Chapter 3 #2
Lucy forced a smile as she started down the staircase; one hand rested on the banister, she took small steps. Her chin was raised high, her poise was perfect, and to look upon her one would see a true lady and daughter of the ton.
The reality, as it played out in Lucy’s mind, could not have been more different.
It was no secret that Lucy did not want to be here.
And while she had no choice in the matter, what she did have was a choice in how she planned on behaving.
Refusing to be treated as some sort of prize to be won, Lucy was certain that by the time this night was through, not a single lord would want anything to do with her.
That thought alone… it saw her smile grow.
“And there we have it!” Lady Fairvale announced once Lucy reached the bottom of the stairs.
There, the other two dozen woman stood lined up and waiting.
She joined the end of them, not once acknowledging or looking at any of the men.
“As I told it, each of these young ladies is a true beauty and each of you esteemed lords will surely be blessed for a mere chance to meet them. So, let us be about it, shall we. Let the evening commence!”
Lucy and the other women were led from the foyer and into the nearby hall.
It was a large room, an open plan, with waiters roaming already; on their hands were balanced trays of food and drink.
An orchestra played in the corner. The lighting was dim.
And no sooner did the enter were they encouraged to spread themselves and wait.
Lucy found a back corner to stand in.
She then watched as the lords hurried into the room and began their attack. They each wore malevolent smiles of unbridled joy, and their eyes searched hungrily for the women they planned on trapping.
Stay still, Lucy. Act invisible. With any luck, you might go unnoticed.
For a time, she did. So eager were these men that they threw themselves at the first woman that they saw. They surrounded them like a pack of hyenas, and Lucy watched on, sadness taking her to see some of the other young ladies suffocate.
It was always hopeful to believe that Lucy would go unnoticed. For a few wonderful minutes, she was, but eventually she caught the eye of one rather grotesque lord. He had a long nose, a flat chin, and plump lips that when he smiled revealed crooked teeth. Worse too, he came straight for her.
“What are we doing over here?” he purred as he approached her. “Hiding, I see.”
“Would that I could,” Lucy said simply, looking ahead.
“Oh my, you have spirit. Allow me to introduce myself…” He took a step back and bowed deeply. “Lord Barrington, the Viscount of Wembley, at your service.”
“Charmed,” Lucy offered him plainly.
“As you should be.” He straightened himself up. “In truth, you should be thanking me.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh yes.” He took a step closer… a little too close.
“It is Lady Whitcombe, yes? I see how you sneer at these other pretenders, which tells me that you are smarter than most.” He looked around the busy hall and sighed.
“A pack of rabid dogs, is what they are. Throw them a fresh steak and see them drool.”
“And if they are rabid dogs, what does that make you?”
He narrowed his eyes at the comment and then laughed. “The kennel master. Believe me when I say that I am saving you. Once they see us speaking, few would dare interrupt. Think of this as a mercy.”
“How kind.”
“You aren’t much of a conversationalist, are you, Lady Whitcombe? It is like trying to squeeze water from a stone.”
“I would be, did I not think they would be a complete waste,” she said.
“How so?”
“Why, I doubt one such as you cares what I have to say. You did not hurry over here because you thought me an apt conversationalist. And you are certainly not here tonight because you wish for me to be.”
“True enough…” His eyes roamed her body, and Lucy resisted the urge not to curl her lip at him. “I confess, your beauty is what drew me. That dress…” Again, his eyes lingered. “Might I be so bold as to say how good it looks on you.”
“I would rather you did not.”
“How about, how good it might look off you.” He flashed his eyes wickedly. “Now, that would be a sight worth hurrying across the room for.” Lord Barrington licked his lips and stepped closer.
Lucy clenched her jaw, holding back her first comment… and then her second. It was one thing to be short with a lord, while it was another to be purposefully rude. Men like this did not take kindly to women who wagged their tongues, and Lucy began to see the danger in this entire endeavor.
I must tread carefully. Say just enough to bore him, but not enough to pique his interest. Telling him he cannot have me is the fastest way to ensure his obsession. And if that happens…
A cold shudder ran up her body.
“It is rather stuffy in here.” Slowly, he moved his hand to her waist. Lucy gasped and turned stiff, resisting the urge to slap it away. “Might we go somewhere more private? The grounds are said to be lovely.”
“I would rather we did not.”
“But I insist…” His grip on her waist tightened and a malevolent snarl passed behind his eyes. “Come now, no need to act so coy. That you are here –”
“Is proof enough that she wants nothing to do with you.” From nowhere, another lord appeared. “I dare say that was she physically capable, she might have vanished into thin air. No doubt she wishes she was able”
Lord Barrington turned suddenly stiff and his eyes widened when he saw who spoke. What was more, he instantly whipped his hand away.
“Your Grace…” He sneered. “If you do not mind, Lady Whitcombe and I were –”
“There is your first mistake. Speaking for Lady Whitcombe, rather than asking what she desires. But then again, if you dared to do such a thing, you would undoubtedly learn that she wants nothing to do with you.” The mysterious duke looked at Lucy for an answer.
“I would rather stay here,” Lucy said. “Anywhere, where Lord Barrington is not.”
“And there you have it.” The mystery duke looked plainly at Lord Barrington, but it was enough to see the man falter.
Power exuded from the mystery duke like expensive cologne, and it suffocated Lord Barrington’s bravado like a blanket thrown over a fire.
“I suggest you heed her words and make yourself scarce.”
“And if I refuse?” Lord Barrington drew himself up.
“It would not be wise to do so.”
Lucy eyed the interaction with extreme interest.
