Realm 06 - A Touch of Love (55 page)

L
ucinda morosely looked out over the manicured lawns of Charles Place. She had been in Lancashire for a little more than a month, and he had not come, nor had he sent his greetings. Once the news had arrived of Sir Carter’s successful operation, Lucinda had expected the baronet’s appearance in her uncle’s sitting room, but his absence had spoken volumes. Initially, she had made the obligatory excuses for his withdrawal: There was still much to do with the investigation; his father’s recovery should take precedence; and the baronet’s responsibilities to his estate during the growing season were more pressing than dancing attendance upon a lady.

Unfortunately for Lucinda’s foolish heart, there had been the occasional snippet in the London papers delivered regularly to Charleton’s morning table. Sir Carter Lowery had been seen enjoying the opera in the Duke of Thornhill’s box and in the company of Lady Cecilia Pickford’s family, and Sir Carter Lowery had been among the guests at the Nichols-David musicale where he spent the evening with Lady Marguerite Nichols-David. “The baronet remains the dutiful son,” Lucinda had told her crushed ego. “Sir Carter will choose among those who shall add impetus to his career.” Had not Lucinda heard his companions’ names mentioned repeatedly by Lady McLauren? Louisa Hutton had smartly warned Lucinda not to permit her heart to know Sir Carter, but Lucinda had foolishly ignored the countess.

“Ma’am?” Simon called from the open doorway. As she had suspected, the boy had thrived at Charles Place. “May I go to the stables to visit with Mr. Higgins?”

Charleton’s coachman had taken a liking to Simon, showing the boy all he knew of horses. Simon’s inclinations appeared natural, based on what she
knew of Mr. Cotto, and the earl had fostered the boy’s interest by offering to purchase a pony for Simon from one of the neighboring farms.

“Have you completed your lessons?” She asked in that maternal tone, which had appeared one day when Lucinda had tended a bloody scrape on the boy’s knee.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Although they had agreed to keep some facts confidential until Simon was older, she and the earl had had an honest talk with the boy upon their arrival in Lancashire. “We were not successful in discovering those of your mother’s family,” she had explained. “But Lord Charleton has expressed an interest in your residing with him. The earl will hire a tutor and see you have a university education.”

The boy’s forehead had scrunched up in disappointment and then in elation. “I will stay with you and His Lordship?” Simon had asked in disbelief.

“Of course,” Charleton had said in that characteristically authoritative manner, which Lucinda counted among his most endearing qualities. “This house has spent too many years without a boisterous boy roaming the halls.” And with that, Simon had accepted his new life. It amazed her how resilient the boy was–in reality, much more resilient than she.

“No more than an hour,” she said in admonishment. Lucinda had quickly learned if she did not place a limit on Simon’s time in the stables, the boy would sleep among her uncle’s cattle.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said with the crooked grin, which would one day break a woman’s heart. Simon scrambled from the room, darting between two of the housemaids who polished the silver knobs decorating the earl’s main staircase. Only yesterday evening, Simon had fallen asleep on the earl’s lap, as Charleton had shared his line of horses with the boy. When one of the footmen had carried Simon to the nursery, the boy had repeated the animal’s facts in his sleep. It was all quite comical, and Lucinda had taken comfort in the knowledge her Uncle Gerhard would no longer be alone.

“I have word from Mr. Shadwick,” her uncle announced as he entered the room. “There are several new horses being placed for sale at Tattersalls at month’s end. I thought we might travel to London for the sale. Might even take in part of the short Season before returning to Lancashire for Christmastide.”

Lucinda stiffened in open rejection. She held no desire to travel anywhere near London and Sir Carter Lowery. Moreover, she did not want to face the recent scandal surrounding her late husband’s activities. Despite Sir Carter’s masterful manipulation of the facts, many of the
ton
would snub her. She closed her eyes, willing away her anxiousness. “Should I not remain with Simon? Surely you will not tarry long in London,” she said lamely.

