The Fall of Lord Drayson (Tanglewood Book 1) (26 page)

The morning of the wedding day dawned with only a cloud or two marring the light blue of the sky. Lucy lifted her bedroom window, breathed in the sweet aroma of earth and vegetation, and listened to the happy chirping coming from the surrounding trees. This was a day she had awaited and dreaded at the same time. Her mother would marry a good man, a kind man, a man who had proven he would make an excellent husband and father, and a man Lucy had come to adore. But it was also a day in which she would say her goodbyes and accompany the Draysons to Tanglewood Manor for seven very long days.

At least Georgina would be coming with her. That knowledge gave her some comfort.

Lucy pushed thoughts of Tanglewood from her mind and tiptoed past her mother’s room, quietly padding down the stairs. Last night, while her mother slept, Lucy and Georgina had crept outdoors with a lamp and had cut all the peach and orange roses Lucy would need for a surprise wedding bouquet. She and Georgina had stayed up late removing the thorns and chatting like old friends, discussing the new lives that awaited them at Knotting Tree. Georgina had been offered the job of either assistant cook or Lucy’s lady’s maid, and the sweet girl had promptly chosen the lady’s maid position, much to Lucy’s delight. Not only would Georgina carry a lighter load and earn a higher wage, but she would remain close to Lucy. It was a happy time for both of them.

Lucy found Georgina in the kitchen preparing what appeared to be a feast—bacon, eggs, biscuits, marmalade, sweet rolls. The room smelled divine.

“Good heavens, Georgy, how long have you been up?” gasped Lucy.

“I want Mrs. Beresford’s weddin’ day ter be perfect, is all,” said Georgina.

Lucy dipped her finger in the marmalade and put it into her mouth, letting the gooey richness slide down her throat and into her belly. “You do realize Mama will likely be a ball of nerves this morning. I greatly fear this meal will be wasted on her.”

“But not on ya,” Georgina pointed out with a smile.

“How right you are.” Lucy said, helping herself to a plate. She sat down and savored as much as she could while eating as fast as possible. A beautiful day. A delicious breakfast. A glorious wedding. That is what Lucy would focus on today.

The roses fit together perfectly, creating a bouquet that was even more beautiful than Lucy had imagined in her mind. Clustered together, the various shades of orange and peach looked charming and simplistic, yet sophisticated and rich. She was tying the white satin ribbon around it when Mrs. Beresford walked into the kitchen.

“Oh, Georgy, the house smells divine,” she exclaimed. “I’m afraid my stomach wouldn’t let me stay in bed a moment longer.”

Georgina shot Lucy a look of triumph and smiled at the praise. “It’s an excitin’ day, ma’am. Only look at the flowers Miss Lucy made for ya.”

Mrs. Beresford finally noticed the creation and gasped, covering her mouth with her hands as she slowly approached Lucy. “Oh my goodness, how lovely,” she said, touching the stems gingerly. “I had considered clipping some roses for a simple bouquet this morning, but decided that would be silly. I am an old woman getting married for the second time. Bouquets are for the young.”

“Bouquets are for everyone, Mama,” Lucy chided. “And did you really think I would allow you to walk down the aisle without one?”

“I should have known.” Mrs. Beresford bent to press a kiss to Lucy’s forehead. “Thank you, dear girl.”

The wedding was everything Lucy could have wished for her mother. The church was filled to bursting, and Mrs. Beresford looked resplendent walking down the aisle wearing a deep peach gown with a sheer white overskirt trimmed in white Brussels lace. A strand of pearls adorned her neck, and a joyful smile adorned her face. Georgina had styled her hair in an elegant and sophisticated twist, and Lucy had tucked in a small handful of rosebuds.

Mr. Shepherd’s gaze remained fixed on his intended, and Lucy wondered how it would feel to have a man look at her in such a way. When her imaginings conjured up Lord Drayson standing at the altar, staring down the aisle at her, Lucy forcibly returned her mind to the ceremony. Perhaps she should do as Mr. Shepherd suggested and take up writing. It would provide an outlet for all of her silly daydreams.

