Chapter 3
Lucy descended the rear terrace steps with considerably less grace than her governess would have preferred and crossed toward the quieter gardens bordering the woods beyond the estate grounds.
Voices and laughter faded gradually behind her, replaced instead by rustling leaves overhead and the distant sounds of horses somewhere beyond the trees.
Cool air helped slightly. Unfortunately, memory did not.
“You are certainly less dull than most of society.”
Insufferable man.
Godfrey possessed the sort of charm sensible women ought to avoid entirely. And those damned eyes—
Lucy stopped herself firmly there.
The gardens had grown quieter now beneath tall hedges and climbing ivy. She realized after several more moments that she no longer entirely recognized where she was.
She turned sharply, intending to retrace her steps, when the unmistakable sharp crack of a slap split the silence nearby.
Lucy froze.
“You stupid little fool!”
A moment later, came muffled crying.
The sounds pulled her forward instantly.
She rounded the hedge corner and found two women standing in a smaller garden alcove, partly hidden beneath climbing roses.
The younger could not have been older than twenty. Tears streamed openly down her face while one trembling hand pressed against a reddening cheek. Beside her stood another lady, glaring furiously at her.
“You embarrass this family constantly,” she snapped. “Do you understand me now?”
Lucy moved before thinking further. “What is the meaning of this?”
Both women started.
The older one recovered first. “And who precisely asked for your opinion?”
“No one,” Lucy replied evenly. She turned her attention to the younger woman. “Are you hurt?”
The younger woman flushed deeper with embarrassment. “N-No.”
The older woman narrowed her eyes. “Emmeline is dramatic. She ruins nearly everything she touches and then cries when corrected.”
“Striking your sister invites attention,” Lucy said sharply, assuming the relation between the women correctly.
Recognition flickered across the older woman’s face. “Well, if it is not the notorious Lady Lucy.”
Lucy recognized the tone instantly. A perfect blend of pity and mockery. “I was unaware that we were acquainted.”
“We are not. But everyone knows who you are.”
Behind her, the crying girl looked mortified. “Beatrice,” she whispered weakly. “Please.”
“No, Emmeline. Since Lady Lucy feels inclined to involve herself, perhaps she would enjoy hearing the truth for once.”
Lucy felt her patience snap at once.
Beatrice stepped closer with a smile too sharp to qualify as polite. “You lecture others on dignity rather boldly for someone whose fiancé was caught kissing another woman in the middle of a corridor.”
Emmeline looked horrified. Lucy, however, felt strangely calm because humiliation no longer struck quite as sharply as it once had.
“Then perhaps,” she replied quietly, “we should avoid discussing family disgrace altogether.”
The expression on Miss Beatrice—whatever her last name was—hardened instantly. “How dare—”
“How dare you strike your sister over what appears to be spilled tea and bruised pride?” Lucy interrupted. “If you wished to terrify everyone around you, congratulations. You have succeeded beautifully.”
Emmeline made a sudden choking noise that sounded dangerously close to a laugh, which earned her another scathing glare from her sister. Lucy’s gaze moved carefully between them. Emmeline was clearly frightened. Beatrice looked furious enough to shatter outright.
Whatever sat beneath Beatrice’s temper, it did not excuse striking her sister.
“You know nothing about this family,” Beatrice said coldly.
“No. I do not even know who you are,” Lucy agreed. “And usually, I am not one for interrupting family matters, but I know bullying when I see it.”
For one tense moment, Lucy thought the woman might slap her next. Instead, Beatrice smiled. “Very well then, Lady Lucy. Since you are evidently determined to rescue my sister from me, perhaps we may strike an agreement.”
Lucy already disliked where this was going, but her silence was all Beatrice needed to continue.
“You clearly wish to rescue Emmeline from my terrible tyranny.” Her tone suggested she found herself endlessly amusing. “And I would quite like several uninterrupted hours free from both her company and supervision.”
Emmeline looked alarmed immediately. “Beatrice, no.”
Beatrice ignored her.
“So,” she continued, “if you entertain me briefly, I shall leave both of you alone for the remainder of the hunt.”
Lucy should have walked away immediately. Instead, she found herself saying, “What exactly constitutes entertainment?”
