Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant (6 page)

It had been a summer’s evening at a party given by a mutual friend. They’d met often after that and courted openly. She remembered the first time they had made love. Having walked into the countryside, they had lingered in a barn full of sweet-smelling hay and it had been so wonderful when he had kissed her, when he had held her in his arms, desiring her as much as she desired him. All their hitherto cautions and restrained behaviour had been swept away in a tide of wanting and she lost her virginity eagerly.

Hearing a knock on the outside door, giving herself a mental shake she set the pen aside and stood up. Adjusting the elbow-length sleeves and smoothing her skirt with the palms of her hands, she smiled. It was a pretty dress, pink and white sprigged with pretty flounces around the hem and with a modestly low bodice. She felt a nervous anticipation as she waited for Polly to show Nathan in.

He strode into the room, carrying a parcel beneath his arm. He was wearing a tan jacket and white-silk neckcloth, buckskin riding breeches and gleaming brown-leather boots. His dark hair was ruffled and fell over the top of the scar that ran beside his left eye to his cheek. It gave him a sardonic, mocking look when his face was in repose. Only laughter or a smile softened the rigour of the scar.

Despite this he was devilishly attractive to look at. Lucy’s pulse raced. She was unsure as to the cause—her handsome riding instructor or her fear of what was in store. He stopped a couple of yards in front of her, gazing at her with a half smile curling on his lips.

‘Are you ready to begin your training?’

‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’

His eyes passed over her. He shook his head. ‘That won’t do. Here,’ he said, handing her the parcel.

Lucy took it and set it down on the table in front of the sofa. ‘What is it?’

‘Open it.’

Totally bewildered, she did as he asked. Dumbfounded, she stared at the contents, holding them up.

‘You would deck me out in these? But—I can’t possibly. Why, they’re indecent and inappropriate.’

He laughed. ‘You don’t know the difficulty I had getting these made for you. Every tailor thought me mad when I described what I wanted and no one believed that I desired to put them on a woman. I had to pay a goodly sum to have them made.’

Lucy continued to stare at them. ‘But—they’re
men’s
breeches. I am expected to wear these?’

He nodded, amused at her dismay. ‘Unless you prefer to be constantly tangled up in skirts. You must have worn breeches in some of your roles on stage.’

‘I have—but that was different. I was playing a part.’ Frowning, she continued to inspect the breeches. ‘I doubt they’re my size.’

‘I have a good memory, Lucy.’

She flushed, lowering her gaze so she didn’t have to see the knowing look in his eyes. ‘Four years is a long time. I’ve put on weight.’

‘In all the right places if my eyesight is to be believed. I assure you I had these made with all good intentions in mind. Do not fear that I’m making sport of you. You will find it easier and more comfortable to ride a horse wearing breeches. It’s more practical. As a woman you will attract attention—some of it unwelcome. For your own safety, it will be better if those we meet think you are a male to begin with.’

‘You’ll be telling me to cut off my hair next.’ When he didn’t say anything she glanced at him sharply. ‘You
want
me to cut my hair?’

He grinned. ‘You have beautiful hair, but you will not be as conspicuous with short hair. It’s—practical. It will soon grow.’

Lucy didn’t relish the idea of cropping her most prized asset, but perhaps he was right. She would attract less attention and it would be less trouble. ‘Very well. I’ll have Polly cut it before we leave.’ Shaking her head, she glanced dubiously at the breeches once more. ‘I’m becoming more confused by the hour. These breeches look awfully tight. I really don’t think they’re my size.’

‘They’ll do for the time being. Go and put them on. We’re wasting time. I want to assess your horsemanship and you cannot sit astride a horse in that dress—pretty though it is.’

Without further argument, Lucy left with the offending garments.

Feeling terribly self-conscious, she reappeared ten minutes later. The breeches, which disappeared into riding boots, were skin tight, showing off her long and perfectly shaped legs, the short jacket cut so high to reveal her attractive round derrière. Nathan admired the sight with glowing eyes, before cocking an eyebrow and ushering her outside.

