Drawn to Lord Ravenscar

She was not going to waste her life in regret.

Chapter Four

‘I rode over with the invitations to my dance,’ Lucy said as she was shown into the elegant parlour. Jenny was sitting at a very pretty lady’s writing table, made of a pale satinwood strung with ebony, preparing what appeared to be a letter. She sanded it and applied a wax wafer, impressing the Ravenscar seal. ‘I hope I do not disturb you?’

‘Of course not. You are always welcome,’ Jenny told her and rose, approaching her with outstretched hands. ‘Please do sit down. You are not disturbing me in the least. I was writing to my aunt. She asked that I visit her in London, but I do not feel able to get away and have told her she may come here for a few days if she wishes.’

‘How is your patient?’ Lucy asked, sitting down on an elbow chair, which was close to Jenny and by the long window that overlooked a lawn and rose beds. It was a restful room, its colours pale blue with touches of green and white in the long curtains and the light came from two aspects, making it seem bright and airy.

‘He is a great deal better,’ Jenny said, her face lighting up with real pleasure. ‘This morning he apologised to me for giving us all a fright...but he was very ill. His doctor is calling it a little miracle. I think having Paul home has made all the difference—given him something to live for again.’

‘How fortunate that is for you all,’ Lucy said. ‘You do not think of returning home now?’

‘Paul has begged me to stay for a few more weeks and I have agreed. Adam left this morning and will be gone for some days. He had business to attend, as he often does—but Ravenscar is well situated for him and he does not mind living here for the time being. I can be happy anywhere that I have my family.’ She reached out and rang the bell. ‘We shall have some tea, Lucy. Will you stay for nuncheon today?’

‘I wish that I might,’ Lucy said, ‘but my cousin and uncle are arriving this afternoon and I must be back in time to change and greet them.’

‘Your uncle?’

‘Sir John Gresham,’ Lucy said. ‘He is Mama’s brother, of course—and his daughter is a widow. Her name is Judith Sparrow. She is older than you and I, Jenny—but only a year or two.’

‘How unfortunate for her that she has lost her husband so young,’ Jenny said.

‘Yes, I feel for her. I wondered if you might come to tea tomorrow and meet her—if you can be spared?’

‘I am certain I could spare an hour or so. I shall have someone drive me to your house, Lucy. With Adam away I sometimes feel a little at a loss.’

Lucy was about to reply when someone entered the room. Glancing towards the door, she saw that Paul was standing just inside the threshold, looking at them.

‘Do I intrude?’ he asked and smiled in a way that took Lucy’s breath. How long was it since she’d seen that smile? For a moment it was as if he had never been away, never cut himself off from them all. ‘I was told refreshments were to be served here and I came to keep you company, Jenny—but I can go away if you prefer to be alone with your friend?’

Did he no longer think of her as his friend? A slashing pain cut through Lucy, but she kept her smile in place.

‘Of course not,’ Jenny said. ‘Please come and join us. Lucy has brought invitations to her dance, which is just a few days away now. I am hoping Adam will be back in time, but I shall certainly go...and I am sure Lady Dawlish would be happy to see you, Paul.’

‘Yes, I have not been to visit your mama yet, Miss Dawlish,’ Paul said and sat down in a comfortable wing chair near the fireplace, stretching out his long legs. The large hearth was empty since no fire was needed in the sunny parlour that day. ‘It is remiss of me, but I have been riding about the estate most days... There is much to do, for I fear my father has made no important decisions for years and some of the housing has been neglected. However, it was remiss of me. I must find time to visit my neighbours.’

‘I am sure everyone will be pleased to see you. I know that both my mother and father would welcome you at any time, sir.’

‘Then I must certainly come—but you understand these properties must come first.’

‘Yes, I noticed that some of the houses in Little Mallows were in poor condition as I rode by, sir. Papa always says that it is unwise to neglect one’s tenants, because it causes resentment.’

