Love for Lucinda Read online

  Lucinda with difficulty suppressed a smile at her father’s revelation. She and her sisters had been aware for many years that beneath Miss Blythe’s uncompromisingly respectable exterior had beat a heart that thrilled to the nonsense in romance novels. However, this was certainly not the time to disabuse her father of his mistaken estimation of her former governess. “It is true that Miss Blythe has always possessed a formidable air. However, I felt that it was only proper to provide myself with a chaperone of stern countenance, one who would keep a close watch and ward off the wolves. A chaperone, moreover, who knew what was due to my name.”

  Sir Thomas pursed his mouth thoughtfully. “You do not want for all sense, in any event.” He looked closely at his daughter, and his expression softened. “Aye, Lucinda, I can well understand how you must crave a bit of excitement after leading such a quiet life as you have. I have often pitied you living here with no company but your own to enliven the days. It is no wonder at all that you should want a change. I do not begrudge you that, my dear!”

  “Papa, you speak as though I had been shut up these past three years,” said Lucinda with a laugh.

  “And so you have! How could you have remained in London when Lord Mays disgraced you so? He did not even have the decency to provide a separate household for you somewhere else, such as in Bath, where you could have still enjoyed society! Instead, he buried you alive at Carbarry!” said Sir Thomas with unwonted forcefulness.

  As his daughter stared, he managed to bring his deep-held emotion under control. He reached over to pat her hand in a reassuring fashion. “It will do you good to buy yourself a few fripperies and call upon your old acquaintances. You have lived too quietly by half. Indeed, I even begin to approve of this scheme of yours if you do mean to have Miss Blythe to you, and so I shall tell your mother. Mind, I still do not care for the notion of your spending the whole Season in London. But I shall say no more against it.”

  Lucinda looked at her father a little curiously. “You do not think that Mama would approve even when I have retained Miss Blythe as my companion?”

  Sir Thomas shrugged with exaggerated indifference, but his eyes were suddenly sharp on his daughter’s face. “Lord Potherby, you know.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Lucinda, and she did.

  Lord Potherby was the owner of a property adjoining Carbarry and had thus been her closest neighbor since she had taken up residence three years previously. The gentleman had met her parents on the occasions of their rare visits, and he had impressed both of them with his undeniable worthiness.

  Lord Potherby was wealthy and of extremely good birth. He had always quite openly admired his beauteous neighbor, Lady Mays. If he had been of a different kidney, he might have tried to figure in her affections despite her marital status. But Lord Potherby was a true gentleman.

  Over the years Lord Potherby had become disgusted by Lord Mays’s well-known progress as a womanizer and a ruthless collector of objets d’art. When Lord Potherby met Lady Mays, and learned through the grapevine both the circumstances of her marriage and the cause of her sudden appearance at Carbarry, he had at once set out to establish himself as her supporter and admirer.

  Since Lord Mays’s untimely death, Lord Potherby had gone a step further. He openly engaged himself to become indispensable to the beautiful unbereaved widow. Lady Mays’s correct observance of a period of mourning was all that had hindered Lord Potherby from making a formal declaration for her hand. He deemed that it would not have been in good taste to urge the widow to remarry before her mourning was completed.

  There was nothing in Lady Mays’s demeanor that had ever encouraged his lordship to believe that she looked with favor upon his suit. However, Lord Potherby was confident that once the onerous social obligation of her mourning was met and Lady Mays was free to express herself at last, then she would gratefully accept his courtship.

  Sir Thomas and his good wife approved of Lord Potherby’s obvious suit for their daughter’s hand. They encouraged his lordship’s pursuit whenever they were at Carbarry, inevitably requesting that Lord Potherby be included in all their amusements.

  Lucinda could only be glad that her parents did not live close enough to really promote the match through social gatherings. She esteemed Lord Potherby as a neighbor, certainly. But that did not mean that one wished to marry the gentleman. She and Lord Potherby were completely unsuited to one another, if for no other reason than that she was several years his junior. She had just emerged from a disastrous marriage with an older gentleman, and she had no desire to enter into another such unbalanced union.