* * *

The coach carried them north out of town and approached a pair of tall iron gates. A gatekeeper stepped out of the keeper’s cottage and after Nathan had spoken to the man they were permitted to pass. They swept along a curving drive with extensive lawns to the right and left of them. Lucy’s eyes became fixed on a large imposing house that appeared against a backdrop of sweeping parkland, rising to a height of three storeys. Evidently it was the property of a man of some consequence.

‘What a beautiful house,’ she murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from the twinkling expanse of mullioned windows. ‘Who does it belong to?’

‘A relative of mine. My uncle. He’s away in foreign parts at present.’

‘Is he a spy, as well?’

‘No,’ Nathan replied, helping her out of the coach. ‘He’s a gentleman. Come along. I’ll introduce you to your mount. We’ll ride out so you can get used to being back in the saddle. Tomorrow you will receive instruction on how to use a firearm—something small that is adaptable to a woman’s hand. You will have to learn how to use a dagger. I pray you never have to use either weapon, but it’s as well to be prepared for every eventuality.’

The stables were at the back of the house, a dozen stalls set around the stable yard. Most of them were occupied. Grooms and stable boys were going about their daily chores. Nathan was familiar to them and they greeted him in a friendly enough fashion. One of the grooms approached them, leading a chestnut mare.

‘Come and make friends. Her name is Jess and she’s as docile as the proverbial lamb.’

Lucy loved her. It was good to be back on a horse, to ride across the vast green acres of parkland. However, not having had the opportunity to ride for a long time, she was soon stiff. Nathan informed her she sat like a sack of potatoes and held the reins all wrong. She told him to take a flying leap and said she was going home. He told her she’d leave over his dead body. She said it was not a bad idea.

A look of sorely strained patience crossed his face as he caught her by the waist and lifted her down from the saddle after one particularly gruelling session. ‘God help me if I ever injure my back,’ he quipped.

‘God help you if you ever turn it,’ she snapped, her body sore, aching and exhausted, but she was beginning to enjoy herself.

* * *

The following day she had instruction on how to use a dagger, lunging and sidestepping and often being thrown to the floor and dancing out of her instructor’s way. Nathan was filled with admiration, telling her she fought well, that he had no idea a woman could be so ruthless.

‘There’s Lady Macbeth,’ Lucy pointed out with a wicked twinkle in her eye.

He laughed. ‘There is that. Most women of my acquaintance are not trained in such matters. You may not even need these skills. However, it is always best to be prepared for the worst.’

Learning how to use a firearm was not as difficult as she had imagined. She surprised both herself and Nathan. He presented her with a pocket flintlock pistol, its small size making it more adaptable to a woman’s hand. After showing her how to load it, he handed it to her, watching as her graceful fingers trained for etiquette now gripped the firearm.

Her instruction was given in an outbuilding adjoining the stables. She proved to be an exceptional shot. Her aim was true and she was an apt pupil. However, it was one thing to try to aim at a makeshift target, but she wondered if she would ever have the courage to actually pull the trigger if the situation arose.

Try as she might to keep herself aloof, her entire being was attuned to her instructor’s presence. It was necessary for him to come close, to stand behind her and guide her arm. Her composure was sorely strained. He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her neck. It was familiar. At those times everything else ceased to exist for her except for the man in such close proximity to her.

It was disturbing. Did he feel the same? Did he feel anything for her at all? She held her breath, hoping his arm might snake around her waist and draw her to him, that he would say he was sorry for hurting her, that there would be forgiveness and things could go back to the way they were before.

But he made no move to touch her in any intimate way. And why should he? she asked herself reproachfully. She had, after all, laid down ground rules. And after sending him away without a by your leave four years ago, the thought must be anathema to him.

And then the lessons were over and it was almost time for them to leave for Portugal.

‘When do we leave?’ she asked.

‘I’ll let you know.’

‘I’ll be ready.’

* * *

From her bed where Sarah had tucked her in, reclining on a mountain of pillows, Dora glanced up from her book as her niece, still dressed in her breeches, came in and padded in her stocking feet to the fire. Dora watched anxiously as she collapsed into a chair and rested her feet on the fender. There was a troubled, faraway look in Lucy’s eyes. It had been there for days now.

