“As you wish, Miss Locket.”
She inhaled a deep breath and poured forth the story of the dark day, eleven years earlier, when her idyllic world had crumbled.
Gripped by the terror of an incomprehensible event, Lucy stared fixedly at her father. He crouched before her as the carriage rocked to a stop. Every fiber of her senses strained toward his grimly urgent instructions.
“You must take courage, Lucy. Courage beyond anything you have required before.”
She held her father’s gaze while highwaymen on horseback shouted threats both vague and oddly specific, and noted an air of nobility surpassing anything she had recognized in him before. Unkempt hair framed an angular face, while the fine coat bearing the dukedom’s crest strained against his shoulders.
“Promise me?”
“I promise.”
He nodded with pride in his eyes before retrieving a familiar locket from his coat. He slipped the chain over her head and patted it against her chest.
“This bears the seal of House Huntington, Duke of Ramsbury. It marks you as protected by the Crown and beyond ill treatment. If the worst happens, the locket may preserve your life. Protect it as if sacred. Protect it for our family. Do you understand?”
She nodded numbly, her emotions awhirl, and tucked the locket inside her dress. Her father stepped from the coach to confront the highwaymen, speaking to them calmly. Not so calm, however, was the driver who discharged a pistol while tossing it to the ground. The horses bolted, throwing Lucy to the floor. When she regained her seat, her eyes met those of a man wearing a purple mask. His mount flew alongside the carriage as he strained to recapture the runaway vehicle. After an eternity of trying and failing, he reached one hand through the window.
“Take my hand, girl! Before…”
As if in anticipation of his unspoken warning, the horses broke free and the carriage careened from the road and down an embankment toward the gushing Thames, all the while tilting slowly to one side. Lucy tumbled against the opposite door as the carriage tipped past the perilous point of no return. A bone-jarring shudder marked the moment of impact with the river, followed by a shocking inrush of chill waters. The flow closed quickly around her and muffled the chaos. Disoriented, she thrashed wildly in search of bearings as the coach door drifted open in the darkness of the swollen river. With her last breath leaking from an open mouth, Lucy beat desperately toward the light for what seemed an eternity before surfacing. She immediately inhaled part breath and water, producing a violent cough that increased her panic and threatened to return her to the murk below. Fortunately, her aquatic skills, honed over the course of many Mediterranean summers, served to keep her afloat. With waterlogged eyes, she scanned for a glimpse of the shoreline. There! Although carried rapidly by the current, she dipped her head and paddled toward a wall of trees. Two dozen desperate strokes brought her within grasping range of the tall grass that carpeted the bank. After a few failed attempts, she found purchase sufficient to haul her body into the shallows.
Lucy lay unmoving, half submerged in the tugging current before crawling wearily onto the tree-lined bank. She collapsed into the grass and dropped her head between gathered knees, sobbing. How long she remained that way she could not tell, but a hand upon her shoulder roused her. She spun, expecting to find her father safe and sound. Instead, she met the studying gaze of a familiar stranger. The purple mask now lay limp against his neck. She leaped up and nearly stumbled into the river before he pulled her to safety.
“Take care, young lady.” The cultured accent matched the young man’s dapper appearance and handsome face. “You only just completed your last swim. I rather believe you lack the strength for another.”
She wrenched her arm from his grasp. He held both palms before her in a show of calm.
“I wish you no injury, miss.” As his gaze swept the river behind Lucy, his eyes dimmed. He whispered, “That should never have happened. Horrible bad luck.”
He watched the current roll by before reengaging Lucy’s eyes and appeared to force a smile. “I wish only to talk, girl.”
Through tear-stained eyes, she glared suspiciously but nodded. He accepted the gesture as affirmation.
“The first order of conversation is the locket around your neck. Let us speak of that.”
Her hand darted to her neck and found with relief that the locket had survived the tumultuous plunge, though now on full display. He watched as she fingered the necklace, his eyes mutely testifying that he understood its meaning. He nodded as if satisfied.
“And just what shall I call you?”
Panic rose anew in Lucy. Her eyes darted wildly in search of escape, but the thick trees pinned her within the man’s reach no matter her direction of flight. She carefully considered her father’s words concerning the locket and his admonition of courage. Though crushed by fear, she straightened her spine and stood primly before the tall man.
“My name is Lucy.”
His eyebrows arched with skepticism. “Lucy, you say? Not Lady Margaret Huntington?”
“My father calls me Lucy.”
He watched her in grim silence. “Very well…Miss Lucy Locket.”
“Just Lucy,” she corrected.
His devilish smile returned as quickly as it had departed. “Oh, no. I believe Lucy Locket is a superior alias. Just as in the vulgar rhyme of the common folk.”
She gazed at him blinking. His smile broadened. “The rhyme? You do not know it?”
She shook her head.
