the unwelcome feelings were receding. It was the novelty of having a young woman in the house, that was all.
Since Helene’s death he had thrown himself into his work on the estate and shunned female society. He saw now that it had been a mistake. If he had not been so reclusive he would not now find himself so desirous of Lucy Halbrook’s company, and he would not be so quickly aroused when they were together. After all, she was no beauty. It was her resemblance to Helene that had persuaded him to employ her, but the longer she was here the less he could see any similarity. Damnation, had he been mistaken? No, Adam had seen the likeness, he was certain of that.
‘She will have to do,’ he muttered as he bent low over Jupiter’s glossy black neck. ‘Only another couple of weeks and it will be finished. She will leave Adversane and I need never see her again. All I require of Lucy Halbrook until then is that she plays her part.’
‘Well, was there ever anyone so rude?’
Lucy watched Ralph gallop off across the park. She had thought they were getting on well. They had talked quite freely during their walk, which had gone a long way to allowing her to put aside some of her own reserve, but now he had rebuffed her. Lucy tried to be angry, but honesty compelled her to admit that she was more wounded by his abrupt departure.
‘But why should he walk you back?’ she asked herself as she turned her steps towards the house. ‘If he was truly your fiancé it would be a different matter. You would have every excuse to feel aggrieved. As it is, he is paying you very well and that should be sufficient. Surely you do not want to spend more time with such a difficult man.’
She thought back to what he had told her about his late wife. Ariadne thought them a devoted couple, but Lucy was sceptical. Ralph himself had admitted Helene was not happy and she had detected no sign of affection in his manner when he talked about his wife. She stopped and uttered her thoughts to the open air.
‘But if that is the case, why does he want me to look like Helene?’
She fixed her eyes on the darkening sky, as if the black clouds might give her an answer. The only response was a fat raindrop that splashed on her nose. She hurried on, reaching the house just as the heavens opened.
* * *
The heavy rain continued for the rest of the day, making the sky so dark that when Lucy went down to the drawing room before dinner she found that Ariadne had ordered the candles to be lit.
‘These summer storms are so depressing,’ said Mrs Dean, staring despondently at the rain cascading down the windows.
‘Best to be thankful there is no thunder and lightning,’ remarked Ralph, walking in at that moment. ‘That sends even the most sensible females into a panic.’
Lucy, still smarting from the way he had left her that morning, bridled immediately.
‘Not all females, my lord.’
He raised his brows, looking at her as if her comment was not worthy of a response. She watched him sit down beside his cousin and engage her in conversation.
Good. She was glad and did not wish to talk to him when he was determined to be so disagreeable. She had to admit that he was being perfectly civil to Ariadne, but whenever he was obliged to acknowledge Lucy he did so with such brevity that it bordered on curt. Byrne came in to announce dinner and Lucy hung back. With only the briefest hesitation Ralph offered his arm to his cousin.
It was what Lucy had intended, what she wanted, yet following them across the hall she felt decidedly alone. The rain did not help, for it made the Great Hall cold and gloomy, and when they reached the dining room she was glad to find that an abundance of candles burned brightly, giving the room a cosy glow that offset the sound of the rain pattering against the window. Mrs Dean remarked that they would need to ensure they had a good supply of candles for the forthcoming house party.
‘Colne sent off an order for another twelve dozen only yesterday,’ replied Ralph. ‘Which reminds me, have you made up the guest rooms yet?’
‘Lucy and I allocated the rooms today. There is a little furniture to be moved, but apart from that nothing need be done now. We shall make up the beds the day before your guests arrive.’
He nodded. ‘And when does Mrs Sutton anticipate the rest of your gowns will be ready, Lucy?’
‘She has promised them next week, my lord.’
He did not respond immediately, but when Byrne followed the servants out of the room he said, ‘I thought we were agreed that you would call me by my name?’
‘I beg your pardon, my—Ralph. It slipped my mind.’
‘Then pray do not let it happen again.’
Ariadne shook her head at him.
‘Fie upon you, Cousin, how can you expect Lucy to address you informally when you are acting so cold and...and lordly this evening?’
‘I am paying her to do so.’
And very handsomely, Lucy acknowledged silently. However, it did not mean that she would be browbeaten. She remarked, as the servants returned with more dishes, ‘Ralph cannot help being cold and lordly, ma’am. It is all he knows.’
With Byrne filling the wineglasses and the footmen in attendance, only the narrowing of Adversane’s eyes told Lucy that her comment had hit home.
The dinner was excellent, as always, but Lucy felt a tension in the air. Perhaps it was the weather. It was very close in the dining room, but the driving rain made it impossible to open the windows.
Ariadne did not seem to notice, but whenever Lucy looked at Ralph, he appeared to be frowning and distracted. He contributed little to the conversation and by the time the covers were removed Lucy was so incensed by his conduct that she barely waited for the door to close behind the servants before asking him bluntly what he meant by his boorish behaviour.
Those black brows flew up.
‘I beg your pardon, ma’am?’
Ariadne fluttered a warning hand at Lucy, but she ignored it.
‘You have barely said two words together during dinner,’ she retorted. ‘If there is something pressing upon your mind then do please share it with us. Otherwise it would be courteous to give us at least a little of your attention.’
‘If there are matters pressing upon my mind, madam, they are my business, and not for general discussion.’
‘Dinner is a social occasion,’ she retorted. ‘My father always said if you cannot talk about a problem then it should be left outside the dining room. He considered family dinners to be most important.’
‘When he was sober enough to attend them!’
He saw her flinch as if he had struck her, and it did not need Ariadne’s outraged gasp to tell him he was at fault.
‘Lucy—Miss Halbrook, I beg your pardon, I—’
She
