the seat, chattering all the time.
‘Now, my dear, I have prepared some tea, if you would like it. I find it very restorative after a long journey. You have come all the way from London, Ralph tells me—more than two hundred miles! You must be exhausted.’
‘In which case brandy might be more appropriate,’ put in Lord Adversane.
Lucy ignored him. He had snubbed her once already, so she would not risk responding to his remark.
‘Tea would be very welcome, Mrs Dean, thank you.’
‘Oh, do call me Ariadne, my dear. And I shall address you as Lucy, if you will allow me.’
‘Gladly.’ She glanced around to make sure they were alone. ‘Is it safe to talk in here?’
‘Perfectly, as long as we do not raise our voices.’ Lord Adversane poured himself a glass of brandy from the decanter on the sideboard and took a seat opposite the sofa. He said conversationally, ‘What do you want to talk about?’
‘I should have thought that was obvious,’ she retorted. ‘We have not had the opportunity to discuss my story. We will need to agree on the particulars, if I am to be at all convincing.’
He sat back in his chair and stretched out his legs, crossing one booted foot over the other.
‘It would be sensible to keep as close to the truth as possible. There is no need for false names or imaginary families. We met in London, but our betrothal has not yet been made public because you have been in mourning for your father—’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Mrs Killinghurst apprised me of all your details, naturally.’
‘Naturally.’ She eyed him with growing resentment. ‘You appear to know everything about me, my lord.’
‘Not everything, Miss Halbrook.’ There was a sardonic gleam in his hard, grey eyes as they rested upon her. So he was amusing himself at her expense, yet her light-hearted comments had met with a chilly rebuff. She put up her chin.
‘I know no more of you than I have been able to discover from The Peerage,’ she told him. ‘I am ill prepared for this role.’
He waved a dismissive hand. ‘We have three weeks before the first house guests arrive. Time enough to get to know one another. It will be my pleasure to tell you anything you wish to know.’
His very reasonable response made Lucy grind her teeth, but she swallowed her irritation and tried to match his cool tone.
‘Perhaps the first thing we need to ascertain is why my mother did not accompany me on this visit.’
‘If we are keeping to the truth, then you have not told her about me. She thinks you have been employed as companion to some elderly invalid, is that not correct?’
‘Well, well, yes, that is what we agreed I would tell her—’
‘And it gave you the excuse to remove yourself from your uncle’s unwelcome attentions.’
‘I never told Mrs Killinghurst that,’ Lucy retorted, her face flaming.
Mrs Dean gave a little tut and busied herself with the tea tray, but Lord Adversane merely shrugged.
‘It is the truth, is it not? I made a few enquiries of my own before engaging you, Miss Halbrook, and what I learned of Silas Edgeworth did not lead me to think he would be able to keep his hands off a pretty young girl living beneath his roof.’
‘Ralph, you are putting Miss Halbrook to the blush,’ Mrs Dean reprimanded him in her gentle way. She handed Lucy a cup of tea. ‘You may be sure there will be nothing like that going on at Adversane, my dear. My cousin may have hired you to prevent his family from importuning him, but his reasons for inviting me to act as your chaperone are to make sure that your stay here is not marred by any impropriety.’ She rose. ‘Now, if you will excuse me for a moment, I must go and check that your trunks have been carried upstairs and everything is as it should be.’
With a vague smile she bustled off, leaving Lucy alone with Lord Adversane. There was an uneasy silence as the door closed behind her. Lucy’s glance slid to her host.
‘I know,’ he said, a measure of understanding softening his hard eyes. ‘She tells you there will be no indecorum here, then promptly leaves us alone. I’m afraid you will have to accustom yourself to it. We are supposed to be engaged, you know.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘If I have made you uncomfortable then I am sorry for it.’
His blunt apology surprised her. She put down her cup and, to cover her agitation, she raised her eyes to the fireplace. ‘The overmantel is very finely carved. Grinling Gibbons?’
‘Yes. My ancestor paid him the princely sum of forty pounds for it. Heaven knows what it would cost today.’
‘If you could find someone skilled enough to do it,’ she replied. ‘My father was an artist, but of course Mrs Killinghurst will have told you. He was a great admirer of the old masters like Gibbons.’
‘I am aware of that. And I knew your father.’ Her brows went up and he explained. ‘At Somerset House. It is the home of the Royal Society as well as the Royal Academy. We met there once or twice when I was attending lectures. My condolences for your loss.’
The words were spoken in a matter-of-fact tone, but Lucy felt the tears prickle at the back of her eyes. Rather than show any weakness she rose and went across to the window, where she stood looking out at the fine prospect, although she saw little of it, her thoughts going back to happier times.
‘Papa used to take me to his studio sometimes, and encourage me to try my hand at painting.’
‘There are many fine views at Adversane for you to capture.’
‘I brought my sketchbook with the intention of doing just that, but as for painting—I enjoy working in oils and watercolours but I do not have Papa’s gift. When I was a child I loved best to curl up in a chair and watch him at work. He had a passion for the picturesque. Vast, dramatic landscapes.’ She thought of the hills and valleys she had seen on her journey. How her father would have loved them. She gave a little shrug. ‘But everyone wanted portraits.’
‘From the work of your father’s I have seen he was very good and in demand.’
‘You wonder, then, why it is I need to earn a living.’ Lucy bit her lip. She had never spoken of this to anyone, but now felt a need to explain. ‘He drank to excess. And gambled. I only discovered the truth after his death. With his talent, the money he earned might have paid for one or other of those vices and still allowed him to provide for his family, but together...’
‘Disastrous,’ he said bluntly. ‘And your mother, did she—was it an arranged marriage?’
‘Yes. She had a large dowry. He was a younger son, you see, and needed to marry well. Unfortunately the settlements were badly drawn up and very little was secured upon her. The money was all spent years ago.’
The room seemed to grow a little darker.
