“I do not know.”
“Well, then. I am certain it was a man, and likely a very ugly man.”
He chuckled, surprising both Lucy and himself. “Probably so. And yes, many of these rules are, as you so eloquently say, stupid. Thank you for clarifying just how stupid.”
She began rising from her chair. “You are welcome, Mr. Beaumont. Now, if you do not mind, I have drunk too much tea and must attend the loo.”
She dropped a still ungainly curtsy and departed the room. Henry laid his head in his hands and mumbled mournfully.
“So little time.”
…
Lucy’s spirits were buoyant in the afterglow of besting Henry again in a battle of wits. How she had enjoyed watching him squirm as she maneuvered him with uncomfortable questions. How she had delighted in contorting his handsome features into consternation, shock, and finally laughter. His capitulation at the end of the conversation proved both surprising and satisfying. After taking leave of Henry, she spent time alone in her chambers reading, assuming he would go his way until the next day. For that reason, the sound of his voice as she later descended the stairs was unexpected. She padded slowly through the entrance hall, following the sound of hushed conversation between Henry and the duchess. Upon hearing her name, she paused short of the parlor to listen.
“I worry over Lucy’s preparation,” the duchess said. “Do you believe she will be ready for suitors of high station?”
Henry’s low chuckle emanated from the room. “I think not.”
“Explain.”
“You wish her to be prepared for suitors of high station. You are well acquainted with such men of London Society—those with titles. They demand delicate perfection from their wives.”
Lucy’s face fell as the condemning words washed past her. In the pause, she admitted agreement with him. Delicate she was not. He spoke again, his voice lower still.
“Your granddaughter’s manner and behavior would be an affront to men of that station. You know as well as I do that no such men would desire your granddaughter in her current state.”
Tears sprang unbidden from Lucy’s eyes. She turned to leave, but halted. As she considered storming the parlor, the duchess spoke.
“Given your assessment, I worry over a lack of interested suitors.” Deep sadness colored her voice. “Such a scenario might destroy what little social confidence she has acquired. I am afraid it might break her.”
Henry chuckled softly. “Do not worry. I predict an abundance of suitors.”
Lucy cocked her head. An abundance of suitors? The duchess asked the obvious question on her behalf.
“How so, Mr. Beaumont?”
“Every entitled scoundrel, rake, and social climber will turn out in the attempt to win the hand of one with such a significant dowry and such excellent breeding. Gentlemen of high character will refrain from the competition to avoid the stench of impropriety.”
“Surely, you do not believe that!” The tone was defensive. “I believe a worthier class of man will step forward. In fact, I am certain of it.”
Henry hummed. “Perhaps you are correct. However, the class of suitor will not alter her fate.”
“And that is?”
A sigh emanated from Henry. “The man who weds your granddaughter will likely stash her away in a country estate so he may dally with women he considers worthier of his new social status. She will be left utterly alone and discarded.”
Lucy bit her knuckle to keep from crying out. Did Henry truly describe her fate? The duchess appeared to answer the question with resignation.
“My granddaughter will be shut away from Society and forgotten with no recourse but to obey her husband. Is that what you are saying?”
“I believe so. However, I do not wish that for her.”
Lucy blinked rapidly. The softness in Henry’s reply drew her nearer the door. She stopped short again when the duchess spoke.
“What do you wish for her, then, Mr. Beaumont?”
“I…” A moment of silence passed. “I wish that shenotbe hidden away as if something shameful. Your granddaughter is a wild colt. She must be allowed to run free and not be confined to a cage. I fear further confinement will drain her of life, drop by drop.”
