“I knew you’d go to him,” she said simply. “My worst fear was that you would elope.”
Lucy liked that idea and almost wished she’d suggested it. But, of course, he’d refused her proposal.
“I was pleased when I woke early and Mrs. Fox informed me that no carriages or horses had been taken from the stables, according to the stable boy. That’s also when I realized you had not returned to your room.”
Lucy watched the flames and wondered what she could say to make her aunt understand her choices. Or perhaps she understood them too well—sheherself had eloped with Lord Munro—and just wished to offer warnings and admonitions.
“I’ll let you speak now,” her aunt said with nothing but compassion in her tone. “Tell me what you will. You may trust my discretion, but I would like to know your plans regarding Lord Rossbury. And, of course, his plans in regard to you.”
Lucy pulled the blanket around her more tightly and settled into her chair. She did trust her aunt and knew that her reaction wasn’t what Lucy had to fear. Indeed, her father’s or mother’s reaction, but not her aunt’s. They wouldn’t respond with Cassandra’s compassion. At least, not at first.
“My plan is to marry him.”
Aunt Cassandra nodded with a hint of surprise in her expression. “He’s asked you?”
“No. I asked him, but he refused.”
Something like surprise settled over her aunt’s features. Or perhaps it was confusion. Her aunt’s brows drew together.
“He believes he’s doing the honorable thing by refusing me because I made the very practical suggestion that my dowry would help resolve the financial difficulty that he finds himself in.” Lucy heard her voice rising, felt her heartbeat begin to race. “He could pay off the dreadful man he borrowed from, rebuild his business, and you could keep your home. We could gift it to you or sell it to you or whatever would satisfy your pride.”
She stalled and took a breath when she felt the hot trickle of a tear on her cheek.
“I don’t understand. Not you, or him, or this obsession with pride. Mr. Blackwood adores you. He would buy this house for you, or give you the funds to do so, without a second thought. My dowry isn’t anything I earned. It’s nothing I asked for. But it will go to whichever man I stand up in a church with and make promises to.”
Senga entered the room with a basin of water, towels, and what Lucy recognized as one of her warmer, practical day dresses. She also carried a small plate of cheese and bread balanced on top. The young woman’s eyes were wide as she entered, set down the items in her arms, and practically darted back out the door.
“I didn’t mean to shout,” Lucy said, and reached immediately for a slice of thick, crusty bread. Not until that moment did she realize she was famished.
Her aunt poured her a steaming cup of tea and set it next to her on the low, round table between them.
“We’re talking about matters of the heart. Sometimes shouting is required.”
“I had made peace with never marrying. But as long as I’ve found someone I’d like to spend the rest of my days with, of course I’d point out how my dowry will prove helpful.”
“Men and money, especially a woman’s money—”
“It’s not just men. You won’t let Mr. Blackwood help you either. It’s pride. Stupid, illogical pride.”
Her aunt twisted her lips, but they finally twitched into a smile. “Don’t hold back, my dear. Be brutal if you must.”
“I’m frustrated that there are simple solutions, ways to fix the problems that are plaguing you both, and neither of you are willing to allow those who love you to help.” Lucy put her hands together, practically beseeching. “We want to help you.”
Aunt Cassandra stood and went to a delicate-looking, ornate desk near one of the room’s long windows. She slid open a drawer and pulled out two items, then returned to her chair.
The first item, a miniature, depicted a dashingly handsome man with a winsome smile and wild auburn hair.
“Lord Alexander Munro. He wished to help me by taking me away from an overbearing father. Perhaps your mother has told you how exacting our father could be.” Cassandra shook her head as if dispelling unpleasant memories. “Alex was charming, exciting, irascible, and didn’t have an honest bone in his body. And then there’s this one.”
The second item she handed over was a photo card depicting a stern-looking man with cold eyes, a thick beard, and a waxed mustache.
“Lord Rossbury?”
“Rufus was honest at least. He told me he could never love me, but he could provide me with things. A manor house in Scotland, for instance. A fair exchange, I thought. Until I yearned for passion in my life again.”
“As you’ve found with Mr. Blackwood?”
“Indeed.”
