Sweat beaded his forehead. He placed his hands on Lucy’s shoulders and turned her toward the French door leading to the well-lit ballroom.
She yanked herself away from his grip. “I don’t understand. Make me understand, Nate, please?” She slid her palms up his chest. “I would be so much better for you.”
Nate pushed her hands down and stepped around her. “Lucy, I am a married man. A happily married man, I may add. This conversation is inappropriate.”
He softened when her eyes filled with tears. “You’re a very pretty young lady. One day a man will come along who is right for you. But you must understand I’m not that man.”
Tears slid down her cheeks, as she grabbed his arms once more. “You’re wrong. I could do a lot for you. Papa would give you a business to run, we could have a bigger, better house, private schools for the boys, and anything you want.”
Nate lowered his head, and shook it, his hands on his hips. “I already have everything I want, and will ever want.” He looked back up at her. “If you can’t understand that, then there’s no reason to continue this discussion.”
Anger flared in her eyes. “Your stupid wife will be sorry.” She swiped at the tears on her cheek. “You made a serious mistake, Nathan Hale, and when the time comes, you’ll know what I mean.”
Hurrying past him, she stalked into the house, and left him standing there, wishing like hell he could collect his wife and leave.
“Nate?” Angel called softly as she came out the French doors. “Lucy just stormed past me into the house. Is everything all right?”
He pulled her to his side, and kissed her on the temple. “Yes, everything is fine now. Are you having a good time?”
“Yes, it’s delightful, but what I really want to do is find our buggy and go home.”
“Darlin’,” Nate said grinning, as he turned her toward the buggies, “you read my mind.” They had only gone a few steps when he added. “Maybe we can find your missing drawers.”
“They were never missing.” She smirked.
He turned to her, wide-eyed. “Then, why . . .”
“To keep your attention all night.”
He rested his hand on her lower back as he hurried her to the buggy. “A good plan. It worked.”
The last guest had thanked the Bensons and hurried to their buggy. Servants moved tiredly around the house, cleaning up from the party. Eli wished Lucy a good night and retired to his library to drink a brandy before he retired for the night.
An hour later
, Lucy lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling and remembering the scene with Nate.
She wasn’t going to give up; she’d done too much already. That little slut he’d married while her back was turned would not win. No one from a decent background would travel across the country for a husband. There must be something Angel hid, and Lucy had the resources to discover exactly what that something was.
Punching her pillow, she tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. Finally, she threw the covers off and padded across the thick carpet. Opening the bottom drawer of her chest, she rummaged around and pulled out the bottle of brandy she kept there.
One of the sophisticated men whose company she’d enjoyed in Paris had taught her many fascinating things, one of them was that a drink or two before bed would help her sleep. Her papa did the same thing, and no one thought much of it, so why shouldn’t she?
Lucy poured the brandy into the glass sitting on the chest and gulped it. Closing her eyes, she relished the liquid fire sliding down her throat. She opened her eyes and poured more, walking slowly to her bed and sipping. Her nostrils flared at the strong aroma as she waved the glass under her nose. The smell and taste of the brandy brought back wonderful memories of Paris.
Eternally grateful for her papa agreeing to the lady’s companion Lucy had suggested to him before her trip, she’d had many experiences for which her papa would surely have dragged her home, had he known. Sixty-year-old Miss Hermione Witherspoon took to her room early each night, and slept like the dead.
Once the woman had settled in, night cap on, covers pulled past her shoulders, Lucy would dress in her newest fashions, sneak past the unconscious woman, order a hackney, and meet one gentleman or another for an evening of fun. She danced, drank, and indulged in encounters with the gentlemen no properly brought-up young lady would. But she was far from home, would never see them again, and wanted some excitement before she settled down with Nate.
She finished her drink with a scowl. Nate. She would have him. It would simply take time and planning.
Angel shut the window over the sink in the kitchen, to block the cool, early October air. She ran her palms up and down her arms and considered whether she should light a fire in the fireplace.
The twins having reached the magic age of six, all four boys were in school now, so Angel and Julia-Rose were alone during the day. And today Julia-Rose decided to entertain herself by getting into everything.
Earlier, a loud crash greeted Angel as she came in the back door, struggling with the two baskets of eggs the twins had forgotten to collect before school.
“Mama.” Julia-Rose held up her arms. She sat on the floor, with molasses dripping down her face. Alongside her lay pieces of broken dishes that had once held the family’s breakfast.