The Art of Ruining a Rake (9 page)

Lucy located the family entrance along the side of the building and went up the stair to her sister’s front door. She rapped smartly then clasped her hands together with no small amount of unease. A household with five unmarried daughters might not be as enthusiastic about her arrival as she needed them to be.

Inside, a little dog went
yap, yap, yap,
warning her to be mindful of her ankle boots. Lucy could hear the mutt being drawn away from the door. How peculiar to think of her sister having a pup, or even a home of her own.

A maid sporting hastily pinned brown hair answered at last. “Yes, miss?” she asked as she bent over to scold the terrier. “Lucas! Do be quiet for once.”

Lucy eyed the little dog with reservation. Trestin had never let them keep dogs, let alone in the house. “It’s no bother.”

The maid offered her a tired smile. “Are you Miss Lancester? I’m Paxton. Mrs. Conley will be so relieved you’ve arrived.”

Lucy nodded briefly. “I was delayed.”

The less explained to the maid, the better. For the closer she’d come to Hempsted Heath, the more uncertain she’d felt about arriving at Delilah’s new home with her baggage in tow. What if her presence brought trouble to her sister’s wards? She’d never forgive herself.

Too worried to continue her journey, she’d stayed an extra night on the outskirts of Gloucester. But she’d had nowhere to go aside from Worston, and she did so want to see Delilah. Surely, if they put their heads together, they could arrive at a satisfactory alternative to Worston Heights.

Lucy might even be able to live here, if Mr. Conley allowed it.

Paxton opened the door wider. “Please come in. I’ll just go and fetch Miss Conley. Do you mind waiting?”

“
Miss
Conley?” Lucy asked. “What about my sister? Is she at home?”

“Oh, she is, mum. Though she’s having a sleep, and the master says we’re not to disturb her when she does.”

Delilah, asleep in the middle of the afternoon?

“What about Mr. Conley?” Lucy tried.

The dog yapped twice.

“He won’t be home until the work’s done below,” Paxton said, bending to calm the pup with a gentle pat. “Would you like to wait in the parlor?”

Lucy entered the small foyer. “Yes. And if you would be so kind, please send a footman for my trunks.”

The maid darted a worried look through the open door, as if trying to imagine how best to accomplish this. “I’ll ask the lads in the smithy if they can spare a minute. Then I’ll find Miss Conley and fetch a tea tray.” Paxton pointed down the hallway. “The parlor is just through that third door.”

Lucy peered into the first two rooms as she passed them. A morning room and a small office, both wonderfully cozy. Nothing at all like the labyrinth she and Delilah had known at Worston.

The pup chased after her, alternating yapping with growling and leaving her completely certain her sister must sleep like the dead. When she reached the small parlor, the dog ran ahead and jumped onto one of two faded couches. She seated herself on the couch opposite. He leaped from his cushion and jumped up beside her. What a funny little animal.

While she waited for Miss Conley, Lucy passed a fair amount of time rubbing Lucas’s belly, as one presumably did with mongrels. At last he curled into a ball and fell asleep, leaving her to fish out her
Ladies’ Companion Magazine
. It was several weeks old, but she’d never minded rereading the gossip from London.

After a time, a severe-looking woman wearing an apron entered the room. She looked from Lucy to the scandal sheet, then back to Lucy. Her disapproval was palpable. “I’m Miss Conley. My brother’s apprentice is bringing in your trunks. Should a particular one be left accessible, or do you require them all for your short visit?”

Her unspoken accusation hung in the air.
You’ve brought an entire household with you.
How long, exactly, do you mean to stay?

Lucy forced a smile to her lips. “I believe the red one is the only one I require. Is my sister unwell?”

Miss Conley’s mouth opened as if she meant to speak, then she seemed to think better of it. “She’ll be down at any moment. Now, do you object to having your things set in my room? I’m afraid we’re quite out of places to put up guests.”

Lucy blinked at this unforeseen obstacle. The eldest Miss Conley would be relinquishing what little privacy she’d earned, which would no doubt make her hostile toward Lucy. Too, the margin of independence Lucy might gain by avoiding Trestin’s rule would be lost in a bedchamber occupied by another stubborn spinster.

