Chapter 2
THREE MONTHS LATER
“The entire thing sounds suspicious,” Helen declared from across the carriage. “Hamilton has never willingly missed a hunt in his life.”
“He missed that one when he caught influenza three years ago, remember?” Adeline said, looking deeply pleased with herself.
Helen crossed her arms more tightly. “Something is wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong, Helen. Must you always imagine catastrophe?” Adeline said sharply.
Lucy hid a smile behind the edge of her glove as the carriage jolted lightly over the uneven countryside road. Outside the windows, early autumn rolled across the landscape in stretches of gold-green fields and dark woods touched faintly by mist.
The morning had begun cold enough for breath to fog briefly in the air, though sunlight now filtered pale and watery through the clouds overhead.
Only Lucy understood how precarious their circumstances had truly become.
Hamilton had gone to exhausting lengths to keep it from Helen and Adeline, refusing to burden them while he attempted to undo years of poor investments and mounting debt left behind after their father’s death.
And this latest opportunity had appeared too suddenly for him to ignore.
“He said it was important,” Lucy replied lightly. “And Hamilton never explains anything properly because he enjoys appearing mysterious.”
“That is true,” Adeline admitted.
Helen sighed. “He enjoys irritating us.”
“That also.”
Lucy seized the opportunity.
“Well,” she said, shifting slightly against the velvet seat, “as we are determined to attend without him, we may as well enjoy ourselves. Besides, I should like to know who is expected.”
That succeeded exactly as intended, as Adeline straightened at once with visible excitement. “Oh, everyone important shall be there.”
Helen groaned softly. “You say that as though announcing royalty.”
“It is practically royalty.” Adeline lowered her voice dramatically, despite there being no one else in the carriage besides them. “The Duke of Albury is expected.”
Lucy blinked once, trying to recollect some memory of him. “Albury?”
“The very one.”
Helen looked genuinely startled. “Albury attends hunts?”
“Apparently, he attends everything lately. Rakish but participating.” Adeline leaned forward conspiratorially. “And according to Lady Barrington, he is searching for a wife.”
Helen gaped. “The Duke of Albury intends to marry?”
“That was my reaction.” Adeline grinned. “How very mysterious.”
Lucy glanced between them quietly while the conversation gathered momentum around her.
The Duke of Albury had become difficult to avoid in society these past months.
Not that she was actively participating, but she was supporting her sisters while her reputation tried to recover.
Women spoke of him constantly, usually with equal parts fascination and alarm.
Some claimed he had broken hearts across half of England, while others insisted he cared only for himself.
Men, meanwhile, seemed to admire him for it.
“How dreadful for the women of London,” Helen said dryly.
“An entire Season devoted to taming a notorious rake,” Adeline added.
Lucy laughed. “He is English, Adeline.”
“I know that, but could you imagine never coming back to London after marrying him?”
“Surely, if he marries an English lady, they will return to London for the Season. He has parliamentary responsibilities,” Helen said sharply. “I just hope he does not intend to continue his rakish ways.”
“Oh, you say that now, but rakish or not, if the Duke asked for a dance tonight, you would accept before he finished speaking.”
Helen lifted one elegant brow. “Naturally. I am not entirely witless.”
“You both would, do not pretend otherwise,” Lucy said, and her sisters joined her in laughter.
Warmth filled the carriage more easily after that.
Outside, the road grew increasingly crowded with other guests approaching the estate. Fine carriages rolled past, while riders on horseback crossed the fields nearby in dark coats and polished boots.
The hunt had clearly become one of the larger social events of the season.
Adeline turned suddenly toward Lucy again. “Well,” she announced brightly, “perhaps you shall find a husband on this visit too.”
Helen closed her eyes briefly. “Adeline—”
“What?” Adeline protested. “It has been months. We are allowed to speak of such things again. Lucy did not do anything wrong! She was the injured party. If anything, I bet that makes you more desirable.”
Lucy surprised them both by smiling. “It is quite all right.”
Helen studied her carefully. “Are you certain?”
Lucy considered the question honestly.
Shame no longer lingered at the center of every thought.
Neither did embarrassment. Her sisters still laughed exactly the same.
Hamilton still hovered protectively whenever gentlemen approached her at parties.
Life had continued, whether she wished it to or not.
And somewhere along the way, she realized she had survived perfectly well.
“I think,” she said slowly, glancing out toward the autumn countryside beyond the window, “that I should still like to find love someday.”
Adeline reached over first and squeezed her hand. “You shall find it,” she declared with complete confidence.
Helen nodded once beside her. “Preferably attached to a man considerably less foolish than the last one.”
Lucy laughed again, more genuinely this time.
Outside, the Alcott estate finally appeared through the trees ahead, the sprawling stone manor rising above the hills while riders and servants moved busily across the grounds below.
By the time the sisters were properly settled into their rooms and descended again to join the rest of the guests, the house had already transformed into the sort of lively chaos only country gatherings seemed capable of producing.
Voices carried easily through the corridors while servants crossed constantly between drawing rooms, balancing trays of tea, wine, and pastries.
Somewhere deeper in the manor, someone had begun playing the pianoforte badly enough that several nearby guests were openly wincing through their polite smiles.
Lucy paused briefly at the entrance to the main salon, taking in the glittering crowd gathered beneath chandeliers and towering arrangements of cream roses.
