Chapter Two
Lucinda woke in a daze, the room slowly coming into focus. Last night was not a dream? She really was in the most beautiful room in the most opulent house. Vastly different from her simple cot in the bare room she shared with Pamela at Miss Covington’s.
The carriage ride last night had her emotions in a spin.
A strange blend of fear and optimism. She hoped that this time things would be different.
For a few hours during the day, Mr. Beckett sat with her and attempted to teach her how to play faro for pebbles he had in his pocket.
He was not much of a conversationalist, so she gave up asking him questions.
The knowledge that he would not harm her helped soothe her nerves.
She may not have known where she was going, but she had not felt unsafe either.
She probably should have, but she hadn’t.
Pulling back the bedcovers, she then padded over to the window and eased the heavy curtains apart.
London! She was in London! It bustled and buzzed below her.
People going back and forth were all in a hurry.
A man was delivering milk to the house across the street and a boy was shoveling coal down the coal chute.
Lucinda dropped the drapes in surprise when the maid from last night came in.
“Oh, good morning, miss,” the maid said, bobbing a curtsey. “I have had one of your dresses pressed for you. We will have to hurry if we are to get you ready to meet His Grace and Lord Ashton for breakfast.”
“Breakfast? Oh, of course. Lord Ashton. Yes.” Lucinda closed her eyes, the image of the light-haired man wrapped tight in a banyan of deep red and silver frowning at her with the most beautiful blue eyes. Her guardian.
The maid, called May, guided her over to the dressing table and brushed out her unruly auburn hair. Lucinda stared at herself in the mirror. Dark smudges lay beneath her eyes. The stress of the last few days appeared quite clearly on her face. Whatever will they think of you looking like this?
You must be strong. Do not let them intimidate you.
Easy to tell herself such things, harder to stand up to a duke and her new guardian who were no doubt used to getting their own way.
Still, she had had time to think during her bumpy ride to London.
Time to plan. One thing was for sure, whether he thought of sending her back to Miss Covington’s or to another school, she would not go.
She would let no one hide her away and forget about her again.
“Now, miss. How do you usually style your hair?”
“My hair? I usually just wear it in a simple bun at the nape of my neck.”
May pulled an appalled face. “That will not do, miss. This is London. I will style it the way I do Lady Marianne.”
As May pulled out a box of hairpins, Lucinda asked, “Lady Marianne? Does she live here?”
“Sometimes,” May replied as she twisted a lock of hair and pinned it in place. “Usually during the season but most of the year she stays at the duke’s country estate Ashtonvale with her mother, the dowager duchess.”
“So, Marianne is Lord Anthony’s sister?”
“Yes, miss. The youngest.”
“How many are in the Ashton family?”
“There are five siblings and the duchess, of course,” May said.
“I expect I will meet them in time. Not that I know how long I will be here.”
“Are you not staying, miss?”
“That will depend on Lord Ashton.” May looked rightly confused, but Lucinda refused to give anymore away. She knew better than most about how quickly rumors spread.
Finally, Lucinda descended the stairs, taking in all around her.
Ornate molding and marble columns flanked each wall intersected with blue silk with giant portraits of long dead Ashton ancestors.
A huge foyer held a magnificent floral arrangement.
How had she missed this last night? No doubt it was because it had been dark, and she had been asleep for most of it.
And once awoken, her mind had been on her new guardian and, although she had glanced around her briefly, she had seen little of her surroundings in the dark.
She was the first one to arrive in the breakfast room, so she had a few minutes to sit and take in the beautiful place setting with the gilding around the edge and the family crest in the middle. Is this how her father once lived? While she grew up abandoned and in near poverty?
“Good morning, Miss Sterling.” Lord Ashton waved a hand to keep her from standing up to curtsey when he walked in.
“We eat informally at breakfast. Just help yourself to the sideboard.” When she did not move, he picked up her plate and handed it to her with an encouraging smile.
She rose slowly, conscious that he was watching her.
The way the man had walked into the room, his posture erect, his shoulders square, he was the epitome of a well-bred aristocrat. His confidence and grace, his gentlemanly demeanor and deep voice did dangerous things to her already frazzled nerves, not to mention that smile!