Assuming Mr. Conley was even willing to risk his wards’ reputations for a sister-by-law he had never met.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Lucy reassured her hostess, tucking the scandal sheet into her satchel lest it further provoke Miss Conley. “I’ve looked forward to this visit since the day Delilah eloped with Mr. Conley. So wonderfully romantic, don’t you think?”

Miss Conley frowned. “I wish he’d gone about things properly. My sisters are still in the schoolroom. Elinor is especially impressionable.”

Paxton edged around Miss Conley to set a tray on the table. Lucy indicated the economical service. “Tea?”

Miss Conley’s lips pursed. “I have matters I must attend. Paxton can show you the way when you’re ready. Just pull the bell.” She pointed to a tattered rope hanging in the corner of the room. “Dinner is at five o’clock. The girls return from school at four. Do not feel compelled to dress for us. Even Mother doesn’t keep to convention.” Without waiting for Lucy’s reply, she left.

Clearly, Lucy needn’t worry about
Mr.
Conley putting her on the stoop;
Miss
Conley wouldn’t hesitate to send her packing. The woman obviously had no patience for—well, much of anything.

Before Lucy could dwell on that too long, she heard footsteps approaching the parlor.
 

“Lucy?”

Startled, Lucy clapped a hand to her heart. “Oh!” she said, turning to see her sister. “Ohhh…” she breathed, as Delilah instinctively cupped her rounded middle.

Lucy was hurt. “You’re
increasing
! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have sent gifts.”

Delilah was instantly contrite. “One can never be sure until several months have passed, and even then…” She hobbled around the couch and threw her arms about Lucy’s shoulders. Despite being the lady of the house, Delilah smelled of lye and starch. “Christmastide seemed the perfect occasion to announce the arrival of our little one.”

Lucy pressed her cheek to her sister’s cheek, then pulled back. “So soon! I hadn’t thought such a thing could be accomplished so swiftly.”

Delilah settled beside Lucy. Even heavy with child, she was tall and slender, the prettier sister by far, though they both had the same brown eyes and black hair. She would have enjoyed a marvelous Season if not for her heart being promised to the apprentice blacksmith their brother had been dead set against. But she’d persevered, and her new life was exactly the way she’d always wanted it to be. Perfectly placid, enormously dull, and provincial to its core.

“Pregnancy is wonderfully unplanned,” Delilah said with a laugh, taking Lucy’s hands. “Celeste’s taught you how it’s to go, hasn’t she? You must always be careful.”

Lucy nodded slowly, staring at her sister’s rounded belly. Celeste, their brother’s new wife, had once been a courtesan. She had indeed explained the whole of lovemaking, including the importance of using a vinegar-soaked sponge to avoid unintended complications. Lucy’s clever apparatus was the reason Roman had immediately known she wasn’t an innocent party to her ruination.

But Delilah didn’t know just how badly things had soured since Lucy had set out to seduce Roman. She would, and quite soon. Until she did, Lucy couldn’t feel comfortable here.

A deep male voice boomed, “Where’s my love?” from somewhere inside the house.
 

Delilah pushed to her feet. “Mr. Conley is home!” she said as she went to the open parlor door. “You must be properly introduced.” Poking her head into the hallway, she called, “Darling, in the parlor. Do come quickly.”

Lucy had but a second to muse that their brother would never have allowed such shouting in the house before Mr. Conley appeared and swept his wife into an embrace. Delilah squealed and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Who is this?” he asked, setting Delilah down. “Your sister, at last?”

Lucy stood and curtseyed. “It’s lovely to finally make your acquaintance.”

“Is
this the first time? I remember you well enough. A comely little thing with big brown eyes, come to watch the men work. We all knew who you were.”

Lucy hadn’t expected such bluntness. Every last word was true, though, and she smiled at the reminder of their girlish antics. “Delilah always insisted we take the long way into the village. She said she preferred the view.”

He laughed heartily. He was dark and brawny, with an unruly head of curly hair and the hint of stubble along his jaw. Delilah thought he’d hung the moon. With forearms as thick as his were, Lucy could see why her sister thought so. But he was no gentleman. Though Lucy would never admit as much to her sister, she didn’t even find him particularly handsome.

