A Lady in Name (4 page)

‘Who in the world are you?’

Her stare combined surprise and curiosity, and Lucy instinctively stiffened, but could think of no immediate reason not to respond.

‘My name is Graydene
—ma’am.’

The added courtesy seemed warranted for an interloper in Lucy’s invidious position, especially as she could not guess whom she was addressing.
Mother or sister? She had no look of Lord Pennington that Lucy could discern, though she appeared to be in deep mourning. Beneath a bonnet beribboned in black, her hair was dark. She resumed her descent as she spoke again.

‘I suppose you are applying for some post or other?
My cousins appear determined to change everything, including the staff. Fetch my cloak, Bannock.’

The disgruntled tone was not lost on Lucy, and she was grateful for the crumb of information that placed the woman among Lord Pennington’s more distant relations.
She did not feel it incumbent upon her to correct the misapprehension, instead maintaining a prudent silence as the maid scurried into the dark regions of the stairwell and emerged with a voluminous garment, in which she tenderly enwrapped her mistress.

‘That’ll do, that’ll do,’ said the woman testily, as the girl fussed about with the folds of cloth.
‘Make haste and get your own coat and then open the door and see if Dawson has yet brought the carriage round.’

As the girl darted back behind the stairs, the female’s eyes chanced upon Lucy once more.
Idly at first, and then, as if she noticed something, she suddenly frowned and her gaze became intent. A horrid wriggle of apprehension snaked down Lucy’s back, and she was unable to drag her own eyes off the woman’s face. An eerie sensation entered her, as if they had met before, although she knew it to be impossible.

It could not have been more than an instant, but time appeared to Lucy to stand still.
At last the woman broke silence, her tone harsh with suspicion.

‘What did you say your name was?’

Lucy’s tongue felt thick, her throat dry. She did not know if she would be capable of pronouncing her own name.

Then rescue came, in a well-remembered inflection of irony and the voice of Lord Pennington.
‘Not yet gone, cousin? Perhaps you and Sarclet would like to take up your residence here and be done with it.’

Stefan eyed Paulina’s reddening cheeks with satisfaction, but his inner irritation was reserved for the Graydene female.
Why in Hades could not the wretch have remained where he put her?

‘I will treat that remark with the disdain it deserves,’ stated Paulina, her eyes snapping as she stared up at Stefan.

He began a leisurely descent of the stairs. ‘Do just as you wish, cousin. I am not, I thank God, responsible for your actions. Convey my deepest respect to Sarclet, won’t you?’

Not much to his surprise, his cousin turned tail without a word and trundled her heavy person across the hall, motioning to her maid, waiting patiently at the open door, to come to her assistance.
Stefan reached the chequered floor as the door shut behind Paulina, and transferred his attention to the willowy black-clad figure standing silently to one side.

‘What part of my commands were incomprehensible to you?’

The girl’s pale cheek whitened further, and he caught a flash in her eye as she looked towards him. Her voice was even, and distinctly cold.

‘I am not yours to command, Lord Pennington.’

A spurt of admiration interrupted Stefan’s annoyance, but he moved towards her, choosing to ignore the thrust. ‘I told you to remain in the breakfast parlour until I came to fetch you.’

She held her ground, meeting his gaze.
‘No, you did not. You led me there and left me, with no indication of how long I should be obliged to wait.’

Stefan cast his eyes heavenwards.
‘A modicum of common sense must have told you why I did so, and that it would be politic in you to refrain from wandering about the house.’

‘I had no intention of
wandering
. I came out in the hopes of encountering a servant. It was unfortunate your cousin happened to be—’

‘Unfortunate?
That, Miss Graydene, is the understatement of the year. Is it too great a leap for you to realise in just what relationship you stand to my cousin Paulina?’

The girl was stricken to silence.
She whitened. ‘Oh, no. No, it cannot be.’

Quick remorse kindled in Stefan’s breast.
She looked like to faint. He put a hand to her elbow, grasping it strongly. ‘Don’t swoon on me, for the Lord’s sake!’

His eyes swept the hall for a suitable resting place, and fell upon the porter’s chair near the front door.
Guiding her to it, he pressed her to sit, regretting his hasty tongue.

‘Come, it is not as bad as you fear.
Paulina can have suspected nothing, be sure.’

The dark eyes stared up at him.
‘She thought I was an applicant for a post.’

‘Well, that is no bad thing,’ Stefan said bracingly.
‘At need, we may fall back upon that to excuse your presence.’

Her bosom rose and fell in a hasty sigh.
‘There will be no need. I will be gone from here before she can return to find me out.’

‘Very likely,’ Stefan agreed, unwilling to prolong her disquiet with a flat negative.
He did not know what he was going to do about Miss Lucinda Graydene, but he doubted the complexities of her situation could be settled in short order.

For a few moments he watched the pallid features for any sign of returning colour.
No doubt the severity of her garb accentuated the whiteness of her cheek, but Stefan could not shake off his impression that the unhappy circumstances of her recent life had left their mark upon her well-being, perhaps upon her health. She looked frail, as if her burdens had been too much for her to carry. Yet her spirit had not been beaten down.

On impulse, Stefan pricked it.
‘When you have recovered a little, perhaps you will explain why you were flaunting your presence.’

She glanced quickly up at him, a frown between her brows.
‘Are you making game of me, my lord? Or is this meant to spur me to carp at you?’

Stefan chuckled.
‘You are sharp, Miss Graydene, I’ll give you that.’

A faint smile curved her lip, but there was little echo of it in her eyes.
‘It was how my father—’ She broke off with a gasp, brought one fluttering hand to brush at her mouth as if she would stop the words, and then continued smoothly enough. ‘Papa was apt to use such methods to tease me out of the dismals.’

