Harry nodded, grateful for his own past deviousness. It was his fertile mind that had devised these parties, where married ladies and widows of the ton could enjoy a little illicit dalliance without running the risk of any social repercussions. Total discretion was an absolute requirement—all the ladies who attended had the same secret to hide. As for the gentlemen, honour and their peers—and the likelihood of future invitations—were more than sufficient to ensure their silence.
So the damned woman, despite all, was safe—yet again.
Harry frowned.
“Come on—let’s have breakfast.” Alfred turned towards the door. “Might as well reap the rewards of being so early—we can snaffle two helpings of kedgeree.”
Still frowning, Harry followed him to the door.
An hour later, Lucinda swept down the main staircase, Agatha, dourly protective, three steps behind. An incipient frown tangled Lucinda’s brows, put there by Melthorpe, who had knocked on her door while they had been packing with a breakfast tray and a message that his lordship would hold himself in readiness to take leave of her whenever she was ready. Then, a few minutes ago, when Agatha had opened her door, it was to discover a footman patiently waiting to carry her bag to the carriage.
For the life of her, she couldn’t understand how they had known she was leaving.
It was all most confusing, a situation not helped by the skittering, totally uncharacteristic panic that had laid siege to her confidence.
As she set foot on the last flight of stairs, Lord Asterley strolled out of the dining-room. Harry followed in his wake, a sight that made Lucinda inwardly curse. She switched her gaze to her gloves, tugging them on; when she lifted her face, it was set in determined lines. “Good morning, my lord. I’m afraid I must depart immediately.”
“Yes, of course—I quite understand.” Alfred waited by the bottom of the stairs, his most charming smile in place.
Lucinda struggled not to frown. “I’m so glad. I have enjoyed my stay, but I’m sure it’s for the best if I leave this morning.” She avoided looking at Harry, standing behind his host.
Alfred offered her his arm. “We’re quite devastated to have you leave, of course, but I’ve had your carriage brought around.”
Beginning to feel distinctly distracted, Lucinda put her hand on his sleeve. “How kind of you,” she murmured. From beneath her lashes, she glanced at Harry but could make nothing of his urbane expression.
“A pleasant day for a drive—hope you reach your destination without any fuss.”
Lucinda allowed his lordship—expatiating in similar, totally inconsequential vein—to lead her down the steps.
As he had said, her carriage awaited, Joshua on the box. Lucinda paused on the last step, turning to her host as Agatha slipped past. Calmly, she held out her hand. “Thank you, my lord, for a most interesting stay—even if it was so short.”
“Delighted, m’dear, delighted.” Alfred bowed extravagantly over her hand. “Dare say I’ll see you shortly in London.” As he straightened, his gaze met Harry’s over Lucinda’s shoulder. “In the ballrooms,” he hastily added.
Lucinda blinked. Then she turned to the carriage, and discovered Agatha, her expression thoroughly disapproving, up beside Joshua on the box.
“Here—allow me.”
Before she could do anything about her maid’s unexpected position, Lucinda found herself handed into the carriage. Deciding that rapid departure was undoubtedly her wisest course, she took her seat by the window and settled her skirts. She could get Agatha down once they were clear of the drive.
Lord Asterley spoke through the window. “Do hope you enjoyed your stay. We’ll look to see you again next—” Abruptly he caught himself up, a comical look on his face. “Ah—no. Not again.”
“Quite,” came in clipped accents from behind him.
His lordship quickly stepped back. Lucinda, features rigidly impassive, drew breath to farewell her predatory protector—only to see Harry nod to his lordship and calmly climb into the carriage.
Lucinda stared at him.
Harry smiled a touch grimly, saying, sotto voce, as he moved past, “Smile
sweetly at Alfred—or he’ll be even more confused.”
Lucinda did as she was told, plastering an utterly fatuous smile on her lips. Lord Asterley stood on the steps and waved until the curve of the drive hid them from sight.
As soon as it did, Lucinda rounded on Harry. “What do you think you’re doing? Is this another of your forcible repatriations?”
Harry settled his shoulders against the seat. “Yes.” He turned his head to look at her, brows rising arrogantly. “You aren’t going to tell me you belonged at Asterley Place—are you?”
Lucinda blushed, and changed tack. “Where are we going?” She had not left Asterley Place in an unfashionable rush solely because of the activities of its guests. After last night, she had no idea how Harry now viewed her, despite what she had sensed, despite what she now hoped. Undermining her confidence was the realisation, the cast-iron certainty, that if he wanted her, she would go to him—without any marriage vows—without any vows at all. She had intended to rush back to the safety of Em’s side, where her own weakness would be bolstered by Em’s staunch propriety.