The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda: A Summersby Tale Read online

  “Forgive me, Miss Blackwell.” His eyes bore into hers, holding her captive as he spoke. “It seems that I was so engrossed in the conversation I was having that I must have had a complete lapse in memory. Indeed, it is so severe that I might just as well not recall having asked you at all. I do apologize with the sincerest hope that you will still allow me to make good on my promise.”

  Lucy almost lost her nerve. Not in a million years would she have imagined that any man would make her feel so small and wretched. His tone had not been mocking, but his meaning had been clear. He thought her a charlatan, and why wouldn’t he? After all, they’d only just met, and she’d hardly done anything to make him think highly of her. Quite the opposite. She groaned inwardly, knowing that what she planned to suggest would sound ludicrous to him. She hoped he’d accept without a fuss however, for if he didn’t, he’d likely hold a harlot in higher regard than he would her once the night was over.

  Pushing all sympathy from her mind, she squared her shoulders and strengthened her resolve. “Nothing would please me more, my lord,” she replied, allowing him to take her by the arm and lead her back inside the ballroom.

  Taking up their respective positions for the start of the quadrille, Lucy shot a quick glance at Lord Summersby who was standing right beside her. “Thank you,” she whispered as the music started and two other couples began their turn about the dance floor.

  “I cannot say that you are welcome,” he muttered in response, “for I despise deception.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord, but I saw no other way in which to make your acquaintance.”

  “Really?” Though his face remained fixed upon the other awaiting couple across from them, his irritation was quite apparent. “I’m not sure what game you’re playing, Miss Blackwell, but I can assure you that I am far from amused.”

  Before Lucy could manage a response, he’d taken her by the arm and led her forward, turning her about before leading her in a wide circle while the other couples looked on. As soon as they were back in their places, Lucy pulled together every ounce of courage she possessed. This was the reason she’d come, and she would have only one chance at getting it right. “I have a proposal,” she whispered. “Indeed, I am in need of your service.”

  For a moment, she wasn’t entirely sure if he’d heard her. Her heart hammering in her chest, her legs growing weak with expectation, she feared she might suddenly collapse from sheer nerves.

  “And what service might that be?” he finally asked, leading her forward once again.

  “I’ve done my research, my lord, and am quite familiar with your career. In fact, you are regarded as the best foreign agent that England has to offer, and, as it happens, I am in need of precisely such a man. I will pay you handsomely enough, of that I promise you.” She wondered if there would be enough money in the world to pay him for participating in her mad endeavor.

  Lord Summersby shot her a sideways glance. “As tempting as your offer may be, I fear you must take your business elsewhere. You see, Miss Blackwell, I am soon to be married and have every intention of settling down to a peaceful family life in the country, away from all the excitement that the Foreign Office has to offer.”

  Lucy blanched.

  Marry?

  Apparently she had far less time to set her plan in motion than she had hoped for. If Lord Summersby married someone else, then…She had intended to let him in on her scheme, but if he’d already proposed to another woman, then she might have to resort to more desperate measures.

  Her mind reeled as he steered her smoothly back toward their places. The music faded, and all the couples bowed and curtsied—all but Lucy. She was far too busy making a hasty change of plans.

  “I take it that your so-called research didn’t mention that I am betrothed?” He was leading her back toward the periphery of the ballroom.

  “It did not.”

  “Well, it has been a rather hasty decision, I suppose.”

  Lucy stopped walking, forcing Lord Summersby to a halt as well. Staring up at him, she searched his eyes for the answer to a question that she dared not ask.

  Until that very moment, William had paid very little attention to the physical attributes of the woman with whom he’d been dancing. Not only had the lighting been quite poor outside on the terrace, but he’d also been so angry that she’d had the audacity to slither her way into his life through lies and deceit that her looks had been the last thing on his mind.

  Since then, he’d barely glanced in her direction, but now that he was given no choice but to take a good look at her, he couldn’t help but feel his heart take an extra beat—a rather disconcerting feeling indeed, given the fact that he intensely disliked her. However, as well as that might be, he could not dismiss her exceptional beauty. Her hair was fiery red, her eyes intensely green, and her bone structure so fine and delicate that she could have worn a sack and still looked elegant. But the gown that Miss Blackwell was wearing was by no means any sack. Instead, it showed off a figure that boasted of soft curves in all the right places.

  Clenching his jaw, William swallowed hard and forced himself to ignore the temptation. He would marry Annabelle, and that would be that.

  “Do you love her?” Miss Blackwell suddenly asked, her head tilted upward at a slight angle.

  By deuce, even her voice was delightful to listen to. And those imploring eyes of hers…No, he’d be damned if he’d allow her to ensnare him with her womanly charms. She’d practically made a fool of both his sister and his father; she’d get no sympathy from him. Not now, not ever. “You and I are hardly well enough acquainted with each other for you to take such liberties in your questions, Miss Blackwell. My relationship to Lady Annabelle is of a personal nature and certainly not one that I am about to discuss with you.”

  Miss Blackwell blinked. “Then you do not love her,” she said simply.