‘Ah, then you are too fly to be caught,’ Stefan said, keeping his tone light.
‘In which case I shall descend to the merely threatening and warn you I am not yet satisfied with your responses.’

Grateful for his efforts to swerve her from despondency, Lucy dredged up a dutiful laugh.
‘Well, the truth is I needed—’

Again she paused, caught by a wave of embarrassment.
How in the world was she to confess the urgency of need which had driven her out of the breakfast parlour? In the press of subsequent events, the urge had receded. But it renewed itself now, full force. She felt warmth swelling in her face and was obliged to look down.

‘What the devil
—?’

The mutter ceased abruptly.
Next instant, Lord Pennington was striding across the hall to tug vigorously on a hanging bell-pull, and the faint clang of the answering bell could be heard in the distant reaches behind the stairwell. As his lordship returned towards her, Lucy read amusement in his face and knew he had divined her trouble. Annoyance surged up.

‘You need not be so smug, sir!’

He laughed. ‘There’s gratitude for you. And I had begun to think you equal to any eventuality, Miss Graydene.’

‘I can’t think why.
I have given you no reason to suppose it.’

‘On the contrary, but let us set that aside for the present.’
He gave her a little bow. ‘I must apologise for not attending to your comfort, ma’am. One of the maids will escort you wherever you wish. No doubt you would prefer to reassure yourself as to your appearance before meeting my sister.’

* * *

Lucy followed the maid back through the bewildering collection of rooms, corridors and staircases. She was glad to have had a few moments to refresh herself, and amazed to find her bandbox in the bedchamber to which she had been led by a maid directed by Lord Pennington to assist her.

‘This is the Red Saloon, miss.
Please to go in.’

Hesitating, Lucy was conscious of an uncomfortable dryness at her throat.
What if the females of this house were to look upon her with the same disdain shown by the one she had met in the hall? Her putative half-sister, if Lord Pennington’s veiled comments could be taken in good faith.

‘Miss?’

Lucy gathered herself. Nothing was to be gained by standing here like a ninny. Had not Papa taught her always to hold up her head? Stiffening her spine, she stepped quickly into the room and paused there, her quick glance taking in the single occupant, a fair girl lounging carelessly along a faded sofa. She looked up, and a youthful face broke into a fetching smile, laced with eager amusement.

‘Aha, the lady of mystery herself
.’ She swung her legs to the floor and rose with easy grace, the full petticoats of her high-waisted dove-grey gown falling into place. She moved to Lucy with both hands held out. ‘I’m Dion, you must know. We are cousins, if all I hear is true.’

Lucy found her fingers warmly clasped and her face the subject of a searching gaze in features strikingly similar to his lordship’s.

‘Gracious, there is a look of Paulina about you! Though your eyes are darker than hers, I think. How utterly delicious if you should turn out to be her half-sister. Paulina will positively loathe you, I’m afraid, but that can’t be helped. Do come and sit down and divulge the whole story before I burst with curiosity.’

Lucy held her ground, fending off the hands that would draw her forward.
‘You must hold me excused, ma’am. Whatever Lord Pennington may have told you—’

‘Yes, but that’s just it.
Stefan has given me nothing but the bare facts in the case, which won’t do for me at all.’ The merry eyes twinkled. ‘Now don’t be cross. And for pity’s sake, don’t call me ma’am.’

Feeling a trifle battered, Lucy found herself giving ground.
By the time she was again able to think with any coherence, she had been thrust into a sofa and the offending creature who had put her there was seated opposite, leaning forward with an expression of lively interest on her face.

‘There, is that not a degree more cosy?’

Lucy was moved to indignation. ‘I don’t feel at all cosy, if you must know. Are all you Penningtons as high-handed as his lordship?’

Dion broke into a peal of laughter.
‘Discovered! Yes, I’m afraid you are very right. Oh, not high-handed perhaps. But we are all of us apt to do precisely as we choose without thought of consequence.’ The bright eyes pleaded. ‘Forgive me? I am behaving shockingly, I know, but it is all so intriguing.’

‘I dare say.’
Lucy’s dryness appeared to have an effect, for Dion looked suddenly contrite.

‘Oh, dear, I have offended you.’

Which caused Lucy to feel an instant volte-face. She put out an impulsive hand. ‘No, you have not. Only I am so put about by having been brought to this place. It is not at all what I intended. I had no notion of finding your uncle had died.’ A thought struck her and she backtracked. ‘I take it he was your uncle too? You are Lord Pennington’s sister?’

Dion looked taken aback.
‘Did I not say so?’

A faint amusement seeped into Lucy’s breast.
‘To tell you the truth, you have so much bewildered me, I am not in the least certain.’

A gurgle escaped Dion.
‘Paulina would condemn me for a hoyden. Stefan too, I expect.’

‘Stefan is your brother?’

To Lucy’s surprise, Dion made a disgusted face. ‘Stefanus. And I am saddled with Dionisia. You are astonished and I am not at all surprised. You have not yet met our mother. When you do, all will become clear, I do assure you.’

‘Which is more than can be said for your conversation.’

The tart note made Dion giggle again, and Lucy began to feel as if she had strayed into a dream world.

‘The truth of the matter is we are both shockingly badly brought up,’ said Dion in a matter of fact way which could not but appeal to Lucy’s sense of humour.
‘But let that be, for I am far too eager to hear your story to be boring on about my own.’

‘And I have said, Miss Pennington
—no, that cannot be right—’

‘Ankerville.
And I’m afraid it is Lady Dionisia since Stefan took the title, but pray don’t stand on ceremony. Dion, if you please.’

‘If you insist.
You must hold me excused, Dion. Until I have found out what your brother intends by bringing me here, I prefer to say nothing.’