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They had been getting on so well, it had been the most perfect outing until Adversane had lifted her down and she had lost her balance. She had been exhilarated, in love with the whole world, and when she had put her hands against his chest to steady herself she had had no thought other than to laugh and apologise for being a little giddy.
Then she had looked up into his slate-grey eyes and her world had fallen apart. Her foolishly heightened sense had thought that he had taken her in his arms instead of trying to hold her upright, and she had imagined such a look that it had turned her bones to water. Instead of being able to stand up straight, she had been in even greater danger of falling over and had clutched at his coat like a drowning man might cling to a wooden spar. In her silly, dizzy brain she had thought herself a princess about to be kissed by her fairy-tale prince. That, of course, was pure foolishness. No one, absolutely no one, would ever think of the saturnine Lord Adversane as a prince.
‘At least he is not a rake,’ she muttered as she ran up the grand staircase. ‘You were standing there, looking up at him, positively inviting him to seduce you. Thankfully he is too much of a gentleman for that.’
She flinched as she remembered his reprimand, but it was justified. In fact, she would be very fortunate if he did not pack her off back to London immediately.
* * *
She went down to the drawing room before dinner in a state of nervous apprehension. When Ariadne asked her if she had enjoyed her ride, she answered yes, but hurriedly changed the subject, and when Lord Adversane came in she retired to a chair by the window and hoped that if she kept very still he would not notice her.
It seemed to work. Apart from an infinitesimal bow Lord Adversane ignored her until dinner was announced, when he gave his arm to his cousin. Lucy was left to follow on as best she might. Thankfully, Mrs Dean was never short of small talk at the dinner table. She chattered on, rarely requiring a response, while Byrne kept the wineglasses filled and oversaw the elaborate ritual of bringing in and removing a bewildering array of delectable foods. Lucy was too unhappy to be hungry and ate almost nothing from the dishes immediately before her. She was pushing a little pile of rice about her plate when Byrne appeared at her elbow with a silver tray.
He said quietly, ‘His lordship recommends the salmon in wine, miss, and begs that you will try it.’
Lucy glanced along the table. Lord Adversane was watching her, unsmiling, but when he caught her eye he gave a little nod of encouragement. She allowed the butler to spoon a little of the salmon and the sauce onto her plate. It was indeed delicious and she directed another look towards her host, hoping to convey her gratitude. Her tentative smile was received with another small but definite nod. Whether it was that, or the effects of the food, she suddenly felt a little better.
When dinner was over the ladies moved to the drawing room. Having boasted earlier of her stamina, Lucy did not feel she could retire before Lord Adversane joined them. Mrs Dean settled herself on one of the satin-covered sofas but Lucy could not sit still. To disguise her restlessness she pretended to study the room. There was plenty to occupy her: the walls were covered with old masters and the ornate carving of the overmantel was worthy of close attention. Adversane did not linger over his brandy and soon came in. He made no attempt to engage Lucy in conversation and took a seat near his cousin, politely inviting her to tell him about her day. Ariadne needed no second bidding and launched into a long and convoluted description of her activities.
It was a balmy evening, and the long windows were thrown wide, allowing the desultory birdsong to drift in on the warm air. Lucy slipped out onto the terrace. The sun was dipping but was still some way from the horizon and she could feel its heat reflecting from the stone walls of the house. The earlier breeze had dropped away and a peaceful stillness had settled over the gardens spread out before her, the statuary and flowerbeds leading the eye on to the trees in the distance and, beyond them, the faint misty edge of the high moors. Lucy drank in the scene, trying to store every detail in her memory. She suspected such summer evenings were rare in the north and she wanted to remember this one.
It was very quiet in the drawing room and she wondered perhaps if Lord Adversane had had enough of his cousin’s inconsequential chatter and retired. She stepped back into the room, and gave a little start when she realised that it was Mrs Dean who was missing. Her host was standing by the empty fireplace.
‘You are very quiet this evening, Miss Halbrook.’
She sat down and folded her hands in her lap. She must take this opportunity to say what was on her mind.
‘I was wondering, my lord, if you wished me to leave. If I go now there is still time for you to find someone else.’
‘Do you wish to go?’
She shook her head. ‘My circumstances have not changed. I am still in need of employment.’
‘And I am still in need of a fiancée. It seems logical, therefore, that we should continue.’ He paused. ‘You are smiling, Miss Halbrook. Have I said something to amuse you?’
‘You make it all sound so simple. A mere business arrangement.’
‘Which is what it is.’
She looked down at her hands.
‘But this afternoon, in the stable yard—’
‘A little misunderstanding,’ he interposed. ‘Brought on by the excitement of the ride. It will not be allowed to happen again.’
‘No, my lord?’
‘You sound sceptical.’
‘I am, a little.’ She continued, with some difficulty, ‘I know—I have been told—that when a man and a woman are thrown into a situation, when they are alone together...’
