Chapter Eight
Grayson had seen such dramatics before, of course.
London was full of spoiled misses and matrons, even some with real problems caused by husbands, lovers, or gambling debts.
Once in a while, he stepped in to pay off some vowels, but he was not the sort of man to give comfort, and women did not seek it from him. They knew better.
Struggling against his annoyance, Grayson made his way to a tall alder, under which the tearful girl was ensconced on a stone bench. He told himself it was the first step in his investigation. She was distraught, and he could use that to his advantage as he pried the truth from her.
Cool and calculating, as usual, he told himself his actions had nothing to do with the look on Kate’s face or how he would like to lift one of her many burdens. He approached slowly, and when the brat did not acknowledge his presence, Grayson took a seat beside her.
“I assure you that I have no intention of putting your beloved to death,” he said.
“So you say!”
“Yes, so I say,” Grayson repeated. Then he deliberately softened his tone. “Suppose you tell me exactly what happened.”
She had her back to him, and she sniffed softly. “What will you do to him?”
He smiled cynically. “I will make sure that he does not use my name again,” he said, without letting on exactly how he would accomplish that.
A dead man could not don a disguise, but the fellow might have other uses.
“And I would do my best to see that he marries you,” Grayson added.
Providing he does not have a wife and five children already.
Lucy whirled to face him. “He will not need to be forced! We would be wed already, if not for some mishap that has prevented his return,” she said, her voice breaking. “Something has happened to tear him away from me.”
“Then let me help,” Grayson said.
She succumbed, nodding as she dabbed at her eyes. For one so stricken with grief, they were remarkably clear, and Grayson wondered just how much of her outbursts were theatrics, designed to gain attention.
She lowered her eyes and frowned daintily. “You cannot know what it has been like here since Papa died.”
“Tell me,” Grayson urged.
Lucy lifted her damp lashes in a move calculated to gain his sympathy, not knowing that he was notorious for his very lack of that commodity. “Oh, it has been positively horrid, locked up here, seeing no one, having nothing. I could not bear it!”
“You have your sister,” Grayson said.
“Kate! She has no care for fancy dresses or balls or handsome beaux. She doesn’t mind working like a servant, cleaning and baking until her hands are ruined.”
Grayson could have argued that point, but he restrained himself.
Lucy was talking now, and he did not want to halt her confessions with the reminder that Kate, being the eldest, had no choice but to take care of her.
She had done so, too, without complaint, and, apparently, with little enough reward.
As if sensing his disagreement, Lucy pouted prettily. “Oh, nothing bothers Kate, but I am possessed of more delicate sensibilities. I could not stand being trapped here, so I began walking farther and farther afield, trying to escape my prison. And then, one day, he came upon me in the woods.”
Grayson remained silent, hoping for clues to the imposter’s identity.
“He said he had a hunting box nearby and… that I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. We began to meet.”
“Where?”
She looked blank for a moment, then frowned, as if annoyed at the interruption. “The woods, as I said.”
“So you never actually entered the hunting box.”
“No. He did not want the servants to talk, but there was an abandoned cottage nearby, and we… often went there,”
At least the house had not been broken into, but the lout had seduced an earl’s daughter in some old hut, as if she were a common strumpet.
Grayson’s jaw tightened. Although he cared little enough for Lucy, he could not countenance such treatment, and he would like to get his hands on the man responsible.
Still, he kept his face carefully neutral as he fished for more information. “And then?”
Lucy had the good grace to blush and look away. “And then I began to suspect my… condition. When I broke the news to him, he seemed startled, but he was just as kind as always,” she hastened to assure Grayson.
“He told me not to worry, yet I could see that he was concerned. I think he was worried about my guardian,” she said, her voice low and angry.
“And who is that?” Grayson asked, willing her to respond.
She did, with a vehemence that surprised him. “Uncle Jasper!”
“Your mother’s brother?” Grayson hazarded a guess since no one had assumed the title. “And where is he?”
“Who knows? Vienna? Rome? We have never seen him. He leaves addresses, and Kate writes, but he rarely answers.”
“What of your solicitors?”