  However, even Lucinda had to admit that Lord Potherby appeared to be a veritable cherub after her late husband, Lord Mays. It was really no wonder that her parents deemed the match to be a good one. Besides his other advantageous worldly attributes, Lord Potherby was eminently steady of character. Not a breath of scandal attached to his name. He would indeed make a welcome change when one compared his lordship to Lucinda’s unlamented departed husband, Sir Thomas and his good wife agreed.

  It was a pity that Lucinda did not this time agree meekly to her parents’ judgment.

  “Papa, I have no intention of marrying Lord Potherby,” said Lucinda. “You and Mama might as well give up this unfounded hope that I shall, for my mind is quite made up. We simply would not suit.”

  “You are not getting any younger, Lucinda,” said Sir Thomas. He quite conveniently forgot that he had stated not many minutes before that she was too young to be let go to London by herself. “You are practically on the shelf. You cannot hope to compete with the fresh crop of young misses that are coming out each year.”

  “Really, Papa! You are too absurd,” said Lucinda, laughing. “Why, I would be a nodcock indeed if I thought to make myself out to be an ingénue. No, the young misses may have free rein of the marriage mart and with my goodwill. I am too experienced in the ways of the world to desire to go that route again!”

  An unwelcome thought occurred to Sir Thomas. With a lamentable lack of tact, he said, “I hope you have not taken a silly notion in mind to set your cap at some experienced buck this Season, Lucinda. I fear that you will be rolled up at that game. A widow cannot command the same pristine reputation as an unmarried girl, and that is what these gentlemen are looking for.”

  “I am not going up to London to find myself a husband!” said Lucinda, pardonably ruffled. “It is just as I have told you. I intend to indulge in a little gaiety. That is all! How could you think that I would behave with such ... such desperation?”

  Sir Thomas appeared not to be convinced. He was frowning. “Every woman wishes to wed, Lucinda. It is ingrained in them.”

  “That is absurd. Why, I know of any number of women who have not wed,” said Lucinda.

  “No doubt you are speaking of the lower orders, Lucinda. One of your quality always wishes to wed. It is bred into your very bones,” said Sir Thomas solemnly.

  “Papa, I did not think you were so gothic in your notions,” said Lucinda, staring at her parent in disbelief.

  Sir Thomas drew himself up. “Not at all, daughter. I know whereof I speak. No, the more I think about it, the more I see that this scheme of yours will not do after all.”

  “Papa!”

  “Enough, Lucinda. You must be guided by me in this. I would spare you the mortification of being left at the altar. That, is, even if you were able to bring some buck up to scratch,” said Sir Thomas. As a clincher, he added, “Best to marry Lord Potherby right away and then go up to London for amusement.”

  Lucinda was torn between exasperation and laughter at her father’s idiotic notion that she was planning to entrap a husband over the Season. However, she knew it would do little good to try to reason her father out of an idea once it had taken hold of his intellect. She was forced to be satisfied with a skirmishing hit. “I could scarcely expect to find amusement as Lady Potherby!”

  Sir Thomas took her point at once. He nodded reluctantly. “Lord Potherby can be a
bit of a slowtop on occasion,” he admitted. “But that should scarcely weigh against the many advantages of the match.”

  “Lord Potherby is a crashing bore,” said Lucinda, not mincing the matter.

  “His lordship is a very worthy man. He would make you an excellent husband,” said Sir Thomas reprovingly.

  Lucinda threw up her hands. “Papa, I think that we should leave off this conversation if I am not to come to cuffs with you. And I do not in the least wish to quarrel when we are shortly to part from one another.” Dropping her napkin beside her plate and rising from her chair, she went around the end of the table to place a kiss on the top of her father’s head.

