Lucy knew how foolish she sounded. One couldn’t walk down a street in London without stumbling over some gentleman who wagered above his means. Lord Godfrey didn’t care whether her uncle’s pockets were empty or not. He’d have his money, no matter if he had to ruin her uncle to get it.
And if Godfrey did choose to ruin Uncle Jarvis, her aunt and Eloisa would be caught up in his penury and disgrace.
Ciaran was watching her closely. “Your uncle doesn’t have any money, butyoudo, don’t you? Forgive me, but Vale tells me you’re an heiress. As your guardian and trustee, your uncle is in control of your person and your funds, isn’t he?”
Lucy stared mutely at him. Surely, he didn’t mean—
“Has it occurred to you he intends to dispose of both to Lord Godfrey? It would be a tidy way to settle his debt.”
Lucy gaped at him, protests and denials rushing to her lips, but no matter how her heart tried to make it not so, her brain was busily putting together the puzzle pieces.
Her Uncle Jarvis owed Godfrey a debt he hadn’t a prayer of paying. He knew Lucy had the funds to pay it, but he couldn’t simply take whatever he liked from her trust. Nor could he force her to do anything against her will. He was her guardian, not her gaoler.
But she was under his care, and there was no question he could put an enormous amount of pressure on her to do his bidding. There was nothing to stop him from choosing a suitor for her and attempting to manipulate her into a marriage she didn’t want.
She’d turn twenty-one in a matter of weeks. Once she did, her uncle would lose any control he had over her and her fortune. Whatever it was he intended to do with her, he had very little time left to do it.
But surely her uncle wouldn’t go so far as to force a marriage? Lucy shivered, remembering Lord Godfrey’s hot breath on her neck tonight, the press of his arm against the back of her chair. For a gentleman who’d never received the least encouragement from her, he seemed awfully certain of himself.
Her first thought was to appeal to the Chancery Court for a change in trustee, but she discarded it at once. There was little point. On what grounds could she object to her uncle’s guardianship? That she suspected he wished to marry her to an earl and see her become a countess? The court wouldn’t consider Lord Godfrey’s age a factor—plenty of young ladies in England married men much older than themselves.
“Godfrey gets an heiress as his bride, and in return he forgives my uncle’s debt.”
Lucy marveled at her own calmness. Her heart was threatening to burst from her chest, but no one would have guessed it by her steady tone.
“I can’t know for sure that’s what your uncle intends, but when I saw him this evening, and Lord Godfrey in your party, it was the first thing I thought of.”
Lucy couldn’t deny it made sense, or that it sounded very much like something her uncle might do. He wasn’t a particularly clever man, but he had an instinctual talent for securing his own interests.
Then there’d been Uncle Jarvis’s curious behavior tonight. He always displayed an eager obsequiousness to persons of rank, but she’d never seen him as furious as he’d been tonight when she refused to dance with Lord Godfrey.
So furious she’d been afraid he’d grab her and drag her to the dance floor himself.
Ciaran ran a rough hand through his hair. “I don’t care for the way Godfrey treated you, either. As if you’re some prize piece of horseflesh he’s purchasing.”
Horseflesh? Lucy shivered. Dear God, what a chillingly descriptive metaphor.
It was out of the question, of course. Her uncle might rage and threaten as much as he liked, but nothing would ever induce her to marry Lord Godfrey. After so many years confined to Bellamy Court, she hadn’t gained her freedom at last only to see it snatched away from her.
“My uncle can’t make me marry him.”
“No, but he can make things unpleasant for you if you don’t do as he tells you.”
For her, and for Aunt Jarvis and Eloisa.
She could simply leave London and return to Devon. But what would become of her cousin and aunt if she left them at Uncle Jarvis’s mercy? No, she couldn’t abandon them. They were the only family she had left. It would break her heart to turn her back on them that way.
It was less than four weeks until she turned twenty-one. Surely there was something she could do to hold Lord Godfrey and Uncle Jarvis at bay until then? It would be better still if she could find a way to chase Lord Godfrey off for good. But what? How could she get him to cry off? Feign madness, as she’d feigned a swoon just now? Given the rumors about her father, half of London already believed her mad.
It might work, but Lucy recoiled at the idea. Pretending to madness felt like a betrayal of her father, and if London believed her mad, it would ruin whatever slim chance Eloisa had to make a decent marriage and escape Uncle Jarvis’s clutches.
No, madness wouldn’t do. A compromised reputation, then? God knew thetonwas fastidious about a lady’s behavior. She could compromise herself simply by walking down St. James’s Street, for pity’s sake. It was easily done, but then that wouldn’t do Eloisa’s cause much good, either. Her cousin would be tainted by association.
Marriage to another gentleman? That would certainly do the trick, and yet Lucy flinched away from that idea, as well. She’d made up her mind a long time ago not to marry. A marriage to Lord Godfrey would be the worst possible outcome, of course, but marriage to anyone else, no matter how lovely would be nearly as bad.
Unless it was someone she loved, but…Lucy glanced at Ciaran, then looked quickly away. There was no sense dwelling on what would never be.
But then it wouldn’t take an actual marriage, would it?
