Chapter 1
“Father?” the Honorable Lucy Whitcombe said as she knocked on the open door which led into her father’s office. “You wished to speak with me?”
“Ah, Lucy!” Lucy’s father, Lord Whitcombe, started when he looked up to find his daughter in the doorway. And while his smile was love-filled and adoring, there was a sense of nervousness about his demeanor. “Yes, yes, please…” He gestured for her to enter.
Lucy did as she was bid and entered her father’s office.
It was a cramped space, dark and dusty, and her father looked small and frail when surrounded by the looming bookshelves and mounds of books stacked on either side of him.
What Lucy noticed most of all, however, was how worried he appeared at the sight of her.
This was strange, as he was the one who had sent for her not five minutes earlier. Yet, as she walked toward his desk, his eyes looked everywhere but in her direction, and the way he fidgeted with his hands was telling.
“Is something the matter, Father?” she asked.
“No, why would you say that?” He spoke a little too quickly, and still he was unable to look at her directly.
Lucy frowned to herself… if I was not worried before, now I have every reason to be. No… do not get ahead of yourself, Lucy. I am sure this is nothing.
“You missed breakfast,” Lucy said with a warm smile. “That is not like you.” She then chuckled softly. “I cannot remember the last time you forwent the chance to eat.”
Lucy’s comment saw her father relax considerably, and he rested his hand on his swollen belly. “Work is all… you know how busy this time of year is. As summer comes, so does the deluge. It feels as if I spend half the year twiddling my thumbs and the next half working them to the bone.”
“You work too hard, Father. I have always said as much.”
“Perhaps.” He slunk down in his chair. “But your mother… she asks so little, save that I look out for you and your sister. We all have a purpose in life, Lucy, and this is mine.” His smile was not as warm as it had been, and Lucy saw in it a hint of reservation.
Yes… something is clearly worrying him.
Lucy loved her father dearly, and for him there was little she would not do.
So much did she love him, in fact, that she chose to hold her tongue and not remind him that her mother was dead, and the woman he referred to as such was little more than an imposter.
The same went for this so-called ‘sister.’
It always upset her father to see Lucy not get along with her stepmother and stepsister because, as he so often said, he had remarried for her sake, as much as his own.
Perhaps he had. After all, marriage was the key to advancement in their world, security provided, and staying ahead of unwanted rumors and gossip. To have not married would surely have seen the two looked down on and hurt Lucy’s own aspirations for marriage when the time came.
“You sent for me?” Lucy pivoted the conversation, seeing no point in dwelling on that which would only upset them both. The fact was, her father had remarried, he claimed to be happy, and that was all there was to it.
“Ah, yes.” Her father straightened; he was a small man in posture, kindly in temperament, and a little too eager to please. “Would you like to sit?”
“Do I need to?”
“You remind me of her so much, you know.” He did not say who she reminded him of, because there was no need. The twinkle in his eyes said it all. “The way you turn from lamb to lion in the blink of an eye.”
“Father.” She looked pointedly at her father. “What is going on?”
“To the point…” He exhaled deeply. “Yes, I suppose that is for the best. I have been doing much thinking lately, Lucy, regarding your future…”
Lucy braced herself, careful not to speak until he was done. But she felt the anger in her boiling already, knowing well what he meant when he said that he had been doing much thinking.
She has been doing the thinking for him, no doubt. That he cannot say it is proof enough that he knows how much I detest her.
“… and at twenty and two it is time that you begin the process of courtship.” He looked at her, a raised eyebrow, expecting her to say something.
She said nothing, smiling pleasantly, as if her insides where not squirming.
“More to that point, a circumstance has arisen that I think will be perfect for you.”
Still, Lucy said nothing.
Indeed, her father had raised the topic often of her future, where marriage was concerned.
As Lucy always told him, she would wed when she met the right man and not before.
And should that man never appear, so be it.
Better to be single and happy than tethered to a weight, dropped into the ocean, and left to drown.
“Lady Fairvale is throwing a… how do you say it?” He clicked his tongue. “A function next week, one that you shall be attending.”
“And what is the nature of this function?” she asked pleasantly, even as she threatened to boil over.
“It is a charity patronage,” he said, now well and truly unable to look her in the eyes.
What was more, she could see him bracing for her rebuttal.
“You know the sort, I am sure. It is a lighthearted do, no pressure or expectations attached – it is more about being seen than anything. A chance to be presented before your fellow lords, all of whom are in a similar circumstance to yourself.”
“And what circumstance is that, exactly?”
“Well… you know…” He swallowed. “Single and looking to find a partner. Courtship and then…” He swallowed again. “Marriage, of course.”
Before Lucy said anything else, she made sure to take a deep and calming breath.
While the exact nature of his asking to see her had not been known, she had expected something along these lines.
And just as she had expected it, she had thought long and hard about how she might extricate herself from such a thing.
If he thinks I am going to be lined up and sold off like cattle… he can think again. He referred to me as a lion earlier, and it is time I prove it.
“A charity patronage?” She spoke calmly and was sure to look at her father as she did. “I have heard of such things but… remind me. The basic premise is that myself, and other available ladies, will be presented before a court of eligible suitors to be appraised, yes?”
“Yes,” he said. “But it is not nearly so precise as –”
“Appraised and judged,” she spoke over him, her tone turned sharp. “Lined up like stock to be looked over, assessed, and then sold off. Reduced to prizes that are not won or earned but bought by the highest bidder. Do I have that right?”
“Lucy…” He grimaced. “It is not nearly so… it is a lighthearted affair. There are no expectations attached. You are not being sent to the gallows!”
