Lady Libertine (7 page)

‘Then call on her.’

‘You know I cannot. The mother will immediately think I am interested. I loathe raising the expectations of others unnecessarily.’

For once, Julia forbore to comment. ‘Well, it will have to wait. She told me this morning when we encountered each other in the park that she has to go to some dreadful house party in Dorset. Billingsworth is hosting it. It sounded utterly ghastly, but of course Lucy has to go. The man is wooing her frightful mother, after all.’ She gave a small shudder. ‘What a pair they will make! Thank God they are past the breeding stage.’

A house party in Dorset? ‘When are they going?’

‘Tuesday, I believe.’

‘Tuesday…’ Rand narrowed his eyes, thinking. Was there really any better opportunity than a house party to corner an unwilling guest? He knew that from experience for he had been cornered on more than one occasion. Admittedly, he did not number Lord Billingsworth among his close, personal friends or even among his friends, for that matter, but all the world loved an earl, especially one who was socially retiring. Snaring his attendance at anything was usually quite an achievement. It should not take too much to wrangle an invitation. ‘What club does Billingsworth favor again?

‘Boodles,’ Edward replied dryly. ‘Do you really mean to go down to Dorset for some random house party just to question Lucy Landon?’

‘Yes. I really do.’

‘If you upset her,’ his loving sister growled, ‘I will beat you senseless. And thanks to my delicate condition, there is nothing you can do in return. I mean it, Rand. Lucy is a very sweet girl. Do
not
make her unhappy.’

‘What about my happiness?’ he protested.

‘Pffst!’ she waved a hand dismissively. ‘You are the happiest man I have ever encountered. Sometimes I think you are a little
too
happy. Just remember this; Lucy Landon is not to be played with. Do you understand?’

Rand and Edward shared a look. They both knew that tone of voice. Julia, for once, was serious. ’Ware the poor fool who did not watch their step for if one
really
incurred her displeasure, they deserved everything they got.

Chapter Four

Lucy looked at the impressive pile of grey stones that made up Lord Billingsworth’s country estate and grimaced inwardly. Beside her, her mother was practically squirming with joy. This was the place she was determined to – very shortly – call home. It was even grander than Kensmere, the country home of the Landons that had now, sadly, passed to the new heir.

Lucy knew that, to her Mama, this hulking great house would more than compensate for the loss of Kensmere. Twin turreted, four stories tall, the driveway swept around to a central courtyard where their coach presently drew up before.

Lady Landon turned to smile at Phoebe happily. ‘Is it not magnificent?’

‘I suppose so,’ Phoebe returned dubiously, ‘although it looks a little grim, don’t you think?’

‘Nonsense!’ Lady Landon said firmly, ‘Fendleton Hall is a most remarkable place. Lord Billingsworth has every reason to be proud of it.’

Lucy remained silent. If she were romantically inclined, then it would be all too easy to imagine that this was the kind of place some poor heroine would be held captive, probably in one of those towers. The lowering skies did not help lighten the picture for the pleasant August day had capriciously turned dull, leaden clouds promising rain, while a chill wind had sprung up. All they really needed was some lightening and thunder and Horace Walpole or dear Mrs. Radcliffe could produce something delightfully gothic with which to thrill their readers.

‘Now remember, Lucy,’ Lady Landon eyed her eldest child coolly, ‘you are to be polite and civil at all times. Especially to Lord Billingsworth.’

Lucy arched an eyebrow. ‘But, Mama, when am I not?’

Her mother frowned. ‘You can have a very nasty tongue on you. I have noticed it most particularly in the past few weeks. Mind that you hold it!’ And with that, she stepped down from the carriage.

Phoebe and Lucy shared a look, Phoebe leaning over to touch her sister’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, Mouse. I do not know why she is so mean to you.’

Lucy shrugged and smiled. She knew, but she had no intention of telling her sister that it was jealousy, pure and simple. She had always been her father’s favorite and he had spent more time with her than anybody else in the household. It was something her mother could not forgive, even though it was hardly Lucy’s fault. ‘It does not matter. I promise you it does not.’

Climbing down, they followed Lady Landon into the dim interior of the house.

As the honored guests, they had arrived the night before anybody else and so dinner was a fairly intimate affair. Lucy watched her mother looking around, assessing the worth of everything, mentally redecorating parlors and sitting rooms as she went. She would, Lucy allowed, make a very good Lady Billingsworth for she would play the part to the hilt, welcoming guests, cooing appreciatively to Billingsworth, and generally having a marvelous time of it. If Lucy had not had her own plans for escape, she would have found the entire thing dreadfully depressing, but as things stood, she found she was indifferent to the situation. Even Lord Billingsworth, a fat, balding man with rubbery lips and hands like ham hocks could be viewed dispassionately. She did not care for the ‘fatherly’ way he kissed Phoebe’s cheek, but, as her sister would undoubtedly make an alliance this Season and be off their mother’s hands and in her own establishment before many more months had passed, Lucy did not let it trouble her too much.

It was a long, tedious evening and she retired to bed as soon as she was able, with a book, pleading fatigue.