  Good grief, but the woman was insufferable. Had he at any point in time told her that he was not in love with his fiancée? Why the devil would she draw such a conclusion? It was maddening and quite beyond him to understand the workings of her mind. “I hold her in the highest regard,” he said.

  Miss Blackwell stared back at him with an increased measure of doubt in her eyes. “More reason for me to believe that you do not love her.”

  “Miss Blackwell, if I did not know any better, I should say that you are either mad or deaf—perhaps even both. At no point have I told you that I do not love her, yet you are quite insistent upon the matter.”

  “That is because, my lord, it is in everything you are saying and everything that you are not. If you truly love her, you would not have spent a moment’s hesitation in professing it. It is therefore my belief that you do not love her but that you are marrying her simply out of obligation.”

  Why the blazes he was having this harebrained conversation with a woman he’d only just met, much less liked, was beyond him. But the beginnings of a smile that now played upon her lips did nothing short of make him catch his breath. With a sigh of resignation, he slowly nodded his head. “Well done, Miss Blackwell. You have indeed found me out.”

  Her smile broadened. “Then it really doesn’t matter whom you marry, as long as you marry. Is that not so?”

  He frowned, immediately on guard at her sudden enthusiasm. “Not exactly, no. The woman I marry must be one of breeding, of a gentle nature and graceful bearing. Lady Annabelle fits all of those criteria rather nicely, and with time, I am more than confident that we shall become quite fond of each other.”

  The impossible woman had the audacity to roll her eyes. “All I really wanted to know was whether or not anyone’s heart might be jeopardized if you were persuaded to marry somebody else. That is all.”

  “Miss Blackwell, I can assure you that I have no intention of marrying anyone other than Lady Annabelle. She and I have a mutual agreement. We are both honorable people. Neither one of us would ever consider going back on our word.”

  “I didn’t think as much,�
�� she mused, and before William had any time to consider what she might be about to do, she’d thrown her arms about his neck, pulled him toward her, and placed her lips against his.

  CHAPTER TWO

  * * *

  It was by no means a kiss of legend, though it did have the desired effect that Lucy was hoping for. As she pulled away from him, Lord Summersby’s eyes were not the only ones filled with shock. Indeed, the entire ballroom had fallen into a hushed silence, interrupted only by the low whispers that were making their way from person to person.

  Straightening her spine, Lucy turned to face their assessing gazes. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, “as surprising as this may be in the light of the fact that most of you have yet to make my acquaintance, Lord Summersby has just now asked me to be his wife, and I have accepted.”

  The clapping was a bit slow and hesitant at first but eventually took on a louder tone until the whole ballroom was resonating with applause.

  “A word, if I may?” Lord Summersby’s tone was curt in Lucy’s ear. For a moment there, she’d almost forgotten his presence, though it was difficult to do so now that he was dragging her away toward the terrace, his grip so tight that she was quite certain she’d bruise from it.

  “What the hell was that?” he fumed as soon as they were outside, away from the curious gazes of the ton.

  “I told you that I was in need of your service, and—”

  “Good God, woman. Are you insane? You couldn’t have what you wanted so you decided to trap me into marrying you? Have you any idea of the kind of scandal you’ve brought upon my family? Lord and Lady Forthright will be furious, and rightly so. Lady Annabelle will be furious. Everyone will think me a complete cad, though the fault lies not with me but entirely with you.”

  “I am sorry, my lord, I did not—”

  “Sorry? The devil you’re sorry, though I shall make bloody certain that you are indeed quite sorry by the time I’m through. I will not marry you.”

  “Indeed you will, my boy,” Lord Moorland stated as he walked up to them with Alexandra and another gentleman at his side. “I don’t believe you’ve met my other son, Ryan.”

  “Mr. Summersby,” the younger man corrected as he stared Lucy up and down. He was the tallest of Lord Moorland’s three children, and while he was certainly as handsome as his brother, he almost looked angrier, if such a thing was possible. Lucy shuddered, knowing that she’d crossed a family that was not to be trifled with.

  “Papa, you cannot possibly be serious. We can still find a means by which to call this disaster off.”

  “And how exactly do you plan to do that without making things worse? As it is, Lady Annabelle will no longer have you, of that you can be quite certain.”

  Lord Summersby raked his fingers furiously through his hair. “There has to be a way.”

  “None that I can see,” his father told him. “And since that is the case, we have come here to congratulate you instead.”

  Lord Summersby groaned. Lucy, who stood beside him, was doing her best to avoid eye contact with any of them. She knew she’d done an abominable thing, but marrying Lord Summersby was necessary. She couldn’t very well travel to Constantinople on her own, much less with a man she wasn’t related to, without bringing scandal upon Lady Ridgewood. Besides, he needed a wife. He’d said so himself, and since he didn’t much care for Lady Annabelle anyway, then what harm was there in him marrying someone else? Her, to be precise.

  “I must say that you surprised us all,” Alexandra stated.

  Looking up, Lucy noted the hard glare in her eyes, accusing her with the swift precision of an executioner’s sword. Mr. Summersby’s expression had not grown any less severe.

