A Lady in Name (12 page)

Lucy bridled.
‘That may be true, but I would have thought of something acceptable.’

‘Such as?’

‘Oh, do stop it, the two of you,’ cut in Dion in exasperated accents. ‘I cannot think why you are so cross, Lucy. You surely can’t be wishing to marry the man?’

‘That is beside the point,’ said Lucy, vainly trying to command her spleen.
‘Stefan had no right to make it impossible for Mr Waley to make me an offer.’ She turned on him again. ‘You could not know my wishes in the matter.’

His lip curled.
‘Could I not? When you have so vehemently decried your state of illegitimacy? He does not know of it, that much is evident. And I cannot suppose you would marry him without informing him of the truth.’

That he had so accurately read her character did not endear him to Lucy.
Rather it exacerbated her annoyance. ‘You are making assumptions.’

‘Which,’ put in Dion judiciously, ‘are fair ones, Lucy, you must admit.’

‘Whether they are or not is scarcely germane,’ she uttered in frustration. ‘What I am trying to make your bull-headed brother understand is that he has no right to make them.’

‘Bull-headed now, am I?
I thought I was high-handed and autocratic.’

‘You are all thre
e,’ Lucy threw at him. ‘I wish you will stop interfering. It was you brought Mr Waley here in the first place. And I should also like to know how you came to do that.’

To her renewed irritation, Stefan folded his arms and adopted the look of cool control she so much disliked.
‘Nothing simpler, Lucy. I went in search of the man.’

She stared at him, a sense of blank futility in her head.

‘I found him in the church,’ he added unnecessarily.

‘But
why look for him at all? What has it do with you? I told you I meant to find him for myself.’

‘Then you should be grateful to me.’

Feeling the more befogged, Lucy looked to Dion for succour. She giggled. ‘I am as mystified as you are, Lucy. I can’t think what possessed him.’

Lucy sat down abruptly, her gaze shifting back to Stefan’s face.
A slow pulse began to beat in her ears as a half-formed thought wreathed in her brain. An impossible thought, one she could not begin to accept. Jealousy as a motive? Absurd. There must be some other explanation.

Before she could tie herself in knots trying to fathom his mind, Stefan spoke again.
‘I have a question. This aunt, of whom we have previously heard no mention, who is she?’

‘Yes, you spoke of her earlier today,’ said Dion brightly.

Lucy sighed. ‘She is Papa’s sister. Aunt Harriet. But of course she is not really my aunt, I know that now.’

‘And she does not know about the Pennington connection, I suppose,’ Dion guessed.

‘I believe not. I cannot suppose Papa told her.’

She found Stefan’s penetrating eye upon her.
‘Why not?’

‘Because she had every expectation of my being married.
Papa put her off the notion, saying he was not ready to be rid of me yet awhile. Aunt Harriet was wont to reprove him, saying I would soon be on the shelf. Papa always responded that he had my future mapped out and needed no help from his sister.’

She saw Stefan’s deepening frown and wondered at it.
Slowly he shook his head. ‘No, it won’t fadge, Lucy. Did you not tell me Mrs Graydene died before you were born? Your aunt cannot have been ignorant of the circumstances of your birth.’

A tight band seemed to close about Lucy’s chest.
Was it possible Aunt Harriet had known all along?

‘But how could she suppose you might be eligible to be married?’ asked Dion, echoing her own thought.

Stefan moved to perch on the desk, crossing long legs. Lucy shifted in her chair, watching him sideways. ‘What is in your mind, Stefan?’

His eye turned on her, no hint within it of what he was mulling over.
‘What sort of man had your aunt in mind for you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Of what condition would he be? It is evident she thought Mr Waley suitable. He is a mere curate. A respectable match.’

‘For the vicar’s daughter?’ put in Dion.
‘Yes, most respectable.’

‘Then I dare say your aunt meant you to marry someone of his ilk, a man for whom your antecedents must be relatively unimportant.’

‘As long as no one knew,’ said Dion darkly. She seemed to feel Lucy’s immediate dismay, for she added, ‘I beg your pardon, dearest Lucy, but nothing is to be gained by mealy-mouthed speaking.’

Stefan nodded.
‘I agree. And I believe Lucy’s mind is of an order to look the truth in the face without a tremor.’

Lucy grimaced.
‘Not quite without a tremor, but I thank you for that.’

He grinned at her.
‘A first, Lucy. I must be growing on you.’

She was obliged to laugh.
‘Until you try to take over my life again and drive me into losing my temper.’

Stefan’s eye gleamed, and Lucy was conscious of a sliver of warmth somewhere inside her.
‘I cannot promise not to do so again. Habits of command are hard to break.’

‘Will you stick to the point?’ begged Dion.
‘Have we established to our satisfaction that your aunt does know of your heredity?’

Lucy puzzled a moment.
‘I am unsure. At the funeral she invited me to live with her. Would she have done so had she known?’

‘Just a moment.’
Stefan was frowning again. ‘If you had the chance of a home with your aunt, what induced you to come seeking my uncle?’

Dion snorted.
‘Well, if you can’t tell that, brother dear, you must be all about in the head.’

Lucy had shrunk from the question and could only be grateful to Dion.
But Stefan was obviously unsatisfied.

‘Enlighten me, then, sister dear.’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Lucy thought her aunt did not know about her true parentage. Naturally she would reject the notion. Anyone would.’

‘And sue instead to a chancy relative?
Besides, Lucy had no expectation of receiving money from me—or rather, from my uncle.’

‘But it was a possibility,’ Lucy cut in.
‘Oh, I didn’t expect it. Perhaps deep down, I hoped my appearance would induce Lord Pennington to pay me off. I don’t know what I was thinking, to be truthful. I had determined, in any event, on earning my living in whatever way was open to me.’

