Chapter Fifteen #3
“I don’t understand,” she said thickly, her voice somehow out of control.
If his disappointment was a matter of not clearing up his actual history first, then why wasn’t he doing it?
Why wasn’t he declaring his love for her and revealing that there were no impediments to their marriage?
She wasn’t going to do it if he wasn’t going to.
“I thought you’d be happy—I don’t want our love to be hidden.
I want my family to celebrate it with us! ”
“Lucy,” Bernard said in a low voice, swallowing thickly as he glanced over his shoulder at her parents, who still looked utterly unimpressed. “I wish you had spoken with me about this. I could have told you—”
“You’re not going to say you won’t marry her!”
Lucy gasped as her father rose to his feet, anger now pouring off him.
The countess hurried to her feet and grabbed her husband’s arm. “Now then, George, remember your heart—”
“Damn my heart. What about my daughter?!” the earl snapped. “Lucy Alice Chance, please do not tell me you have done anything untoward with this man, for he is naught but a criminal—”
“Lindow!” said her mother, though she bit her lip, as if she were concerned about that, too.
“Papa!” Lucy could not believe it. She had thought that telling her family Bernard’s real background would be an afterthought, that they’d accept him as the gentleman he was without the proof they so evidently needed.
If she could not get them to see past their prejudices, if Bernard himself wouldn’t declare his affections, what hope did she have of ever getting anyone to understand her?
“Af-After all I’ve done within the justice system, after all I’ve talked about, you really only see a man for his mistakes? ”
She could not believe it as pain racked through her.
“Steady on, Pa,” came Percy’s voice, though Lucy did not have time to thank him for his defense as he continued, “Still, Lucy, you must admit a Chance marrying a known criminal… It is hardly the sort of match any of you ladies are supposed to aim for.”
Lucy swallowed down the truth—that Bernard was no criminal and was instead a brave man who loved his country so much he served it in secret, as he was clearly in no rush to reveal it and save whatever prospects of matrimony they had—and instead said, “But I-I love him.”
The earl stopped fighting off his wife and just stood there, staring.
Bernard swore under his breath.
Lucy turned to him, desperate for his support, pained he had not yet said anything of his affections for her, the truth of his background.
What was the matter? Was he shy, perhaps, of speaking of such things before others?
But this was her family. Why on earth did he not wish to share this joy with them?
“Mr. Dixon,” Percy began, a tad pompously for Lucy’s ear.
He got no further before their father barked, “You can’t marry her. I won’t let you!”
“I’m of age, Papa, and I can do whatever I like!” snapped Lucy, turning on her father as stinging pain seared through her.
Can they not be happy for me? Do they not want me to be happy?
There was a glint in her father’s eye she had never seen before. “Trusts can be changed, my girl, and dowries withheld. If I think you’re not ready to make suitable decisions—”
“Bernard is an excellent man!” Lucy shot back, tears now prickling in her eyes as she took Bernard’s hand in her own. “He’s brave, and kind, and loyal—”
“The man might have stolen chickens for a living for all you know!” retorted the earl, shaking off his wife once again even as Percy muttered something that prompted their father to point at him. “Yes, well said, Percy—the man could have murdered!”
The countess gasped, Percy flushed and muttered something about not meaning it like that, Lucy tightened her hold on Bernard’s hand, and Bernard…
Bernard said nothing.
Lucy could not understand it. She looked up at him beseechingly, desperate for him to reveal to her family what she now knew to be true: that he was no criminal, but a spy, and he loved her.
That they would be married.
They would be married…wouldn’t they?
“Bernard?” Lucy said, a little uncertainly.
Bernard’s jaw tightened and just for a moment, she saw the criminal she had half-feared when he’d stood in the dock and been told by Judge Bonner that he would be sentenced to transportation for his crimes.
He really is a spy, isn’t he? He… He hasn’t lied to me, has he?
“Bernard?” she whispered, utterly lost and needing him, desperate for him to rescue her in this conversation, which she could never have expected to descend into such utter madness.
“I need to talk to you,” Bernard said curtly.
He tugged his hand from hers and marched past the earl, who was so incensed, he was nearly vibrating with rage, past the countess, who was clinging on to her husband’s arm to prevent him from launching forward, past Percy, who flushed and did not meet Lucy’s eye…
And Lucy could not understand it.
All she knew was one thing.
“Bernard,” she murmured, her gaze not leaving him as he departed the drawing room, her feet propelling her forward because she had to be close to him.
Because she had to get answers to a few questions: once and for all.