Lady Libertine (13 page)

After dinner, the ladies left the men to their port and their tobacco. Hamersley listened to the conversations around him with half an ear, occasionally contributing, but really, one did not need to say much. It was all shooting and fishing, typical country talk. It left him plenty of time to think of what he wanted to do.

No, not what he
wanted
to do. What he wanted would never do.

Lucy was a marriageable kind of girl.

He was
not
going to ruin her.

But dear God, he wanted her so very much!

‘The youngest Landon filly is a fine piece, hey, Hamersley?’ Lord Dunstan, sitting next to him, broke rudely into his reflections, reinforcing his words with a sharp elbow to the ribs.

The earl turned his head to eye the elderly man with disfavor. It was amazing that he could actually
see
Phoebe Landon, ancient as he was, let alone comment on her appearance. ‘A very attractive girl,’ he agreed.

‘Just your style, too. You like ‘em blonde, or so I’ve heard.’

‘You have heard that, have you?’ Hamersley said, voice dry. ‘But still, it does not do for a man to dwell upon the past.’

‘I don’t mind the look of the older one actually,’ Mr. Warburton, an old
roux
with a penchant for females far younger than himself, smiled around the table slyly. He was dressed in the fashion of the last century, complete with wig and patch set high on his sagging cheek. ‘It’s the quiet ones that yield the best results. They appreciate a man’s attentions.’

There was a general rumble of laughter at this. Rand found his body tensing, hands curling into fists.

‘She ain’t that bad looking, either. Cast into the shade by that sister of hers, but well enough, for all of that. I like a nice brunette,’ Mr. Warburton continued on.

Rand looked at Warburton with acute dislike, reflecting that it was a pity that his advanced years prevented Rand from giving the old fool the thrashing he so richly deserved. Just the same, his fists remained balled up with suppressed fury.

‘I say,’ Henry Bristow was moved to protest, ‘Both Miss Landons seem like delightful girls.’

Rand looked at Bristow, annoyed that the man had voiced what he himself had been thinking, but glad he had said it just the same. Billingsworth himself gave a huff of laughter, both of his chins wobbling with amusement.

‘Now, now, Henry, no need to fly up on your high horse! A man’s allowed to say what he thinks behind closed doors and I’m sure Warburton meant no disrespect.’ His small blue eyes glinted beneath drooping lids. ‘Although he might be right about the older girl; she’s a sly one, no doubt.’ And he tapped a thick finger to the side of his nose.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Rand demanded, incensed.

‘Oh nothing, nothing, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the chit gets up to all manner of tricks. Her mother told me that young Lucy bears watching, too uppity by half. I’ll have no nonsense from her when she’s beneath
my
roof. In my day, a girl was taught to mind her manners.’ There was a note of relish in his voice that made Rand’s stomach turn.

Oh Lucy
, he thought bleakly,
I hope you really do have an escape plan in mind…

‘So you do plan to wed again, then?’ Lord Dunstan said jovially, ‘Excellent! A man shouldn’t live alone. He needs a woman about the place to liven things up.’

‘I’ll have several,’ Billingsworth chuckled, ‘nothing like a pretty face to liven things up, hey?’

Rand wasn’t precisely sure what this was supposed to mean, but something rose at the back of his throat, a sour taste that made him feel a little ill. How many times had he sat in rooms like this, with men like this – younger, of course, but just as unsavory – discussing women with gleeful enthusiasm? And how ironic was it that, when the woman happened to be one
he
was interested in, he should find it so distasteful?

I need to speak to Lucy
, he thought, fingers restlessly picking at the napkin beneath the hand he had deliberately tried to relax
. I need to tell her that she cannot live here!
Neither her
nor
Phoebe. It would just be… wrong.

He looked for an opportunity when they rose from the table and went to join the ladies who were gathered in the drawing room, but no opportunity presented itself. Lady Landon was suddenly proving to be annoyingly vigilant and she seemed to have any number of small chores for Lucy that kept her occupied. Sorting embroidery thread, finding some missing scissors, fetching a shawl.

Rand watched with increasing frustration. He caught Lucy’s eye several times, but she merely gave a small grimace, hurrying to fetch or collect or whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. Phoebe, naturally, was not so beleaguered, sitting quietly over her embroidery (which Lucy had been told to fetch). He sat beside her gloomily.

‘Would you be profoundly offended if I told you that I am not overly fond of your mother?’

A small smile peeped out. ‘Not at all. I am afraid she isn’t a very nice person.’

Rand glanced at the girl in surprise. This was so like something Lucy would say, honest and without varnish, that he was taken aback. ‘Forgive me, Miss Landon, but is your mother truly intending to marry Billingsworth?’

‘Yes,’ Phoebe applied the needle carefully, face thoughtful, ‘I think you might be right. I’m sure she has made a plan.’ She gave Rand a smile and, despite the fact that he really wasn’t interested in the girl, he was momentarily dazzled by it. ‘I wondered, but it seemed so
difficult
that I did not see how she could. But Lucy is a great deal cleverer than I.’

‘So you don’t know anything about what she intends to do?’

Phoebe thought about it. He swore he could actually
see
her think about it. The girl was breathtakingly beautiful, angelically sweet, but a complete slow top. It was hard to believe that the two women could be sisters. ‘Well, I think she intends to go away somewhere and support herself.’

