“Arake!”
“I’m afraid so. Please don’t misunderstand me, Miss Jarvis. He’s a very good brother, and I’m tremendously fond of him, but there’s simply no denying Sebastian’s as wicked a gentleman as you’ll find in London.”
“My goodness.” Eloisa fell back against her chair, her mouth open in shock.
None of them seemed to know what to say after that, and they lapsed into silence.
Lucy was the first to rally. “Well, what a sad trio we are, to be sure.”
Eloisa frowned. “Nonsense. What’s sad about us?”
“Unrequited, poor, and mad.” Lucy pointed to Lady Felicia, Eloisa, and herself in turn. “Not quite the cream of London society, are we? It’s not any wonder the three of us spent most of Lady Ivey’s ball as wallflowers.”
“What an awful thing to say, Lucy!” Eloisa huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
“But true, all the same.”
Lady Felicia was staring at her. “Mad? Who’s mad? You’re the last lady in London I would call mad, Lady Lucinda.”
“Oh, I’m not, I promise you, but it hardly matters. My father was the Earl of Bellamy, you see. Damning proof, isn’t it? Most of London has already drawn their conclusions about me.”
It wasn’t the least bit funny, but a grin was stealing across Lucy’s lips. It was just so dreadful. What else was there to do but laugh? Surely their prospects were the most dismal of all the young ladies in London.
Not that her own plans had anything to do with the marriage mart. When her uncle had proposed a season she’d agreed to it for Eloisa’s sake, and because she’d always wanted to visit London. But a husband? No. A husband didn’t figure into her plans. She wouldn’t change her mind about that.
Whether her Uncle Jarvis would try to force her to change it, well…that was anyone’s guess. “Ironic, isn’t it? Of the three of us I’m the most likely to be saddled with a husband, and I’m the only one of us who doesn’t want one.”
She’d said it more to herself than her companions, but Eloisa and Lady Felicia jerked their attention back to her at once.
“You don’t want a husband, Lucy?” Eloisa asked, at the same time as Lady Felicia said, “What husband? Who are you going to marry?”
Lucy hesitated. She’d lain awake for hours last night, her brain jumping from Uncle Jarvis to Lord Godfrey to Ciaran until she felt as if a terrified mouse had been let loose inside her head. She’d woken bleary-eyed, but by the time breakfast was over and she, Eloisa, and Aunt Jarvis were cozily installed in the drawing room, she’d convinced herself Ciaran was exaggerating the danger.
What did they really know about Uncle Jarvis’s intentions? Only that her uncle had met Lord Godfrey in Brighton, and likely spent time at the gaming tables with him wagering money he didn’t have. They didn’t know if he’d actuallylostsubstantial sums. That is, it was likely he had, since one didn’t usually win when they wagered while in their cups.
That aside, they didn’t have any reason to suspect Uncle Jarvis would go so far as to try and force Lucy to marry Lord Godfrey. Yes, Lord Godfrey had turned up in London out of nowhere, but that wasn’t so very suspicious. It was the season, after all.
She’d been quite comforted by these reflections, right up until this morning, when Lord Godfrey had appeared on the doorstep of their lodgings in Portman Square, all politeness and insincere charm. He’d paid particular attention to Lucy during the call, hardly sparing a word or a glance for Eloisa.
He’d behaved, in short, very much like a man embarking on a courtship.
The very idea sent a shiver of dread down Lucy’s spine.
For his part, Uncle Jarvis didn’t even appear to notice Lord Godfrey’s rudeness to his daughter. He’d squeezed his bulk into a chair before the fire, a satisfied smirk on his face as Lord Godfrey flattered Lucy and preened like a peacock.
Something was wrong with this business. Lucy could feel it in the pit of her stomach. Uncle Jarvis was as smug as a cat who’d got the cream, and Lord Godfrey wasn’t making a secret of what he wanted.
And what he wanted was Lucy.
He wanted to marry her, and he’d begun courting her with her uncle’s enthusiastic approval. “Well, there’s a chance—just a possibility, mind you—that my uncle means to…”
Lucy trailed off, biting her lip. She didn’t want to upset Eloisa by accusing her father of such a loathsome scheme, but as it happened, she needn’t have been concerned. Eloisa didn’t know about the wagering, but she’d already come to her own conclusions.
“Marry her to Lord Godfrey,” Eloisa finished, her face grim.
“Lord Godfrey!” Lady Felicia’s voice was shrill with horror. “But that’s abominable! He’s far too old for you!”
“Three times her age, and with the coldest eyes I’ve ever seen.” Eloisa’s lips were tight.