She blushed, not knowing how to go on.
‘I understand you,’ he said quietly, ‘but you have nothing of that nature to fear. Let us speak plainly, madam. I have no designs upon your virtue and no intention of seducing you.’
His blunt words should have been reassuring, but she was contrary enough to feel slighted by them. She kept her eyes lowered and heard him exhale, almost like a sigh.
‘Believe me, Miss Halbrook, you will be quite safe here. I can assure you that even strong passions can be assuaged with hard work and exercise. And if not... Well, for a man at least there are establishments that cater for his needs.’ Lucy bent her head even more to hide her burning cheeks. He continued after an infinitesimal pause, ‘But perhaps that is a little too much plain speaking, and a subject not suited to a young lady’s ears.’
‘Not at all. I value your honesty, sir.’
She had not raised her head and now she heard his soft footsteps approaching. She looked up to find him standing over her.
‘And I value yours. You are a sensible young woman, which is what I require in my hostess. A simple business transaction, Miss Halbrook. Can you manage that?’
She did not answer immediately. It should be easy, he made it sound so reasonable. Yet some instinct urged caution. She stifled it. If Lord Adversane could approach this in a logical fashion, then she could, too. After taking a few deep breaths she straightened her shoulders.
‘Yes, my lord, I can.’
* * *
A simple business transaction.
The words echoed around Lucy’s head when she lay in her bed through the dark reaches of the night. She could do this. The remuneration was worth a little sacrifice, surely. And if she was honest, the only sacrifice was that she should not allow herself to flirt with Lord Adversane. He roused in her a girlish spirit that had no place in her life now. When he was near she wanted to tease him, to make him laugh and drive away the sombre look that too often haunted his eyes. But his sorrow was none of her concern and she must be careful not to compromise herself.
‘I must not be alone with him, that is all,’ she told herself.
Surely that was no very arduous task when he had even brought in Ariadne to act as chaperone. All she had to do was to live like a lady in this beautiful house for another few weeks and she would walk away with more money than she could earn in a year. She turned over and cradled her cheek in her hand, finally falling asleep while engaged in the delightful task of thinking just what she might do with such a sum.
* * *
Lucy awoke to another brilliantly sunny day. Her spirits were equally bright. For a while, yesterday, she had thought she would be leaving all this luxury behind. Instead, she had a delectable prospect ahead of her. A visit from the dressmaker.
* * *
‘Byrne, where is Lord Adversane?’
Miss Halbrook’s enquiry echoed around the stone walls of the Great Hall. If the butler noted her flushed cheeks or the martial light in her eye he showed no sign of it and calmly informed her that she would find his lordship with Mr Colne.
It took Lucy a little time to find the steward’s office for she had not before entered the service wing of the house, but the delay did nothing to cool her temper. She knocked briefly and walked in without waiting for a response.
Lord Adversane and Mr Colne were standing by a large table, studying a plan of the estate.
‘I would like to speak to you, my lord,’ she said without preamble.
He raised his brows.
‘Can it not wait?’ One look at her face gave him his answer. He turned to Mr Colne. ‘Harry, will you go on to the stables and have the horses saddled? I will join you in five minutes.’ As the door closed behind the steward he leaned back against the table. ‘Very well, Miss Halbrook, what is it you want to say to me?’
‘It concerns the dressmaker.’
He glanced at the clock. ‘Has she not arrived?’
‘Oh, yes, she is here, my lord. She informs me that you have given her instructions—precise instructions—on the gowns she is to provide, down to the very colours and fabrics to be used.’
‘What of it?’
‘What—?’ She stared at him. ‘It is usual, my lord, for ladies to make their own decisions on what they wear.’
‘Do you not like the colours?’
‘That is not the point—’
‘And are the gowns too unfashionable for you?’
‘Not at all, but—’
‘Then I really do not see the problem.’
Lucy drew in a long and angry breath.
‘The problem,’ she said, with great emphasis, ‘is that I have no choice. I am to be measured and pinned and fitted like a—like a doll!’
‘Surely not.’ He picked up his hat and gloves from a side table. ‘I have no doubt Mrs Sutton will ask your opinion on trimmings and beads and so forth.’
‘Minor details!’
‘But it must suffice.’
He began to move towards the door and she stepped in front of him.
‘What you do not understand—’
‘What you do not understand,’ he interrupted her curtly, ‘is that this discussion is ended.’
She glared at him. ‘When I accused you of high-handedness yesterday, my lord, I did not think it would go so far!’
He fixed her with a steely gaze and addressed her in an equally chilling voice.
‘Miss Halbrook, remember that I am paying you very well for your time here. If I wish you to wear certain colours and styles of gown while you are under my roof then you will do so. Do I make myself clear?’