‘Are you all right, Lucy dear?’

Lucy was staring into the depths of the fire as though her very life depended upon it. She was caught up in her meditation and Aunt Dora’s voice brought her back to the present with a start. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just tired, that’s all.’ She sighed, settling herself against the cushions and suppressing a yawn with the back of her hand. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘You look thoughtful.’

‘I was thinking of Portugal. I feel a great deal of uncertainty, I must confess.’

‘Ah, yes, but you may find it interesting.’

‘I believe I will.’

‘Does it worry you—going to a foreign country?’

‘Yes, it does—with the war and everything. I suppose it will be strange at first. I shall have to have my wits about me at all times.’

‘At least if you encounter any French soldiers you will have no difficulty with the language. You’ll be glad I taught you. You’re very brave to be doing this.’

‘Brave? Me? It’s a nice thought, but I haven’t seen it like that. I’m simply doing what Nathan has asked me to do—whatever that may be. I’ll soon be back in England and safe—and richer by five thousand pounds.’

‘It’s a great deal of money.’

‘Yes. I think we might buy a bigger house.’

Dora laughed. ‘I am perfectly happy here.’ Her expression became serious. ‘Just come home safe, Lucy. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. What is Nathan doing out there? Has he told you?’

‘He’s involved in matters of a sensitive nature. He hasn’t told me much, only that we’re to rescue a woman and her child who are being held captive in the mountains. He has told me there will be dangers. I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.’

Dora gave her a thoughtful look. ‘I really do hope so. Is everything all right between you and Nathan, Lucy?’

Lucy was about to answer in the affirmative, but the words would not come. In any case she never could hide her feelings from her aunt. ‘Not really.’

‘Do you want to tell me?’

‘I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure I even know myself.’

‘Oh dear. That bad?’

‘Yes. It feels so strange being with him again with all that is between us.’

‘Is it possible that you were mistaken in him—and Katherine?’ Dora asked tentatively.

Lucy shook her head. ‘The evidence at the time was quite damning.’

‘Which I thought very strange. Katherine was always so charming, so friendly with us all.’

‘Precisely,’ Lucy agreed. ‘I felt so lost and bewildered at the time, but I know what I saw—heard the rumours—and for a while, before we parted, there was a coldness about him when we were together. There was no mistake.’

Resting her head on the back of the chair, she closed her eyes. There had always been an element of doubt in Aunt Dora’s mind. She never believed that Katherine could be so calculating, that Nathan, in whom she could see no wrong, would do anything to hurt her.

‘I never imagined that I could feel so much for one man,’ Lucy went on quietly, ‘but Nathan had become indispensable to the point where it was impossible to visualise life without him. Which was why the blow when it came gave me twice the heartache. He threw away any happiness we might have had. Now I prefer to leave the past where it is.’

‘You poor dear. Katherine went to Spain, I believe. Have you heard what became of her?’

‘I assume she and Nathan went together—that she became one of the many women who follow their men into battle. It is common practice for wives to accompany their husbands on missions abroad, apparently. I heard she married. Perhaps she married Nathan. I don’t know.’ The thought struck her that if Nathan had married Katherine, why had he kissed her so passionately when he had arrived at her house on the night of the party? She sighed, too tired to think about that just now.

‘Nathan has never mentioned having a wife. I’m sure he would have. You must speak to him.’

‘I’d rather not and I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention it, either. I cannot forget how humiliated I felt—how angry I was with him at the time.’

‘That’s hardly surprising, but you’ll never know what really happened unless you ask.’

Lucy pondered the matter. ‘It isn’t as straightforward as that. The emotions are too painful. I don’t want to resurrect the past.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Lucy, you are going to be alone with him for weeks—perhaps months, in a foreign country. He will be your only friend—if you can still call him that. I think you should have a frank discussion about what went wrong. You may find the truth unpalatable, but it needs to come out. Until the whole truth is out in the open, you cannot address it. The past cannot be ignored when it impinges on the present and threatens to blight the future.’