‘Yes, I think I agree with him,’ Paul said and frowned at his own thoughts. ‘However, I shall visit your mama tomorrow, Miss Dawlish—if that is convenient?’ He smiled at her and for a brief moment she glimpsed the man she’d known and loved.

‘I was telling Jenny that my cousin and uncle arrive later today,’ Lucy said. ‘She has promised to come to tea—perhaps you might escort her?’

‘Yes, why not?’ he replied. ‘That will suit me well, for I may see to business in the morning, as usual. You will be pleased to hear that my father is much recovered, Miss Dawlish. He is sitting up in bed, reading the latest newssheet at the moment.’

‘I am very glad to hear it,’ Lucy said. She glanced at him again and saw a thoughtful look in his eyes; the half-smile on his lips made her wish that he would truly talk to her, laugh with her as he had when they were children. She told herself not to expect too much and by the time a maid had brought in tea and little sweet almond macaroons, she had recovered her equilibrium and was able to speak without feeling breathless. Paul was looking at her attentively, as he might a guest he had just met—but there was none of their old intimacy, the shared jests that had struck them both as being funny when others could not see it.

‘How did you enjoy your trip to Italy, Miss Dawlish?’

‘I found it interesting and the lakes were wonderful,’ Lucy said. ‘I loved the sunshine, which was more reliable than our own, for we never know here from one day to the next how it will be. In Italy, day after day passed without so much as a cloud—here we cannot have two days without a hint of rain.’

‘Yes, I fear that is the truth,’ he agreed. ‘Though for myself I love the changing seasons and would not wish for everlasting sunshine.’

‘I am sure we should all tire of it in time,’ Lucy replied and sipped the tea Jenny had poured for her.

‘However, I should not care for the rain if my roof leaked,’ Paul went on. ‘I must make sure that the inhabitants of Little Mallows do not suffer when the next downpour comes.’

‘A leaking roof would be most unpleasant,’ Jenny said. ‘You should certainly see to it, Paul.’

‘I intend to,’ he replied, put down his cup and stood up. ‘It has been pleasant to see you again, Miss Dawlish. Please excuse me now...’

‘I, too, should be going if I am to be home in time to prepare for my cousin,’ Lucy said and stood up. She made a little curtsy to Paul. ‘I shall tell Mama to expect you both tomorrow—she will be so pleased. I shall see you tomorrow, dearest Jenny.’

‘I shall walk with you to the door,’ Paul said politely and stood back to allow her to leave the room first. He followed her into the hall. ‘Do you still prefer to ride rather than use a carriage, Miss Dawlish?’

‘If you recall...I was about to be given lessons when...’ She faltered and looked at him. ‘Forgive me, I should not have mentioned it.’

Paul stared for a moment, then inclined his head. ‘I had forgotten, but it was I who promised to teach you to drive in my phaeton, was it not?’

‘Yes...’ Lucy blushed. ‘It is not important. My father sends a carriage and groom if the weather is damp.’

‘A promise should always be kept. You will be busy with your cousin visiting, but if you would like to handle a phaeton and pair I shall be happy to oblige you, Miss Dawlish. I believe we have a suitable rig and horses that are amenable to a lady’s hands.’

‘Thank you, sir. Perhaps when my cousin has settled in. It would be rude of me to leave her to amuse herself too soon.’

‘Of course.’ He bowed his head to her as they reached the door. ‘Your gown is very becoming, Miss Dawlish. Yellow was always your colour—and I fancy your hair is done in its former style today.’

‘Yes.’ Lucy felt a tingle of pleasure as she gazed into his eyes. For a moment her breath came faster and she wished that he would give some sign that he cared for her. ‘You are observant, Captain Ravenscar. I would not have expected you to notice.’

‘Oh, yes, I notice everything about you,’ he said gravely.

Now what did that mean? Was it a mere pleasantry?

‘Please take care on your ride home. I’ve heard there may be a gang of poachers in the area.’

