Not in a million years. She was a failure and a liability to the Wellingham name and she always had been. That was the trouble. She was ‘intrinsically flawed’. The gypsy who had read her palm in a stall outside the Leadenhall Market had looked directly into her eyes and told her so.
Intrinsically flawed.
And she was. Tonight was living proof of the ridiculous things she did, without thought for responsibility or consequence. With a little less luck she could have been in the Duke of Alderworth’s bed right now, knees up around his bare and muscled thighs and knowing what a great many of the less principled women of English society already did. It was only his good sense that had stopped her, for she had been far beyond putting a halt to anything. With just a little persuasion she would have followed him to his bed in the candlelight. Shame coated her, the thick ignominy making her feel ill. Such a narrow escape.
An older man came towards them, carrying a light, and behind him again a whole plethora of busy servants. Lucinda did not meet their eyes as they observed her, plastering a look on her face that might pass for indifference. Goodness, how she hoped that there was none amongst these servants of Alderworth who might have a channel of communication into the empire of the Wellinghams.
At her side Alderworth made her feel both excited and nervous, his heat calling her to him in a way that scorched sense. When his arm came against her own she did not pull away, the feel of him exciting and forbidden before he moved back. She took in one deep breath and then let it out slowly, trying to find logic and reason and failing.
His gaze swept across her with all the intensity of a ranging and predatory tiger.
Within moments the conveyance was ready to leave, the lamps lit and the driver in place. Without touching her Taylen Ellesmere indicated that she climb up and when she sat on a plush leather seat, he chose the opposite side to rest on, his green eyes brittle.
‘It will take us four hours to reach Mayfair. If you are still cold …?’
‘No, I am fine.’ She pulled the blanket further about her, liking the shelter.
‘Good.’ Short and harsh.
Glancing out of the window, she saw in the faded reflection her stricken and uncertain face.
What did the Duke of Alderworth make of her? Was he as irritated by her uncertainty as he was with her intemperance? She could sense he wanted her gone just as soon as he could get her there, a woman who had strayed unbidden into a place she had no reason to be in; a woman who did not play the games that he was so infamous for.
Why he should hoist himself into the carriage in the first place was a mystery. He looked like a man who would wish to be anywhere but opposite her in a small moving space.
It was the kiss, probably, and the fact that she did not know quite how to kiss a man back. Her denial of anything more between them would have also rankled, an innocent who had played with fire and had burnt them both because of it. Granted, two or three forward beaux had planted their lips on her mouth across the years, but the offerings had always been chaste and tepid and nothing like …
No, she would not think about that. Taylen Ellesmere was a fast-living and dissolute rake who would be far from attracted to the daughter of one of London’s most respectable families. He had all the women he wanted, after all, loose women, beautiful women, and she had heard it said time after time that he did not wish to be shackled by the permanency of marriage.
She shook her head hard and listened to what he was saying now.
‘I shall deny that you were at Alderworth tonight should I be questioned about it. Instruct your brothers to do the same.’
‘They might not need to know anything if I am lucky …’
‘It is my experience that scandal does not exist in the same breath as luck, Lucinda.’
A strange warmth infused her as he said her name. She had never really liked ‘Lucinda’ much, but when he pronounced it he made it sound … sensual. The timbre of some other promise lay on the edge of his words.
‘Believe me, with good management any damage can be minimised.’
Damage. Reality flared. She was only a situation to be managed. The night crawled in about them, small shafts of moonlight illuminating the interior of the coach. Outside the rain had begun to fall heavily, a sudden shower in a windless night.
Taylen Ellesmere was exactly like her brothers, a man who liked control and power over everything about him. No surprises or unwanted quandaries. The thought made her frown.
‘I do not envisage problems,’ he said. ‘If you play your part well, there should not be—’
A shout split the air, and then the carriage simply rolled to one side further and further, the wild scrunch of metal upon wood and a jerking lurch.
Leaping over beside her, the Duke braced her in his arms, protecting her from the splintering glass as it shattered inwards, a cushion against the rocking chaos and the rush of cold air. He held her so tightly she felt the punching hardness of metal on his body, drawing blood and making him grimace.
Then there was only darkness.
Lucinda was in her own room at Falder House in Mayfair, the curtains billowing in a quiet afternoon breeze, the sounds of the wind in the trees and further off in the park the voices of children calling.
Everything exactly normal save for her three sisters-in-law dressed in sombre shades and sitting in a row of chairs watching her.
‘You are awake?’
Beatrice-Maude came forwards and lifted Lucinda’s head carefully before offering a sip of cold lemonade that sat in a glass on the bedside table. ‘The doctor said he thought you would return to us today and he was right.’ She smiled as she carefully blotted any trace of moisture from Lucinda’s lips. ‘How do you feel?’
‘How should I feel?’
Something was not right. Some quiet and creeping thing was being hidden from her, crouched in the shadows of truth.
‘Why am I here? What happened?’
‘You don’t remember?’ Emerald now joined Beatrice-Maude and her face was solemn. ‘You don’t remember an accident, Lucy?’
‘Where?’ Panic had begun to consume her and she tried to sit up, but nothing seemed to work, her arms, her legs, her back. All numb and useless. The feel of her heart pumping in her chest was the only thing that still functioned and she felt light headed at the fear of paralysis.
‘I cannot move.’
‘Doctor Cameron said that was a normal thing. He said many people regain the use of their bodies after the swelling has subsided.’
‘Swelling?’
‘You suffered a blow to the neck and a nasty bang on the head. It was lucky that the coach to Leicester was passing by the other way, because otherwise …’
‘You could have been there all night and Doctor Cameron said you may not have lived.’ Eleanor, her youngest brother’s wife, had joined in now, but unlike the others her voice shook and her face was blotchy. She had been crying. A
