She swallowed. She would much rather not be alone with Ralph at that moment, but short of running away she had no choice. She followed him to the library.
It was not a room she was familiar with. It was such a large, lofty chamber that until the house party it had been rarely used and she had come in here only to gaze at the thousands of books on display and to choose one of the more popular novels to read. Now she noted that there was a large terrestrial globe beside the desk, and Ralph pointed out to her the odd-shaped lamps positioned on shelves and side tables around the room.
‘Argand lamps,’ he told her. ‘They burn oil, but in a way that makes them ten times as bright as any candle. Excellent for reading in the winter.’
When I will no longer be here.
In just over a week’s time, the end of the month, she would be gone. Life at Adversane would go on as it always had done but she would not be there to share it. Lucy did not know why she found the thought so depressing.
Ralph led her to the far end of the room, where the brass orrery stood in the bay window, gleaming in the light. The delicate brass arms stretched out from the circular base, each one carrying a miniature planet or an even smaller moon fashioned from ivory.
‘It belonged to my father,’ Ralph explained, coming to a halt before it. ‘I have had it brought up to date to include Herschel’s planet with its two moons, and the extra moons around Saturn. It has a fine clockwork mechanism.’ He grinned. ‘When my nephews are here they like nothing better than to wind it up and watch the planets spin around.’
He wound it up now, and Lucy watched, fascinated, as the various planets and moons circled the sun in a slow and stately dance.
‘Why was Cottingham holding your hand at Hobart’s Bridge?’ Ralph asked. ‘What was he saying to you?’
He was telling me that you are obsessed with your late wife and that you hounded her to her death.
Lucy kept her eyes on the spinning globes.
‘Why, nothing. Our conversation became a little animated, that is all.’
He caught her wrist. ‘Was he making love to you?’
‘No! Nothing like that.’
‘Then what?’
She should tell him what Adam had said and allow him to defend himself. She should watch his reaction and judge for herself if it was true, but suddenly Lucy was afraid. She did not want to learn the truth. She tore herself from his grasp, saying coldly, ‘It was nothing that need concern you, my lord.’
‘Lucy!’
She drew herself up and met his challenging gaze steadily.
‘There is nothing in our contract to say I must report to you every conversation I have, sir. That would be quite unacceptable to me.’
‘Your reaction smacks of evasion.’
‘And yours of jealousy,’ she flashed.
His black brows drew together.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said quietly. ‘I am perfectly aware that it is nothing of the kind, but surely your logical mind must tell you that it is perfectly possible for a lady to engage in an innocent conversation with a gentleman?’
His scowl was put to flight and in its place she saw the gleam of humour in his eyes.
‘So you would fight me with logic, would you?’
Sadness gripped her and she was suddenly close to tears. She said quietly, ‘I would rather not fight you at all, my lord. Now, if you will excuse me, I must change my gown.’
* * *
Ralph watched her leave the room, curbing the urge to call her back, to demand she tell him what his cousin had said to her. He did not want to force her; he would much rather that she trusted him enough to confide everything. Yet how could he expect that when he would confide in no one?
He walked to the window, looking out across the gardens but seeing only Lucy’s distressed face. He wished there was a way to carry out his plan without involving her. He admired her spirit, the dignified way she conducted herself. His sisters liked her, too; that was very clear. He could foresee a stormy time ahead, when Lucy left Adversane. His sisters had made it very plain that they considered Lucy the perfect match for him and would take it very ill when the engagement was terminated.
As would he.
The thought came as a shock. Ralph raked his hands through his hair and exhaled slowly. When had Lucy Halbrook changed from being a mere pawn in his plans and become a person? One with so much more spirit than the dead wife he had hired her to impersonate.
He had married Helene because it was expected of him, because she was beautiful and desirable, but he had known from the start that his heart was untouched. She was so complaisant that he had thought she would make him a comfortable wife, but it had not taken him long to realise the truth, that it was most uncomfortable to be in a loveless marriage, especially to a woman with whom he shared no common interests. And Helene’s truly sweet nature had become a constant barb of guilt. He could give her as much spending money as she desired, but he could not love her, any more than she could care for him. He had resigned himself to the fact that once she had provided him with an heir, they would live separate lives.
Yet, although he had not loved Helene, he considered it his duty to find out the truth about her death and for that he needed Lucy Halbrook. His own desires were secondary. He frowned. What of Lucy’s desires? Despite her avowed dislike of him, Ralph was convinced she was not indifferent. When he had kissed her he had ignited a fire equal to his own. He had recognised it in her response, even if she would not acknowledge it.
Ralph squared his shoulders. Perhaps, when it was over and he knew the truth, he could tell Lucy, but would she want anything to do with him once she knew how he had used her? He doubted it, but it was too late to change course now. Much too late.
* * *
Lucy had no appetite for dinner, but it was impossible for her not to attend. There were no orders as to her attire, but then, she thought despondently, whatever she wore would be styled upon one of Helene’s evening gowns. Ruthie had laid out a rose silk and she put it on, not even bothering to look in the mirror before she went downstairs.
In the drawing room Lucy did her best to avoid both Ralph and Adam Cottingham and was relieved to be sitting between Lord Preston and Sir Timothy when they went into the dining room. Not that either of the gentlemen she was avoiding seemed aware of her efforts. Adam sent her no anxious looks, made no attempt to continue their tête-à-tête. Lucy wondered if he had realised the imprudence of declaring his suspicions to Ralph’s fiancée. Yet if that was the case, Lucy thought he should have tried to make her an apology. As for Ralph, apart from the occasional thoughtful glance in her direction he kept his distance and in such lively company the reserve between them went unnoticed.
After dinner she waited with the other ladies for the gentlemen to join them. To retire early would attract more comment than to sit quietly in the corner. The long windows were thrown wide, but even so there was no breeze to refresh the room and all the ladies seemed a little subdued as they fanned themselves and talked in desultory tones. Lucy stepped outside, watching the sunset and enjoying the slight breeze. She was still there when at last the gentlemen came in.
As the party rearranged itself, Ralph joined Lucy on the terrace.
‘You are very quiet tonight. Is anything amiss?’
She shook her head, but he saw quite clearly that she was not her usual self. The sparkle was gone from her eyes and there was a slight droop to her mouth. Ralph longed to kiss away that troubled look, but he suspected he had put it there by questioning her about Adam Cottingham. Perhaps he should not have done so, but he had felt such a worm of jealousy in his soul when he had seen them together, a feeling so much stronger than anything he had ever felt for his wife.