‘I have my groom with me and Briars is always armed.’ She curtsied slightly. She waited a moment longer than necessary, hoping for something more, but he gave no sign that he had more to say to her. ‘Goodbye, sir.’ Lucy extended her hand; he took it briefly in his own, bowing his head, but he did not hold it longer than a second nor did he attempt to kiss it.

‘I shall see you tomorrow.’

Lucy smiled as best she could and left him at the door. She did not look back and was quite unaware that he waited to watch as her groom helped her to mount, going back into the house only when she rode away.

Lucy gave her attention to her horse. Head up and back straight, she trotted down the drive, fighting the foolish desire to weep.

Her heart was behaving very foolishly. Lucy had wished that Paul might kiss her hand, or at least show some sign of being affected by her nearness, but apart from some kind words about her gown he had shown none. Not that she truly knew what he said to her at the door, for her chest was tight and she’d found it difficult to breathe.

What was it he had said about noticing everything about her? Lucy had been feeling so odd that she hadn’t really heard what he did say—and what did he mean by it? Why would he notice everything about her? That sounded as if he cared...but his manner was so solemn, so reserved—polite but distant, as if they scarcely knew one another. If he cared for Lucy, he must surely have shown it by a look or a touch, but his manner had been completely impersonal. Friendly enough for a neighbour, but nothing in his gestures or his voice had suggested anything more...and she would be a fool to hope for it.

She had meant to be as cool and reserved as he was, but she was very much afraid she must have shown how affected she was by his proximity as they stood at the door.

* * *

Paul went up the stairs to his own bedchamber. For a moment there he had been close to speaking out, to asking Lucy if she had missed him, but he had managed to control himself. For a moment the desire to sweep her into his arms and kiss her had been almost overwhelming, but he had banished the foolish urge. She could not wish for anything from him other than friendship. Her manner was softer that morning, her smile more like the girl he’d known, though he could still sense that she was holding back.

Well, what did he expect? She had reminded him of a promise to teach her to drive his phaeton; it had been given only the day before Mark was murdered. What might have happened had he begun the lessons he’d promised?

Would she have withdrawn her promise and turned to him?

For a moment he remembered the gown she’d worn that day when they met out riding—the look in her eyes as he’d teased her about driving his phaeton and the smell of her perfume. She’d worn a soft floral scent then, but now she wore something more sophisticated...with undertones of something exotic that he found sensual.

Lucy had become a sensual woman. Paul realised with a shock that the girl he’d fallen in love with had changed in a way he was not sure he liked. There was still something of the old Lucy about her at times, but she was older...different, a cool sophistication in her manner that he found difficult to accept.

What had he expected? He was not such a fool as to imagine that she would have waited all this time for him...that she would not have changed or grown up, was he?

If he had, he was truly a fool.

Paul regretted the months he had allowed to pass without attempting to see or even write to her. When he’d left her that last time, he had meant to join her in Italy, to get to know her...perhaps to court her once they were both ready. He did not know what had made him draw into himself, throwing his heart into his work. Somehow, he’d convinced himself that she would not wish to receive his advances...that he would be betraying the brother he’d revered by making love to the girl that Mark had intended to marry.

How could he take what ought to have been his brother’s? Yet she had remained in his heart and mind, taunting him with what might have been, if Mark had lived. He might then have taken her from him, for all was fair in love and war—but he could not fight a ghost.

When he’d allowed himself to think of her, he’d seen Lucy as she was before Mark died, but she had changed.

He had left it too late, Paul realised sadly. Lucy had grown away from him, dealing with her grief without his help. He’d seen the way she responded to Daventry. Adam’s friend was a man of address, sophisticated and wealthy. Lucy probably preferred someone like him to a man she’d known all her life. Paul was only eighteen months her senior and all her life she’d treated him like a brother...until that dance...

