Sophie smiled at her. “Stop crying, ma petite. It makes your eyes red. Should I send a tray up? Are you hungry?”
Lucia smiled back at her, but she did not feel any warmth or happiness. A black cloud settled on her. She did have her whole life ahead of her, and she was afraid, desperately afraid, it would not include Alex.
A pretty, ebony-haired girl brought her tray, and Lucia was relieved it wasn’t Brigitte. The girl set the tray on the table and gave her a shy smile, and Lucia balked. Lord, the girl was just a child.
“Merci,” she told the girl.
“I teach the English,” the girl whispered conspiratorially. Lucia wondered if this was an attempt to trick her into revealing she was one of the enemy but decided the girl with the black ringlets was probably no threat.
“You speak English?” Lucia asked.
“I teach it,” the girl said and sat down on the chaise. She looked as if she was in no hurry to leave.
“You mean you’re learning.” She gave a small curtsy, which made the girl giggle, and said, “I’m Lucia.”
The girl’s face lit up. She gave a clumsy curtsy in response and said, “I am Marie.”
Lucia took a plate of crepes and sat on the chaise next to Marie.
Marie gazed at her, dark eyes adoring. “You are beautiful.”
Lucia could tell they were going to be friends. She handed Marie half the crepe. “So are you.”
After Marie left, Lucia had little to do except fret about De´charne´ finding them, worry about her brother, and agonize over Alex. It didn’t take long for worry to turn into impatience and then to anger. She paced the room.
Why hadn’t he told her where he was going or when he would be back? Couldn’t he even be bothered to take one minute, wake her, and give her some explanation? She stopped and spun on her heel.
But perhaps she hadn’t even crossed his mind. She was back to being an annoyance in his life. He probably thought if he ignored her she’d disappear. Did the night they spent together mean anything to him? Was she a complete fool?
She flopped back on the pillow and covered her eyes. The more she thought about it, the more it muddled her brain. Why did she keep coming back to this? What exactly did she expect from Alex? He’d never promised her anything. In fact, he’d always been open about his feelings on the matter, made it clear their liaison was temporary. And would she have agreed if he had wanted something permanent?
Lucia snorted. Who was she fooling? She’d never be more than one in a series of women in his life. Still, she couldn’t regret what had happened between them. She wouldn’t trade it for anything, and perhaps she was giving up too easily.
She sat up. Perhaps she just needed a plan to win him over.
Lucia bit her thumbnail, thinking. Her father and all of Society expected her to marry Dandridge. But how could she do so knowing what she knew now about passion? She would never be happy as Reginald’s wife.
She couldn’t marry him, she decided, but then the old dread seized her at the thought of disappointing her father. What would Lord Brigham say if she married Alex? She tried to imagine it and winced. He’d be furious at first. She could just picture the vein throbbing in his neck. But mightn’t he come to accept the union, given time? After all, Alex was rich and powerful—not in Parliament, but politics weren’t everything. Surely having two wealthy, influential sons-in-law would only further her father’s bid to win the office he so desired.
She lay back on the bed again. But what if her father didn’t see it that way? And how was she ever going to persuade Alex to marry her anyway? It would require a more masterful plan than she’d ever devised in the past.
She shook her head. No matter. She could not, would not marry Reginald. There it was. She didn’t want to displease her father, but she couldn’t throw her life away to keep him happy.
She’d always wondered what it would be like to go against Society’s dictates. Now she had her chance. Come what may.
But it was one thing to decide to win a man over and another to accomplish it. Perhaps if she was given more time with Alex, he might come to care for her. But could a rake really be reformed? She couldn’t accept an adulterous marriage with Alex any more than a loveless one with Dandridge. Alex was intent on returning her to England, and as soon as she was gone, his interest in her would disappear, too.
There was a quiet tap on the door, and Lucia jumped. Heart racing, she was off the bed and at the door in three strides, praying she’d see Alex when she opened it.
She didn’t.
Lord Dewhurst, dressed immaculately in full riding attire, stood before her. He removed his high-crowned beaver hat, deftly couching it under his arm, and bowed deeply. Where did the man acquire his wardrobe?
“May I come in, Miss Dashing?”
It wasn’t proper, and Lucia hesitated for a moment. Then the door across the hall opened and a fat man still buttoning his breeches emerged. Lucia dragged Dewhurst inside.
“Is Alex all right?” Lucia asked as soon she’d shut and locked the door.