  Sir Thomas was mollified by her loving salute. He patted her hand where it rested upon his shoulder. “Very well, Lucinda. I shall say nothing more for now. You have always been a good, dutiful daughter. I know that in the end I may rely upon your good sense.”

  Lucinda chose to ignore the implication inherent in her father’s words. But she did not repeat her declaration that she would not wed Lord Potherby. Instead, she pretended that he was referring to her plans for the Season. “You may also rely upon Miss Blythe,” she said, smiling.

  Sir Thomas laughed. “Oh aye, and in that good lady, too.”

  He stood up and gathered his daughter in a brief fond embrace. When he put her from him, he said, “I shall tell your mother not to be anxious on your behalf. We must trust you to know your own mind, even though you are still too young to know much about the ways of the world. I do not scruple to tell you that Miss Blythe shall be of immeasurable value to you in that regard. You must allow yourself to be guided by her, for she does not want for sense.”

  “I know it,” said Lucinda, tucking her hand into her father’s arm as she walked with him toward the door. Outside the breakfast room, she turned to smile up at her father. “I am seeing my estate agent this morning, but afterward I shall be free. Shall I see you at luncheon?”

  Sir Thomas shook his head. “I believe that I shall take my leave of you now.” He gestured to the waiting footman. The servant came forward with his greatcoat, hat, and gloves.

  Lucinda’s surprise at his readiness to be off made her utter, “Are you leaving this instant? I did not realize that you had already made your preparations.”

  “I had decided to do so when I wakened this morning. I have tarried longer than I informed your mother that I would,” said Sir Thomas. He winked broadly at his daughter. “Besides, I know something of females, having lived in a houseful these many years. You will be wanting to see to the packing of half the house for this jaunt of yours. I would be very much in the way.”

  “Indeed you would,” agreed Lucinda. “But surely it is too early to think of leaving. Why, you have scarcely left the breakfast table!”

  “I meant to stay only long enough to have a few minutes with you this morning after I realized that your mother would be fretting that she has not heard from me before this,” said Sir Thomas, shrugging into his greatcoat. He took his hat and gloves from the footman and put them on. Then he turned to kiss his daughter upon her upturned cheek. “I have the carriage waiting at the front steps, so I shall be on my way.”

  “Very well, Papa.” Lucinda did not urge Sir Thomas to change his mind, and she saw him out. She was glad of her shawl when she emerged from the warmth of the house into the winter cold. She waved from the top of the front steps as her father climbed into the carriage. “Give my love to Mama,” she called.

  Sir Thomas waved acknowledgement from the carriage window. “You may depend upon me to relate all the news!” he promised. He put up the glass as the carriage started forward.

  Lucinda shook her head, but she also smiled with affection. It was inevitable that Sir Thomas would confide the particulars of Lucinda’s amazing scheme to his wife. Lucinda knew that she would then receive a letter from her mother requesting a more comprehensive explanation and offering a catechism of advice.

  The vehicle rolled away down the drive. Lucinda waved again, but she did not tarry to watch her father’s carriage round the bend in the gravel drive. She retreated into the house immediately.

  The footman thought it was the cold of the bleak January morning that had driven her ladyship inside so soon. But Lucinda’s thoughts were not dwelling on the frigid air.

  Instead, she was already occupied with all of the matters that still had to be settled and accomplished before she could set out for London the following morning. The culmination of a year’s careful planning was almost at hand.

  “Pray have Mr. Latham sent to me in the study,” she said to the footman.

  “Yes, m’lady.”

  Lucinda was still smiling as she entered the study. She sat down at the huge mahogany desk where she had routinely attended to the many demands of the estate. Glancing slowly about the well-appointed room, she sighed softly. It was a pleasure to reflect that this would be the last decision that she would need to make about the workings of Carbarry.

  She was positively looking forward to the formal task of handing over the working of the estate into Mr. Latham’s capable hands for an indefinite time. Once that was done, she would be released from the last obligation that tied her to Carbarry.