He caught his breath as the memory struck at him like the thrust of a knife. Was it too late to court her now? Perhaps she would allow him to give her lessons in driving. It would be a first step to breaking down the barrier between them...to the start of a new friendship.

* * *

Lucy was thoughtful as she rode home. For a moment as they talked, she thought she’d seen something in Paul’s manner...something that showed he was not completely the cold, reserved man he seemed. Perhaps he, too, found it difficult to break down the barrier that had grown between them? Lucy wondered if it was really too late to recover the friendship they’d known. She might have read more into his manner, into a certain look she’d seen in his eyes on several occasions before everything came tumbling down. It might be that he had never truly loved her—had just been flirting with the girl his brother meant to marry.

Perhaps if she put all thought of a romance between them from her mind, she might be able to greet him as the friend that he had been for so many years. A little smile touched her lips as she remembered romping over Lord Ravenscar’s estate with Paul and Mark, whenever she could escape from her governess and her mama.

Actually, they had both followed Mark like troopers falling in behind a glorious commander—and they had both looked up to him as their leader. Mark always took the blame if they were caught in some scrape, though once Paul had insisted it was his fault and been beaten for his misdemeanour. Mark had never been given more than a lecture on his inappropriate behaviour, which, when you thought about it, was a little unfair—but of course he could never be wrong in the eyes of his doting family.

Lucy and Paul had been as mesmerised as everyone else, but, when she remembered, it was Paul to whom she had confessed her childhood fears—and it was for her sake he had taken the beating.

She had been expressly forbidden to go roaming that day, for her uncle and cousin were coming to visit, but the sun had called to her and she’d sneaked off to play at pirates with her friends. During their play she’d fallen, torn her pretty gown and cut her hands and knees. Paul had driven her home in the governess’s cart and when her mama scolded her, he had claimed that he had teased her into her truancy. Lady Dawlish had told his father and for that crime he had been beaten...whereas when Mark had confessed to so much worse, including putting frogs in their tutor’s bed and setting the boar in with the sows, besides a hundred other tricks, he had escaped with a scolding.

How could she have been such a fool as to think herself in love with Mark when she had always loved Paul? Lucy had been blinded by the elder brother’s magnificence when he returned from the wars as a hero. He was glorious and a wonderful friend, but she had never truly loved him as she had Paul. Tears stung her eyes as she realised what her mistake had cost her: her happiness.

Was it too late to show Paul that she cared for him? And what of the earl?

Lucy liked the earl and she thought that she might find a kind of content with him if Paul no longer loved her. If only she knew for sure that he had cared for her truly. Paul had spoken much with his eyes, but apart from a few emotional words before he went off to grieve alone, she had no reason to think that he had ever considered her as the lady he would like to marry.

Perhaps she had imagined the whole, which was humiliating.

Lucy felt hot all over. How could she make the first move to heal the breach between them when she did not even know if he particularly liked her? If he thought she was throwing herself at his head, she would die of embarrassment. She must give no hint of her feelings. If he cared for her, he must speak first.

Dismounting and giving her horse into the care of a stable hand, she hurried up to the house. She must change into a pretty afternoon gown to be ready for the arrival of her cousin, Judith.

* * *

‘How pretty you are,’ Judith said and kissed Lucy’s cheek. ‘It is such an age since I saw you, Cousin. When we last met you were in the schoolroom.’

‘And you were about to be married,’ Lucy said, and then, as she saw a flash of grief in the other’s eyes. ‘Forgive me, that was clumsy.’

‘No, it was truthful. I was married and then I was widowed and now I have put off my mourning. Sir Michael was very good to me and I was happy as his wife, but he would not wish me to grieve for ever. I can speak of him now without hurting, Lucy.’

‘I am glad. You...you look beautiful, Judith.’