“It feels as if I am,” she fired back, her anger getting the better of her.
“It feels as if you do not trust that I will find myself a suitor in my own time. That I am not capable of meeting the right man, when the right times presents itself. So worried are you that I will die a spinster that you would rather sell me off. That my happiness means nothing to you.” She flared her nostrils as she looked down at her father. “Do I have the right of it?”
Lucy hated getting angry with her father. And she hated seeing him upset. Alas, both circumstances were present as her father looked away with shame and utmost remorse.
“I am only trying to do what is best for you.”
“I know you are, Father, and while I appreciate it, I would prefer if you trusted me. I do not need to be auctioned off so that I might meet someone.”
“But will you ever?” he asked her. “You continue to tell me that you plan on courtship, and then the Season will pass and nothing comes of it. You see why I worry.”
“I do…” Lucy walked around the table so that she could take her father’s hand. He gave it, looked at her with remorse, and she knew that she had him. “And I promise, Father, you need not worry. Just as you need not resort to such outlandish tactics as this.”
He nodded slowly and she breathed a sigh of relief. That was a little too close for comfort…
“Harold!” From the doorway, the cry came. “What is the meaning of this? I told you that you must wait for me before breaking the news!”
Lady Beatrice Whitcombe was Lucy’s stepmother, and a more repellent woman Lucy did not know. In her mind, Lucy had always referred to her as the Harpy, a nickname born from both her physical appearance and how she treated Lucy’s father.
Indeed, she swept into the room with a rueful glare, her beak-like nose pointed down, her sharp chin raised high. And as she came, she reared up as if she meant to swoop upon Lucy and start pecking her to death.
The woman’s sudden entrance had the same effect on Lucy’s father as it always did. He yanked his hand away, sat himself up, and looked upon his wife with a level of infatuation that Lucy could not fathom. He was, in effect, her slave, and oh how her stepmother knew it.
“I planned on it, my sweet,” he purred. “But Lucy arrived early and I thought it might be best if I was the one who asked her –”
“There is no asking.” She went to the other side of Lucy’s father and perched on his shoulder as she glared daggers at Lucy. “We discussed this. She needs to be told.”
“And she has been,” he assured his wife. “I have just done so now.”
Lucy did her best not to glare hate at her stepmother. While she did indeed loathe the woman, she knew too that her father loved her. And while it irked her to be spoken to this way, Lucy did not want to get between them or force her father to choose.
Also, if he was forced to choose there is a part of me fears the choice he would make…
“Father has explained to me the circumstance,” Lucy said carefully. “As I have explained to him that I will not be attending this patronage.”
“Is that right?” her stepmother scoffed.
“It is insulting,” Lucy said. “And demeaning.”
“I do not care what it is,” her stepmother sneered. “You are attending, Lucy, and that is final.”
“I will not.” Lucy folded her arms and fixed her stepmother with a look of finality.
“Listen very carefully.” As she spoke, her stepmother held onto Lucy’s father’s hand as if to mark her possession of him. “You have been given ample opportunity to do as you ought and find a suitor. In truth, you have been given more time than what you deserve.”
“I –”
“Stop being so selfish!” her stepmother snapped.
“All that your father does for you…” Her nostrils flared.
“Have you stopped to consider for an instant how this looks? Your continued refusal to even consider being courted reflects badly not just on you but on this family. That’s not to mention Amelia.
” Her upper lip curled. “Did you consider her? Your own sister?”
“She is not my –”
“While you remain single… while you refuse to do as you must, she suffers. This is her first Season and her chances of being courted are less than zero because of what people say about you.”
Lucy started in surprise. “What they say about me?”
“Which we will fix,” her stepmother continued.
“One evening, that is all we ask of you. Be present, do not make a fool of yourself, and before you know it, you will be spoken for. The effect this will have on your family’s reputation need not be explained – for it is obvious!
The world does not revolve around you, Lucy, and it is time you start acting like it. ”
It took all the self-control Lucy possessed to not say things which she knew could not be taken back… which she knew would disappoint her father.
She speaks of selflessness as if she is not the most self-interested woman in the ton! As if everything she has done is not for her own advantage.
While Lucy would never say as much, she knew that was the true reason that Lady Beatrice had married her father.
And since their marriage, everything that Lady Beatrice had done was with an eye toward reputation.
She was like an expert chess player, moving the pieces required to help her own end, while caring not for anyone else. Her husband included.
“Father?” Lucy looked at her father, ignoring the way her stepmother sneered. “Please, do not make me do this. I promise… if you give me time, one more Season –”
“You have had all the time in the world,” her stepmother cut her off.
“She is right,” her father sighed, unable to look at her. Worse than that, he kept a hold of his wife’s hand the whole time, as if he needed it to give him strength. “You have been given ample time, Lucy. More than most.”
“You cannot do this!”
“You will attend the patronage,” her father said, albeit with little conviction. “And hopefully, by the time the evening is done, you will have found yourself a suitor. It is for the best, dear. You know that it is.”
What else could Lucy do? Short of running away from home, she knew that her hands were tied. Her stepmother had spoken, her father was too weak to overrule her, and so her fate was sealed.
To make matters worse, the look of triumph etched across her stepmother’s face made Lucy want to scream.
Since the day that she’d married Lucy’s father, she had slowly carved and cut away at their relationship so that she was the center of his world.
And once Lucy was gone from this house, he would be under her control completely.
As for Lucy? She would be married to some lord who she did not love, who she did not like, and her life would effectively be over. Such was the way of the world… such was the end to the Honorable Lucy Whitcombe’s life.