  Chapter Three

  The transition to London was accomplished smoothly and without mishap. Those servants who accompanied Lady Mays from Carbarry to the town house settled quickly into their new surroundings. With scarcely an hour lost, the running of the household was established.

  Lucinda had written Miss Blythe some months previously when the lady was to meet her in London and had sent the necessary traveling funds. Within a fortnight of Lucinda’s own arrival, she had been joined by her companion, the estimable Miss Blythe.

  The household took swift measure of her ladyship’s companion and concluded that Miss Blythe was a female of superior qualities. The lady was soft-spoken enough, but there was about her speech a quiet steel that commanded respect.

  Miss Blythe’s appearance added to the impression. She was a lady of spare proportions and was always dressed with propriety. Her dark hair had softened with gray, but it was ruthlessly swept back in a tight coronet. A pair of spectacles perched upon the bridge of her proud, prominent nose, emphasizing her piercing gaze. It was known that Miss Blythe had formerly been a governess, and the general verdict was that no pupil of hers would have dared to take advantage of such a stern individual.

  However, beneath the austere exterior that Miss Blythe presented to the world was a woman of imagination and with a penchant for the romantic. It was perhaps to her benefit that she had never had a great deal of beauty, for then she could not have played the role that she had so successfully managed through her career as the governess par excellence. For a young woman of respectable family who had had no means and no offers, becoming a governess had been the only logical choice.

  Through the years there had been times when Miss Blythe had wondered what turn her life might have taken if circumstances had been different, but on the whole she had no regrets. That had become doubly true since she had agreed to become her dear Lucinda’s companion.

  Miss Tibby Blythe gazed with appreciative eyes around the well-proportioned sitting room. It never failed to please her. With a bony forefinger she touched a delicate figurine that rested on the polished mantel.

  Miss Blythe sighed with contentment. Wherever she looked, in whatever room she found herself, there was great beauty. Magnificent pieces of art and sculpture, priceless vases and gilt mirrors, luxurious oriental carpets and beautifully carven furniture made abiding at Mays House an experience in delicious decadence.

  Miss Blythe still had difficulty in believing the good fortune that had led her former and best-loved pupil to request her companionship and to install her in such wonderfully sybaritic surroundings. It was close to living in a sumptuous palace, she thought.

  “Tibby? Oh, there you are.” Lucinda came into the sitting room, pulling on her pale kid gloves. She glanced around an
d then looked at her former governess, smiling. “Well, Tibby? Has it come up to your expectations?”

  Miss Blythe had turned. At Lucinda’s inquiry, she clasped her hands in front of her spare bosom in an expression of bliss. “Everything more than exceeds any puny expectations of mine, my dear. The comfort of my room. This delightful town house. London itself. Why, it is all more than I can yet comprehend.” She shook her head in self-amusement. “When you wrote to me and begged me to come to you as your companion, I never dreamed that I should step into a fantasy existence.”

  “A fantasy indeed,” said Lucinda thoughtfully, smoothing her gloves over her wrists. She looked up and laughed. “I am glad that you are not disappointed. I own, I was not certain what we might expect since the house had been shut up for the past year. But my cousin-in-law, Lord Wilfred Mays, was extremely gracious in allowing me to order the house as I wished and the caretakers kept it up nicely.”

  “I do not know how you were ever able to bear leaving it,” said Miss Blythe, once more gazing about her appreciatively.

  Lucinda also looked around, but more subjectively. The sitting room was beautifully appointed, as was every other room in the town house. The uninitiated saw only the magnificence, the opulence, the luxury. However, she knew better than most that beauty was not always a reflection of what was good or best. Surrounded by such outward trappings of wealth, she had learned the poverty of bitter disillusionment and inconceivable loneliness.

  It had been in this very room that the impassive butler had brought to her the verbal message that her husband had arranged for her to leave London within the hour. She would not be returning. His lordship had not bothered to convey his wishes in private, but had sent them by a servant.