In what seemed like no time at all, Mrs. Beresford became Mrs. Shepherd, and the happy couple smiled and nodded, hugged and waved as they walked through the throng of people to the awaiting coach. Then it was off to the wedding breakfast with the Draysons, where Lucy picked at her food and said her final goodbyes to her mother and step-father. Mrs. Bidding had been good enough to host the breakfast, and Lucy gave the woman a parting hug as well.

“Thank you, Mrs. Bidding. You have been kindness itself to our family.”

“You are most welcome, my dear,” said Mrs. Bidding with a blush. “I hear you are to stay at Tanglewood while Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd are away.”

Lucy couldn’t tell if the woman approved or disapproved, not that it mattered. “Yes, Mrs. Bidding. I do hope you will call upon me there. I shall feel quite lost without Mama and Mr. Shepherd.”

“You may depend upon it.” Mrs. Bidding patted her arm. “Ah, here is Lord Drayson now, ready to whisk you away to his home.”

Lucy’s eyes widened at the woman’s choice of words. She made it sound rather indecent.

“Well, isn’t he?” Mrs. Bidding said with a chuckle, then patted Lucy’s arm again before leaving her alone with Lord Drayson.

Apparently Mrs. Bidding approved of her living arrangements for the next week. More than that, she seemed to find the situation rather humorous. Lucy could not understand it.

She turned her questioning gaze on Lord Drayson, whose eyes were alight with humor as well. He held out his arm to her. “Would you care to whisk away with me?”

“If you want the truth of it, no, I would not, but it seems I have no choice in the matter.”

Lord Drayson lifted an eyebrow. “I think I prefer your lies over truth.”

“In that case, Lord Drayson.” Lucy slipped her hand through his arm. “I would very much love to whisk away with you.” Interestingly enough, what Lucy thought was a lie felt much more real than the truth. Her hand sizzled where it touched his sleeve, and that rich and spicy smell she’d recently come to associate with him filled her senses.

In that moment, Lucy knew that her heart could not withstand a day anywhere near Lord Drayson. By the end of the week, it would surely be crushed, and Lucy would be left with nothing but prickly shards.

Much to Lucy’s surprise, Lady Harriett did not deluge Lucy with questions about her time with Lord Drayson. Rather, she took her newest acquaintance under her wing, showed her around the house, and told her all about the family’s charming estate in Danbury, along with story after story about the many scrapes she and her siblings had gotten into as children. It wasn’t long before Miss Beresford became Lucy and Lady Harriett, just Harriett.

“I was dreadfully afraid of heights when I was young,” said Harriett. “One summer, Colin promised that if I would climb to the very top of a tree, he would procure for me one of our neighbor’s new puppies—one that Mama and Papa had already said I could not have. But I wanted the puppy so badly and believed that Colin could find a way to get it for me that I climbed and climbed and climbed. As the branches began to sway near the top, he yelled at me to come back down, but I refused. I had to touch the top so I could have my puppy.

“‘I’ll get you that puppy,’” he screamed at me. “‘Just come down
now
.’”

“So I did,” she continued. “And that very evening, he snuck the puppy into my bedchamber and informed me that he had fulfilled his end of the bargain. I now had my puppy, but it was my responsibility to convince Mama and Papa that it should remain mine. It didn’t occur to me until later that he was too frightened to ask them himself. There he was, convincing me to face one of my fears while running like a coward from one of his own.”

Lucy laughed, thinking her time at Tanglewood might not be as uncomfortable as she had imagined. Other than the carriage ride home from the wedding and a slightly awkward dinner, she had managed to avoid Lord Drayson completely. Or perhaps he was the one managing to avoid her.

Lucy frowned at the thought, then immediately accused herself of being a peagoose.

The pounding of horse hooves sounded from outside, and Lucy took a few steps to the window where she had a clear view of the scene below. Riding up the path on his black horse, Lord Drayson was accompanied by his bailiff, Mr. Graham. The two swung down from their horses and were thick in conversation. At one point, Lord Drayson glanced up and noticed her standing there. He doffed his hat, and Lucy immediately stepped away from the window and spun around, only to see a calculating gleam in Harriett’s eyes.

