Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant. Helen Dickson
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‘I was not referring to your looks, but to what is inside you—and no one asked you to suffer.’
‘No, I know that and I am still here, carrying on, doing what I like doing best. Please say what you have to say,’ Lucy said irately. ‘I have no wish to prolong this interview.’
He smiled crookedly at her under drooping eyelids. ‘No? Surely this is a most affecting moment,’ he stated with heavy irony. ‘Two people once betrothed to each other, together again after such a long absence—especially after believing themselves parted for ever. My dear Lucy, you should be glad to be reunited with the man you loved—for you did love me, my dear. You were quite devoted to me as I recall.’
Lucy had had enough. ‘That will do,’ she retorted sharply. ‘You are amazingly impertinent.’ She was not going to remind him how he had trampled on that innocent love in the bed of her closest friend. ‘You have the audacity to talk about what was between us as if it were merely another of those delightful escapades you men discuss over your brandy.’
Nathan shrugged, but his eyes shifted to avoid Lucy’s sparkling gaze. ‘It was you who, for some reason, turned it into a huge tragedy. From what I understand, I was not the only one to be ostracised by you.’
Lucy’s head came up sharply. ‘Please explain what you mean by that remark? Who are you talking about?’
‘Katherine.’
The name fell on Lucy like a hammer blow. Her eyes flew to his, anger, hot and fierce, in their depths. ‘Please do not mention her name to me. I will not speak of her. If you insist on doing so, then I will order you to leave my house this instant.’
Nathan held up both his hands, palms outward, a warning bell ringing in his mind telling him not to pursue this. But whatever it was that had gone wrong between Lucy and Katherine was raw. That was clear. Knowing this, there was need for caution.
‘I see you haven’t changed, Nathan. Still stuffed with the same arrogance and conceit, which I must confess were two of the attributes I most despised in you.’
He appeared totally unfazed by her stinging barb, which angered her further. ‘Indeed? You should have told me how you felt when we were together.’
‘I doubt it would have made any difference.’
‘It might. Speaking of arrogance and conceit, I see you are closely acquainted with Lambert.’
She glanced at him pointedly. ‘You know Jack? How?’
He shrugged. ‘I have no interest in Lambert. He’s well connected. Unfortunately he wasn’t thought clever enough for anything except the army. After spending a couple of years in the military where he had a tendency to search out opportunities to benefit himself—where he got too comfortable with the camp-followers—the female kind, I might add,’ he said, raising a well-defined brow, ‘I doubt his habits have changed and he continues to dally here and there at his leisure. I’m sure you know the type.’
‘Yes, actually I’m afraid I do,’ Lucy replied, gritting out the words. It nettled her sorely that he should seek to besmirch Jack’s character when his own reputation was far from exemplary.
‘What do you want?’ she demanded. ‘What is the reason for this rude intrusion into my home? You have not sought me out to ask about my health or to discuss the weather.’ He seemed solemn, earnest. She stared into the frank light blue eyes and something fluttered inside her. ‘I have had a long day and I am tired and wish to go to bed, so please get on with it. Say what you have to say and make an end. What do you want?’
He cocked a brow. ‘If I were not a gentleman, I ought to answer you. But however delectable you are, Lucy, that is not why I am here. No. For the present my wants are more practical.’ His lips curved into what could almost be described as a smile, but it did not reach his eyes. He went and sat down in a large tapestry-covered armchair that stood by the fire, stretched out his long booted legs comfortably and looked up at her.
Lucy stood several feet away from him, her arms crossed over her breasts, visibly struggling against a growing anger which made her eyes gleam like two hard green stones. Even now, after four long years—a lifetime, it seemed—he was still the most handsome man she had ever known. There were lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there when they had been affianced and the scar was new, but she was sure he could still turn a woman’s head. Which was what had happened to her, when she had been young, naïve and vulnerable to the point of stupidity.
‘The reason I am here, Lucy, is because I wish to enlist your aid in a matter that is of extreme importance.’
Containing her surprise, Lucy stared at him, raising an eyebrow, hoping it would convey her scepticism. ‘My aid? For what, may I ask? Four years ago you did not need me or my aid. Why now?’
Getting to his feet and clasping his hands behind his back, he turned and looked back at her, watching her with a disconcerting gaze. ‘The past is behind us. For the present that is where it must remain. There is the serious business of a war going on and it has demanded my complete attention for the past four years.’
Lucy realised he was serious in his request. He was a tall man, over six feet by several inches, and he seemed at that moment to fill the room. Watching him warily, she didn’t understand where this conversation was leading, although she had a strange tingling in the pit of her stomach, a tingling suggesting she would not be pleased with what he had to say.
‘Please continue.’
For a moment he seemed to lose himself in contemplation. When he next spoke it was in a musing tone. ‘What you don’t know is that from the beginning of the war against France I have been working with a branch of the government which operates completely in secret, a branch which reports only to the Prime Minister. I have been given an assignment in Portugal. It concerns the Duke of Londesborough—who happens to be a very close friend of the Prime Minister.’
The tingling had become an aching dread. Wishing her mouth were not so dry, Lucy cleared her throat. ‘What are you saying? That you are a spy? What nonsense is this? You’d best explain yourself, and quickly, for I have no time to listen to this.’
Nathan did not smile, nor had Lucy really expected him to. Becoming thoughtful, he turned his back on her. Turning to face her once more, he moved closer, pinning her with his penetrating gaze. ‘I spent twelve months in Portugal, where I was wounded and sent back to England to recuperate. When I was restored to health I did not intend going back, but on being given this assignment I am left with no choice but to return. The families concerned mean a great deal to me. I consider it my duty to help them.’
Lucy made an impatient gesture with her hand. ‘I see—although I really don’t see what all this has to do with me. I know absolutely nothing about politics and spying, nor do I wish to.’
‘I can understand that. The majority of women find the subject of no interest and if I remember correctly you were one of them. But I do need your help.’
Lucy had to look away because he was staring at her with such intensity she found it most disturbing. She straightened her skirt as if to straighten her thoughts. The atmosphere in the room was beginning to weigh on her. She was tired and her head was aching.
‘My help?’ she repeated. ‘I really do not see how I can be of any help to you.’