“It is a fair trade,” Sally murmured.
“More than fair. Lucy and Marsden are both entirely useless unless one needs access to the River Tees. Or a wife. Dufton conveniently needs both. Even if he finds a bit of copper, I still have the better end of our deal.”
How bloody clever of Father.Pain pulled at Lucy’s heart, every bit of hope she’d held onto gone.
“You are quite clever, darling.”
Lucy could practically see Father’s chest puffing out at the compliment.
“I am, aren’t I? I’ll be rid of Pendergast, since Estwood still wants the ironworks and will pay a ridiculous amount for it. He’ll be responsible for the contracts I’ve defaulted on, the evidence of which Hopps and Colm have buried far too deep to be found. Dufton pays off our debtsandtakes Lucy off our hands. I’ll be made whole. Once all is settled…” His voice lowered. “We’ll go to Paris for a time. Would you like that, my dear?”
Sally didn’t answer. Peering beneath the sofa, Lucy could see her pacing across the rug.
“There is something I must tell you, husband.” Her pacing stopped. “Lucy attempted to refuse Dufton. I grow concerned that she…”
“She did what?” Father growled.
The silk of Sally’s skirts rustled as she moved in his direction. “During their carriage ride in the park. She told Dufton they weren’t a good match. And then again today, she said the same to me after he took his leave. She was rather adamant…for Lucy.I—took the precaution of having one of the kitchen maids watch her.”
Father huffed. “Unbelievable. My daughter hasn’t shown a streak of independent thought in years. Can she not see I’m doing her a favor? Lucy would never garner such a match on her own.”
Well, no. Lucy’s mind screamed.Because you stole my dowry.
“Sheisof age, Mr. Waterstone. Well past. You can’t force her.”
“To marry?” A dry, caustic laugh came from Father. “I most certainly can. She’ll do as I say, as she has her entire life. My daughter is like a dog, Sally. Ever obedient. Willing to do anything for praise or a reward. Rebellion is unknown to her. Even had she the courage to leave, where would she go? Lucy has no friends. No funds. I am her only family. Do not fear—if she manages to summon the bravery to run away, I’ll have her brought back.” He spat out the words.
“But—”
“My dear,” Father said in a softer tone. “Rest assured, if I have to feed her laudanum until she’s barely conscious to force her before Dufton and a vicar, I will do so.” His voice grew tight. “I will not live in poverty. Nor will you. And Lucy will be a countess, which will only elevate our own place in society. I’ve given her a roof over her head for years. This is the least she can do. And…” His voice hardened. “Shewillmarry Dufton.”
Lucy didn’t raise her head from the rug, pressing so forcefully to keep herself silent, she was certain the outline of every fiber would be embedded in her forehead. To say that her father’s words cut deeply would be an understatement. Her heart felt as if it were bleeding in her chest.
I am no more than a thing to Father.
One which finally had a use. Not his daughter. Not his beloved child. But something of moderate value to be traded.
This was far worse than finding out he’d taken her dowry. Or forbidding her to speak. Or forgetting her stupid birthday.
She bit her lip so hard, she tasted blood.
“His lordship requested I escort Lucy to the modiste tomorrow. He wants her to have a new wardrobe. Suitable gowns, especially one for the Shaftoe ball, where she’ll be introduced to the dowager countess,” Sally informed him.
“Do not let her out of your sight. I assume Dufton will be paying the modiste bill—because I refuse to spend another farthing on her. She’s lived on my charity for years.”
Because you wouldn’t let anyone court me. Because you stole my dowry. My inheritance.
“Yes. Of course.”
“Generous of Dufton. Now…” Father’s voice dropped to a purr. “Allow me to put your mind at ease, wife.” Silence, except for the smacking of lips. “We should celebrate our good fortune.”
Sally giggled. “But not here, Mr. Waterstone. If you’ll recall, this sofa isn’t quite wide enough to be comfortable.”
Thank God.
A few more moments passed, in which Lucy was subjected to another soft moan and more giggles from Sally before they finally exited the study. She waited, listening to the clock on Father’s desk tick away the minutes until she was sure she was alone. Clutching the edge of the sofa, Lucy forced herself to stand on unsteady legs. Exhaling slowly, she returned to the drawing room still in a state of shock from the conversation she’d overheard. She couldn’t bear to go upstairs and risk overhearing Father and Sally.
Marsden—and why Dufton chose me—is no longer a mystery, at any rate. I’m to be bartered for Father’s debts and river access.