She did not recognize the duke, just as she knew that she had never seen him before. If I had, there is little doubt that I would remember him.
Yes, he was tall. Yes, he was physically impressive.
Yes, he was dark and sinister; black hair like onyx, deep eyes like bottomless pits, strength personified in his stern gaze.
But it was the sense of power he held that was inescapable.
He stood with confidence, he looked at Lord Barrington like one might an ant, and he said nothing because he did not have to.
Lucy felt a stirring in her stomach…
“As you say.” Lord Barrington took a step away and rolled his eyes. “Have her. See if I care…” He scoffed. “It is not as if she is the only woman here. Besides, I like my women tame.” He scoffed again, sure to throw it at Lucy, before turning and skulking away.
The mystery duke watched him go, and Lucy saw in his eyes how much he loathed Lord Barrington.
“I am sorry about that,” he said once they were alone. “Men of his ilk…” He clicked his tongue. “They should not be allowed within one hundred yards of a woman.”
“I…” Lucy almost thanked him. He had, after all, saved her. However, just as she was about to, another thought struck her.
She had seen this game played before. She knew its movements. While this duke acted as if he was chivalry personified, she could not escape the obvious fact that threw a shadow over everything else: he was here, and thus he was engaged in the same detestable behavior as everyone else.
Likely, this is all part of his game. Save the helpless maiden, make himself out to be a hero, only to be revealed as a villain like everyone else.
“Are you sorry?” she said sharply.
He turned and frowned at the comment. “Excuse me?”
“You speak of Lord Barrington as if you and he are not the same.” She folded her arms. “After all, you are here, are you not? You are participating, as is he, as is everyone else. Were I to guess, I might say that you and he are of the exact same ilk.”
She expected anger. She expected him to launch into self-defense. She expected anything other than what she was given… cool indifference.
“You would not say such things if you knew me.”
“Oh, but I do,” she fired back. “I know all of you. Every man here, you are all the same. Perhaps you are not as bad as Lord Barrington, as low as that bar is to clear. But please, do not swoop in here as if you mean to save me, when we both know that your true purpose was to try and win me over for yourself.”
“It is Lady Whitcombe, yes?”
“That is right. And what is your name?”
“His Grace, the Duke of Calderwick,” he said coolly. “And while I do not make a habit of defending myself, you should know that…” He hesitated and then sighed deeply. “Everything you have said is correct.”
Lucy balked at the comment. “What? What does that mean?”
“It means that you are correct in what you say. At least as far as this place is concerned.” He turned slightly and cast his gaze across the room.
“I detest these functions, just as I pity any woman forced to be a part of them. We speak of honor and prestige as if we are the embodiment of such things, yet we treat our daughters as little better than cattle. The entire thing is repellent.”
Lucy stared with bewilderment at the Duke.
She was certain that he was lying. He had to be! But as she looked closer, as she saw the look of disgust on his face, she found that belief hard to agree with.
There was something different to him than everyone else. In each and every other lord here, Lucy saw excitement, the thrill of the chase, and the hunger for power that was found in taking control of someone they deemed as less. But in the Duke… she saw apathy, even pity reflected in his dark eyes.
He must be faking it. An expert liar, no doubt. That is all this is.
“I do not believe you,” she said.
He turned back and shrugged. “Believe what you wish. It makes no difference to me. I did not come over here to try and convince you of my purity. Nor did I come here to try and win you.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“To keep men like Lord Barrington in line. The world would be a better place without them, and where I cannot remove him, I can clip his wings.”
“No,” she emphasized. “Not that. Here. Why are you here, if you are so repulsed by it?”
He gave her no answer. At least not at first.
Rather, the Duke studied her closely. His dark eyes looked her over, assessing her, almost as if he was trying to find her worth. It was a humbling feeling, the sense that he could see right through her.
“I might ask you the same,” he said finally.
“I am here because I have no choice.”
“And there you have it,” he said with a deep sigh. “You have no choice. Nor do I.”
Lucy frowned. “That is not… but you are a duke. You can do as you please, how you please it.” She scoffed. “Which leads me back to my original assumption of you and your actions…” A raised eyebrow in question.
“Believe what you will,” he said simply, caring not for her judgement.
He was just so cool like that, emotionless, and in complete control of himself in ways that she envied.
“As I said, I do not make a habit of defending myself. I find there is often no point for those who have made up their minds in advance.”
Lucy wished to argue further… in fact, she found that she was enjoying doing so. As strange as it was to consider, she was not nearly so turned off by the Duke as she wanted to be. He was, for all intents and purposes, different to every other man here.
However, before she got the chance to do so, she noticed something.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. She looked past the Duke, and her stomach dropped with the realization of what had happened… what she had been trying so desperately to avoid.
Standing in the corner as she was, she and the Duke were alone. They had separated themselves from the rest of the party in a way that was not purposeful but looked as if it was, and there was more than one guest watching them.
While that might not have mattered, it was who watched them that did.
Lord Barrington stood with her father. He must have gone and searched him out!
Worse, he had pulled her father forward and was now showing him the way that the two spoke in such isolation.
As Lord Barrington and her father watched on, Lady Fairvale joined them, and she looked delighted to see Lucy and the Duke talking too closely.
“What?” the Duke asked when he saw her face drop. “What is wrong?”
“Oh no,” was all Lucy could say as she noticed more of the guests taking note of them, smiles on their faces, humor in their eyes. “Oh no…”
Lucy had come here tonight with the express purpose of staying hidden, keeping a low profile, and escaping without incident. And now, she knew, such plans were an utter failure.