He was towering over her, as unyielding as granite. The cleft in his chin was more deeply defined than ever and there was no softness about him, not even in the grey wool of his riding jacket. He would not give in; she knew that from the implacable look in his eyes, but she would not look away, and as their gazes remained locked together she found other sensations replacing her anger.
Such as curiosity. What it would be like to kiss that firm mouth, to have his arms around her, to force him to bend to the will of her own passion...
Shocked and a little frightened by her thoughts, Lucy stepped back and dragged her eyes away from that disturbing gaze. There must be no repeat of yesterday. He must not think she was trying in any way to entice him. Better to summon up the resentment that had brought her here in the first place.
‘You have made yourself very clear, my lord.’
She ground out the words, staring at the floor, but he put his fingers under her chin and obliged her to look at him again.
He said softly, ‘I am not an ogre, Miss Halbrook. I have my reasons for this, believe me.’ He held her eyes for a moment longer before releasing her. He went to the door and opened it. ‘Now go back upstairs and continue being—ah—fitted and pinned. You are going to have more new clothes than you can count. When this is over you may take them all away with you. Most women would be delighted with the prospect.’
She found she was trembling. Despising her own weakness, Lucy dragged together her pride and managed to say with creditable calm, ‘I am not most women, my lord.’
‘No.’ His mouth twisted into a wry smile as she stalked out of the room. ‘No, you are not, Miss Halbrook.’
* * *
Lucy went back to the morning room where Mrs Dean and the dressmaker were engaged in discussing fabric samples and looking through the portfolio of drawings that Mrs Sutton had brought with her. She was shaken by her encounter with Lord Adversane, and a little chastened, too. He was, after all, her employer, and quite within his rights to dictate what she should wear. A little spirit flared to argue that it would have been better if he had explained all this at the outset, but it was a very tiny spark and soon died.
She gave herself up to the task of looking at the various designs and samples of fabrics. She soon discovered—as she had known all along, if only she had thought about it—that she did indeed have a degree of freedom in the choice of ribbons and trimmings to be added to each gown. By the end of the session her head was spinning with all the talk of closed robes, morning and day dresses, walking dresses and evening gowns, as well as the pelisses, cloaks and shawls required to go with them. Also—a last-minute addition that Lord Adversane had ordered in a note, delivered hotfoot to the dressmaker yesterday evening—a riding habit.
* * *
Although she knew she had no real choice, Lucy nodded and approved all the samples and sketches put before her. They were without exception elegant creations, not overly burdened with frills and ribbons, which suited her very well. As the dressmaker and her assistant began packing away the drifts of muslin, samples of fine wool, worsted and sarcenet, Lucy spotted a large square of red silk. She picked it up.
‘What is this?’
Mrs Sutton looked around and gave a little tut of exasperation.
‘Heavens, miss, as if I should forget that!’ She pulled out the sheaf of loose papers again and selected a coloured drawing, which she handed to Lucy. ‘Lord Adversane was most insistent that you should have this gown.’
Lucy gazed at the impossibly slender figure in the painting. She was swathed in red silk, the high waistline and low neck leaving little to the imagination.
‘It is shown exactly as his lordship directed,’ said Mrs Sutton, waiting anxiously for Lucy’s reaction. ‘Even to the diamond set of earrings, necklace and bracelet.’
‘Scarlet and diamonds.’ Lucy pictured herself in such a gown, the jewels sparkling in the candlelight, her skirts floating about her as she danced around the ballroom. ‘Very striking but...it is not suitable for an unmarried lady. What say you, Ariadne?’ She handed the picture to Mrs Dean, who stared at it in silence. ‘Ariadne?’
The widow gave a little start.
‘Oh, I do not...’ She tailed off again, her troubled glance fixed upon the drawing.
‘It is far too grand for me to wear,’ Lucy continued. ‘If we were in London, perhaps, but here in the country, what use can I have for such a creation?’
‘Unless Adversane means to invite the neighbourhood,’ murmured Ariadne.
Lucy frowned. ‘Why should he do that?’
Ariadne made a visible effort to pull herself together, saying robustly, ‘I suppose he thought you must have it. Who knows what invitations you might receive? And everyone wears such colours these days. You will not always want to be wearing those pale muslins, now will you? And I recognise the diamonds. They are a family heirloom. As Ralph’s fiancée I have no doubt he will wish you to wear them.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Lucy dismissed her doubts, relieved by Mrs Dean’s approval of the scarlet gown. To appear in public so beautifully apparelled was every girl’s dream. And what did it matter that it was all a sham, a charade? It would be a wonderful memory for her to take away with her.
* * *
When the dressmaker had departed Ariadne carried Lucy off to the shrubbery, declaring that one needed to clear one’s head after being bombarded with so much detail.
‘I must confess,’ she added, as they strolled arm in arm along the gravelled paths, ‘when you went off so angrily I thought I should be sending Mrs Sutton away and ordering the carriage to take you back to London forthwith.’
