For a fleeting moment, she suspected Lord Garvey was Lady Garvey’s brother-in-law, here to pursue her hand. The duchess appeared to sense the discomfort.
“Lucy, dear. Lord Garvey is the esteemed husband of Lady Garvey and executor of my late husband’s will. He has come to vet the suitors.”
“Vet the suitors?”
Lord Garvey leaned forward and gave a kindly wink. “Any blackguard seeking your hand must first pass muster with me. When and if you come to an arrangement with a suitor, I will verify his compliance with the terms of the will.”
His warm manner put her somewhat at ease. She felt relieved to learn of allies—others working for her best interest. Henry could do only so much, given his lack of status.
“You have my gratitude, my lord.”
He smiled at his wife. “As you said. Lovely and extraordinarily pleasant.”
“Indeed.”
“Indeed,” repeated the duchess with pride in her eyes. “Now, Lucy, tell me all about your training and spare no details.”
Although Lucy’s relationship with the duchess had been brief, she had come to love her. She wanted desperately to be the granddaughter the duchess deserved. Playing her role as best she could, she walked with the new arrivals inside and spent the next hour providing the requested details about her stay at Ardmoore. Her spirits lifted as the time passed, until the footman came again with a bow.
“Visitors, my lady.”
The new arrivals nearly knocked Lucy from her chair. Lady Isabella appeared in the doorway and curtsied to the duchess, as did Miss Braye and Miss Wharton at her side.
“Your Grace.”
“Lady Isabella.”
Lucy shot the duchess a look of alarm. While her grandmother appeared unenthusiastic about the guests, she did not seem surprised. Dark memories of the dinner party humiliation rampaged through Lucy’s head. Why weretheyhere? The ones who had cut her publicly and with such fervor? And why would the duchess allow it? As if reading Lucy’s thoughts, the duchess locked eyes with her.
“Mr. Beaumont invited them.”
Lucy clenched her fists in raging disbelief. Why would Henry do this to her? After all the progress they had made? She forced herself to lock eyes with Isabella. The smug women curtsied again, but only just so.
“Lady Margaret. How nice to see you.”
Angry resolve bloomed abruptly in Lucy. She loosened her clenched fists but declined to dip her chin. “Join us, if it suits you.”
The women had no sooner sat when Isabella faced Lucy. “Lady Margaret, allow me to express my admiration for the resilience of one who fails utterly in public but returns as if nothing disastrous has happened.”
Isabella’s friends snickered at the slight. Lucy, however, produced a fierce smile for her adversary. “And yet here you are, Lady Isabella. I must commend you.”
Lucy’s smile did not abate as she considered Isabella’s stunned reaction. The haughty woman had not changed these past several weeks. However, Lucy most definitely had.
…
Several hours later, Lucy was wandering the grounds alone, in an attempt to find separation from her visitors, when she spied the other suitors approaching. A stately, open carriage with a driver and four passengers raced up the driveway, flanked by a pair of outriders in military uniforms. She ducked reflexively behind a bank of manicured shrubs, self-conscious. Only when the parade halted at the entrance did she realize that one of the uniformed outriders was Henry. Her hand flew instinctively to rest against her breast as she watched him. She lowered the hand as her outrage returned. His invitation of Lady Isabella still stung deeply even hours after the woman’s arrival. She did not know whether to embrace Henry or spit in his eye.
As the men dismounted from horse and carriage, she craned her neck to spy on them through the dense foliage. She recognized Warwick from his stature. The others remained strangers to her eyes. With the loose but shallow comradery that seemed the realm of men, the arrivals sauntered up the walk while servants wrestled with baggage.
She abandoned her espionage and sighed. This, of all moments, was the one she had dreaded most. Her gaze found the tenant farms a mile distant, and she entertained the notion of running there to hide. The sound of her name on the breeze dashed her burgeoning plan.
“Lucy, dear! Where are you?”
She could not resist Charlotte’s concerned call and emerged from the shrubs. “I am here.”
“Are you well?”
“Of course,” she lied. “Now, if you will, please lead me to my execution and make it clean.”
