Father had once dictated the very words from her mouth, but he couldnotforceher to become Lady Dufton. She had reached her limit of obedience. If he failed to see reason, Lucy would take what little pin money she possessed and flee. The sum wouldn’t get her far. But away from London was all she needed.
The maid followed her inside the house, trailing a few steps behind.
“I am going to see my father.” She stopped and snarled at the girl, who wisely took a step back. Lucyneverraised her voice. Rarely spoke. But she was so…angry. “Stop.”
The maid sent her an apologetic look but continued to follow behind as Lucy marched to Father’s study. “Go away.” She halted once more. “I’m hardly likely to flee through an open window.”
Intolerable. This had to be Sally’s doing.
The girl wisely retreated, but Lucy spied a hint of her skirts at the end of the hall.
Taking a deep breath, she steeled her resolve. Father was many things, but he loved her. Lucy was his only child. He couldn’t possibly know the extent of Dufton’s character defects. Nor would he knowingly push her towards a marriage in which she would be abused. He need only be apprised of the situation.
Father loves me. He is only…ill-advised.
Reaching the study, Lucy was surprised to find the door already open. She stepped inside, chin raised and summoned the courage to make her speech but met only an empty roominstead. She was about to look for Father elsewhere when footsteps sounded in the hall.
“Unfortunate that we cannot simply sell the land. How much easier this would be.”
“If it were possible, I would have already done so. Joshua Marsden, whom I hope is rotting in hell, made sure I could never profit from the property, not that Marsden is worth much. But the stipulations of his will are ironclad.”
Lucy quickly ducked behind the large sofa in Father’s study, covering her mouth to keep the gasp of surprise from being heard.
How could she have forgotten?
Joshua Marsden had been Mama’s grandfather. Lucy hadn’t heard the name spoken since she was a child—and then only rarely. Their lone meeting, when she had barely been out of the nursery, had been so long ago. A vague, misty memory came to her of an elderly man, hardly able to sit upright in a chair. Mama had fussed over him, fluffing pillows and kissing his cheek. There was nothing else Lucy could recall. She’d never seen him again.
“Colm’s chance meeting with Lord Dufton has proved most fortuitous,” Sally cooed. “He strikes me as a most useful sort of man. Colm.”
Lucy did know Colm. Not personally of course, only that he managed Pendergast for Father and did a poor job of it. According to the ledgers Lucy had reviewed, Colm was far better at adjusting the ledgers than handling the ironworks.
“More advantageous that Dufton wants the property because of the river access, but I’m grateful to Colm for ascertaining his interest.” Father made a disgruntled sound. “Trust me, if Marsden could be sold, I would already have forged Lucy’s signature instead of entering into this agreement with Dufton. And I would have used the proceeds to purchase that blastedironworks instead of using her dowry. But I had little choice in the matter.”
“We could dearly use that sum now,” Sally said.
Lucy’s fingers dug into the rug.Father had used her dowry.She pressed her mouth to the floor to keep from screaming—so that he could take Pendergast from Estwood.
“But where Lucy goes, so goes Marsden. Heattachedthe land to her,” Father spat out. “Like some sort of burr on a saddle. Can’t be sold but must stay in the possession of a direct Marsden descendent. How he managed to make such a stipulation legal is beyond me.” Father choked. “Lucy can barely form a sentence. Why attach property to her? Can’t even be used as a dowry.” A sigh. “Joshua always was the most despicable of men.”
Or he’d hated Gerald Waterstone.
Lucy’s fingers curled into fists, heart stinging from Father’s mockery of her. She kept her face pressed into the rug. Mr. Hopps had lied.
Oh, Lucy, of course he had.
A small flicker of hope flared inside her. If Marsden was land and it wasattachedto her, perhaps there was a small estate on the property. A cottage. A place to which Lucy could escape.
“Colm speculated there might be a bit of copper on the land. Possibly. But Marsden has little else to recommend it—except rock and half decent access to the river.”
“Copper?” Sally breathed.
“Put it out of your mind. As I’ve said, even had I the funds, I’m not permitted to excavate the land or use it in any way. I couldn’t build a dock and lease it to others. If there were a house on that barren strip, I would not even be permitted to live in it. I can’t touch Marsden for any reason.”
Lucy shut her eyes, her hopes that Marsden might offer some sort of escape dashed.
“Marsden is worthless,” Father chuckled. “Until now.”
A horrible realization twisted in Lucy’s stomach. One so terrible, she nearly covered her ears to keep from hearing what Father would say next, because she knew, didn’t she? Dufton’s words in the park now made a great deal more sense.