Beatrice’s smile turned positively feline. “Oh, nothing terribly difficult.” She tilted her head slightly. “You must kiss the Duke of Albury.”
Emmeline nearly screeched with horror. “Beatrice!”
Lucy blinked once. Twice. “That is your condition?”
“You object?”
“You are deranged.”
“Then refuse, and leave us to handle our matters in our own way.”
“Why is that your condition?”
“Why not? He’s the most eligible yet rakish man at this hunt. He’s looking for a wife, and your reputation is positively hopeless. Plus, it would never be traced back to me unless one of you tells him.”
Lucy stared at the woman in disbelief. Godfrey’s smug expression from earlier rose immediately to mind. The irritating man would survive one scandalized kiss perfectly well.
“It still does not make sense. Did he… scorn you in some fashion?”
“Scorn? Me?” Beatrice scoffed and crossed her arms. “Never.”
“She didn’t even get close—” Emmeline interjected before smacking both hands over her mouth.
The look on Beatrice’s face was almost murderous.
“Why the Duke?” Lucy demanded, her eyes narrowing.
“I saw your interlude. The Duke and his sister are untouchable, and you’ve cozied up to them with ease.”
“She’s jealous,” Emmeline mouthed behind her sister’s shoulder.
“I barely know them both.”
“Oh, posh! I saw the two of you. It was nearly indecent.”
“We were talking at a respectable distance, with his sister and cousin next to us. That is hardly indecent.”
“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Beatrice snapped, but the insult did not land as she had perhaps intended.
Lucy simply laughed, which caused her to take a few steps back, her face flushing instantly. It was as if Lucy had smacked her across the face for her insolence.
“This has proven to be a most ridiculous condition, Miss Beatrice.”
“Well—” Beatrice stopped, then recovered quickly. “Well, if you refuse, then I shall be forced to inject myself into your family affairs, as you have done ours.”
Now that threat landed.
Lucy considered her opponent for a moment, weighing her options.
A financial scandal will implicate my entire family. A scandal in the library will only implicate me. Hamilton and my sisters will be embarrassed but relatively fine.
Lucy folded her arms, her gaze fixed squarely on Beatrice. “Very well.”
Emmeline gasped, but Beatrice looked delighted.
Lucy already regretted everything.
“You cannot possibly be serious, Lady Lucy,” Emmeline whispered, but Lucy did not respond.
The three of them returned to the manor together soon afterward, Beatrice walking a few paces behind them.
“Lucy,” Emmeline whispered, gripping her arm tightly enough to make her stop and look at her. “You must not do this. Beatrice has an ulterior motive… she always has.”
Lucy considered her new friend and decided that the truth would be more impactful than continuing to pretend that this situation was under control.
“Emmeline, I cannot afford for anyone to pry into my family’s affairs. If this ensures my family’s security, then so be it. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Emmeline released her arm, nodding silently as she did. “Very well, if you are sure.”
“Yes,” Lucy said, but then she noticed a grand absence behind them.
“Hmm…” she wondered aloud, searching the hedges they had passed.
At some point along the way, Beatrice had stopped following them.
“Well, I am sure your sister will position herself in direct view to ensure this task is carried out.”
“Yes, I am sure,” Emmeline murmured.
Approximately halfway through the west corridor, Lucy’s nerves overpowered her confidence. She knew that this was an extraordinarily foolish course of action.
The manor had grown busier as the late afternoon settled fully across the estate.
Guests drifted between salons and card rooms, while servants hurried through corridors carrying candles and trays of wine toward the drawing rooms below.
Somewhere distant, laughter rose from the direction of the music room.
“You may still change your mind,” Emmeline offered hopefully.
Lucy knew she could not afford for her family’s financial matters to be made public. She would survive another scandal, and she refused to let her siblings be a part of one.
One of the footmen informed them that the Duke had retreated to the library not ten minutes ago. Lucy suspected he had escaped the musicale downstairs.
She glanced toward the hallway leading deeper into the estate and then back toward Emmeline, who looked horrified. Beatrice was standing just behind her, a smug look on her face.
Then she pushed open the library door, though her heart beat far too fast.