That night, Lucy came to understand the look.

“Colin, I would like you to teach me the waltz,” Harriett said the moment he had joined them after dinner.

“Pardon?” He looked at his sister as though she’d gone mad.

She instructed two footmen to move the furniture away from the rug and extended her hands to her brother. “The waltz. You and Mother are the only two who know it, and I need her to play the pianoforte. Please? If I am to have my comeout next year, I shall need to learn at some point, right Mama?”

Her mother set down her embroidery and gave her son a wearying glance. “You know that we will never hear the end of it if we do not humor her.”

“She can beg until her voice grows dry,” said the earl. “I will not be persuaded to teach her the waltz.”

“What about Lucy?” Harriett said. “Will you teach her?”

Lucy’s eyes widened at her new friend, wondering if Harriett had, indeed, gone mad.

“I do not believe Lucy wishes to learn the waltz,” said Lord Drayson smoothly, easing his large frame into the chair next to her.

“Quite right,” Lucy agreed, putting what she thought was an end to Harriett’s ridiculous plan. “Waltzes are performed only at Almack’s, and I very much doubt I shall ever set foot through those doors. And besides, I do not dance.”

“What do you mean, you do not dance?” Harriett asked. “Do you not have dances in Askern?”

“Of course we do,” said Lucy quickly. “I meant only that I have no talent for it. I am rather adept at trodding on my partner’s toes. Not even Lord Drayson could instruct my feet how to perform properly.”

Harriett sat up straighter and smiled at her brother. “I do believe Lucy just issued a challenge to you, brother dear. How—”

“That was certainly not a challenge,” said Lucy, horrified that it might be construed as one. “I was merely pointing out that I cannot dance.”

“Nonsense,” said Harriett. “You move about quite gracefully. I am certain that with proper instruction you can become a wonderful dancer.”

“Harriett would know,” said Lord Drayson wryly.

“I would,” Harriett agreed, choosing to ignore her brother’s sarcasm.

Lucy directed a pleading look at the earl.
She is your sister, will you please do something?

His lips twitched a moment before he glanced at his mother, who seemed to be enjoying the exchange immensely. “Her voice will never dry up, will it?”

Lady Drayson smiled. “I’m afraid not.”

He sighed, then slowly pushed himself up and extended a hand to Lucy. “Will you do me the honor of allowing me to teach you the waltz so that my dear sister will cease her prattling?”

“But she is the one who wishes to learn it,” argued Lucy. “Not I.”

“I believe I shall learn much better by watching,” Harriett said quickly, proving that this had been her plan all along.

Panicked, Lucy gave it one last attempt. “But your toes, my lord.”

“Have been trod on before,” he said with a smile, hand still extended. “My nerves, on the other hand, can only withstand so much more.”

Feeling as though she had been trapped into a corner with no means of escape, Lucy glanced at Lady Drayson for help, but the lady was already seated at the pianoforte, ready to play.

Lord Drayson wiggled his fingers. “Please, Lucy?”

Seeing no way out, she placed her fingers lightly in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He led her to the middle of the room, positioned her left hand on his shoulder, clasped her right fingers in his, and rested his left hand at her waist. Lucy’s entire body trembled at his touch and her heart danced a waltz on its own.

The music began, and Lord Drayson explained the movements of the dance, saying something about one-two-three and moving forward and backward. Lucy tried to listen, she really did, but his scent invaded her nose, his voice reverberated in her ears, and his smile made her stomach lurch this way and that. And then he pulled her even closer and began stepping back, sideways, and forward. Lucy remained a half a step behind him the entire time. She tried to focus on the movements, but her gaze remained locked on his, and her feet moved wherever they needed to move to keep her upright.

Lord Drayson slowed his steps, and his voice finally broke through the fog in her brain. “Don’t think so hard,” he said quietly. “Simply listen to the music, feel its rhythm, and allow me to guide you.”