The Regency Season: Blackmailed Brides: The Scarlet Gown / Lady Beneath the Veil. Sarah Mallory
Читать онлайн книгу.
his fiancée. Lucy had seen the resemblance immediately and had turned to him, a question in her eyes. Green eyes, he recalled, and they changed with her moods. They looked like a stormy sea when she was angry and today, when she was exhilarated from the ride, they shone clear and bright as moss. Nothing like Helene’s blue eyes, which he had once thought so alluring.
He gave his head a little shake to dispel the unwelcome thoughts that came crowding in. Kibble’s voice intruded and Ralph looked up to see his valet coming out of the dressing room.
‘I have prepared a bath for your lordship.’
‘Thank you. Go down and tell Mrs Green to send up water to Miss Halbrook’s room, if you please.’ When Kibble hesitated he said curtly, ‘Damn it, man, I can undress myself, you know!’
Not visibly moved, Kibble gave a stately little bow and retired. Going into the dressing room, where scented steam was gently rising from a hip bath, Ralph threw off his clothes and lowered himself into the water.
Kibble knew him well enough not to be offended by his rough tone, but what of Lucy? He had spoken harshly to her on several occasions now. A slight smile tugged at his mouth. She appeared quite capable of standing up to him, but that last look she had given him nagged at his conscience. If he told her everything, would she understand?
He could not risk it. He had known the woman barely two weeks, it would not make sense to trust her with such a dangerous secret. Safer to keep his own counsel. Much more logical.
He heard a movement in the bedchamber, and Kibble appeared in the dressing room doorway.
‘A bath is even now being carried up to Miss Halbrook’s room, my lord.’
Ralph was immediately distracted by the image of Lucy undressing and stepping into the warm water. There was a golden sheen to the skin of her neck and shoulders. Did that extend, he wondered, to the rest of her body...?
Kibble spoke again, in a voice with just a hint of rebuke. ‘Mrs Green hopes there will be enough hot water, since she did not anticipate anyone other than your lordship requiring a bath today.’
Ralph sat up with an oath, not so much angry with his valet as with himself for not being able to dispel the thought of Lucy Halbrook.
Finding his master’s wrathful eye turned towards him, Kibble unbent sufficiently to add, ‘With so few guests in the house, Monsieur deemed it wasteful to light the new range in the kitchen and has been cooking on the old open range—it has a much smaller water cistern, my lord.’
‘I know precisely what the difference is,’ barked Ralph. ‘You may tell Monsieur that since I pay him an extortionate wage to run my kitchens, I can afford to use that new range whatever the number of guests in residence, do you understand?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘Very well.’ Ralph nodded towards the pail of hot water standing on the hearthstone. ‘Miss Halbrook can have that to top up her supply.’
‘Won’t you be needing it, my lord?’
‘No, I won’t.’ The vision of Lucy bathing was still tantalising Ralph. Great heavens, what was wrong with him? ‘In fact, you had best pour in the rest of the cold water before you go.’
* * *
Lucy rubbed herself dry, her skin and spirits glowing. To be able to call up a bath at a moment’s notice was luxury indeed and she could forgive her employer a great deal for that.
She could not forgive him everything, however, and the idea that she had been brought here to imitate his dead wife made her decidedly uneasy.
She left the chaos of the bath, buckets and towels in the dressing room and went into her bedchamber, where Ruthie had laid out a selection of gowns upon the bed. They were all new, and had all arrived that day. Lucy was tempted to wear the French cambric that she had brought with her, but she knew enough of her employer by now to be sure that if she did so, he would order her back upstairs to change.
In the end she chose a simple round gown of green silk over a white chemise. Ruthie dressed her hair in loose curls, caught up in a bandeau of matching ribbon, along with a pair of satin slippers dyed the same colour as her gown.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Lucy wondered if Helene had worn a gown like this, but of course she already knew the answer to that. Lucy derived some small, very small, satisfaction from the fact that however well the gown might have looked with guinea-gold curls, it could not have enhanced cornflower-blue eyes as it did green ones. Dismissing the thought as unworthy, Lucy placed a fine Norwich shawl about her shoulders and set off for the drawing room.
As she descended the main stairs she heard voices in the hall. One, which she recognised as Lord Adversane’s, came floating up to her.
‘Adam. What the devil brings you here?’
Adam. Lucy searched her mind and remembered that Adam Cottingham was Adversane’s cousin and heir. A cheerful male voice now made itself heard.
‘Don’t sound so surprised, Cos. I came to take pot luck with you, as I have done often and often.’
‘Aye, but not since the accident.’ She heard Ralph hesitate over the last word. ‘I thought you had vowed not to come here again.’
‘No, well...the past is over and done. Time to let it rest, eh? We should not allow it to cause a rift in the family.’
‘I was not aware that it had done so.’
‘Well, there you are, then. And here I am. I take it you can spare a dinner for me, Cousin?’
Lucy continued to descend, smiling a little at Adversane’s rather guarded response.
‘Of course, it will be a pleasure to have you stay.’
‘Thank you. So, Ralph, you old devil. What is this I have heard about a betrothal? Judith tells me you wrote to say you have installed your fiancée— Good God!’
This last exclamation was occasioned by Lucy’s appearance in the Great Hall. She found herself being stared at by a fair-haired stranger. He picked up his eyeglass the better to study her and said sharply, ‘Ralph, what the devil—?’
Lucy was tempted to run away from such astonished scrutiny, but Lord Adversane was already approaching and holding out his hand to her.
‘My dear, this boorish fellow is my cousin. He has come to join us for dinner.’ He pulled her fingers onto his sleeve, giving them a little squeeze as he performed the introduction.
Mr Cottingham dropped his eyeglass and made her an elegant bow.
‘Delighted, Miss Halbrook.’
Lucy’s throat dried as she responded. Suddenly, she felt very ill prepared. Now that she had met one of Adversane’s relatives in the flesh she was very nervous at the thought of being caught out. When Ralph smiled and patted her fingers she realised that she was clutching his arm rather tightly.
‘Let us go to the drawing room,’ he suggested. ‘I expect Mrs Dean is waiting there for us.’
The short walk across the hall gave Lucy time to collect herself, and once Ariadne had greeted their guest, expressed her surprise at his arrival and assured him that there was plenty of time for him to change before dinner, she was able to sit down and join in the conversation with reasonable calm.
‘Such a long time since I have seen you, Adam,’ said Mrs Dean, fluttering back to her seat. ‘I suppose there is no surprise about that. After all, we used to meet here at Adversane regularly, but of course all that changed when...’ She trailed off, looking self-conscious.
‘When Helene died,’ said Ralph bluntly. ‘I am aware that I have not entertained since then.’
‘Indeed, Cousin, you have become something of a recluse,’ declared Mrs Dean, recovering. ‘But thankfully all that is ended now.’ She turned back to Mr Cottingham. ‘And will you stay overnight, Adam?