A Lady in Name (19 page)

Yet when she had spoken so dismissively of her own possible demise, Stefan had been overtaken by an unstoppable consuming rage.
Had he not been hampered by his position in the curricle, he believed he would have indeed laid violent hands upon her. At the least, he must have taken her by the shoulders and shaken her unmercifully. At worst—he dared not imagine it.

He could only suppose he must have been harder hit by the events of the day than he knew.
The visit, which had begun in a spirit of adventurous investigation, had rapidly turned into a scene from one of the more lurid gothic romances. That it had ended with the lunatic Oade waving a blunderbuss out of the window was equalled only by his own devastating loss of control. Had he been infected by the madness?

His fit of insanity
—if that was what it was—had dissipated through the journey back to Upledon, the need to look to his horses providing him with a welcome distraction. But when the violence of his passion had cooled, Stefan was left with the bitter disintegration of the understanding which had been growing up between himself and Lucy.

Now it had gone, destroyed by his own unthinking outburst, Stefan realised he had experienced a sense of kinship with the girl, such as he had not encountered even within his own family.
His father had given him companionship, but fond as he was of Dion, she had not the years or the intellect to offer. As for Corisande, she was too wrapped in her own concerns. But Lucy, with a swiftness he could only marvel at, had caught his senses in a way he could never have guessed at.

She was maddening, outrageously passionate, rebellious and frighteningly independent.
But she had captured his interest without apparent effort, and he found himself wholly devoted to the task of rescuing her from her predicament. She had become like an itch under the skin.

And then he had crushed her so thoroughly she no longer wished even to speak to him.

His thoughts kept him in bouts of wakefulness with intermittent periods when he knew he dozed. He awoke yet again to continuing darkness, and knew immediately some alien sound had disturbed him. Someone was stirring. Too early for servants.

Without hesitation, he flung off the bedcovers and groped for his dressing-gown.
Dragging it on over his nightshirt, he found his tinder box on the table by the bed and relit the candle.

Stefan stepped softly from his room and crept along the corridor towards the gallery, from where a faint light emanated.
When he reached the stairs, he saw the gleam coming from the parlour he had hired for the duration of their stay. Stefan knew then his senses had not deceived him. It would not be Dion wandering about in the night.

He padded lightly down the stairs and made for the open parlour door.
Lucy was a shadow in the window recess where she had opened the shutters to stare out upon darkness. Her candle set upon the table threw a golden glow onto the skin of her profile. Stefan felt a lurch in his chest.

‘Lucy?’

Even the soft tone he used startled her, for she jumped, turning quickly. Stefan saw the naked misery in her face, and all thought of the day’s events left him.

‘You will catch your death,’ he uttered, crossing quickly towards her.

She did not move as Stefan closed in, shutting off the candlelight with his own shadow. He paused, eyeing the pallid moon that was her face, mesmerised by the glitter of her eyes in the darkness.

Without will, he reached for her, drawing her to him and gently resting her head against his shoulder.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered into her hair. ‘So very sorry, Lucy.’

She did not resist, sinking into his embrace so easily Stefan felt it the most natural thing in the world.
For a moment there was only warmth and comfort, and the draining away of discontent. Then Stefan felt her shift and pull away.

‘Let me go.’

He did so, moving to one side so the light fell on her face again. Her eyes glistened and Stefan was conscious of a wish to drag her back into his embrace.

Lucy brushed past him, as if the close confinement of the window recess troubled her.
She halted by the table, and her features fell into half shadow. Stefan had set his candle down by hers and brightness gleamed on the one side of her face. The effect was intoxicating, leaving Stefan breathless.

‘I didn’t mean it.’
The breath was uneven in Lucy’s throat, but she struggled to express what she must. ‘What I said, I didn’t mean it.’

Stefan was looking at her oddly, his eyes flickering in the candlelight.
‘I know.’

‘Nevertheless,’ she persisted, ‘you were right.
I should not have said it. Papa would have called it wicked in me to be wishing myself into an early grave.’

He took a step towards her, and Lucy’s stomach muscles clenched.

‘You were not wishing yourself dead, Lucy. You were expressing your natural agitation. I reacted out of all proportion to the event, God knows why!’

Lucy could not forbear a tiny smile.
‘I should be the last person to hold that against you. I believe you have on several occasions complained of my temper.’

‘Your passionate nature rather,’ he agreed, his lips curving.
‘Which I am beginning to welcome.’

A roughened quality in his voice called to something deep within Lucy she did not understand.
She felt it only, and the pit-a-pat of her heartbeat rattled in her head. Without knowing how it happened, Lucy found herself standing toe to toe with Stefan, her gaze locked with his. The rhythm of her pulse had gone utterly awry and she felt as if the very air crackled between them.

Stefan’s gaze roved her face, resting for a moment on the lower lip of her parted mouth.
A heady sensation had him in thrall. Compulsion seized him. Then Lucy spoke, a tremor in her voice, rich with tragedy.

‘Was this how it happened with my mother?’

She had as well have thrown a douche of cold water over his head. Stefan stepped smartly out of range, where he could not reach her. The ache that had arisen at his loins subsided. He groped for the blandness which served him so well.

‘Go to bed, Lucy.’

A change came over her features. From where he now stood, she was illuminated full face by the twin candles. Her eyes were pools of darkness, seeming enormous in the pale glow of her skin. Stefan could almost feel the emanation of the tragic air that was so completely Lucy. Her voice was a low pattern of sound.

‘As simply as that?
I thought you meant to kiss me, yet how readily you hold aloof. Unlike your uncle. He did not spare poor Alice.’