“That sounds like my wife,” he said. “Welcome to our home.”

Lucy tried to concentrate on the good-natured man before her rather than the blond-haired rogue in her past. “Thank you, sir. I’m charmed. I had no idea you and my sister are so…occupied.” She felt a blush creep across her face. It was hard to look Mr. Conley in the eye when the passion he felt for her sister sat so unmistakably on Delilah’s belly.

He squeezed Delilah’s side and let out a guffaw. “I told your brother ’tis a chore with all these women, but in truth, I don’t mind. What’s one more girl when the house is already full to the brim with females? Now, I saw your trunks being unloaded. ‘A sight more than a week’s worth,’ I thought to myself. You’re welcome to stay with us, if you’ve got it in your head you want to be a Conley.”

Lucy was humbled. He so clearly hadn’t room for another ward. “How kind you are, sir. But I must be on my way. A week’s visit is all I had in mind. Perhaps no more than a few days, actually.” It was increasingly obvious the family couldn’t easily support her stay longer than that.

Mr. Conley looked at Lucy keenly, but, thankfully, didn’t push.

Her sister’s brow wrinkled. “I’d hoped you’d visit with us at least through Twelfth Night. It will be so much more intimate here than in Trestin’s mausoleum.”

Lucy bit her lip. “Perhaps once I’ve told you my tale, you’ll agree I cannot impose.”

Delilah’s eyes widened with interest. “Oh?”

Lucy forced a smile to her now-trembling lips. She pressed them together, fighting the trepidation rising in her breast. “After dinner?”

Mr. Conley waved Lucy to retake her seat. “Once Mama comes down, we’ll have no peace. It must be now.”

He took the armchair. Delilah loyally seated herself beside Lucy on the couch. “Does this concern the astounding number of trunks brought in from your carriage?” she whispered.

Lucy hung her head. “I shouldn’t have come at all, but…you’re my sister!”

Delilah gave her a brief hug. “A fact I’ve never regretted.”

The parlor door clicked shut. Lucy wasted no time; she could say her piece no better way than quickly and brutally. “I’m in disgrace, sir. I was caught in
flagrante delicto whilst at my school.”

Mr. Conley braced his hands on his knees and straightened with alarm. “Is that so?”

Delilah grabbed Lucy’s hand. Tears immediately sprang into her eyes. “Not Lord Montborne!”

Lucy squeezed her hand. Her peace was tenuous enough without Delilah’s overwrought emotion. “Please, don’t pity me. I can’t endure it.”

Delilah reached for the kerchief Mr. Conley held out for her and dabbed at her eyes. “It’s the baby
.
I can’t help myself.”

Lucy couldn’t bear her sister’s sympathy, intended or otherwise. She looked away and forced herself to concentrate on the relevant points of her story. “I declined to marry him, as any intelligent woman would do. You do remember Papa…” Lucy’s voice broke despite her attempted fortitude. “Oh, Delilah, I simply
couldn’t
.”

Delilah’s wide eyes filled with fresh tears. “My poor Lucy. No woman should be forced to endure what Mother did. And yet, you do love him. What an unenviable position.”

“Truly?” Having one person grasp her dilemma made Lucy feel such relief, she sagged with it. “Thank you.”

Delilah dabbed her face with the kerchief. “I don’t have to tell you how perilous your plan to seduce him was, and I do wish you hadn’t been caught. But… Dearest, he’s a marquis in the prime of his life. It’s expected you’ll come around to his offer. You must, or you’ll never be accepted.” She squeezed Lucy’s hand. A red flush mottled her face, betraying her welling emotion. Suddenly, the dam burst and Delilah sobbed, “O-one-sided affection is a m-miserable way to live. I wouldn’t w-wish it on anyone, let alone my d-dearest h-h-heart!”

“Oh, darling, don’t cry.” Lucy flung her arm around her sister’s shoulders. They huddled together, drawing comfort. Just as they’d done so many nights in her bed at Worston, while Mama shrieked rubbish and smashed delicate objects against the walls.