“Yes, a French comtesse,” she said coolly. “And she had grand visitors—lords and ladies, marquesses and dukes—coming to stay with her all the time.”
“A French comtesse,” he repeated in a flat voice. What nonsense. “In France, was it?”
“No, in England, not far from Brighton. She kept a pet goose.” Her sherry-colored eyes taunted him. “The goose you tried to run over.”
“I did not try to run the blasted thing over. I stopped!”
She gave an indifferent shrug, dismissing his words as she so often seemed to do. Gerald held on to his temper. She was trying to annoy him, and he refused to let her win.
“And did your father blackmail her too?”
She sent him a scathing look. “No, he made a differentarrangement. Do you think it will rain later?” she said, making clear the conversation was closed as far as she was concerned.
Gerald begged to differ. They drove down an avenue of trees, and something else she’d said occurred to him. “You said Alice took you in, ‘a perfect stranger,’ but I thought you were my aunt’s goddaughter. Was that a lie?” If so, he’d be surprised. Alice never told lies.
“No, she really is my godmother.”
“Then in what sense were you a stranger?”
“Oh, work it out yourself,” she snapped. Color rose in her cheeks. “Is this what this drive is all about? Getting me alone so you could confront me about the sins of my father? Looking for reasons to blame me? Because if so—”
“I have the right to look out for my aunt’s interests. She is family, after all.”
“Oh, ‘family,’ is it?” she flashed. “Then why has the current Lord Charlton—your father—done nothing to help Alice out of the financial difficulties her husband—his brother, your uncle, the previous Lord Charlton—left her in? Yes, of course I know about it. And don’t you dare imagine that Alice has breathed a word of it. She’s far too proud to say anything, but servants let things slip, you know. And I have eyes and a brain. It’s obvious.”
Gerald shifted uncomfortably on his seat. He completely agreed, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of admitting it.
She continued in a low, vehement voice, “As for your mother”—Gerald winced in anticipation—“she loses no opportunity to belittle Alice in front of others. A fine family you can boast of. But do I blameyoufor your uncle’s selfishness or your father’s miserly neglect of his duty or your mother’s bitchiness? No! So don’t blamemefor my father’s dirty dealing!Iblackmailed no one,Istole nothing, and I’ve never cheated anyone in my life!” Unshed tears glittered in her eyes.
She breathed in a deep, ragged breath. “So how do you think I feel, knowing my father has made me the instrument of ruin for a dear, kind lady like Alice? And the only way I can prevent it is by marrying the kind of man I most despise!”
Gerald stared at her. That aspect of things hadn’t even occurred to him.
“Oh, look—there is Mr.Frinton.” Leaning out of the curricle, she waved vigorously.
Corney Frinton, dressed up like a dog’s dinner, spotted her and, beaming, maneuvered his phaeton to come up beside them.
“Miss Bamber, Gerald,” he managed, his Adam’s apple bobbing furiously.
“How splendid to see you again, Mr.Frinton,” Miss Bamber said warmly. “And what a very smart outfit you’re wearing. So stylish and elegant.”
She was practically gushing, Gerald thought sourly, overdoing it, lavishing compliments on his friend just to annoy him, not that poor old Corney would realize. Corney Frinton would be over the moon if any female under eighty noticed him, let alone a pretty young thing like Lucy Bamber.
Corney swallowed, ran a gloved finger around his immaculately arranged collar and neckcloth, then gestured silently toward the seat beside his.
“Take a turn around the park with you, Mr.Frinton?” she said. “Why, thank you. I’d be delighted.” And before Gerald had time to blink, she was clambering across from his curricle—without even setting foot on the ground—and Corney was solicitously helping her into his rig. As if she were some kind of delicate flower, which, Lord knew, she wasn’t.
“Thank you for taking me up, Lord Thorncross,” she said across the gap. Her voice was flat and brittle and she didn’t even bother to look at him. “And for the lesson in family honor. Next time you think to invite me, don’t bother. Goodbye.”
Corney blinked, gave Gerald a reproachful look, tipped his hat and drove away.
Gerald watched her drive off with Corney. He owed her an apology, he knew he did. He didn’t want to apologize—he was still annoyed with her for reasons that weren’t clear to him—but he knew he’d gone too far. Alice hadtoldhim that Lucy wasn’t responsible for her father’s machinations, that Lucy was as much a victim as she herself was.
But Gerald hadn’t believed her. Alice was such a softhearted woman.
Now... The memory of Lucy Bamber’s pale, tense face, her eyes glittering with anger and indignation and... it looked almost like hurt, but it couldn’t be that, could it?
Do I blameyoufor your uncle’s selfishness or your father’s miserly neglect of his duty or your mother’s bitchiness? No! So don’t blamemefor my father’s dirty dealing!
