Marrying Captain Jack. Anne Herries

peak. His features were classical, a little harsh perhaps, his nose aristocratic. No, not as handsome as either Drew Marlbeck or Hal Beverley, but attractive just the same. She did not know what it was about him that had made her remember him until he suddenly looked at her with his serious grey eyes and her heart jolted. ‘Very kind, Mama.’

      ‘Come and meet him, dearest,’ her mother said. ‘I would not wish you to be backward in any attention to Lord Harcourt. I know Drew thinks very highly of him.’

      ‘Yes, Mama. I remembered that he was of service to both Drew and Hal.’ She understood from her sisters that Captain Manton, as he had been known then, was a very brave and clever man. Manton was one of his family names, for as a peer he had many, and if what Drew had told her was true, he had not hesitated to use others that were false in the pursuit of his duty as a secret agent.

      Lucy was trembling inside as she followed her mother to join the little group. The ladies were smiling and laughing up at him, especially Miss Angela Tremaine. She was a redhead, extremely beautiful, and a considerable heiress, and she seemed much taken with Lord Harcourt.

      Lucy stood silently as her mama made the introductions, her cheeks slightly pink. She knew that people said she was a very pretty girl, because of her silvery blonde hair and azure eyes, but she felt at a disadvantage beside the vibrancy of Miss Tremaine. Surely he would think her an insipid child against such ravishing beauty?

      ‘Miss Lucy Horne?’ Lord Harcourt smiled down at her. ‘I seem to recall that we might have met at Drew’s wedding. I believe you fetched me a piece of wedding cake and then ate it yourself.’

      Lucy flushed but gave him an indignant look. ‘You told me I should eat it, for you did not eat cake, sir!’

      ‘So I did,’ Jack Harcourt said and gave a husky chuckle, which sent little shivers winging through Lucy’s entire body. ‘Do you still eat two portions of cake, Miss Horne? If you do, I cannot see where it goes, for you are a sylph and as pretty as a picture.’

      Lucy smiled at the compliment, and yet it was the way an indulgent uncle would speak to his young niece, which gave her a sense of disappointment. It was obvious that he still saw her as a child and not a young lady about to make her début in society. She knew that he must be several years her senior, but she did not see why he should treat her as a child and it touched a raw nerve. Just because she had climbed into a tree, it did not mean she was a little girl!

      Fortunately for Lucy, she was spared the necessity of making a reply, because dinner was announced and Lord Harcourt offered his arm to Miss Tremaine. Lucy accompanied her mother into the dining room, stifling the little pang of jealousy she felt as she watched Lord Harcourt being attentive to his dinner partner, holding her chair and smiling as she settled down.

      Lucy found herself sitting opposite them, between two elderly gentlemen, both of whom were great friends of Drew’s. They went out of their way to engage Lucy in conversation and after a few minutes she had forgotten her embarrassment earlier and was laughing and answering their teasing questions. Her eyes were alight with laughter and she could have had no idea of how enchanting she looked, nor did she consider that, seated as she was, it gave Lord Harcourt a perfect view of her.

      

      Hearing a sudden burst of laughter from across the table, Jack’s eyes were drawn to Lucy’s face. She had seemed an awkward child earlier, but now she sparkled, responding to the gentlemen on either side of her in a way that was entirely charming. Jack thought that she reminded him a little of his sister as she had been when she was a young girl, innocent, full of the joy of living and lovely. The thought brought a frown to his face, his eyes narrowing, making him look severe. Amelia had lost the joy of living some time ago.

      When Lucy glanced across at him what she saw was disapproval and it made her cheeks warm. What had she done that he should look at her that way? She had always remembered him as being charming and kind, for at Marianne’s wedding he had been kind to her, but now he looked as if he disliked her. She raised her head, pride coming to her rescue.

      She knew that she had behaved badly earlier; she ought not to have climbed into a tree, and must have revealed much more than was decent as she climbed down from it—but surely she did not deserve to be looked at in that way? She turned to her neighbour, who was asking her what she thought of Lord Byron’s latest poem, determined not to let anyone see that she was hurting inside.

      What a fool she had been to keep Lord Harcourt’s image in her mind all this time! He had been her hero, the prince she had dreamed of as a child when she had read all those fairy stories. Now she decided that he was proud and cold, and she decided that she would not think of him again.

      

      Lucy had been lying awake for some time. Realising that she would not sleep, she threw back the covers and got out of bed. She slipped on a heavy silk dressing gown and slid her feet into a pair of soft leather slippers.

      Taking her lighted candle, Lucy went downstairs to the little parlour where she had sat with her sister and mother for an hour or so earlier that day. She had left her book there and hoped that reading it would help her fall asleep.

      As she entered the room, she felt a cool breeze; looking towards the French windows, she saw that they were open. That was odd, for it was unlike the servants to leave them open when they went to bed. She walked towards them, intending to close them, and then gave a little jump as a man’s figure loomed up out of the darkness.

      ‘Lord Harcourt!’ she cried as he entered and she saw him clearly. ‘I am glad it was you. I thought we might have an intruder.’

      His eyes narrowed, going over her, taking in the fact that she was wearing a dressing gown over her night attire. ‘What are you doing down here, Miss Horne? I thought you retired long ago?’

      ‘Yes, I did,’ Lucy agreed. ‘But I could not sleep so I came down to fetch my book.’

      ‘Then we were both restless,’ he said. ‘I could not sleep either. I went out for a walk—and to smoke a cigar…’ His gaze was intent on her face. ‘I think it was fortunate for your sake that it was I you met on this nocturnal expedition…otherwise it might have proved embarrassing for you, to say the least.’

      ‘Oh…’ Lucy blushed, becoming aware that she was behaving in a decidedly improper manner by talking to a gentleman she hardly knew when she was dressed in her night-clothes. ‘I must go back to my room, sir. I hope you will find it easier to sleep after your walk.’ She turned and walked from the room clutching her book, her heart racing.

      ‘Goodnight, Lucy…’ His voice seemed to float after her, making her feel a little odd as she fled up the stairs to her own room. Once again she had the feeling that Lord Harcourt thought of her as a foolish young woman.

      

      Jack Harcourt frowned as he sought his own room, taking a candle from the hall, where several were still burning, though the night porter had fallen asleep in his chair. He was thoughtful as he walked upstairs to his room. He had been startled to find Miss Horne wearing only her night attire. It was often his habit to walk for a while at night, especially when he had something on his mind. He had perhaps been a little sharp with her, for his thoughts were elsewhere, but it was unwise of her to wander about in that state at this hour—particularly when there were male guests. Some of those guests might not have been above trying to snatch a clandestine kiss—or more!

      She might not be aware of it, but Lucy was a delightful young girl, very pretty, and the glimpse of her legs he had received as she climbed down from the tree was enticing, for she had lovely slender limbs. He thought her an enchanting child, perhaps a little shy still and completely innocent—as his sister had once been! Thoughts of Amelia brought a frown to his face, for Amelia’s innocence had been abused and that was the cause of her desperate unhappiness. He dismissed thoughts of his sister for the moment. It was useless to dwell on the past, and he had other concerns.

      Jack had many friends and acquaintances, all of whom he was happy to meet at social occasions, but there was no one quite like David Middleton. They had grown up together, sharing their