Page 102 of Give Him a Chance

“He’s not likely to come back, is he?”

No. Bernard Dixon, or whoever he was, would not return.

Oh, it had been exciting, and that was perhaps how she had managed to get utterly swept up in the whole thing. There had been an exhilaration to him, a wild, rebellious freedom in falling in love with a man from what she’d thought had been a completely different class, whose biggest problems in life had been finding food, not keeping Lady Romeril happy.

But when it came down to it, they were too different. That was what Lucy had decided when mulling over the argument they’d had.

They wanted such different things from life, had done such different things in life—was it any wonder that they could not find happiness together?

Lucy swallowed down the lump threatening to rise in her throat. Not that she hadn’t want to give him a chance.

“End transportation! End transportation! End transportation!”

“It’s all very noisy, isn’t it dear?” opined her mother.

Lucy tried to smile. “It is a protest, Mama.”

“Yes, but you would think the gentlemen in charge might respond better to kindness.” The countess shrugged, showing all the hallmarks of boredom creeping in—never a good sign.

As she had done from a young ago—Percy had taught her this trick—Lucy said vaguely, “Yes, I suppose they might…if only we knew the odds of that approach succeeding.”

A sparkle shone in her mother’s eyes, and before Lucy could say another word, she had dived into her reticule, pulled out notebook and pencil, and was eagerly opening it up. “Yes, yes, that’s interesting—one would have to take into account the temperament of the judge, and the number required to enact law—bring in Parliament, yes, and the time of year and how many other bills were being considered…”

It was remarkable, even Lucy had to admit, how swiftly her mother could be lost in her numbers. She herself was like that with the Prison Reform Society. Or at least, she had been.

Stupid Bernard Dixon. The man had utterly distracted her from her life’s goals, and where had that left her?

“End transportation!”

Right, right. Protesting outside the Brighton courthouse.

Lucy took a deep breath, raised her placard to shake it in time with the chant, and tried not to think that the last time she had been here, she had just acquired a supposed criminal of her very own.

Bernard Dixon.

“Mr. Dixon,” said her mother vaguely.

Lucy glared at her mother, who was now leaning against the wall with a furrowed brow as she stared at her notebook. “Why on earth would you bring him up now?”

“Why, I was only sayinggood day,” the countess said hazily, gesturing with her notebook.

Lucy’s entire body froze.

No. No, he couldn’t have been here. She had only just decided this morning that she was definitely not in love with the man anymore, and so she would be able to go through life without regret at all.

Except for the sickness she felt every morning.

And the question of how best to provide for the child who might appear in less than a year’s time. She’d considered her options, how best to avoid the gossip rags. But there had simply been no way to shield her child from the bitter effects of Society’s condemnation of the motherandfor Lucy to stay in cities in order to keep up her work with the Prison Reform Society. So she was making the best of the time she had until her confinement in the countryside. Not that she’d give up once there. There would always be letters to write. But Society couldn’t know she’d had a child out of wedlock, and her family—all the Chances—would help her out in that regard. She was sure of it, though she’d yet to let them know.

Her pulse quickened as the roar of the protest faded into the background, all her senses focused on one thing: turning around incredibly slowly and not dropping her placard.

Slowly, slowly, entirely unsure how she was able to move an inch when her whole body felt like ice, Lucy inched around and saw…

Bernard Dixon.

He was holding a placard of his own and he was shouting along with the rest of the group, his eyes fixed on the courthouse in a way that Lucy could only guess meant he was determinedly not looking at her.

“End transportation! End transportation! End transportation!”