  “Well then,” Lord Moorland said. “Why don’t you join us for tea tomorrow afternoon, Miss Blackwell. I am quite sure that we would all like to become better acquainted with you. As for the wedding arrangements—I’m certain that my sister will be more than happy to oblige.”

  With a quick succession of bows and curtsies, the Summersbys took their leave of Lucy, leaving her alone on the terrace, a little closer to her goal, but perhaps more miserable than she’d been in a very long time.

  CHAPTER THREE

  * * *

  Having strategically placed himself by the window, William stared out of it in a deliberate attempt to feign disinterest in the woman seated on the sofa next to his sister. He knew he was being extraordinarily rude, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The lovely redhead had just deprived him of his freedom, and part of him wanted to lash out at her for the audacity.

  “I understand from my daughter that this is your first season in London?” he heard his father say from the other side of the room.

  “Yes, my lord,” Miss Blackwell responded, her voice a little shaky. “When I turned eighteen, Lady Ridgewood thought it time for me to venture out into society.”

  Only eighteen and yet so conniving? William thought as he groaned.

  “William,” his father said in a tone suggestive of his growing impatience with him, “won’t you join us?”

  Knowing better than to argue, William turned his head and, seeing the dark glare in his father’s eyes, decided it might be best to comply. Still, he saw no reason to pretend that he was pleased about doing so. With a shrug of his shoulders, he walked across to the nearest armchair, sat down, and crossed his arms and legs. “If I must.” He made a point of staring directly at Miss Blackwell as he said this, hoping she would catch the double entendre. With her teacup rattling against its saucer, she hastily looked away. Good. Let her suffer a little discomfort for her arrogance.

  His sister, brother, and father all stared back at him with open mouths, apparently stunned by his lack of manners. Did they really expect him to be pleasant, given the situation at hand? He could understand his father, for he certainly seemed to have fallen under Miss Blackwell’s spell, but considering that Alex and Ryan had happily criticized Miss Blackwell the night before, he would have thought they’d be more understanding. Undoubtedly their father’s words of warning prior to Miss Blackwell’s arrival had affected them more than they had him.

  “Lady Ridgewood, you say?” Bryce had turned his attention back to Miss Blackwell. “It’s been years since I’ve had the pleasure of her company.”

  “Her ladyship hasn’t ventured out much since the death of her late husband,” Miss Blackwell told him in a quiet voice as she returned her teacup to the table and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Quite right,” Bryce muttered. Then, in a brighter tone, “Well, I do hope we’ll have the pleasure of her company for the wedding. As far as I recall, she’s a lovely lady.”

  Miss Blackwell responded with a weak smile and a slight nod. “Yes. In fact, she did regret that she was unable to join me here today, but unfortunately she was otherwise engaged. My apologies, my lord—I realize that under the circumstances and as my guardian she should have been here.”

  Bryce smiled. “Well, considering how quickly things have progressed, I completely understand if she was unable to alter her plans.”

  “And yet, I was able to alter mine,” William muttered. He knew he was being childish, and as much as he disliked himself for it, he disliked Miss Blackwell more for bringing out the worst in him. This was not the sort of man he believed himself to be. He prided himself on being a gentleman in every aspect of his life, and yet the current situation was proving a difficult test of his courteous and honorable attributes.

  What he didn’t expect was for Miss Blackwell to raise her chin a notch and turn her attention on him. “My lord, I realize how displeasing this situation must be for you. I apologize for ruining your plans in regards to marrying Lady Annabelle, but I needed your help and saw no other way…Had you married her, you—”

  “I what?” William asked as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes focused intensely on Miss Blackwell’s face.

  “You would have retired to the country. You said so yourself.”

  “
And?”

  He saw her hesitate—watched as her eyes shifted about before focusing on a spot on the table. “You would not have been in a position to help me.”

  Her voice was so low he barely heard her. Whatever it was she wished for him to do, it must be important to her. But the way in which her eyes had darted around the room before she’d answered him suggested that it was a matter she wished to keep private. He doubted she’d say more with the rest of his family present, so he decided to let the matter rest for the moment. They would have plenty of time to discuss it later. Instead, he determined to show her that he would not be her lapdog. “Very well. The wedding shall take place next Saturday by special license. You will arrive at St. George’s at precisely ten o’clock, or the deal is off and you may consider yourself free to find another unsuspecting fool who’ll marry you.”

  “Did you just call yourself a fool, William?” Alexandra asked.

  “Do not test me, Alex, or you may find yourself joining Miss Blackwell on my current list of unfavorable people.”

  Biting down on her lip, Alexandra wisely chose to keep quiet this time.

  “Once the ceremony is over, we shall reconvene here for a small reception and wedding breakfast, and when I say small, I mean it. We will be no more than twenty people at most.”

  Miss Blackwell blinked. “I had hoped we might marry at the Grosvenor Chapel.”

  There was no reason for William to deny her such a wish, provided that the Grosvenor Chapel was available at such short notice. But, seizing the opportunity to give her a taste of her own medicine, he found himself saying, “Considering that you’ve had a say in everything else so far, I do believe I’ll be the one deciding this.”