Now it was my turn to be confused.
A secret passage?
But even as I thought it, I surmised it was possible. For a rogue who knew Hartmoor castle like the back of his hand, anything was possible. There had been a secret passage from my bedroom to his art studio, so why not one to hers? And had I not escaped through one in the dungeon to the inn? The entire castle was probably riddled with them!
‘I ... I don’t know where the passage led to. He didn’t tell me. All I knew was that it was in my wardrobe. He came through on the first night we arrived, and I almost died of fright when the wardrobe door creaked open, especially as we had just been talking about ghosts ...’
‘Wait a moment,’ I said. ‘The first night?’
She nodded, lowering her eyes, and I groaned inwardly.
Locking her in had not made the slightest bit of difference! Dorian had planned on having access to her from day one. He had even gone so far as to tell her to pick the pink room because it matched her ‘pretty colouring’.
I had thought I was clever, but I was not. If I had been really smart, I would have kept Lucinda in my room with me, where he could not touch her.
Still keeping her eyes downcast, she said, ‘It was not entirely Dorian’s fault either. I wanted to learn ...’ She drew a quick breath. ‘Things. I thought that if we were going to be married, then I should know how to please him. And he agreed. He said to think of it as a higher education, one that I would not receive from a governess or my parents ...’
Seraphina’s face turned puce.
Oh Lord,I thought.If she ever gets her hands on Dorian Hart, she’s going to kill him.
***
It was well after midnight by the time we showed Seraphina and Lucinda to their rooms. We kept a few made up in case of unexpected visitors so they had fresh sheets on their beds at least, if not water to wash in, since I wasn’t going to rouse a maid at this time of night.
Seraphina wanted to keep discussing the issue, but the rest of us were exhausted, Lucinda especially. And I pointed out that she needed her rest since she was expecting. I nearly said that she also didn’t need to be dragged halfway across the countryside just so her mother could accuse me of my ‘misdemeanours’.
But there was no point adding fuel to the fire. I was already on Seraphina’s blacklist and couldn’t quite see how I was going to get off it. Her insisting that I ‘fix’ Lucinda’s problem was futile. What was I supposed to do? Travel back in time?
Max was worryingly quiet as we prepared for bed. Now that the initial shock had worn off, I couldn’t fathom what he was thinking. I looked over at him from the washstand where he was lying under the covers, as still as a statue, staring up at the ceiling. I joined him presently.
‘What is on your mind, dearest?’ I enquired tentatively. I did not think I could bear it if he was angry with me too, not after having borne the brunt of Seraphina’s temper.
Max sighed despondently. ‘I was thinking that Dorian Hart has effectively ruined Lucy’s life.’ I stiffened, and he said quickly, ‘I am not blaming you, my love. I know you did everything in your power to sever their connection once you found out his true nature.’
He reached for my hand, his warm fingers immediately striking warmth into my cold ones, and my tension eased.
‘I know I said it would be recompense if she married Harrington, but he will never want her now,’ he continued. ‘Not when she has been sullied by his brother—and even more than that, carrying his child! He would have to be a saint or a fool to propose to her, and all the while, the scoundrel himself gets off scot-free.’ Max rubbed at his jaw dejectedly. ‘If I thought it was the best thing to do, I would jolly well make Dorian marry her. But under the circumstances, I think it would cause Lucy even more pain.’
I breathed a sigh of relief at hearing him say that. Dorian Hart merrily partaking in family Christmas dinners and playing footsie with me under the table was the last thing I wanted.
‘We have to look on the bright side,’ I said. ‘Lucy and Harrington have been writing regularly to each other since our trip to Bath, and he is proving himself to be a solid, dependable suitor. There is always a chance that he will want Lucy, even once he finds out she is expecting. Weshould let him decide for himself rather than being so quick to judge. He still cared for his fiancée, Rose, and was quite prepared to marry her despite her involvement with his brother. It was Rose who ultimately did not wanthim.’
‘Hmm,’ said Max, sounding unconvinced, and a pang of fear entered my heart.What if it had been me?I wondered. What if I somehow had been carrying another man’s child after we were engaged, would Max still have wanted to marry me? It was bad enough that he had married beneath him, but a scandal of that nature would have been hard for a gentleman of his standing to overlook. I doubted very much whether I would be lying next to him in bed right now if that had occurred.
‘We cannot rely on him. We need to devise a plan that protects Lucy’s reputation,’ Max went on to say. ‘And all of ours.’
He was right. If word got out, the disgrace would ruin the Fitzroy family name. None of us would be able to hold our heads up in society.
***
The next day, after breakfast, I extricated Lucinda from Seraphina’s clutches and took her for a walk in the garden. Judging from the paleness of her face and faltering steps, shehad not slept well.
Keeping the conversation casual, I chatted about the lovely weather (sunny with a light wind) and pointed out the latest improvement that Max and I were making to the garden (a pergola). But Lucinda was not attending, and I could hardly blame her. What was a pergola when your life was on the verge of being ruined?
‘Have ... have you been ill at all?’ I asked her tentatively, knowing that morning sickness was common in the first three months.
She shook her head and drew her shawl around her with a shiver, though the day was warm. I gestured to a wooden bench and suggested we sit for a while. We sat without speaking, staring out at the raised beds of petunias and daisies that were in full bloom. Bees hummed, flying from flower to flower.