Her cousin had dark hair, which was swept into a sophisticated chignon at the back of her head, a few tendrils curling about her face. Her complexion was pale, her eyes so dark that in a certain light they looked black. Her gown was crimson silk with a buttoned bodice and a deep lace collar and cuffs; rubies sparkled in her ears and in the gold brooch she wore at her throat. Anyone looking at the two girls might think them a perfect foil, the one so dark, the other so fair. Lucy had a delicate colour in her cheeks, but her lips were not as red as her cousin’s and there was a sparkle in Judith’s eyes—a sparkle that spoke of laughter and a joy of life.

‘Thank you, Lucy,’ Judith said and laughed softly. ‘I would say I have more style than beauty, but I do not turn up my nose at compliments, I assure you.’

‘You do have a style of your own,’ Lucy said thoughtfully. ‘I do not know quite what it is—but you are not like most ladies I know.’

‘I am told I resemble a Greek goddess,’ her cousin said, laughing. ‘I think they mean statuesque... I am certainly not a wraith like you and I mean that as a compliment.’

‘You mean I am thin,’ Lucy said. ‘Papa says I am too thin, but I cannot help it.’

‘And I am nicely rounded...’ her cousin twinkled ‘...but because I am tall I can get away with it, you see. If I were diminutive, I should be fat, but the Greeks liked their goddesses well rounded, it seems.’

‘You are not in the least fat,’ Lucy said and shook her head. ‘You are—yes, you are statuesque, but I find that magnificent.’

‘I should have visited you long ago, for you are good for my morale,’ her cousin teased. ‘We shall certainly be friends, Lucy dearest. I am told you have travelled to Italy and France. I should like to travel more. I was taken to Paris for a wedding trip, but unfortunately my husband became ill of a fever when we returned and was never quite well again. Our plans to visit Greece and Spain never came to anything.’

‘I enjoyed my time in Italy but...’ Lucy sighed. ‘I was grieving and I did not wish to come home for a long time, but now I do not think I wish to travel for a while.’

‘You disappoint me,’ Judith said. ‘Had you been eager for it we might have travelled together...but never mind, I shall not tease you. Papa says I should find myself an obliging husband, who will take me to the places I want to see, and perhaps I shall.’

‘Are you looking for a husband?’

Judith seemed thoughtful, then gave an expressive shrug. ‘I am not certain. He would have to be someone I could respect... A man who would be willing to indulge me and not dominate me. You see, I am quite wealthy and can afford to indulge myself. I would not risk that freedom unless...’ Again she shrugged. ‘The future will take care of itself. Tell me, are you thinking of marriage in the near future?’

‘My parents think of it for me,’ Lucy said. ‘I was to have married, as you know. Since then I have not met anyone new that I liked enough. I was asked in Italy more than once, but I could not consider any of the gentlemen who were so obliging as to offer for me.’

‘Well, perhaps we shall help each other to find husbands,’ Judith said and her soft laughter made Lucy want to giggle. ‘After Papa leaves, perhaps my aunt would take us both to Bath, if we asked her nicely.’

‘I am sure she would, for she has spoken of it,’ Lucy agreed and tucked her arm into Judith’s. ‘Tell me, Cos, do you ride or do you drive yourself?’

‘I enjoy both,’ Judith said. ‘I have arranged for my horses to be brought down, Lucy. Do you think your father will stable them for me—or should I ask his advice as to where adequate stabling may be had?’

‘How many horses do you have?’

‘Three that I wish to bring with me,’ Judith replied. ‘Queen Mab is my mare and an excellent riding horse—but Thunder and Lightning are two of my favourites. I drive them when I go out in my phaeton—but I have others at my home. Sir Michael kept an extensive stable and I have not wanted to sell his horses, though most serve no practical purpose, other than to draw my travelling coach, because I could not handle them.’

‘You should offer them to Adam Miller should you wish to sell any of them,’ Lucy said. ‘I think he would offer a fair price for good horses.’

‘I do not know the gentleman,’ Judith said. ‘I would only sell to a man I could be certain would treat them well.’

‘Captain Miller is a cousin of both Paul and Mark Ravenscar...Hallam, too.’

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