The next morning she was up early and took the opportunity to wander the extensive gardens before breakfast. The gardens, she quickly decided, were far nicer than the house and led onto fields that rolled delightfully. It had rained heavily during the night and the hem of her skirt attracted a great deal of mud, but she had had a most satisfactory ramble and arrived back ready for breakfast. She liked the country; the fresh air, the rustic vistas, so much nicer than dirty London. The small cottage she had been left had sea views. Sea views, Lucy reflected happily as she climbed back over a stile, would be marvelous!

She had assumed that the guests would be arriving after lunch and was, therefore, surprised to see a gentleman standing at the sideboard, helping himself to dishes from the warming pans. He was the only one in the room for it was just gone nine o’clock. The early arrival was wearing riding clothes, so it seemed likely he was neighbor or a guest who had made an early start.

‘Good morning,’ Lucy said politely, approaching the broad back. She stopped abruptly when the tall figure turned, revealing a – by now – all too familiar face. Lucy gaped at the Earl of Hamersley in disbelief. ‘What are
you
doing here?’

He gave her a smile, a little wicked, a little smug. ‘Good morning, Miss Landon. What a delightful surprise.’

‘Really,’ she said, not even trying to disguise her disbelief. ‘Never tell me
you
are a guest of Lord Billingsworth.’

‘I am, actually. I ran into him at his club the day before yesterday and we fell to talking. He suggested I might enjoy Dorset for several days.’

Lucy stared at him. There was no way that Hamersley was a particular friend of Billingsworth. They weren’t even of the same generation. Heavens, they hardly seemed to be of the same
species
! Clearly, the earl had some reason for being here and, just as clearly, that something had to do with her.

‘You followed me here.’

He raised an eyebrow, the very picture of hauteur. ‘My dear lady. What are you implying?’

Lucy was unimpressed. ‘You think I have something to do with Lady Libertine and you followed me down here. Do not even try to deny it. That was very… very…’

‘Enterprising?’ Rand suggested, abandoning hauteur.

She narrowed her brown eyes at him. ‘I have nothing to say on the subject, my lord!’

‘Perhaps. But I’m sure you have something to say on the subject of breakfast. From the state of your dress I’m assuming you have been out walking, and walking, I know for a fact, always makes one hungry.’

It was true that she was hungry, very, but breakfast would mean sitting with the earl and Lucy was not at all sure that was a good idea. The idea that he had followed her from London to pursue the conversation she had cut short on Saturday was alarming. Clearly, he meant business. Still, there didn’t seem to be much he could do to make her talk (short of tickling her and she wasn’t about to reveal
that
weakness) so she collected a plate and selected some food; eggs, ham, mushrooms, and toast. The coffee was hot and smelt delicious. She filled a cup and silently went and sat at the table.

I might as well get used to it
, she thought grimly.
For I cannot avoid being in his company for four whole days!

There was a small pause. ‘You know,’ he said reflectively, ‘polite conversation only works if two people are making an effort. I am holding up
my
end of the bargain.’

Lucy tried not to smile. She very much doubted if he new what polite conversation was. ‘You don’t have to talk to me, my lord.’

‘Of course I do. I am a gentleman and gentlemen always have to try and amuse a lady. It’s part of the job requirement.’

Once again, her lips twitched. Her previous – brief – acquaintance with the man had not given her much opportunity to appreciate his unusual outlook. Clearly he did not care very much for polite conversation, preferring honesty instead. It was irresistible. ‘Is being a gentleman a job, then?’

It was an extraordinary question. Nobody had ever asked her anything like that before. And why would they? Life was the way it was and one accepted it, especially if one had a life as a much pitied, quietly despised spinster stretching ahead. In the normal course of events she might have been shuffled between Judith and Phoebe’s house to help care for their offspring and, of course, she would be summoned back to her Mama’s bedside when the lady fell ill in old age. What else did a spinster do?

Did
she enjoy her position in life?

She thought about that, as well. Did she agree? Perhaps, when she’d had three or four unsuccessful Seasons behind her, although her mother’s haranguing had been offset by her father’s indifference to her lack of suitors. He had not cared if his eldest child married or not. In fact, Lucy rather thought that he had been pleased to have her remain unattached.

Even so, it was hard not to believe one was a failure when she had not fulfilled her duties, something that had been brought home even more when Judith had become engaged. Her sister, three years younger, had done what she had not been able to do and her mother had never failed to remind her of the fact.

‘I don’t think I am,’ she said slowly, ‘I think I am better than that.’

Hamersley looked at her curiously. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that I resent the fact that I am defined by who I marry. Not who I am.’ She shot a quick look at the earl. ‘I suppose you think that ridiculous?’

Lucy gave him an exasperated look. ‘That was not very subtle. If you wish to know about my relationship with Thomas, you merely have to ask.’

‘I asked the other day and you rather told me to go away.’

Not in so many words she hadn’t, but it was true, just the same. ‘Thomas used to be my father’s secretary. Now, as you know, he is editor of the
London
Times
, but we have remained friends.’

‘I see.’ He fell silent, chewing meditatively. Lucy waited. She knew there would be more to come and sure enough, ‘He claims not to know the identity of this Lady Libertine who writes for his paper.’

‘Is that so hard to believe?’

‘It seems singularly irresponsible to me. How can he not know who he employs?’

Lucy gave an offhand shrug. ‘Perhaps he is merely happy to have his circulation rise so quickly. If I were the editor of a newspaper,
I
would be delighted with the increase.’