Lady Lucy's Lover by M.C. Beaton Page B

unattended. It would be a pity if anything should happen to the delightful Marchioness of Standish.…”
    The Duke of Habard pushed open the door.
    Mr. Barrington paused in midsentence, his mouth open. Lucy swung around. She was seated in a high-backed chair facing Mr. Barrington across the desk.
    The Duke raised his quizzing glass and studied the tableau.
    â€œMy Lord Duke!” gasped Mr. Barrington, who made it his job to recognize all the members of the Quality. “We have just completed our business and Lady Standish is just leaving.” Mr. Barrington began to rub his thick hands. The Duke of Habard was a big fish and he was anxious to speed this irritating little Marchioness on her way.
    â€œWe have not completed our business,” said Lucy in a hard clear voice. “I have here fifty thousand pounds and I wish my husband’s bills back and all the papers he signed.”
    â€œThese gorgeous ladies,” sighed Mr. Barrington with mock jollity. “They should not addle their pretty heads with business matters.…”
    â€œKnow your place, my good man,” snapped Lucy, “and do not dare to patronize me!”
    She returned Mr. Barrington’s glare, although she was suffering from feelings of shock and dismay that the Duke, the very man who had warned her against Barrington, should turn out to be one of his clients.
    â€œI will be with you directly, Your Grace,” said Mr. Barrington.
    At the Duke’s reply, Lucy took a deep breath of relief.
    For the Duke smiled pleasantly and said, “I have no business with such as you, Barrington, nor am I like to have. I am waiting to escort Lady Standish home.”
    Mr. Barrington picked up a handbell on his desk and rang it furiously.
    â€œIf you are ringing that thing to summon your yahoos, you will find them gone to the nearest tavern,” said the Duke, moving forward.
    â€œGive Lady Standish
all
the papers she requires, Barrington, and do it now, if you please.”
    Lucy glanced up quickly at the Duke’s face. He had not raised his voice but somehow his tall figure seemed to emanate cold anger.
    For a long moment Mr. Barrington and the Duke stood looking at each other.
    Mr. Barrington rapidly came to a decision that it would be politic to give Lady Standish what she wanted. But somehow he would ruin the Standishes, somehow he would get the Marquess back into his clutches.
    â€œVery well, Your Grace,” he said mildly. He lumbered off into an adjoining room where he could be heard shuffling through files and papers.
    Lucy clenched her hands into fists in her lap to hide their sudden trembling. She glanced up at the Duke’s stem profile and he turned and looked down, immediately aware of her gaze. His lips curved in a smile and one eyelid drooped in a mocking wink.
    It all seemed like a dream to Lucy. In no time at all, she found herself perched up beside the Duke on his phaeton, clutching a sheaf of bills and papers and breathing in deep gulps of sooty London air.
    The Duke had dismissed his groom. Lucy waited rather apprehensively for the lecture that she was sure he was about to deliver. But he merely said pleasantly, “It is a wonderful day. If you are not too anxious to return home immediately, we may drive to the Park and enjoy the air.”
    Lucy nodded shyly. The Duke proceeded to enliven the short journey by entertaining Lucy with stories of the Lady Jehus who made driving in the London streets a risky adventure. There was Lady Archer, for example, who was the terror of the West End from the pace at which she drove; then there was Lady Stewart with her famous four grays; and a Mrs. Garden from Portland Street who won a considerable bet by driving her phaeton and bays from Grosvenor Gate through the Park to Kensington in five and a half minutes.
    On reaching the Park, he pointed out the Prince Regent, driving with St. Leger in a carriage and pair, with blue harness edged with red, the