then?’
Lucy began to shake. Suddenly there was no pretence. Suddenly she felt she really was Ralph’s fiancée. She called upon all her resolution to speak calmly.
‘Perhaps we should allow Adversane to be the judge, ma’am.’
Lady Preston snorted.
‘He is so in love with Helene he cannot see beyond the superficial likeness at present, but that will change. You cannot replace her, however much you try to imitate her. Do you think I have not realised? But you will not catch him with such wiles and stratagems. You are not Helene. You do not have her goodness, her sweetness of temper.’
‘Perhaps not, but Ralph—’
‘You dare to call him by his name? What have you to offer him? It was Helene he loved. He will tire of you, Miss Halbrook, and then what will you be? His wife in name, perhaps, but rejected, ignored.’ Her lip curled. ‘You have only to observe poor little Judith Cottingham. Do you wish to be like her, cowed and unhappy, pitied by everyone and desperate for the slightest attention from her husband? Better to go now, miss, while you at least have your dignity.’
The venom in the woman’s eyes sparkled like knife-blades. Lucy had no defence. The knowledge that she had fallen headlong in love with Ralph had left her weak and confused. There had been a spark of hope, barely acknowledged, that Ralph might come to care for her. Now that was most effectively destroyed. It had never been very strong; more a faint, distant dream tucked away in her heart, but Lady Preston’s words had sliced right to her core and cut it out, leaving her so raw that she felt the tears welling up.
Without a word, she ran from the room, her last glance showing that Lady Preston was wearing a satisfied smile. Lucy hoped to reach her room without seeing anyone, but as she crossed the Great Hall, Ralph was emerging from the entrance passage. He could not fail to see her distress but she did not stop when he called to her. Instead, she flew up the stairs. When she reached the Long Gallery he was merely yards behind her. If only she could reach the safety of her room!
He caught up with her even as she opened the door. Ruthie was pottering about in the room, but a curt word from Adversane sent her scurrying away. He closed the door behind the maid and turned to look at Lucy.
‘Now, you will tell me what has overset you.’
His voice was as brisk as ever, but she knew him well enough to hear his concern. It brought forth from her another bout of tears. He gave her his handkerchief and waited in silence for her to speak.
‘I beg your pardon. I am being very foolish. It was L-Lady Preston. She says you only want me because I look like Helene, which I know anyway, and since this is all a charade it makes no odds...’
She trailed off, her head bowed. Distant thunder rumbled in through the open window as Ralph came closer.
‘You are wrong.’ He removed the handkerchief from her restless fingers and dried her cheeks. ‘This is no charade. Not any longer.’
He caught her chin and gently turned her face up towards him. He kissed her eyelids, his lips drying the remaining tears before his mouth moved over hers. Lucy melted into him. It felt so right to be in his arms, as if it was her natural home.
Suddenly, it did not matter if it was all a sham, if he thought he was making love to Helene. She wanted him. She would take whatever pleasure he offered her and hold the memory to comfort her through the empty years ahead.
His kiss deepened, and her body stirred in response. The thunder rolled again, but she did not know whether it was that or desire that made the very earth tremble. Her lips parted at his insistence and his tongue was plundering her mouth, drawing out an aching longing from her very core. She could feel its tug deep in her belly and between her thighs. With something like a growl he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed where he lay down with her, covering her face with kisses before his lips roved down to the hollow at the base of her throat. Her body was singing as his hands explored its contours. Her breasts ached to be free of the restraining gown so that he might caress them. She could feel him, hard and aroused, pressed against her, only a few thin layers of cloth between them.
She sighed and opened her eyes. She had slept in this bed for the past few weeks but now she saw it afresh. Everything looked different, brighter, the rich hangings, the elaborately carved posts—a sudden flash of lightning flooded the room and turned the folded silk above her head a deeper blue.
As blue as the eyes in the painting of Lady Adversane.
Quickly, Lucy shut out the thought. Thunder rolled again, like the distant grumble of angry gods. Ralph was kissing her breasts where they rose plump and soft above the edge of her gown. With one hand, he had pushed aside her skirts and was caressing her thigh. Her body responded, straining towards him. He would take her, she knew it. She wanted it as much as he.
But he is making love to his wife.
Lucy told herself again it did not matter—she was too hungry for his caresses to care. But even as her body yearned, ached for his touch, she knew it was not true. She did care. Very much. She struggled, her hands on his chest, trying to push him off.
‘Ralph—no—’
Immediately he let her go and sat up.
‘What is it? What is wrong?’ His breathing was ragged, his eyes dark with passion. ‘Tell me.’
Cold terror clutched at her heart. He would never forgive her for stopping him. She should not have let it go so far. With a sob, she scrambled off the bed and threw herself at the door. Even as the next rumble of thunder rolled through the house she was racing to the stairs.
* * *
She had to get out of the house, to get away. Lucy let herself out of the door and stepped out onto the drive. The sky was black and the first drops of rain were splashing down. A flicker of lightning illuminated the little wicket gate and she ran towards it, not stopping until she had reached the old ride, out of sight of the house.
She was crying in earnest now, for herself, for Ralph, for Helene. She had no thought other than to get away and she hurried on, walking and running by turns. The steady rain soaked her, mingling with the tears that would not stop. The very heavens seemed to be crying in sympathy.
Lucy barely saw Hobart’s Bridge as she ran across it, great gasping sobs racking her body. She wanted Ralph more than she had ever wanted anything in the world before, but only if he wanted her. She would not be a substitute for his wife. The thought brought on more tears, this time for the man she had left behind. If his love for Helene was only a fraction of what she was feeling, how on earth did he bear it, day after day?
The violence of her grief could not last and when it began to abate she became conscious of her situation on the open moor, exposed to the elements. Her thin muslin gown was soaked through and the heavy rain was creating a thick grey mist that reverberated with the almost continuous roll of thunder. Lucy could see no more than a few yards in any direction and looked about her, wondering which way to go.
A solitary figure appeared out of the mist. Ralph.
Lightning flickered. She wanted to run, but what was the point? He was so close now there could be no escape. She waited for him to come up, flinching a little as the thunder crashed loudly overhead.
‘The storm is getting closer,’ he said urgently. ‘We need to take