Captain Markham had not affected her this way. And he too was very handsome, but then their meeting had consisted of mere hours, at least that is how it had felt. She had only been a child of fourteen at the time.
The duke strolled in, nodding in her direction, but Lord Ashton’s gaze never left hers as he whispered, “Remember, he is just a pussy cat.” When he winked at her, she nearly dropped her plate.
The brothers were similar in looks, but where her guardian was fair, his brother was dark haired.
However, they both sported the same sky-blue eyes and strong angular features.
She certainly hoped Lord Ashton would not make a habit of winking at her, as she already felt faint in his presence. And she refused to let that happen.
The duke must have seen her stunned features. “We cannot eat if you do not, and I am famished, so do hurry along.” By way of encouragement, he gave her a raised brow, along with his command.
Lucinda took a few steps towards the sideboard. Why was she so nervous? Was it that the duke looked even more intimidating in the light of day? Aware that both men watched her, she placed a piece of toast on her plate.
“Eggs?” Lord Ashton offered. “Mother will scold us if you fade away before she gets here,” he explained.
She nodded, although she was not remotely hungry. He piled on two eggs and some ham and went to put another piece of toast and some kind of rice on her plate that he called kedgeree. It smelled of faraway spices, but her stomach was too nervous to try new things.
“Anthony,” the duke admonished from behind his paper. “Surely, there is no need to force feed poor Miss Sterling.”
Poor Miss Sterling? Is that how they saw her? Pathetic little orphan. Homeless, starving, dependent Miss Sterling? She was so sick of being poor Miss Sterling.
Lucinda sat, and a footman poured tea. She could not believe that this man opposite her was her guardian as she watched him out of the corner of her eye, as he ate and conversed with his brother.
Pushing her eggs around the plate dutifully and taking a bite of her buttered toast, she listened to the siblings’ easy repartee and envied their ease with each other.
“What news from the house?” her guardian asked the duke.
The duke turned from the sideboard where he was filling up his plate. “The usual bickering over the glass tax mostly.”
“Sounds positively riveting.”
The duke sat down and began cutting into his breakfast. “Not as exciting as the never-ending debate over the corn laws.”
“I don’t know how you stand it, but I suppose someone has to debate these things.”
“I would gladly hand over the duty to you, if it were possible.”
Lord Ashton shook his head and laughed. “No, thank you. I am quite content doing my own thing.”
“Oh, yes. And what is that exactly? I am sure Miss Sterling would love to know.”
Her guardian gave his brother a warning look before turning back to her. “I work for Lord Stafford,” he said to Lucinda before turning back to his brother. “You know I cannot tell you more. Lord Stafford is a very private man.”
“Hmm. One day I will find out, mark my words. For now, I do not have time to deal with hypotheticals on how you spend your time.”
“Thank goodness for that.” Lord Ashton winked at her again before directing his attention back to his own breakfast while the duke shook out the morning paper.
Lucinda blinked back at him. Was this how it was between brothers?
Breakfast had always been a sober affair at Miss Covington’s.
The plain scratched-up table and chipped china had not felt out of place when she was there.
Now? She was the chipped cup with no saucer of its own.
So out of place here. Would she eventually get used to this type of life?
A life from which she should have been a part of but had been excluded.
From behind his teacup, Lord Anthony glanced at her still-full plate before he brought his gaze to hers.
A frown settled on his brow. Lucinda squirmed in her chair.
She supposed she should at least try to eat something.
She picked up her toast and took a bite.
Goodness, even the butter was better here.
“I must see Lord Stafford this morning,” he said to her, “but I will return this afternoon. I can take you on a tour of the garden when I return if you like.” He put down his napkin and stood.
“While I am gone, perhaps you could make a list of all the things you require, and I will see that you have them.”
“Thank you, Lord Ashton.” She stood also, and the duke folded down his paper to look at them both.
“Well, go on then,” he said. “Do not just stand there staring at each other. One would think you have never seen the other sex before.”
Lucinda blinked and Lord Ashton laughed, took her hand, and kissed it before striding out of the room. She looked back at the duke, who waved her out. Breakfast was over, it seemed.