hate her, he just didn’t feel
anything
for her.
She pulled her navy blue cloak more tightly around herself, as if it could ward off her somber mood, and focused on the reassuring sight of her aunt’s town home as it came into view. The brick house had always held special memories for her. Happy memories of times past when her parents had brought her to London for a visit. She missed her parents terribly, but she’d grown used to the ache of the loss.
“It looks as if Lambert has been keeping things in hand.”
Her aunt’s words jarred Lucy from her mental ramblings and forced her to focus on the scene through the carriage window. Light spilled from the town home’s front windows, a welcome sight indeed on such a chill and overcast day.
The coach rolled to a stop and Lucy sat up straighter, shooting a look out the window. Garrick reined in his horse. The man so handsome. So, so … heroic-looking. She sighed. He’d insisted on staying with them, the better to protect them, he’d said. Would that it had been his own insatiable desire for her that had made him offer such a thing. A wistful feeling descended over her, the same wistful feeling she got whenever she thought of him near her. Her hand rose to her cheek. She closed her eyes; if she imagined hard enough she could still feel the soft touch of his finger, the warm kiss of his breath. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth, a smile which faded when she opened her eyes and caught her aunt staring at her.
Lucy jerked her hand away and tried to hide her consternation.
A footman came forward to hold Garrick’s horse, but Garrick swung a booted leg over the horse’s neck and jumped down before the servant arrived.
Goodness,
Lucy thought,
he even dismounts like a swashbuckling hero.
Her reverie was broken when one of her aunt’s servants opened the carriage door, blocking her line of vision. Tom practically bounded from the coach, the coachman jumping back just in time to avoid being landed upon.
“Thomas,” Lady Cornelia barked.
Tom skidded to a halt, then turned back, a pained expression on his face as he jigged from foot to foot.“Gots ta empty me pisser, me loidy.” He crossed his legs to demonstrate his point.
Lucy put a gloved hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. She glanced past Tom to Garrick, who had just walked up behind him. Garrick emitted a noise sounding suspiciously like a snort.
“Well, goodness, boy. Be on your way,” announced Cornelia, waving her hand imperiously.
Tom looked relieved, then turned and charged toward the door. Fortunately, Lambert opened it just as he reached for the handle, the butler doing a remarkable job of looking unfazed when the boy streaked by.
Lucy looked back to Garrick, struggling to contain her amusement.
He smiled, just a tiny bit of a thing that faded as quickly as the sun behind a cloud.
Lucy felt as if the coach had overturned.
Her heart fluttered. He looked away. Lucy wanted to cry, to scream out,
Don’t! Don’t turn away from me!
But she didn’t. She blinked, trying to understand the tumultuous emotions that made her belly flop like a landlocked fish, that made her wish for the hundredth time that she’d been born someone other than Lucy Hartford, the disgrace of Sanderton County. She glanced at her aunt, and gulped at the expression on her face.
Her aunt glared, “I will speak to you about this later.”
Lucy looked away. The coachman politely held the door. She seized the opportunity to escape.
The smell of climbing roses assaulted her nostrils as she neared the doorway. The flowers splashed their color against the brick facade of the house. There were hundreds of blooms making one last stand against the approaching fall. The smell mixed with the odor of beeswax and lemons filling the hall. What remained of the evening light shone off the hardwood floors and wood panels of the foyer. Lucy glanced left, comforted by what she saw. Her mother’s picture still hung on the hall, a younger
anything
for her.
She pulled her navy blue cloak more tightly around herself, as if it could ward off her somber mood, and focused on the reassuring sight of her aunt’s town home as it came into view. The brick house had always held special memories for her. Happy memories of times past when her parents had brought her to London for a visit. She missed her parents terribly, but she’d grown used to the ache of the loss.
“It looks as if Lambert has been keeping things in hand.”
Her aunt’s words jarred Lucy from her mental ramblings and forced her to focus on the scene through the carriage window. Light spilled from the town home’s front windows, a welcome sight indeed on such a chill and overcast day.
The coach rolled to a stop and Lucy sat up straighter, shooting a look out the window. Garrick reined in his horse. The man so handsome. So, so … heroic-looking. She sighed. He’d insisted on staying with them, the better to protect them, he’d said. Would that it had been his own insatiable desire for her that had made him offer such a thing. A wistful feeling descended over her, the same wistful feeling she got whenever she thought of him near her. Her hand rose to her cheek. She closed her eyes; if she imagined hard enough she could still feel the soft touch of his finger, the warm kiss of his breath. A smile lifted the corners of her mouth, a smile which faded when she opened her eyes and caught her aunt staring at her.
Lucy jerked her hand away and tried to hide her consternation.
A footman came forward to hold Garrick’s horse, but Garrick swung a booted leg over the horse’s neck and jumped down before the servant arrived.
Goodness,
Lucy thought,
he even dismounts like a swashbuckling hero.
Her reverie was broken when one of her aunt’s servants opened the carriage door, blocking her line of vision. Tom practically bounded from the coach, the coachman jumping back just in time to avoid being landed upon.
“Thomas,” Lady Cornelia barked.
Tom skidded to a halt, then turned back, a pained expression on his face as he jigged from foot to foot.“Gots ta empty me pisser, me loidy.” He crossed his legs to demonstrate his point.
Lucy put a gloved hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. She glanced past Tom to Garrick, who had just walked up behind him. Garrick emitted a noise sounding suspiciously like a snort.
“Well, goodness, boy. Be on your way,” announced Cornelia, waving her hand imperiously.
Tom looked relieved, then turned and charged toward the door. Fortunately, Lambert opened it just as he reached for the handle, the butler doing a remarkable job of looking unfazed when the boy streaked by.
Lucy looked back to Garrick, struggling to contain her amusement.
He smiled, just a tiny bit of a thing that faded as quickly as the sun behind a cloud.
Lucy felt as if the coach had overturned.
Her heart fluttered. He looked away. Lucy wanted to cry, to scream out,
Don’t! Don’t turn away from me!
But she didn’t. She blinked, trying to understand the tumultuous emotions that made her belly flop like a landlocked fish, that made her wish for the hundredth time that she’d been born someone other than Lucy Hartford, the disgrace of Sanderton County. She glanced at her aunt, and gulped at the expression on her face.
Her aunt glared, “I will speak to you about this later.”
Lucy looked away. The coachman politely held the door. She seized the opportunity to escape.
The smell of climbing roses assaulted her nostrils as she neared the doorway. The flowers splashed their color against the brick facade of the house. There were hundreds of blooms making one last stand against the approaching fall. The smell mixed with the odor of beeswax and lemons filling the hall. What remained of the evening light shone off the hardwood floors and wood panels of the foyer. Lucy glanced left, comforted by what she saw. Her mother’s picture still hung on the hall, a younger
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