“Simon’s tutor and his nurse will see to the boy’s needs,” her uncle asserted. “Your future is calling. You have spent the last decade nursing an ailing mother, serving attendance upon an ungrateful husband, waiting upon your father’s every whim, and caring for another woman’s child. It is time for you to assume your place in Society, Lucinda.”

“But all of Town knows of Captain Warren’s deceit,” she pleaded. “How shall I ever face so many critical strangers?”

“Straightforward. You will address them while on my arm,” Charleton declared without censure. “Greet them as my niece. As a woman who placed her love of King and Country over her marriage vows. Yes, the
ton
will find you a novelty at first, but they will quickly see you as an intriguing, as well as a most handsome, woman. The longer you delay, the more the tales will grow with absurdities. Trust me. I have already heard from Prince George, who repeated the story Sir Carter provided him. The Regent wishes your acquaintance, and as Prinny goes so does the
beau monde
.”

Lucinda had always considered herself an outsider, but her uncle meant to chip away at her veneer; and despite her fear of the unknown, she prayed the earl successful. She had tired of the forced fragile woman façade, which she had assumed with her late husband. “Are you certain, Uncle? I would not wish to dishonor you by bringing disdain to your door.”

Charleton caught her hand in his two large ones. “If I had faced scandal years past, you would not be in this position,” he declared boldly. “It is time I discover upon whom I can count as friends. I suspect I will have less respected associates when this is over, but I will be richer with you in my life.”

Lucinda caressed his cheek. “You deserve a better niece–a better daughter,” she said softly.

He brought the back of her hand to his lips. “No man could have a better daughter. You are perfection.” He kissed her knuckles a second time. “I failed
you once, but never again. I know your heart, Lucinda. I know the goodness of the woman you have become.”

Tears misted her eyes. “I wish I had trusted my mother’s well-honed intuition and had come to you straight away after leaving Brussels. We lost two years together.”

“Yet, we have today,” the earl countered. “And this is a beautiful day for a ride across the estate.”

She frowned in confusion. “A ride across the estate?” As a child, Roderick Rightnour had been her rock, even during the turmoil after her marriage to Matthew Warren, but now it was Gerhard Rightnour to whom she clung.

A swift smile flashed across his mouth. “When I purchased the pony for Simon, I came across a mare of golden blonde, very much the color of your hair.” He stroked a stray strand of fluff from her cheek. “I thought the animal an excellent match for my dearest girl.”

“You purchased a horse for me?” She released the breath she held in a sigh of disbelief.

“I mean to spoil you,” he whispered as he gathered Lucinda into his embrace. “So much so you will find a riding habit awaiting you in your quarters.”

Lucinda laughed through her tears. “When?”

The earl’s laughter reminder her of the colonel’s–rich and dark. “When Mrs. Benton came to take your measurements for the new gowns, I took the liberty of asking the woman for a proper riding habit. I gave Mrs. Benton permission to choose the color and style. I hope it is acceptable.”

Lucinda went on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “It is the first riding habit I have ever owned; therefore, I shall be pleased no matter the color.”

Charleton’s eyes closed slowly, and his breath came in a soundless sigh. “And that is my first kiss from my beautiful daughter,” he whispered. He laughed softly. “The gesture makes me wish I had ordered a hundred habits just to know the pleasure of your smile. To see you filled with innocent delight.”

“Save your money,” she whispered as she kissed his cheek a second time. “My love is free of encumbrances.”

Carter stared at the blank page. He had returned to London late yesterday evening, having accompanied Pennington on a duty call to Thorn Hall. The Duke and Duchess of Thornhill had welcomed a son into their household, and although Carter had celebrated his friend’s good fortune, he experienced the deep loneliness, which had clung to him since leaving Lucinda Warren behind.

“He is a handsome boy,” Pennington had declared as he cradled the sleeping child in the crook of his arm. “You are a fortunate man, Thornhill.”

The duke appeared bleary eyed, whether from lack of sleep or from emotions Carter could not say; yet, a look of complete abandon covered Fowler’s countenance, and Carter felt envy creeping through his veins. He wished to discover a similar expression in his mirror’s reflection. “My wife is phenomenal,” Fowler gushed.