Already, Helen and Adeline moved easily through society, Adeline charming a cluster of young ladies near the pianoforte while Helen held court beside the tea service with two gentlemen and an enchanted viscountess hanging on her every word. Society came naturally to both of them.
To Lucy, socializing had begun feeling more like stepping carefully into cold water. Ever since the scandal, she had grown quieter and far more careful with herself. Still, she tried, though conversations rarely held her long before drifting elsewhere.
At one point, she found herself temporarily alone beside the refreshments table just as disaster struck nearby. A young woman carrying tea turned too quickly and collided directly with another guest, sending half the contents of her cup splashing across pale lavender skirts.
“Oh no—” The horrified whisper escaped before the poor girl could stop it.
Several nearby guests turned instantly, but Lucy reacted before embarrassment fully settled across the woman’s face.
“This way,” she said quietly, stepping immediately between the girl and the nearest cluster of observing ladies. “Quickly.”
The young woman blinked in surprise but followed as Lucy guided her smoothly through a side corridor and into a smaller sitting room away from the gathering crowd, while one of the footmen hurried off to fetch cloths and fresh water.
“It is not nearly as terrible as it looked,” Lucy assured her once the door closed safely behind them.
The girl stared mournfully down at the damp stain spreading across her gown. “It felt catastrophic.”
Lucy smiled faintly. “That is because society enjoys behaving as though spilled tea constitutes mortal tragedy.”
That startled a laugh from the woman.
She could not have been much older than Lucy herself, with warm brown curls already escaping their pins and expressive dark eyes still bright with humiliation.
“I am Rosetta Hicks,” she said once she recovered slightly. “And I shall likely spend the remainder of the evening avoiding carpets forever.”
“Lucy Klein.”
Rosetta’s expression brightened immediately with recognition. “Another of Lord Mildenhall’s sisters?”
Lucy nodded. “Yes, along with Helen and Adeline. We are all here.”
“Oh, then you must come back with me once I no longer resemble failed laundry. My brother and our cousin are insufferable and desperately require humbling.”
A small laugh escaped Lucy before she could stop it.
Twenty minutes later, once the stain had been managed as well as possible and Rosetta’s composure was fully restored, they returned together to the salon.
Rosetta linked her arm with Lucy’s as though they had known each other considerably longer than one afternoon.
“There,” she declared, steering Lucy toward a group of gentlemen near the far windows. “You may begin with Theodore.”
The first man turned immediately at their approach. Theodore Larcher proved handsome in an easy and charming way, all warm smiles and polished manners. But Lucy scarcely noticed him when the second man beside him looked up.
The Duke was somehow even more striking than rumor allowed. Dark hair fell slightly untidy across his forehead, while sharp grey eyes studied the room with cool, unreadable attention beneath heavy brows.
And as expected, he did not smile automatically upon introduction.
“Brother. Theodore. May I present, Lady Lucy Klein,” Rosetta announced proudly. “Who rescued me from social extinction.”
Theodore bowed easily, and Godfrey inclined his head once.
Then Rosetta added, “She is the eldest sister of the Earl of Mildenhall, whom I understand you are both acquainted with.”
A knowing glance passed briefly between Theodore and the Duke, and Lucy’s skin prickled with embarrassment. Heat started to rise faintly into her face, which she crushed down impatiently.
“Well,” she said pleasantly, looking directly at the Duke, “that was remarkably rude.”
“I beg your pardon?” he said, his voice unexpectedly even.
“Your expression.” Lucy lifted one shoulder lightly. “You looked as though someone had informed you the wine was poisoned at my introduction.”
To everyone’s astonishment, the corner of the Duke’s mouth moved slightly. “Perhaps I merely dislike introductions.”
“How unfortunate for society.”
“I survive it somehow.”
“Barely, from the look of things.”
Theodore looked openly delighted now, and Rosetta stared between them as though witnessing an unexpected sporting event.
Godfrey’s gaze had darkened with unmistakable interest. “You speak very boldly for a wallflower, Lady Lucy.”
Lucy folded her hands calmly before her. “You assess strangers far too openly for a gentleman, Your Grace.”
Theodore laughed at that, and even Rosetta looked scandalized with delight. Godfrey, however, remained entirely composed.
“If I assessed you openly, Lady Lucy,” he said smoothly, “you would likely dislike me more.”
Lucy lifted one brow. “Your opinion of me likely formed long before this conversation, and I have no wish to hear the details of it.”
“You sound quite sure of your assessment of me.”
“No. I am merely being practical. One should never ask questions one is unprepared to hear the answers to.”
Something sharpened faintly in his expression then. Interest, perhaps. Or challenge.
“And yet,” he observed, “you called me rude despite not knowing what I was thinking.”
“You looked thoughtful in a distinctly offensive way.”
For the first time since the conversation began, genuine amusement flickered openly across Godfrey’s face. “Well,” he murmured, “you are certainly less dull than most of society.”
Lucy tilted her head lightly. “And you are every bit as alarming as society insists.”
“To your disappointment?”
“That remains to be determined, Your Grace.”
His eyes darkened again at that, though whether from amusement or something else entirely, Lucy could not tell.
She watched with surprisingly bated breath as his lips parted into a slight grin and he said, with frank indulgence, “As it stands, Lady Lucy, I look forward to learning what you determine.”