at their first meeting. The thought sent shock waves through him. He refused to believe it. What possible reason could she have to run such an appalling risk?
Once in his room, he spread his long form on the bed, thinking hard. Lucinda Lacey as his assailant! It was a ridiculous proposition: she was a lady. Ladies of his acquaintance might do many questionable things, but holding up a coach wasn’t one of them. He sat upright—there was a way to find out. It wasn’t only the scrap of lace that he’d picked up after his unknown attacker had disappeared into the night. He’d retrieved the gun and he had it still. He had been curious about it from the start, certain that it was a duelling pistol. If it was, it would be part of a pair, belonging to—not her, for sure, but this brother? Quite possibly. He drew the weapon from the pocket of his travelling cape and took it to the light. It was as he’d remembered: the pistol sported a most intricate decoration, a crown in the shape of acanthus leaves. It looked like a family crest, though not the Devereux emblem which was blazoned on every spare surface of the house. Did it perhaps belong to the Lacey family? In any case, it was not a gun that was easily replicated. If he found its companion here in this house, he would know almost certainly that the incredible was true. But then what would he do?
Lucinda changed rapidly out of her riding dress; she was intent on seeking an interview with her uncle before luncheon. The darkest of clouds remained in her life, but one threat at least had been removed: Jack Beaufort had no intention of pressuring her into marriage. In fact, he had no wish to marry at all. He had been candid and honest and she liked that in him. She wondered if he would be as direct with her uncle or simply depart the Towers, thanking his host for a pleasant stay. Either way Sir Francis would be furious: he did not easily accept having his schemes frustrated.
The door to the library stood ajar and Lucinda slipped quietly into the room. Her uncle was dozing fitfully by a roaring fire, but looked up as he heard her footsteps.
‘What is it?’ He sounded querulous and she feared she had chosen the wrong moment to make her appeal. ‘I am about to write letters before lunch, Lucinda. You must come back later.’
There seemed little sign of this activity and she decided that she would not be shrugged aside. Taking one of the room’s least comfortable chairs, she sat ramrod straight, facing her guardian.
‘Uncle Francis, I wish to speak with you.’
His small blue eyes cast a baleful look. ‘Indeed? Do you not think that my interests should come first? I have been wishing to speak to you on a matter of grave concern.’
She felt a murmur of unease, but counselled herself to wait patiently for her uncle to continue. He glowered at her for some minutes, fidgeting restlessly with the rings on his plump fingers, but at last he announced, ‘I desire an explanation.’
‘An explanation of what?’
‘You dare to ask! After your disgraceful conduct last night!’
She was taken aback for she had erased from her mind her first meeting with Jack Beaufort. In retrospect, it appeared horribly childish and she must have wanted to blot it from her mind.
Her uncle’s voice took on a cold anger. ‘Did I not request that you look your very best when our guest arrived? Did I not ask you to meet him with courtesy and make him welcome? And what did you do but dress yourself quite deliberately in the most appalling gown you could find and then follow that outrage by treating him with unfeigned rudeness.’
Her uncle was prone to exaggeration, but she could not deny his accusations. Every word he said was true and all she could do was keep silent and hope the storm would pass. But Sir Francis had more complaints. ‘Not content with your shameful behaviour last night, you appear this morning to have abandoned Lord Frensham to his own devices.’
‘I think you will find that the earl is as comfortable with his company as I am with mine,’ she said levelly.
But her guardian was not listening. ‘You made up your mind to dislike the man before he ever set foot in the door and you have conducted yourself towards him most shabbily. I did not expect it from you.’
She felt a stab of guilt. ‘I am sorry to have upset you, Uncle. I may have behaved stupidly, but the truth is that Lord Frensham and I would never suit.’
‘How can you decide such a thing when you hardly know the man?’
‘I do not need to know him. I am sufficiently aware of the circles he moves in to recognise that I could never be happy with such a life. I do not accuse his lordship of personal involvement, but his peers are the very people who helped Rupert to his ruin and I cannot imagine, Uncle, why you should wish me to make a match with such a one.’
Sir Francis had risen from his chair and was stomping around the library, pacing to the window and back, shuffling papers on his desk and moving books from one shelf to another. Finally he stopped and faced her once more, his face mottled with vexation.
‘You will have to marry somewhere, Lucinda. Is it not better that you secure for yourself a life of ease than be doomed to penury by wedding a half-pay soldier?’
She knew his thoughts were with his dead sister, Lucinda’s mother, that once-beloved girl, who had abandoned everything to marry Eliot Lacey against her family’s wishes.
‘I understand your concern for me,’ she said as mildly as she could, ‘but I have no wish to marry, Uncle, no wish at all.’
His face grew even redder. ‘You must marry! You must forget this nonsense of setting up home with your brother. Rupert is a wastrel and always will be.’
His words stung, but they also stiffened her resolve. She would live with Rupert one day and try in whatever way she could to compensate him for the unkindness he’d suffered at the hands of his family. But right now she could not allow herself to be deflected: she must voice her plea even though she knew it to be futile. ‘I know you consider Rupert to be a lost cause, Uncle Francis, and I know that in the past he has given you reason to believe that, but—’
‘He has—in full—and there is no more to be said.’
‘I think there is. I must talk to you about him.’
‘I will say only this, Lucinda, and then we will never speak of it again. While Rupert was a minor, I did all in my power to save the honour of the family—and to save his honour. Unhappily I failed. Now I consider my task at an end and I refuse to be troubled further.’
‘You have been very good, Uncle, more than good,’ she soothed, well aware that for years he had treated her brother harshly and any benevolence sprang from inflated family pride rather than affection. ‘You have done all you possibly could to keep Rupert on the right path.’
‘And received scant gratitude! He has reached the age of majority and must now be responsible for his actions. It is quite simple.’
Lucinda’s eyes were wide and pleading. She took a step towards her guardian, her hands raised in supplication. ‘I am sorry that I disobeyed you in going to London against your wishes, but I had to see my brother. He is my twin and whatever he has done, I love him dearly. What I saw broke my heart. The prison is cold and dank and the treatment he receives severe. The stark loneliness of his life is more than any gently born soul can bear. If you would but see him, you would understand.’
‘He has a lesson to learn and that is that he must live within his means.’
‘I