The room beyond stood quieter than the rest of the manor, softened by low firelight and the muted scent of old leather bindings. Tall shelves stretched toward the ceiling, while rain tapped steadily against the long windows overlooking the darkening grounds beyond.
And there, near the fireplace, stood the Duke of Albury. He was alone, and somehow even reading suited him irritatingly well.
He glanced up at the creak of the door, one hand still resting against the spine of a book he had apparently abandoned halfway through.
Curiosity flickered faintly across his expression upon seeing her. “Lady Lucy.”
Lucy stepped inside before her courage abandoned her entirely. Behind her, she heard Beatrice dragging a deeply protesting Emmeline away from the doorway.
Godfrey closed the book slowly. He seemed mildly amused already.
“Should I assume,” he continued, “that this is either a fortunate coincidence or the beginning of some elaborate story about a decision you have made against me?”
Lucy said nothing.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Your expression concerns me.”
Still, she remained silent.
The Duke straightened fully, his attention sharpening beneath the low library light. “Lady Lucy?”
She crossed the distance between them before she lost her nerve. Godfrey looked genuinely startled for perhaps the first time in his adult life.
Lucy reached up, lightly caught the front of his coat, and kissed him.
* * *
For perhaps the first time that evening, genuine surprise crossed Godfrey’s face.
The kiss barely lasted longer than a heartbeat. Soft. Quick. Nervous enough that he almost questioned whether it had happened at all before she stepped back, looking faintly horrified with herself.
Despite himself, he chuckled.
“Well,” he murmured, watching color rise swiftly into her cheeks, “that was unexpected.”
Lady Lucy ignored the comment entirely. Instead, her attention darted somewhere behind her toward the doorway. Godfrey noticed at once, and amusement faded slowly as she leaned forward again and kissed him a second time.
This one lingered slightly longer. Not enough to qualify as seduction, but enough to confirm intention, and still she looked toward the bloody doorway afterward.
Now he understood, or at least he nearly understood.
Godfrey set the book aside. Lucy suddenly looked increasingly aware of what she had done, embarrassment finally catching up to her.
He stepped closer and lifted one hand, turning her face gently back toward his when her gaze tried escaping again. “Look at me.”
The words came quieter than intended.
Her eyes were difficult to ignore up close.
“What,” he asked evenly, “is happening?”
For a moment, he thought she might lie. Instead, she muttered, “It is stupid.”
“That has rarely stopped society before.”
As Lucy slowly explained the situation, irritation settled steadily through him at whoever had engineered this nonsense. By the time she admitted another woman had dared her to kiss him as entertainment, Godfrey felt cold irritation wash over him.
“You accepted?” he asked flatly.
Lucy crossed her arms defensively. “I felt that I had no other choice. It was rather irritating.”
A surprised laugh nearly escaped him because somehow the answer suited her perfectly. Sharp-tempered beneath all that careful composure. But why was she so entirely willing to throw herself into scandal?
Christ.
“No,” he muttered after she called the scheme stupid again. “I am trying to decide whether this woman is merely cruel or entirely insane.”
Lucy laughed. The soft sound affected him far more than it should have. When she finally revealed the culprit’s name, Godfrey filed it away calmly for later consideration.
He would not publicly humiliate the woman, tempting though it was, but neither would he allow this nonsense to continue.
“Though, we should likely give her something worth gossiping about,” he whispered.
Her eyes widened. “Wait—”
Godfrey kissed her before caution interfered.
He knew at once that it had been a mistake because as soon as she melted against him, every trace of detached amusement vanished completely.
Coherent thought disappeared almost immediately, and one hand settled firmly on her waist as instinct pulled her closer, while the other brushed against her jaw almost without permission.
Lucy made a startled little sound against his mouth and then kissed him back before they broke apart.
Godfrey had kissed countless women before. Beautiful women. Experienced women. Women who knew precisely what they were doing. None had ever looked at him afterward the way Lucy did now.
Confused. Breathless. Wanting despite herself.
He glanced once toward the doorway and saw Miss Beatrice retreating after realizing she had been caught watching them.
Good.
He looked back down at Lucy, and abruptly the room felt far too small.
The realization arrived abruptly enough to unsettle him.
He wanted to kiss her again. Immediately.