Lucy had been lying awake for some time. Realising that she would not sleep, she threw back the covers and got out of bed. She slipped on a heavy silk dressing gown and slid her feet into a pair of soft leather slippers.
Taking her lighted candle, Lucy went downstairs to the little parlour where she had sat with her sister and mother for an hour or so earlier that day. She had left her book there and hoped that reading it would help her fall asleep.
As she entered the room, she felt a cool breeze; looking towards the French windows, she saw that they were open. That was odd, for it was unlike the servants to leave them open when they went to bed. She walked towards them, intending to close them, and then gave a little jump as a man’s figure loomed up out of the darkness.
‘Lord Harcourt!’ she cried as he entered and she saw him clearly. ‘I am glad it was you. I thought we might have an intruder.’
His eyes narrowed, going over her, taking in the fact that she was wearing a dressing gown over her night attire. ‘What are you doing down here, Miss Horne? I thought you retired long ago?’
‘Yes, I did,’ Lucy agreed. ‘But I could not sleep so I came down to fetch my book.’
‘Then we were both restless,’ he said. ‘I could not sleep either. I went out for a walk—and to smoke a cigar…’ His gaze was intent on her face. ‘I think it was fortunate for your sake that it was I you met on this nocturnal expedition…otherwise it might have proved embarrassing for you, to say the least.’
‘Oh…’ Lucy blushed, becoming aware that she was behaving in a decidedly improper manner by talking to a gentleman she hardly knew when she was dressed in her night-clothes. ‘I must go back to my room, sir. I hope you will find it easier to sleep after your walk.’ She turned and walked from the room clutching her book, her heart racing.
‘Goodnight, Lucy…’ His voice seemed to float after her, making her feel a little odd as she fled up the stairs to her own room. Once again she had the feeling that Lord Harcourt thought of her as a foolish young woman.
Jack Harcourt frowned as he sought his own room, taking a candle from the hall, where several were still burning, though the night porter had fallen asleep in his chair. He was thoughtful as he walked upstairs to his room. He had been startled to find Miss Horne wearing only her night attire. It was often his habit to walk for a while at night, especially when he had something on his mind. He had perhaps been a little sharp with her, for his thoughts were elsewhere, but it was unwise of her to wander about in that state at this hour—particularly when there were male guests. Some of those guests might not have been above trying to snatch a clandestine kiss—or more!
She might not be aware of it, but Lucy was a delightful young girl, very pretty, and the glimpse of her legs he had received as she climbed down from the tree was enticing, for she had lovely slender limbs. He thought her an enchanting child, perhaps a little shy still and completely innocent—as his sister had once been! Thoughts of Amelia brought a frown to his face, for Amelia’s innocence had been abused and that was the cause of her desperate unhappiness. He dismissed thoughts of his sister for the moment. It was useless to dwell on the past, and he had other concerns.
Jack had many friends and acquaintances, all of whom he was happy to meet at social occasions, but there was no one quite like David Middleton. They had grown up together, sharing their boyhood dreams and adventures, more like brothers than friends.
David’s death had been like a blow to the stomach, driving the breath from his body and leaving Jack feeling devastated.
Since receiving that mysterious letter, he had made some inquiries and what he had discovered had led him to believe that David might have fallen in with an evil crowd of sharks and heavy gamblers. If they had tried to cheat him of his fortune, David would not have taken it without a fight, and he now believed that perhaps the gamblers had killed him and dumped his body on the Heath. Collingwood was certainly one of the men David had been gambling with in the weeks immediately before his death, though there was no proof yet that he had had anything to do with his murder. The official view was still that David had been set upon by a highwayman on the Heath and robbed.
Jack frowned, for it made him angry to think that his friend might have been murdered over a card game—and yet was that the real reason? Jack was uncertain. He was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery somehow for he could not rest until he knew the truth. Even here, amongst his friends, he was uneasy, for something was nagging at him, something that made him think that there was more to this affair than he yet guessed, though he could not say why. If Jack was right, it had something to do with an entirely different matter, which meant the tale about a quarrel over gambling was merely a blind.
Oh, damn it! There was nothing he could do for the moment. He had come here to enjoy himself with his friends, and this other business could wait until he returned to London.
A smile flickered about his mouth as he thought of young Lucy Horne once more. In another life, before he had become disillusioned and hardened, he might have found her irresistible, but that time was long past. He knew that he owed it to his family to marry one day, but when he did he would choose an older woman, perhaps a widow who had no great expectations. He needed an heir, but he had become accustomed to being single and did not imagine a life of domestic bliss would suit him. He had a mistress, whom he visited when he felt the need, which was not often, for he had been too busy to indulge himself in the pleasures of life. As for marriage, he had not given it a thought until recently. Even now, it was something that he saw as being a long way off. His experience of personal relationships had not been encouraging and he rather thought that he was better off single, even if at times he was conscious of a great gap in his life. And marriage to a gentle, sweet girl was out of the question! He was mad even to think about it. Charming as she undoubtedly was, Miss Horne was not for him.
Dismissing Lucy from his mind, he walked along the upper landing to his own bedchamber. He would stay three days, as he had promised Marianne and Drew, but then he would return to London and the pursuit of the man who he believed responsible for David’s death.
Lucy was up early. She had slept for a while after returning to bed, but the sunshine pouring in at her open window called to her and she knew that she could go for a walk before anyone else was stirring.
She walked as far as the lake, which lay glistening in the early morning sunshine, entirely tempting and mysterious. There was a little island in the middle of the lake, and a temple that looked like something out of a fairytale. Lucy looked at it longingly, for she would have liked to visit it to explore, though of course it was only small and she doubted there were any secrets. However, in her mind the summerhouse was a palace where a sleeping prince lay waiting to be awakened after the wicked witch had cast a spell on him.
Had there been a rowing boat nearby, Lucy might have been tempted to try and row herself out there. But the boats were kept in the boathouse for safety’s sake and she did not wish to disturb anyone this early in the morning, because the servants would be busy with their work. She sighed and turned, intending to return to the house, only to discover that Lord Harcourt was standing a little way behind her. He was staring at the lake, apparently lost in thought.
She breathed deeply and then took a few steps towards him. ‘Good morning, sir. I think it will be very warm today. Just right for a trip to the island, do you not think?’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Jack replied, focusing on her. ‘The water looks tempting—especially if it becomes hot later. At home I should probably go for a swim on a day such
