Aunt Jarvis reached to place her teacup on the table. Her hands were shaking, and the cup rattled in the saucer. “To be fair, Augustus, we never told them to be back for—”
“Be quiet, Harriet.” Uncle Jarvis’s watery blue eyes narrowed on Lucy. “Lord Godfrey has been waiting for you this past hour!”
Lord Godfrey waved a languid hand. “Now, Jarvis, don’t scold the girl. I’m happy enough to wait.”
“Beg Lord Godfrey’s pardon for your rudeness, Lucinda,” Uncle Jarvis demanded, in the tone that always sent his wife and daughter scurrying to do his bidding. Lucy opened her mouth to refuse, but a glance at her Aunt Jarvis’s white face made her snap it closed again.
She turned to Lord Godfrey, her jaw tight. “I beg your pardon, my lord, for making you wait. I didn’t realize you were joining us for tea this afternoon.” He’d spent hours with them this morning, for pity’s sake. Wasn’t one call from Lord Godfrey enough misery for a day?
For all of Lord Godfrey’s gallant protests about being pleased to wait, Lucy could see how gratified he was to watch her grovel before him. “Nonsense, my dear girl. I’d have waited much longer for the chance to see your pretty face.”
Lucy had nothing to say in response to such gross flattery, so she only nodded, and took the place beside her aunt on the settee. Eloisa seated herself on her mother’s other side. Lucy saw Aunt Jarvis take her daughter’s hand and pat it soothingly under cover of a fold of her skirts.
All the pleasure Lucy had felt this afternoon, all the joy she felt in Ciaran’s presence drained out of her like air from a balloon, leaving her flat and exhausted. It was clear her uncle wanted this match, and he didn’t much care if Lucy shared his enthusiasm.
Was this how she’d feel every day, if she were married to Lord Godfrey? As if someone had stomped on her until all the air rushed from inside her with a sickening whoosh?
Lord Godfrey, for his part, wasfartoo enthusiastic. Teatime dragged from one hour into two as he held forth on one topic after the next, all the while ogling and smirking at Lucy as if she were one of the sweets on the tea tray. His conversation was appalling—condescending advice to Uncle Jarvis interspersed with flowery, extravagant compliments to Lucy.
Neither Aunt Jarvis nor Eloisa uttered a single word for the duration of his visit. Lord Godfrey and Uncle Jarvis didn’t seem to notice. By the time Lord Godfrey rose to take his leave, Lucy’s palms were aching from clenching her fists, and her head was pounding.
“My dear Lady Lucinda. It is, as always, my pleasure to wait on you.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Lucy’s voice was as cool as she could make it without being downright rude, but Lord Godfrey seemed to take this tepid reply as eager encouragement, because he stepped closer and grasped her hands in his. “No, Lady Lucinda. It is I who should be thanking you for your lovely company.”
Lucy tried to draw her hands away, but his hands went so tight around hers she had to smother a cry of pain as the delicate bones in her fingers ground together. Startled, her gaze rose to Lord Godfrey’s face, and her breath caught in her throat at the gleam of cold triumph she saw in his eyes.
He’d enjoyed it—enjoyed hurting her.
She jerked at her hands again, and this time he let her go. “I’m very sorry to leave your charming company so soon, Lady Lucinda. Your uncle and I have some business to discuss now, but I will, of course, call on you again tomorrow.”
Lucy said nothing. She returned to her seat beside her Aunt Jarvis on the settee. The three ladies watched as Uncle Jarvis led Lord Godfrey from the room, and not one of them said a single word.
* * * *
“Spoiled, headstrong, willful little chit.” Lord Godfrey paced from one side of the study to the other, his face a mask of rage.
Uncle Jarvis watched from behind his desk, his lips twisted in a frown. The flickering fire caught at the beads of sweat on his forehead. “You’ll soon have her well in hand, my lord.”
“Oh, you can be sure of that. I’ll break her like I did my last horse, and I’ll savor every moment of it.” Lord Godfrey swung around and pointed a finger in Jarvis’s face. “But I won’t be made a fool of in the meantime, Jarvis. It doesn’t look to me as if you’ve got control of her.”
Jarvis swallowed. “I assure you, my lord, I’ve got all the control I need. The girl’s my ward, after all.”
“Your ward,” Lord Godfrey repeated with a sneer. “She may be your ward, Jarvis, but that doesn’t mean she’ll obey your every command. I’ll tell you again, I won’t be made a fool of. If I’m going to court that chit in front of all of London, then she damn well better accept me when I ask for her hand. I won’t have thetonlaughing at me.”
“She will! You’ve got nothing to worry about, my lord. I promise you.”
Jarvis’s voice had disintegrated into a plaintive whine. Lord Godfrey glanced at him, and didn’t try to hide his disgust. He tugged his coat down with a jerk, then went to check his cravat in the looking glass hanging on the wall opposite the fireplace. “I admit I’ll put up with a good deal of trouble to have her.” He smoothed the linen and rearranged the folds to cover the sagging skin under his chin. “She’s perfect. Strong-willed and defiant, just the way I like them. That skin, and her hair…delicious. Perfectly ripe.”
“Ripe, and not yetplucked.” Jarvis let out a lewd laugh, pleased with his own wit.
Lord Godfrey’s mouth turned down with distaste. “For God’s sakes, man, she’s yourniece.”
“So she is, but any man would…what I mean is, I’m not blind, my lord. I only wish my own daughter was such a beauty. Perhaps then I could dispose of her as advantageously.”
“Miss Jarvis doesn’t compare to her cousin, of course, but she’s a pretty little bit, just the same. Pity she hasn’t a decent portion. If she did, I’d wager you could turn her to account.” Lord Godfrey snatched up his hat from Jarvis’s desk. He crossed to the door, but paused and turned to Jarvis before opening it. “You’re fortunate I’m such a patient man, Jarvis.”
