The Fall of Lord Drayson (Tanglewood Book 1) (31 page)

The pen froze between his palms. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. It was my idea.”

“What?” Colin had never felt more shocked in his life. Why had she not said as much before now? Never mind the fact that he hadn’t asked. She could have volunteered the information.

“Your father had the habit of consulting me on all important matters, which I appreciated. We had been discussing the possibility of selling Tanglewood for quite some time and had finally decided to move ahead with it when we received news that Mr. Beresford had died. I knew his wife, having no connections of her own, would be left with nothing. So I told your father that even though it didn’t make financial sense, we should consider holding onto Tanglewood a while longer and offer the dower house to the Beresfords. He agreed and left London that very day, arriving in time for the funeral.”

His mother walked around the desk and placed a hand on Colin’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “There is a reason a man and a woman complement each other. A woman thinks with her heart and a man with his head. When the two come together to work through difficulties, more perspectives can be evaluated and a better solution can be found.”

Colin let out a slow breath as he considered his mother’s words. They were wise words, spoken by a wise woman. In that moment, he realized that he had never looked up to his parents in the way he should have.

He covered his mother’s hand with his own and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I am sorry for not consulting you about Tanglewood. Truly, I am. I had no idea you had any knowledge of . . .” He wasn’t sure how to word the rest of the sentence, so he let it dangle.

“Anything beyond tea parties, menus, and fripperies?” his mother finished for him with a smile.

“Apparently I am a nodcock.”

His mother laughed. “I have a feeling you will be cured of that very soon.”

Colin fingered the paperwork on the desk before sliding it toward his mother. “The contract for the sale of Tanglewood,” he said. “It’s a good offer and one we would both be nodcocks to turn down for we will likely never see such an offer again. But, as I have already informed you and Harriett, he wants us gone soon.”

He glanced up at his mother. “What are your thoughts on the matter?”

Lady Drayson eyed the paperwork but did not pick it up. At long last, she slid it back toward him. “I believe you are asking the wrong woman that question. Perhaps once you discuss it with the right one, everything will look a little clearer.”

Colin swallowed, forcing himself to voice his greatest fear aloud. “I do not want to ask her to choose, Mama, and yet . . .”

“Choose she must?” Lady Drayson finished for him.

He nodded and swallowed again. “If we had more time. If . . . well, what if it isn’t me?”

His mother lifted his chin with her finger and looked at Colin with eyes that seemed far wiser than they had only moments before. “What if it is?” she said quietly. With a slight smile, she kissed him on the forehead and left him alone with thoughts that were a little less muddled than they had been before.

Colin set the pen on top of the paperwork and stood. It was past time to dress for Lucy’s ball.

Her emotions spent, Lucy submitted to Georgina’s ministrations to dress her for the ball with a countenance devoid of any feeling. Her heart and mind had run through the entire gamut, and all that remained was a vast emptiness, which was actually preferable to the excessive weeping she’d indulged in earlier. Georgina had done her best to console Lucy until her mother had arrived to do the same. But it wasn’t until Mr. Shepherd entered the wretched scene that Lucy had finally seen reason.

He had walked to the bed and gently lifted Lucy’s tear-stained and undoubtedly blotchy face, and with a tender look in his eyes, said, “Your story is not near to being over, my dear. There is still much to be written. Chin up, and let us see how it will all turn out, eh?”

His words had somehow given strength to her shattered heart and had finally stopped the flow of tears. Her new papa was right. Her story was not over. It had simply hit a very large rut in the road and had broken down for a bit. Lucy had landed in ruts before and had always managed to find a way out. She would do the same with this one.

As she looked at her reflection in the glass, Lucy studied the white on white embroidered linen gown. Slightly out of style, it had a lovely square neckline and puffed sleeves over longer, sheer sleeves. Her parents had given it to her on her seventeenth birthday, right before her father fell ill. Only weeks later, she had tucked the gown away in the back of her wardrobe to make room for mourning clothes. Though she’d attended a few country balls since that time, the dress had remained untouched. It had never felt right to wear it when her father would not be in attendance.

