taken the opportunity to move away from Lady Onslow (who was still demanding to know what kind of cake it was), bowing to Hamersley as they all took their seats. Bristow secured one next to her and, undoubtedly grateful to be sitting with somebody who could actually hear him, put himself out to entertain her. It wasn’t difficult; he was a very pleasant young man with a quick, lively wit and had Lucy laughing at several anecdotes. It wasn’t until she looked up and saw Hamersley, sitting a little across from them, that she realized something was wrong. He was scowling at her so frightfully that her eyes widened in surprise. What was wrong with the man? Why on earth was he looking like a thunderclap?

He had alternated between asking sudden, probing questions of Mr. Bristow, who had responded quite amiably, to lapsing into sudden, watchful silence. It was the most peculiar thing and, if she had the opportunity, she intended to ask him about it.

Jenny finished fixing her hair, slipping a small, glittering pin into place before stepping back to study her work. She had been late, for she had been helping Sally, whose hand was wrapped and painful. Lucy hadn’t minded; she was quite good at dressing herself and had managed everything but her hair. ‘I think that’ll do.’

‘I know. Still, let me know if it continues to trouble her and we will organize for the doctor to see her.’ She would have to. Her mother wouldn’t think of doing such a thing.

Standing up, she looked herself over with critical eyes. The pale green silk was one of the few pastel colors that did not make her look washed out. Indeed, it seemed to flatter her pale skin and brown eyes. Silver thread had been embroidered around the scoop neckline and edged the puff sleeves. As her only adornment, she had donned a simple pearl and amethyst necklace that looked very well with the dress.

‘You look really pretty.’ Jenny said, voice approving.

‘Hardly that, but I think I’ll do.’

‘Rubbish,’ the girl said, draping a fine cashmere shawl over her mistress’ shoulders. ‘You’re all of aglow tonight, like you’re lit up from inside or summit.’

Lucy cast one last, thoughtful look at herself before turning towards the door. Was she all of aglow? Certainly, since her unexpected dalliance with Hamersley in the orchard, she had felt happy, almost weightless, feet floating about an inch above the ground. It was extraordinary how a kiss from a good- looking man could make a woman feel slightly intoxicated, although she could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times she had taken too much alcohol.

What she was feeling now was so much better than that. It warmed her through and through – much like the brandy an aunt had so casually bestowed on her several years ago – but there was none of that nasty aftertaste to deal with. While there was nothing to this light flirtation – a man like Hamersley flirted in the same way he dined, regularly and with only mild discrimination - Lucy did not care. She was having
fun
. After years of considering the consequences (or having others consider them for her) Lucy found she simply did not care anymore.

As for the earl, he was nothing more than a final fling on her part, knowing full well that she was leaving all of Society’s nonsense behind. And who better to fling with than one of the most delectable men in London? She had never had a proper romance, never had a man truly kiss her, truly
want
her, and the expression in Hamersley’s dark eyes had been a balm to the spirit.

For he had wanted her! Really wanted her. She had seen it in his face and – most assuredly – she had seen the effect she had produced on his body.

As for his behavior downstairs, well, she would have the issue out of him before the night was over. There was no point in being coy about it. He seemed to enjoy plain speaking and she had no hesitation in asking him why he was behaving like an idiot.

Phoebe was leaving her room just as Lucy did, looking glorious in pale lilac silk. They looped arms and slowly descended the stairs together.

‘How is Sally? Jenny said her hand was quite bad.’

Phoebe’s face clouded. ‘A little better now the housekeeper has dressed it. Mama was horrid. Said that she was stupid and clumsy, which simply isn’t true.’

‘Sally will be all right,’ Lucy patted her sister’s arm, ‘and you, my girl, best accept young Appleby’s offer when we return to London. The sooner you are married and have your own household, the better.’

Phoebe flushed, delicate color washing over her face. ‘Do you really like him, Lucy? I think he’s wonderful, but Mama says I can do better.’