Lucy shrugged. “Kate went to see them after Papa died, but Uncle stands guardian until we marry.” Her eyes narrowed.
“I knew even Wroth… or rather, my beloved… would never gain permission. I wanted to elope, but he said that he would not hear of it. He did not want to damage my reputation,” she added in a voice that dared Grayson to disagree.
Then she lifted her chin in a gesture that revealed her resemblance to Kate. “And now, I fear that Jasper has done some mischief to come between us.”
Grayson’s jaw tightened. Jasper had already been up to plenty of mischief. It sounded as though he had taken the girls’ inheritance and left them with nothing but a house that required an immense amount of upkeep.
His musings were interrupted by his companion, who chose that moment to burst into tears again. She fell upon his chest, and Grayson absently lifted a hand to her shoulder, while he anticipated his first meeting with the infamous uncle.
“Hush. I will take care of Jasper. Now tell me what your young man looks like,” Grayson said.
Lucy sniffed. “He is young and handsome, with light brown hair and blue eyes, and he is not at all cruel, like some I could name.”
“Describe what you mean by ‘not cruel,’” Grayson said dryly.
“He does not have your insufferable arrogance, nor does he talk to me in a way that makes me feel inferior,” she replied, pulling away to glare at him through wet lashes.
As she spoke, Grayson began to form a suspicion about this estimable fellow that made his lips curve wryly.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me!” Lucy snapped. “Oh, I don’t care what you think. I hate you!”
Far from being insulted. Grayson contemplated the ungrateful chit with a lift of his brow. “Oh?”
“Yes! Because you are not him! You have ruined everything.” She sobbed. “You have destroyed the last of my illusions.”
Grayson drew in a sharp breath. He would never have expected to hear such honesty and insight from her sulky mouth.
He studied her anew, as she bent her head, her auburn curls falling forward to hide her face, her hands coming up to cover the sounds of genuine sobs.
Maybe Lucy was more like her sister than he thought. Or maybe not.
Whatever her disposition, he was bound to help her find her missing man, for her sake and his own. But if his suspicions were correct, by the time he was through, Lucy would have even more cause to despise him.
Kate stared at the door for a long time. She wasn’t sure what was more astonishing: that the Marquess of Wroth had gone after Lucy, or that she had let him. But she stayed where she was, relieved not to have to take on the onerous task herself.
“Bloody high-handed bastard,” Tom grumbled.
“Yes,” Kate agreed softly. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, for she had grown to like Grayson’s imperiousness. His haughty stare and his very arrogance had begun to appeal to her.
Come, bathe me, Kate. The memory of those words and his heavy-lidded gaze made her blush. Even the soft request had sounded like a command, and she, who never took orders from anyone, had nearly obeyed. Kate shivered, forcing such thoughts aside when she noticed Tom eyeing her sourly.
“You aren’t going to let him go after her, are you?”
Kate almost flinched at the harsh accusation. She was so weary of doing everything, of being looked to for each decision. What harm was there in letting Grayson tend to Lucy?
And yet, wasn’t this the very thing that she had feared?
Already she was giving ground to Grayson’s strength, Kate realized, with something akin to panic.
It would be so easy to let him take charge of the household and of herself, but then what?
She shuddered at the consequences, knowing she could not give in to temptation.
“He’ll do more harm than good,” Tom warned.
The coachman was right, of course. Grayson was hardly one to cater to Lucy’s wayward moods. He was more likely to terrify than to soothe her. Biting back a sigh, Kate straightened her shoulders and rose to her feet.
Making her way through the garden, Kate noticed its neglect and mentally cataloged the slew of chores that awaited her.
She would never get them all finished before autumn, and the knowledge threatened to weigh down her already heavy mood.
She brushed it off, telling herself instead to welcome the sun that had finally decided to show itself.
Blinking in the light, Kate saw Grayson and Lucy seated together on the bench under the old alder, and she climbed the gentle slope toward them.
Her steps slowed, however, when she watched Lucy throw herself against Grayson.
His arms closed around her, and Kate stopped dead at the sight of the intimate embrace.
For a long moment, she simply stared, too stunned to make sense of the scene.