But tonight, it had felt more right than the new gown Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd had presented her with after their trip. Though the rose silk was far lovelier than any gown Lucy had ever owned, she had passed it over for the white embroidered one that her parents had given to her with so much love years before. It were as though her father’s comforting arms now surrounded her, giving her the strength she would need to make it through the night. She could almost hear his voice whispering in her ear.
Wear it, my darling girl. It’s time.

Georgina had styled Lucy’s hair in an elegant twist that erupted into a mound of curls that spiraled down from the crown of her head. Lucy had never looked finer, and she wrapped her maid in a quick hug. “Thank you, Georgy. You have worked wonders with the red puffs that used to be my eyes.”

“Ya look beautiful, Miss. I ‘ope ya ‘ave a grand time.”

As ready as she could ever be, Lucy stepped down the stairs to join her mama and papa in the receiving line. All the guests faces were a blur as they passed by, and Lucy couldn’t remember a thing she said to anyone, only that the Draysons had not yet arrived. Would Colin even come?

When it was time to take her place for the opening dance with Mr. Shepherd, Lucy’s face ached from the strain of feigning a smile.

“A smile is not a smile unless it can be seen in one’s eyes,” Mr. Shepherd teased as the music began for the cotillion.

“You think I ought to drop the act entirely?” Lucy asked, grateful for the lightness of his tone. For a brief moment her smile almost felt genuine.

“Certainly not,” he said. “You may not be able to fool me or your mother, but you are doing a splendid job of duping the rest. Even Mrs. Bidding seems to believe you are quite thrilled to be the belle of the ball.”

The steps of the dance carried them apart for several paces, and when they were together again, Lucy asked, “Mrs. Bidding was not curious as to where the Draysons are this evening?” Lucy couldn’t deny her own curiosity on the matter.

“I’m sure she believes, as I do, that they will be here shortly. Perhaps a wheel has broken on their carriage, stranding them somewhere between here and Tanglewood.”

“Or a highwayman has detained them,” suggested Lucy.

“Or they spotted a rabbit hopping by, and Lord Drayson has decided to hunt it.”

Lucy almost giggled at that. “Or perhaps they stopped in at the dower house to snack on some of my carrots. They are quite delicious, you know.”

He chuckled. “Carrots, indeed. Ah, there is that genuine smile I do so love.”

Lucy felt lighter after that and found herself enjoying the rest of the cotillion. When the music came to an end, she felt much more ready to face whatever came next, even if it was most unexpected.

A rather tall, elegantly dressed gentleman stepped in front of her and bowed over her hand. “Again we meet, Miss Beresford. Mr. Shepherd.” His hair was a nondescript brown, but styled like a wild and unruly Bedford crop that had been allowed to grow beyond what was fashionable, and yet it seemed to suit the hardness Lucy noticed in his rather striking green eyes. She recognized that look immediately. It was probably very similar to the look in her own eyes.

How could Lucy not remember meeting this man earlier? She glanced at her papa for help.

Mr. Shepherd tried to hide his amusement at her obvious bafflement. “How do you do, Mr. Ludlow? I hope you are enjoying yourself.”

“I shall enjoy myself more if this beautiful young lady will agree to dance with me.”

Feeling more than a little confused, Lucy allowed him to lead her onto the floor, wondering when she had met Mr. Ludlow—the receiving line, perhaps?—and what he had already told her about himself.

“In the event you may not remember,” he said, correctly interpreting her expression as they walked across the dance floor, “we met at the door. I am here from London to see about a property.”

“Oh,” was her only response. Nowhere, in Lucy’s sea of memories, could she place his face.

“Lady Harriett extended the invitation,” he continued. “As I told your parents before. I do hope that you are not displeased that a stranger has come to your ball.”

