‘I know...’ Paul sighed. ‘I am trying to accept my duties here, Jenny. I have always loved the estate, its land and people—more than Mark did, I think. I believe I can accept what I must when my father... But Lucy...’ He shook his head. ‘No, I must not burden you with my foolish thoughts. Excuse me, I must go up to Father.’ He pushed his chair back, abandoning the untouched food.
‘Your father seems better, Paul. I think he may astound his doctor and live for a few more months or even longer.’
‘How kind you have been to us all,’ he said. ‘I can never thank you enough for being here when he needed you.’
‘You know I am your friend and your father’s friend.’
Paul nodded and left her, running up the stairs to his father’s apartments. He could only hope that Jenny was right. His father had rallied since he had returned and the doctor was pleased. Paul prayed that it meant they could have some time together. He was determined not to leave Lord Ravenscar again. They must make the most of each day granted to them and Paul would learn all he could from his father, because he wanted his people to prosper—and he wanted his father to die in peace when the time came.
A cloud passed across his face as his thoughts returned to Lucy Dawlish, as they did too often. His first sight of her had been a shock. He had meant to be more friendly the next time they met, but she had been talking to a stranger and he had resented it—which was ridiculous. Lucy Dawlish was nothing to him or he to her, but, try as he might, he could not put her from his mind as he wished. Her face intruded into his mind without warning, particularly when he was in bed at night and sleep would not come.
His marriage was not something he could dismiss. Paul knew that he must find a young lady who would give him an heir and make his house into a home. If he were fortunate, he might find someone like Jenny. Adam was a lucky man, for not only was she a sensible, kind-hearted woman, but she had brought him a fortune.
As the heir to the Ravenscar estate, Paul did not need to marry a fortune. He could look for a young woman who made him feel happy—but where was he to find such a person? Once upon a time he’d believed he knew the lady he wished to spend his life with...but now...
Was Lucy really so much changed? She looked beautiful but seemed more reserved, cool as she looked at him, all the sparkling vitality that had made him love her gone. Had Mark’s death done that to her? How much she must have loved him.
His throat tightened with sympathy for her. He knew that he had been hoping she would have put all that behind her...would look at him with laughter in her eyes and...the love he’d sometimes thought he had seen before Mark was murdered. Or had he imagined it because it was what he’d hoped for?
What would have happened if Mark had lived? Would Lucy have married him...or would she have broken her engagement because she loved someone else?
A rueful smile touched his lips. He had never been sure that Lucy cared for him, even though once or twice he had been tempted to kiss her...to beg her not to marry his brother. Loyalty and doubt had kept him from trying to seduce his brother’s bride-to-be, but there had been moments when he’d seen something in her eyes and he’d hoped.
It was useless to wish that he’d spoken out when he first suspected what was in his heart, before Mark had come home in his uniform, looking like a conquering hero. Perhaps if he had...but he’d waited, not wanting to rush things, and Mark had swept Lucy off her feet. Paul wondered if she had regretted her promise to wed him, but he had never been brave enough to ask.
With a shake of his head, he dismissed his foolish thoughts and went into his father’s bedchamber.
* * *
‘I have enjoyed myself, meeting your mama,’ Lord Daventry said and kissed Lucy’s hand when she walked to the door with her guests. ‘I hope to see you again soon, Miss Dawlish.’
‘I believe you are leaving Ravenscar tomorrow, sir?’
‘Yes, indeed, I may,’ he replied with a rueful smile. ‘I fear that Ravenscar’s illness makes it a little awkward for me to stay as long as I’d imagined. However, I have a cousin living not too far distant and it may be that I shall pay him a little visit.’
Lucy’s cheeks felt warm as she gave him a shy smile. ‘Mama has invited you to my dance next month... It is under three weeks away. I should be happy if you could find the time to come, sir.’
‘Oh, but I have already told your dear mama that I shall be delighted. Even if I have to put up at a local inn, I would not miss it for the world.’
‘I am sure Mama would be honoured to offer you accommodation here for a day or so, my lord.’
‘I should be delighted to accept,’ he said, his eyes seeming to caress her. ‘But I dare say I may see you again before the dance.’
‘I should like that,’ Lucy replied, watching as Adam finished his conversation with her father and came out into the courtyard. ‘Goodbye, Captain Miller. Give my love to Jenny.’
‘Of course. She will be happy to see you any day—and if my uncle improves she may drive over to see you one day next week.’
‘She must come to lunch,’ Lucy said. ‘We are here most days—but not, I think, Tuesday next for we have a lunch party with friends.’
Adam inclined his head. Daventry smiled at her and the two men rode off. She remained in the sunshine, watching them until they had reached the end of the drive, then turned and went into her mother’s parlour.
‘Well, Lucy, I like the earl very well,’ Lady Dawlish said and sipped a small glass of pale sherry. ‘There is nothing arrogant about him despite his lineage and his wealth. Yes, I thought him an excellent man.’
‘He is very pleasant, good company,’ Lucy agreed. ‘He says he shall come to my dance even if he has to put up at the inn—but I told him you would be pleased to have him stay here.’
‘Yes, certainly,’ her mother agreed. ‘I shall send a formal invitation to his home.’
‘He says he may stay nearby with a relative and hopes to visit us again before the dance.’
Her mother smiled and looked pleased. ‘I think the earl likes you very well, Lucy. He is perhaps a little older than I should like in a husband for you, but, if you liked him, his age would not matter.’
‘He is but three and thirty,’ Lucy said seriously, for she had on short acquaintance found nothing to dislike in the gentleman. ‘I do not think that too old, Mama. Mark would have been eight and twenty this year, had he lived. Five more years is not so very much different in a husband—and I have grown up since then.’
‘Yes, you have,’ her mother agreed and nodded with approval. ‘Am I to think that you would welcome an offer from the earl?’
‘It is too soon to be certain,’ Lucy said, wrinkling her brow. ‘I like him very well. I think he would be a comfortable companion, but I am not sure I wish to marry him.’
Her mother could only agree, ‘As you say, it is too early to be sure, but I am glad to see that you are beginning to think of marriage, dearest. For a while I thought you would never recover from your grief.’
‘I am much better now,’ Lucy told her. ‘I think that if I continue to like the earl...I should be ready to marry him in a few months.’
‘I am so pleased,’ her mother said. ‘I would not push you into a marriage you did not like, but I cannot help wanting to see you well settled—and Daventry is a perfect gentleman.’
‘Yes, I believe he may be,’ Lucy replied. ‘I imagine he may have been a flirt in the past, but many gentlemen have their