“Then it was an uneventful delivery?” Pennington asked.

Fowler collapsed heavily into a chair. “I would not say the duchess did not have the whole household on sixes and sevens,” the duke confessed. “I am happy to have a son with the first child; I envision the duchess will not look upon another lying in with such idealistic aspirations.”

Carter was delighted to have been in London when Velvet Fowler had delivered the child. He could easily imagine the duchess’s excessive cries for attention–her unreasonable demands–and the duke’s futile attempts to please her. If he had been in residence in Kent, he was certain Thornhill would have looked to Carter to solve the situation, and Carter could never claim competence in such an intimate matter.

“A message from His Royal Highness, Prince George, Sir,” Henderson announced as he entered Carter’s office. “The third one in a fortnight,” his assistant said with a bit of awe.

Carter motioned the man forward. On some days, he felt much older than his four and twenty years
Five and twenty
, he corrected in another sennight. He wondered if he had ever been as “green” as some of the Realm’s newer recruits. “Prince George wishes to use the recovered art as the basis for future treaties,” he had said in explanation. Only he and Pennington knew the depth of Prinny’s demands. “That shall be all for now, Henderson. Perhaps you might check with the Home Office for an updated list of the pieces we have identified from the Woodstone-Ransing affair.” Several aristocrats had turned over the artwork they had legitimately purchased from Lord Ransing, without knowledge of the
viscount’s sources. Even the Earl of Holderman had convinced many within the Home Office of his innocence in the matter, claiming he was unaware of his son’s nefarious activities.

With Henderson’s exit, Carter opened the message: An invitation to one of Prinny’s famous fêtes, one where Carter, his comrades, several key players in the investigation, including his brother and parents, and Lord Charleton, as well as Mrs. Warren, were to be Prince George’s guests.

A light tap on the door brought Pennington’s entrance. “I see you received a separate invitation,” the Realm’s leader said as he dropped into an empty chair. “I do not like it when Prinny exposes agents to public notice.”

Carter agreed. “How might we temper the prince’s enthusiasm?”

Pennington assured, “I will remind him England has numerous enemies. It will be a difficult conversation; the Regent is a stubborn man, but not an unreasonable one.”

“One of the prince’s parties in which we all just happen to attend would be acceptable,” Carter suggested. “I am quite fond of Prinny’s parties,” he said with more levity than he felt. “If not for our prince’s idiosyncrasies, I would not own Huntingborne Abbey.”

Pennington flipped the invitation over and over, feeding it through his fingers. “I thought the changes you have made in the guest chambers at Huntingborne inviting, yet quite sensible.”

Carter schooled his expression. “In my absence, Mrs. Warren assisted Mrs. Shelton in the design.”

Pennington’s eyebrow rose in curiosity. “I was unaware you had asked the lady for her opinion.”

“I questioned Mrs. Shelton regarding the changes, and my housekeeper assures me Mrs. Warren
wrote
to me, seeking my permission for her intervention.”

Pennington nodded his understanding. “Likely another of Monroe’s ploys.”

“When I heard the tale, I assumed Monroe had used the opportunity to establish his attempts at forgery. I now comprehend why Mrs. Warren so readily accepted Monroe’s sending her to the Rising Son Inn in my name. “

“And you hold no objections to the lady’s efforts?”

Carter thought of Lucinda Warren’s lovely countenance. “I find few faults in Mrs. Warren’s opinions,” he said honestly.

“Yet, you have not called upon Charleton’s household?” Pennington said archly. “You were aware the earl and Mrs. Warren had come to London?”

Carter spoke through tight lips. “I was aware. Lord Charleton and his niece were listed among those attending Portuous’ musicale on Tuesday last.” Although he acknowledged the attraction privately, Carter still could not explain his obdurate captivation with the woman. Each night, he made love to Mrs. Warren in his dreams. He felt the urge to stake his claim on her, which was the reason Carter had avoided calling upon the lady. He doubted, upon renewing his acquaintance, he could refrain from declaring his proposal.