Feeling utterly ridiculous for not recalling her introduction to him, Lucy lifted her chin and smiled. “As you are a stranger no more, Mr. Ludlow, you are perfectly welcome. Please forgive my deplorable manners.”

“No apologies necessary, Miss Beresford.” He smiled as well, and a charming dimple appeared on his left cheek. The hardness about him remained, however, and Lucy found herself wondering about his past and how he came to wear that look.

The music began, and he took her hand in his. Lucy was about to ask which property he had come to investigate, only to recall that Lady Harriett had issued the invitation and therefore the property was likely none other than . . .

Her eyes flew to his as her feet began the steps of the dance. “You are to be the new owner of Tanglewood.” It was said as a statement, not a question.

Mr. Ludlow lifted an eyebrow in a show of surprise before he joined hands with another partner. When the steps brought them back together, he said, “It was my mention of Lady Harriett that gave it away, wasn’t it?” he asked dryly.

Something about his tone bothered Lucy. In fact, everything about this man suddenly bothered her. However handsome Mr. Ludlow may be, it was not his face Lucy wished to see at dinner parties or dances or other gatherings from now on. She especially didn’t want to see his face anywhere near Tanglewood, not when it would take the place of another, much more dear face.

Why have you come?
she wanted to demand.
Why can you not withdraw your offer and return to wherever it is you came from? You are not welcome here.

The steps carried them apart again, but Lucy could feel his gaze following her movements, and when they rejoined, she wasn’t surprised when he asked, “Is something amiss?”

Yes
, she wanted to shout.
Everything is all wrong, and it is all your fault.

Even as she thought the words, Lucy knew how preposterous they were. It was not Mr. Ludlow’s fault that Tanglewood was for sale. The fact of the matter was that Colin did not have to sell if he did not wish to. But he
did
wish to, and therein lay the real problem. He wished to sell, leave, and never return. Perhaps Lucy had merely been a diversion to keep him entertained until a buyer could be found.

And now she was dancing with said buyer.

“Perhaps we should sit the rest of this dance out,” Mr. Ludlow suggested as he clasped hands with her again. “You are looking a little pale.”

Lucy very nearly accepted his offer when the Draysons were announced. Colin was almost a head taller than his mother and sister and most of the surrounding people, so it was easy to spot him. He made a quick perusal of the room before his gaze rested on her. She stumbled over several steps of the dance as she watched him draw closer and closer. The only reason she was able to remain in the dance at all was because of Mr. Ludlow’s firm grip on her hands.

Lucy pried her gaze away from Colin and focused on her partner instead. The hardened look about him reminded her that she needed to be the same. She would keep calm. She would stay strong. She would remain impenetrable.

A coolness settled around her, and when Mr. Ludlow asked again if she would like to sit down, Lucy said firmly, “I would like to dance, sir.”

He smiled, showing his dimple. “I believe you are an enigma, Miss Beresford.”

“How so, Mr. Ludlow?”

“I have never seen quite so many expressions on one’s face throughout the course of a dance.”

Lucy clapped hands with another partner, circled around him, and returned to Mr. Ludlow. She immediately rounded her eyes in a wide-eyed expression of fright, and he burst out laughing.

Next came crossed eyes, followed by a distasteful, scrunched up nose, the batting of her eyelashes, and finally, a coy, bashful sort of look. “If only I had a fan to hide behind,” she murmured as the dance came to an end.

Mr. Ludlow chuckled as he led her from the floor. “I must say that was the most diverting reel I have ever danced, Miss Beresford. I shall never forget it.” He bowed low over her hand, and when he rose, he added, “I am very glad we are to be such close neighbors.”

“You speak as though the contract has been signed, Mr. Ludlow,” intruded a voice that sent unwanted thrills down Lucy’s spine. Colin stepped next to her and directed an icy stare at Mr. Ludlow.