Stefan infused authority into his tone.
‘Lucy, go to bed. It is very late. We will discuss this in the morning.’

To his consternation, she pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.
The stubborn taint was in her voice.

‘No.
I want to discuss it now.’

‘Lucy, I beg of you.’

The glitter at her eyes intensified. ‘I want to understand.’

Stefan threw up his eyes, and let his breath go in a frustrated sigh.
‘You are disgracefully importunate. It must be well nigh three in the morning, and you want to engage in a discussion of your mother’s intimate exploits?’

‘Yes.’
It was staunchly said.

Stefan inwardly cursed the demon that had sent him hunting her into the seductive darkness of a cold inn parlour in the small hours of the night.

‘Very well,’ he said, moving to the table and pulling out a chair opposite. He sat down, leaning his arms along the polished wood. ‘What is it you wish to understand?’

Now he had capitulated, Lucy was smitten with a sudden bout of shyness.
She hardly knew what had come over her, except for an urge to keep him here. Was this her mother coming out in the hidden aspects of her character? On the thought, her tongue loosened.

‘Am I wanton, as she was?’

Incredibly, Stefan laughed out. ‘Of course you are not.’

Lucy slammed the flat of her hand down on the table.
‘But I wanted you to kiss me!’

He reached out, covering her hand with his own and leaning a little towards her.
‘Lucy, such things happen between a man and a woman. What would you? Darkness and candlelight, and disrobed as we both are. It would be surprising if we had not succumbed to such an atmosphere.’

But there had been neither darkness nor candlelight in the curricle.
She had been fully clothed with a thick coat between, but it had not stopped her from the onset of heat. Lucy knew now what it had been, and she was deeply ashamed. Impossible to speak of that.

Her hand flamed under his, and she slid it out from the disturbance of his touch.
Stefan slowly pulled his own hand back, not looking at her. Lucy watched him in silence. He looked younger in his state of undress, his hair untamed, the planes of his face softened by the candlelight. He looked up and caught her looking at him, and a smile flickered on his lips.

Lucy felt as if her heart turned over.
The recognition was blinding. And utterly devoid of hope. She loved him. She had fallen in love with Stefan Ankerville.

With a dignity born of despair, she got up from the table.
‘I think I had better go to bed now.’

Stefan rose too, a frown snaking onto his forehead.
‘Have you done with questions?’

With great care, as if it was the most important thing in the world, Lucy rested her fingertips on the tabletop.
‘It is clear to me now.’

He gave his ironic laugh, and a pin pricked into Lucy’s heart.
‘As simple as that?’

She smiled at him.
‘Just so.’

With fingers that trembled, she took up her candle and went quickly to the door.

‘Lucy!’

She halted, glanced back, and her insides turned to liquid at the puzzlement in his face.

‘Yes?’

He came to her then, and it was all Lucy could do to keep her feet as he stood before her, close enough to reach out and touch.

‘Am I forgiven?’

She wanted to caress the planes of his face with her fingers, so tender a feeling enveloped her.
Instead, she brushed the stem of her candle, feeling comfort in its warmth.

‘There is nothing to forgive.’

Turning quickly away, Lucy walked swiftly to the stairs, praying her knees would not give way beneath her.

* * *

It came as no surprise to Lucy when Dion broke into eager questions almost the instant the coach bowled out of the yard of the Half Moon. Stefan’s altered demeanour towards her had clearly not gone unnoticed, and since Lucy had schooled herself to respond in kind, just as if there had been no revelation to turn her world upside down, she had prepared herself to meet Dion’s searching questions.

‘How can it have happened?
When I left you last night, upon the point of going to bed, you were adamant against any reconciliation.’

Lucy made no attempt to hide the truth.
‘I was unable to sleep. Stefan found me in the parlour.’

Dion’s bright eyes were accusing.
‘At what hour was this?’

‘Lord knows!
Stefan thought it must be three o’clock at least.’

Dion was scandalised.
‘You were alone in the parlour with Stefan in the middle of the night?
Unchaperoned
?’

Lucy let out a spontaneous laugh.
‘It is worse than that, Dion. We were both attired in our night clothes.’ Dion’s expression of shocked dismay was so comical, Lucy broke into giggles. ‘There is no need to look like that. No one saw us.’

‘What has that to do with it?’

‘I imagine it has everything to do with it. There can be no scandal attached to an episode of which no one has any knowledge.’

‘What about me?’

Lucy snaked an arm about Dion and gave her a hug. ‘I cannot think you will betray us.’

‘I have a very good mind to tell Corisande,’ said Dion on her dignity.

‘I cannot suppose Mrs Ankerville will care, let alone take any action.’

Dion frowned.
‘That is regrettably true. But I still think it shocking.’

Lucy took her hand and squeezed it.
‘You are very right. But at least it gave us an opportunity to be reconciled, so perhaps we may be forgiven.’

But Dion was far from climbing down, and Lucy began to suspect the real cause of her
dissatisfaction was that she had been excluded from the scene. For which Lucy could only be thankful. To have realised her feelings for Stefan in full sight of his sister must have made her ready to sink. Besides, Dion was so sharp-eyed she would likely have noticed. Lucy was reassured as to her most pressing concern, which was that Stefan had seen nothing of it.

His attitude towards her this morning had been one of playful teasing, with no reference to the events of the previous day.
In Dion’s place, Lucy would have found this suspicious in itself, but it was decidedly unnatural for none of them to mention the eventful visit to the home of Alice Oade.