Abandon by Jerusha Moors

target. She had brought Lucy into his sphere without her being suspicious.
    Aubrey led Lady Harriet off to the side of the terrace, where they could still see into the ballroom. Only a few other couples were outside and they were further out in the dark, away from the light of the torches and the ballroom.
    Harriet turned and faced Aubrey, her arms crossed across her chest. “Now, my lord, you will tell me your intentions.” She pushed a wayward curl back behind her ear, her body almost quivering as she stared up at Aubrey, squinting in the dim light.
    “My intentions?” Aubrey parroted. “Lady Harriet, my intentions are only good towards Lady Lucilla.” He held both hands out, palms up as if his intentions were in his hands for her to inspect.
    Harriet sniffed, but her body relaxed and she peered into the glass windows of the ballroom as if she could see George and Lucy dancing in the throng.
    “Lucy is my friend. She has stood by me when others jeered at the presumption inherent in my falling in love with Aversley. I would not put her in harm’s way, my lord.”
    “Neither would I, Lady Harriet.” Aubrey did not want to tip his hand at this point, but he would assuage Lady Harriet’s ruffled sensibilities. “I am looking for a wife and Lady Lucilla’s brother’s lands are adjacent to my own. It could be a good alliance for us both.”
    Harriet’s eyes narrowed. “An alliance, my lord? That is all you are looking for?”
    “Perhaps more,” Aubrey said quietly. “But that is up to Lucy.”
    Harriet noticed that he called Lucy by her familiar name, but did not mention it. Instead she said, “Lucy was hurt badly by a man I believe, and then other men, members of the Ton, have tried to take advantage of her. I would not see her hurt again. She is content in her life in the country, but maybe not happy.”
    Aubrey stiffened, bothered by what Harriet said. He spoke before he realized what he was going to say. “I would see her happy.”
    Harriet stepped back, a grin on her face. “Then we are in agreement, Lord Lovell.” She took his arm, tugging him along. “Let us go back in. I want to find Aversley and dance again, unfashionable as that may be.”
     

Chapter Eight
     
     
    The next morning was cool, but sunny. Lucy waited with Harriet on the steps in front of her home dressed in a deep red riding habit. Harriet was in blue, her cheeks flushed and looking very pretty. She was also nervous.
    “You know I am not much of a rider, Lucy,” she said. “I cannot ride at a gallop. And I don’t want to fall off and have an injury before my wedding.”
    “We’ll take it slow. I’m sure that George has got us two slugs to ride and if the men want to go faster, I will stay with you.”
    Harriet grimaced, uncomfortable and embarrassed at her lack of riding skills. “It’s just as well that George does not love me for my ability on a horse. But you are such a good rider. I do not wish to hold you back. Stay with Lovell as George does not mind riding with me.”
    Now it was Lucy’s turn to grimace, but she did not reply. In truth, growing up in the country as she had, she was an excellent rider. She and Aubrey had roamed the fields of the Yorkshire, often sneaking away together. Her father had given her a beautiful chestnut mare, dainty and skittish, but Lucy had loved her and named her Ophelia. She would ride for hours. Her family hadn't worried. Most times she had a groom with her and otherwise stayed on their own land.
    But those times were long ago and this was different. Lucy had gone along with Harriet’s scheme last night, but there was no need for the playacting to extend much farther. She had slept fitfully, plagued with dreams of Aubrey's firm body and hot hands. There were dark crescents under her eyes and she told herself that it did not matter. She would ride sedately next to Harriet and Lovell could go to the devil. She was not going to let that bloody rake disturb her nights any more. She had