‘Rather than marry the curate?
Rather than make a home with your aunt?’

‘Stefan, for goodness’ sake!
Did I not tell you Lucy thought her aunt was ignorant of the truth.’

A sudden thought occurred to Lucy and she jumped up.
‘But she does know. So there is another path open to me. I could make my home with her.’

She looked to the others and found no echo of her eagerness.
Stefan was wearing his ironic look, while Dion wore an expression of pity.

‘Why, what?
You look as if I had made an outrageous suggestion.’

‘Well, I can understand why you might rather choose your aunt than to live with us at Pennington.’

Lucy was swept with remorse. ‘Forgive me, Dion, I did not mean it so. Whatever my feelings, it cannot but embarrass all of us for me to live at Pennington. You must see that. Whereas if I went to my aunt—’

‘She would marry you to Mr Waley,’ said Dion dampingly.

Lucy’s rise of hope fled away. She glanced at Stefan, and found him enigmatic, his eyes fixed on her face.

‘You would consider it then?’

‘No, she couldn’t,’ uttered Dion, revulsion in her face. ‘You would not, would you, Lucy?’

The thought was anathema.
But of all the options open to her, Mr Waley, whom she liked and admired for all his lack of personable qualities, was the least unwelcome. Lucy hardly knew she spoke aloud.

‘I would marry him only if he knew the truth.’

Mr Waley had regained command of his ruffled feelings, and Lucy could not but be struck by the dullness of his normal mien. He had seated himself in the chair opposite to Lucy, who was ensconced in the window embrasure, which meant he was close enough to touch her if he leaned a little forward. Instinctively, Lucy sat back, letting her hands rest on the wooden arms.

Through his spectacles, the Reverend Waley’s magnified eyes appeared overlarge in his narrow features, accentuating the skeletal look.
He smiled thinly.

‘I have to beg your pardon, Miss Lucy, for my loss of assurance earlier today.
I had no intention of distressing you.’

Lucy drew a breath, wishing she had not consented to this meeting.
‘You did not distress me.’ She could not forbear a laugh. ‘I fear it is I who should apologise. I am sure my demeanour was far more incontinent than yours.’

He put out a vague hand.
‘No, I assure you. I have always admired the coolness of your temperament, Miss Lucy.’

‘You do not know me, Mr Waley, if that is your impression of me,’ Lucy said on a rueful note.

He gave a little laugh, pinching his mouth in a manner which gave him a patronising look. Lucy shrank more than ever from the prospect of what was coming.

‘I fancy I know you very well indeed, dear Miss Lucy.
We have been acquainted from your childhood, have we not?’ An anxious look appeared. ‘Which brings me to a matter of some concern. Will you allow me to speak of the disparity in our separate ages?’

For what purpose Lucy could well imagine.
There was no repudiating him. ‘Certainly, sir. You may speak of anything you wish.’

He leaned in, reaching a tentative hand towards one of hers lying on the arm of the chair.
Lucy affected to miss the gesture, fixing him with an enquiring look. He withdrew the hand and instead clasped his fingers lightly together.

‘I am your senior by some twenty years, Miss Lucy, which has a bearing on me only as it may affect you.
I am satisfied many such unions are uniformly contented.’ Lucy must have made a motion of some kind, for he gave a little simper. ‘Ah, you follow my train of thought. Let us throw off all restraint, Miss Lucy.’

If she threw off all restraint, Lucy felt she would run screaming from the room.
Why had she never recognised how little she wished for this solution to her problems?

‘You cannot be unaware of my intentions towards you,’ went on the curate.
‘Nor how your dear father, in his final hours, commended you to my care. Even your aunt has hinted her approval of the scheme. In short, there can be no objection, no barrier, unless it comes from you.’

Lucy had never felt a stronger objection than she did at this moment.
When she left to confront her putative father, she had thought herself thwarted in this very scheme by reason of her birth. Had it not been for the shocking truth, she had supposed herself willing to ally herself in marriage with Mr Waley. Either she was deluded, not knowing her own sentiments, or she had inexplicably changed her mind. She began to feel trapped. He was awaiting some response. Lucy gathered her courage.

‘You are asking me to marry you?’

Mr Waley looked surprised. ‘But surely you know that. Have I not made myself clear?’

‘Your meaning is clear enough, sir, though you have not mentioned marriage.’

He tutted, and the spectacles dropped down his nose. He pushed them back up, blinking. ‘Pray forgive me. It was most remiss. You are perfectly right, Miss Lucy, to insist on a proper proposal.’

‘No, no, I did not mean
—’

He stood up, holding himself erect.
‘I hereby make formal offer for your hand in marriage, Miss Graydene.’

A wave of revulsion swept through Lucy.
What should she do? Her suitor had clearly no expectation of a refusal. She wished fervently Stefan had not given way and allowed her to see Mr Waley alone, as she had insisted. He and Dion were not even within call, the latter having dragged her brother out for an evening stroll for the sole purpose of ensuring Lucy’s privacy.

Her feelings got the better of her.
‘I cannot, Mr Waley. I am sorry, but I cannot marry you.’

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
‘Not?’

‘No, I cannot,’ Lucy reiterated, as forcefully as she could.

Mr Waley sat plump back down again, staring at her, shocked disbelief sweeping across his face. ‘But, Miss Lucy, how can this be? It was your father’s expressed wish. Your aunt too.’

‘I know, and I can only repeat my regrets, but my answer is no.’

Lucy knew she had been too vehement, for Mr Waley almost shrank back. For a moment he did not speak, obviously turning it over in his mind. Then a frown appeared.

‘Can it be your head has been turned by your new friends?
I believe Lord Pennington is an earl.’