“You are always welcome here, my boy,” the older woman had said, practically patting him on the head like a pet. Roderick smiled even as he bowed himself away from her. His mind was elsewhere.
He was a fool.
Lucy was not for him, he insisted to himself as he made his way home.
She was flighty and hid her intelligence.
She loved gossip and social events and fashion and flitting about Town.
She would terrify his scholars.
But she had agreed to Gilbert’s scheme without hesitation. And she had mentioned herself as a possible wife when he had already described his possible expulsion from Society. And Sean hadn’t been terrified, he had actually thought her delightful. Perhaps she wasn’t as determined to remain a social fixture as he expected.
Was he even more of a fool than he had thought?
Roderick had to resist the urge to go to Simmons House right then rather than wait until a reasonable hour to call and assure himself of whether or not he was crazy. Besides, Lord Simmons wouldn’t thank him for causing a scandal, that was certain.
But by morning he might have missed his chance.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucy felt the burn of embarrassment deep in her throat throughout the rest of the ball despite the jolly time she demonstrated to everyone around her. Anyone looking at her would think she was having the time of her life, she was sure.
Instead, she wanted to go home. Not home to her brother’s townhouse, but home to the country. Well, actually, she wanted to go home to her husband’s home in the country. Somewhere she might never have to leave again. But she didn’t have a husband. That was why she was in Town in the first place. But the entire exercise was starting to pall for her.
Why had she blurted out her availability to Roderick? And why hadn’t he taken her seriously?
Mortification continued threatening to swamp her even as she changed into her night clothes and climbed into bed. Lucy wondered if she would be able to sleep through the dreadful feelings.
She did sleep, but the discomfort of her feelings was waiting for her when she awoke. It wasn’t even untrue when she claimed a headache and asked for a tray to be brought to her room. She had decided she didn’t really believe there was any real danger to her, but she had promised Roderick she would stay home so she supposed she ought to do so.
By mid-afternoon, though, she was starting to feel confined and irritable. Surely a walk with her maid and even a footman in tow wouldn’t do any harm.
Her sister-in-law wanted to accompany her, but Lucy insisted she just needed the air and some more solitude. Lucy chose to ignore the expression of concern on Isabelle’s face as she made her way out of the house.
Lucy wished she could confront Gilbert about matters, but he was likely to be staying at Northcott House. If Lucy called there was a real possibility of running into Roderick. While a part of her thrilled at the thought, the rest of her rejected the idea. She continued on to the park she had intended to visit, but her feet were restless. Lucy thought she might be able to put the matter completely from her mind if she visited the park she had gone to with Roderick on Gilbert’s investigation, so she collected her servants and continued walking, ignoring her maid’s faint disdain over the length of their walk. The footman appeared delighted to be escaping his other duties for this long, but the maid was far less pleased.
The varying reactions brought a bit of amusement to lighten Lucy’s gloom. Still, though, Lucy was more restless than she had ever been. Frustration welled within her. She wanted to know more about the plot Gilbert had involved her and Roderick in. How could he have asked her to become a participant and then drop her completely from the investigation? Surely he ought to have known that once she was involved, she needed to know what was going on.
Well, since no one seemed to think she needed to know anything more, she would find out for herself. She had brought her servants with her just as she had promised, so she refused to feel badly for not remaining home. Lucy was determined to reach the park where she and Roddie had the strange experience. For the rest of her days, Lucy knew she would never forget having such a one-sided conversation. But her insides warmed as she remembered that Roderick had, in fact, been paying attention to what she had prattled on about, even to the point of commenting on what gown she was going to wear to a ball, something she had thought he would take no heed of. She shouldn’t allow herself to dwell on the warm feelings the thought generated, but it was difficult not to do so.
Lucy steered her thoughts back to the matter at hand. It was a challenge since the matter at hand did involve Roderick, but she tried hard to separate her feelings out of the mix of confusing thoughts chasing themselves around her head. Now was not the time. Apparently there were murderous traitors about, and she needed to see to stopping them.
A thrill shivered through her. She was going to do something important for once in her frivolous life.
Lucy nearly stopped in her tracks at that errant thought. Important? Frivolous life? Did she really think that? Guilt assailed her as it always did when she thought about using her brain for something other than planning the most delectable dinner party. Thoughts of her last argument with her father chased through her mind.
Just before he died they’d had their worst blow-up about her interest in books and learning. The things they’d said to one another could never be taken back. Ever since then, even though it was closing in on eight years past, Lucy couldn’t think about reading or learning without getting a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
But surely her father would want her to help prevent the Prime Minister’s murder if she had knowledge of it. Of course, he wouldn’t be too happy about how she had acquired said knowledge. But she had it, and now it needed to be dealt with. She would just have to get over the sick feeling of guilt. It was not at all useful or helpful.
That thought felt treacherous to Lucy and her footsteps lagged as she pondered the idea. Was it possible her father had been wrong in his insistence that she be an empty-headed dunce rather than cultivate her intelligence?
As she continued toward the park, Lucy pondered the direction her thoughts were taking. Was it possible she could be truly herself? Even in Society? How disloyal would it be to her father? Could she truly do it?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a pleasant happenstance when she ran into Miss Bastion and Lord Philips.
“Good afternoon, Miss Scranton,” they both chorused, almost in unison.
