“It would cost more to post,” Lucy said. “Papa can be quite ridiculously penny-pinching at times.” She stood up and said briskly. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m in need of fresh air. I’m going out into the garden. Do you want to come?”
Alice said gently, “No, my dear, you’ve had a big upset. I think you’ll be happier alone to sort out your feelings.”
Lucy nodded.Happier alone.Yes, she’d better learn how to be that.
***
Gerald called at Bellaire Gardens later that afternoon, ostensibly to finalize the arrangements to take Lucy to visit his grandmother, but also to bring Alice the news.
“Lucy is out in the garden,” Alice told him.
“Good,” he said. “But first some news. My man Heffernan sent a message. Bamber has left the country. He sailed from Bristol two nights ago, on a ship bound for America.”
“I know,” Alice said. “Lucy got a letter from him this morning, bidding her farewell forever. He’s married a rich American widow and says he’s never coming back.”
Gerald stared at her, shocked. “He said goodbye by letter? Without even trying to see her? That swine. His own daughter! How did she take it?”
Alice shook her head. “She’s devastated, of course, but determined not to show it. She says it’s nothing new. It seems she’s quite accustomed to being abandoned by that wretched man—but honestly, how could any young girl become accustomed to such carelessness? Especially as he’s her only living relative. And she’s such a dear girl. Oh, I could strangle him.”
“You’ll keep her with you of course.”
“Yes, of course, though she has her pride. My guess is she’ll try to insist on leaving.” Alice snorted. “To go where? That man has left her with nothing. I’m just thankful she is safely betrothed to you. Were it not for that...” She shook her head.
Gerald frowned. The betrothal was currently as strong as wet paper. He would have his work cut out for him now. “Perhaps this visit to my grandmother might cheer her up.”
Alice gave him a skeptical glance. “You think so?”
“Why not? At least it will be a change. I’ll go and speak to her now.” On the point of leaving, he turned back at the door. “There was no mention of the letters, I suppose?”
“None.”
“Damn him—sorry, Aunt Alice.”
“Don’t be,” Alice said. “I quite agree.”
He found Lucy in her favorite spot, under the spreading plane tree, painting. Or rather, pretending to paint. He stood in the shadows and quietly watched her for several minutes. Her brush never moved. She just sat, staring blankly into the distance.
He couldn’t imagine how she must feel. To be so callously abandoned, so entirely alone...
No matter how unsatisfactory his own parents were, they were at least there.
He must have moved or made a sound, for she turned her head and sprang up. “Gerald.” She put her paintbrush down, smoothed her dress and faced him with a forced smile. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s time this sham came to an end.”
He strolled toward her. “What sham would that be?”
“The betrothal.”
“Oh, that. There’s no hurry.”
“You don’t understand.” She took a small square of paper from her sleeve and handed it to him. “I received this today. My father has left the country. As you will see, there’s no longer any reason to continue this betrothal charade,” she said in a colorless voice.
Gerald unfolded the square and started to read. As he did, his anger grew. The smug self-satisfaction of the man. His complete disregard for his daughter’s feelings. Not even a pretense that she would be welcome to visit or that he intended to share any of his good fortune with her.
“You see?” she said when he’d finished reading. “It’s time I set you free. I’m not quite sure how to proceed—do I send the notice to the papers? Or is it more proper for you to do so? Only I don’t want people to think you have been in any way dishonorable.”
He refolded the letter and passed it back to her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not ready to cancel our betrothal yet.”
A troubled crease appeared between her brows. “Why not? We only did it to bring my father out from wherever he was lurking. Now he’s on his way to America, there’s no point.”
