“That is the understatement of the century. You seem to be able to draw a side out of Henry that he shows to no one else. He’s not usually prone to temper tantrums and most certainlynot to lover’s quarrels. Nonetheless, I witnessed both yesterday. Has he proposed?” Lucy kneaded her hands in her skirt as she attempted to stutter a response. “I see he has.” The older woman tapped her cane against the floor impatiently. “You’d better marry him.”
Lucy jumped up. “Oh no, no no. I never meant—this is terrible!” She paced the floor, then plopped down on the ottoman again and wrung her hands. “Yes, he proposed,but he didn’t mean it. He was excessively cross about it. I’m certain the last thing he wants to do is marry me.”
“My girl. Let’s get one thing straight. No Ashmore ever does something he—or she—does not want to do. It is a law of life. Now. If Ashmore proposed, he wants to marry you.”
Lucy backed away. “I’d make a terrible duchess!”
“I entirely agree. You’re like a hurricane within this house and estate. You create minor disasters wherever you go. You’re entirely unsuitable to be a duchess.” She sniffed.
“Well then, we’re in agreement.” Lucy clutched at her dress.
“Yet maybe that’s precisely what Henry needs,” the dowager went on. “Little disasters daily to jolt him out of his shell. Little reminders that life is unpredictable and messy. Not this milk and water miss that is better kept in a porcelain cabinet. There is nothing about Lady Louisa that challenges Ashmore. You, however—you’d do so nicely.”
“No. You are mistaken! We don’t get along at all. We fight the entire time. He disapproves of me! There is just something about his haughtiness that infuriates me. He’d be better off with Lady Louisa. They will never fight and live happily ever after with ten children.”
“Fiddlesticks. Henry never used to be like that. David and Henry, they were two little hellboys when they grew up. Forevermore getting into trouble. When David died, he fell off that selfsame roof that you so rashly attempted to climb yourself—something in Henry froze up. He retreated behind this shell of his. He drowns himself in work and duty. And he is overly protective of Arabella. He is stifling her. It isn’t good for her. The best thing he did was send her to that school.” The dowager sniffed.“It pains me to admit,but that place was good for her. Until you came along.”
“See? I’m a disaster. Everyone is better off without me. Now, if you could help me convince the duke to write me a letter of recommendation, I will return to the Seminary and leave you all in peace and everyone will be happy again.”
“Nonsense. Whatever on earth do you plan on doing at the Seminary? You don’t intend to teach?” she cackled.
Lucy sat up straight. “Why, yes. That was the general idea.”
“Nonsense. You’ll be bored within a fortnight, after you have ruined the Seminary.”
Lucy had the sinking feeling she wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Last night was a tremendous mistake. It was a stupid thing to do. But I didn’t knowthat his brother died like that. I would never have done it had I known. In any event, he doesn’t really want to marry me.” They were friends, maybe, and he had an obnoxious sense of duty that told her he needed to marry her. But there wasn’t much more than that, was there? Then why did she feel so hopelessy confused?
“Be that as may. I’ve decided to keep you. You can either marry my grandson or you can become my companion. Make up your mind what it is to be.”
“It is to be neither.”
Lucy got up, curtsied stiffly and left the room, even though it was rude of her to leave before she was dismissed.
Lover’s quarrel.
“Nonsense,” she muttered to herself, but her heart leapt.
Chapter 18
Meg finished adjusting the hem of Lucy’s ball gown. “How lovely you look, Miss.”
It was Saturday, the day of the ball. She wore a white muslin gown with a low-cut bodice, embroidered at the hem with golden roses. Little curls framed Lucy’s face and nervous excitement made her cheeks glow. It was her first real ball. The dancing evenings at the Seminary which Miss Hilversham had organised for practice didn’t count. Would she remember the steps? She wished this evening were done and over with.
“If I may say so. Tonight, you will outshine even Lady Louisa.” Meg pulled a crease out of the dress and looked satisfied.
“Fiddlesticks, Meg.”
Meg grinned. “You sound like the Dowager Duchess.”
“Alas.” Lucy sighed. Meg was right. She’d turn into a crotchety old lady like the dowager if she didn’t take care.
Lucy sawLord Blackmore raised his quizzing glass and watch her descend the stairs to the hall in front of the ballroom.
“Wouldn’t call her a diamond of the first water, exactly, but otherwise she seems to be a decently fetching thing,” she heard him say to Lord Rawleigh. “If one disregards her alarming tendency towards arithmetic.”
“Eh.” Rawleigh studied her from top to bottom. Lucy frowned as she dropped into a quick curtsy, then moved past them. “A bit too thin for my taste,” he told Blackmore.