‘That column. Lady…’ Phoebe broke off, turning her great blue eyes towards him. Warm color flooded her face, spreading down her neck in a crimson tide, her mortification acute. ‘Oh!’

Rand had gone very still, although his thoughts were racing. He stared at Phoebe Landon and she stared back, eyes suddenly desperate. Lucy was Lady Libertine.
Lucy was Lady Libertine?
‘Miss Landon,’ he began but Phoebe’s embroidery had dropped unheeded into her lap.

She reached out and clamped a hand around his wrist, so distressed that her natural reserve had completely vanished. ‘Oh please!’ she whispered, eyes filling with tears, ‘Oh
please
do not say anything! Lucy does not know that I know and if Mama finds out…’

The very idea of Lady Landon finding out made the girl blanche. Rand, battling the shock of discovering the girl he felt – damn it, whatever it was he felt for Lucy! –
some
thing for, was the author of a column he reviled, was also confronted with the very real prospect of a female crying on him.

In public.

Dear
God
!

‘Miss Landon,’ he said urgently, voice dropping, ‘it’s all right. I promise you, it is.’

Just don’t cry.

Phoebe blinked at him, eyes swimming, but his words had a soothing effect and she took a small, stuttering breath. ‘Lucy would be in so much trouble!’ she breathed.

‘Are you sure that Lucy is Lady Libertine?’

Phoebe hesitated. ‘Well, yes. I was searching for buttons in the drawer of her desk and I found paper, with a half finished piece on it, but please do not say anything. There would be such trouble. Mama would be furious!’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, thinking that Lucy was already in a great deal of trouble. ‘I understand that. And be assured, I will not say a word to your mother or to anyone else, for that matter.’ Except to Lucy herself. He intended to say quite a few words to her.

She stared at him for a moment longer and he felt her relax again. ‘I am very foolish,’ she sighed, ‘letting my tongue run away with me, but I think you like Lucy and want the best for her and Mama is so ghastly to her, most of the time. I know Lucy is only doing it for the money. So she can run away.’

Doing it for the money so she could run away. It all made sense. And how else could a female in the
ton
make money, but off the
ton
and their endless scandals? By God, the girl was enterprising! He was still angry, of course he was, but he could not help but admire her.

‘So you will keep her secret?’ Phoebe murmured, leaning a little closer.

Rand nodded, glancing across the room. Lucy and Lady Landon were both looking at them. Lady Landon wore a look of satisfaction, Rand was finally chasing the right sister, but Lucy was clearly puzzled as to why he was talking so intently to Phoebe. She gave him a tentative smile and he returned it, knowing full well that it was the kind of smile that made other people nervous.

That was a very good question. He returned his gaze to the small, curious creature who was still watching them from across the drawing room.

‘I think you may safely leave Lucy to me.’

Chapter Seven

The house was quiet, except for the occasional creak that buildings make in the early hours as they settled more comfortably onto their foundations. Lucy paused to listen, but there were no sounds that did not belong to the night.

It was very late. The household had retired hours ago. After lying in every imaginable position, kicking her blankets into a tangle, Lucy had finally come to the conclusion that she was not going to be able to sleep this night. Not until she had discovered what lay behind Hamersley’s curious conversation with Phoebe. Her sister had proved to be unexpectedly reticent on the exchange and, pleading a headache, had hurried off to bed without saying very much at all.

Which was odd, but what was even more odd was looking up to find the earl watching her. Not that she objected to him watching her, but there was something in his face that made her distinctly uneasy.

Had Phoebe said something to put that look there? And what
was
that look, exactly?

After several sleepless hours, Lucy had had enough. She knew where Hamersley’s room was; nerve wrenchingly close to her mother’s, unfortunately. As Lady Landon was an honored guest and Hamersley held the highest rank in the
ton
, the best guest bedrooms had been assigned to them, but it was late and her mother would be asleep, soundly asleep, with luck. The thought of her mother discovering her creeping into the earl’s room was
almost
enough to make Lucy turn around.

Almost, but not quite, enough.

As someone who had not been assigned one of the best bedrooms, Lucy had to cross to the wing opposite her own. She was just turning the corner, slipping up the corridor, when she bumped into somebody who was slipping the other way. Shock made her gasp out loud, but a large hand quickly clamped itself over her mouth, smothering all but a small squeak.

‘Miss Lucy Landon! Creeping about the house in the middle of the night. How unexpected.’ A deep voice. A
familiar
voice!

Lucy wriggled and the hand dropped away. Her heart was thundering so hard that it was a wonder it did not burst from her chest. Shock made her smack a hand into his chest. ‘You
scared
me!’

He gave a soft laugh. ‘I didn’t think it possible. Where are you going?’

Where was she going? Good question. A moment ago, she had been going to find him, but it suddenly felt awkward to admit as much. ‘I was…’

‘Yes?’

He still had a hand on her shoulder and the warmth of his touch through the thin robe and nightgown was suddenly very hard to ignore. ‘I was going to find you,’ she said, electing to ignore both her nerves and her embarrassment. There was no point in denying it; she
had
been going to see him.

‘Dear me,’ he murmured. Lucy peered up at him, trying to see his expression, but it was too dark, the only light coming from a candle that had been left burning in the hallway below. ‘I am shocked, Miss Landon.’

‘Is that so? Well, where were
you
going?’ It was a fair question. Under different circumstances she might have thought he was slipping from some lady’s bedchamber, but there was a sad lack of suitable ladies for the earl to dally with.