close to tears. She said quietly, ‘I would rather not fight you at all, my lord. Now, if you will excuse me, I must change my gown.’
* * *
Ralph watched her leave the room, curbing the urge to call her back, to demand she tell him what his cousin had said to her. He did not want to force her; he would much rather that she trusted him enough to confide everything. Yet how could he expect that when he would confide in no one?
He walked to the window, looking out across the gardens but seeing only Lucy’s distressed face. He wished there was a way to carry out his plan without involving her. He admired her spirit, the dignified way she conducted herself. His sisters liked her, too; that was very clear. He could foresee a stormy time ahead, when Lucy left Adversane. His sisters had made it very plain that they considered Lucy the perfect match for him and would take it very ill when the engagement was terminated.
As would he.
The thought came as a shock. Ralph raked his hands through his hair and exhaled slowly. When had Lucy Halbrook changed from being a mere pawn in his plans and become a person? One with so much more spirit than the dead wife he had hired her to impersonate.
He had married Helene because it was expected of him, because she was beautiful and desirable, but he had known from the start that his heart was untouched. She was so complaisant that he had thought she would make him a comfortable wife, but it had not taken him long to realise the truth, that it was most uncomfortable to be in a loveless marriage, especially to a woman with whom he shared no common interests. And Helene’s truly sweet nature had become a constant barb of guilt. He could give her as much spending money as she desired, but he could not love her, any more than she could care for him. He had resigned himself to the fact that once she had provided him with an heir, they would live separate lives.
Yet, although he had not loved Helene, he considered it his duty to find out the truth about her death and for that he needed Lucy Halbrook. His own desires were secondary. He frowned. What of Lucy’s desires? Despite her avowed dislike of him, Ralph was convinced she was not indifferent. When he had kissed her he had ignited a fire equal to his own. He had recognised it in her response, even if she would not acknowledge it.
Ralph squared his shoulders. Perhaps, when it was over and he knew the truth, he could tell Lucy, but would she want anything to do with him once she knew how he had used her? He doubted it, but it was too late to change course now. Much too late.
* * *
Lucy had no appetite for dinner, but it was impossible for her not to attend. There were no orders as to her attire, but then, she thought despondently, whatever she wore would be styled upon one of Helene’s evening gowns. Ruthie had laid out a rose silk and she put it on, not even bothering to look in the mirror before she went downstairs.
In the drawing room Lucy did her best to avoid both Ralph and Adam Cottingham and was relieved to be sitting between Lord Preston and Sir Timothy when they went into the dining room. Not that either of the gentlemen she was avoiding seemed aware of her efforts. Adam sent her no anxious looks, made no attempt to continue their tête-à-tête. Lucy wondered if he had realised the imprudence of declaring his suspicions to Ralph’s fiancée. Yet if that was the case, Lucy thought he should have tried to make her an apology. As for Ralph, apart from the occasional thoughtful glance in her direction he kept his distance and in such lively company the reserve between them went unnoticed.
After dinner she waited with the other ladies for the gentlemen to join them. To retire early would attract more comment than to sit quietly in the corner. The long windows were thrown wide, but even so there was no breeze to refresh the room and all the ladies seemed a little subdued as they fanned themselves and talked in desultory tones. Lucy stepped outside, watching the sunset and enjoying the slight breeze. She was still there when at last the gentlemen came in.
As the party rearranged itself, Ralph joined Lucy on the terrace.
‘You are very quiet tonight. Is anything amiss?’
She shook her head, but he saw quite clearly that she was not her usual self. The sparkle was gone from her eyes and there was a slight droop to her mouth. Ralph longed to kiss away that troubled look, but he suspected he had put it there by questioning her about Adam Cottingham. Perhaps he should not have done so, but he had felt such a worm of jealousy in his soul when he had seen them together, a feeling so much stronger than anything he had ever felt for his wife.
He was about to try and coax Lucy into a smile when he became aware of the conversation going on in the room behind them. Lady Preston was talking with Judith Cottingham but her high voice carried easily to the terrace.
‘It was quite understandable that Adversane should cancel the play last year.’
‘Mourning, d’you see,’ explained Sir James cheerfully. ‘He was besotted with Helene, of course, but I’m glad to see he’s over it now and back in the world again.’
Damn the man, thought Ralph. Preston had been drinking heavily at dinner, and was now talking far too loud and free.
‘Aye, he’s back,’ Sir James continued, his words slurring a little. ‘And this year’s Midsummer festivities will be an ideal opportunity for Charlotte to become accustomed to society.’
Judith murmured something which drew a laugh from Sir James.
‘Oh, no,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We won’t force her into a marriage, Mrs Cottingham. Are you worried she might make a mull of it, like her sister? No fear of that. Helene was always highly strung, of course, lived on her nerves. There’s no denying Adversane handled her very ill, but Charlotte won’t be driven to such desperate measures as her sister. Made of much sterner stuff. In fact, if only she’d been a few years older she’d have made a much better bride for Adversane.’
Ralph turned, ready to put a stop to the conversation, but his sisters were before him. Margaret called for Sir James to join her at the piano for a duet and Caroline swept everyone into a discussion of what the pair should sing. Glancing back at Lucy, he saw that she was staring at him, her face as white as the trim on her gown. He was almost overwhelmed with an urge to protect her. He wanted to gather her in his arms but with everyone watching them he had to content himself with taking her hand.
‘I wish you had not heard that.’
‘It is not the first time, but to hear Sir James utter it, and so coolly.’
‘The magistrate recorded Helene’s death as an accident.’
‘Naturally, in deference to your standing, but that is not what everyone believes, is it?’
‘No.’
He wanted to tell her what he thought had really happened that night, but what if he was proved wrong? Would those eyes now fixed so anxiously upon him fill with disgust and loathing to think he was merely trying to exonerate himself? When she pulled her hand free he made no attempt to stop her, even though it left him feeling bereft. Caroline came to the window.
‘Lucy, Ralph, do come and join us. You must sing another duet.’
She took their arms, trying to move them inside, but Lucy held back.
‘Not tonight, Caroline, if you please. I—I have a headache.’
‘Oh, poor love.’ His sister was all concern. ‘It is this thundery weather. We will all feel better once there has been a storm.’
