The Scarlet Gown. Sarah Mallory

fireplace, Lucy thought how well Ruthie’s description of Lord Adversane suited him. Stern and cold. There was no softness in the craggy features, no yielding in his upright posture, the muscled shoulders filling the black evening coat so well that not a crease marred its sculpted form. He might have been hewn from the grey rocks she had seen on her journey to Adversane. At that moment he looked across the room and smiled at her. Immediately his face was transformed, the hard lines softened and the grey eyes warmed with amusement. She could not prevent herself from smiling back.

      ‘So, ladies, what have you been discussing?’

      ‘You,’ said Lucy. ‘Or rather, your wife.’

      The warm look that had made her speak so recklessly was immediately replaced by a black frown, yet she had no choice but to continue.

      ‘I—I thought, for the role you have engaged me for, that I needed to know a little more about Lady Adversane.’

      ‘Do you think anyone would dare mention her to you?’

      The haughty reply should have warned her to desist, but instead she considered the question.

      ‘They might.’ She met his challenging look steadily. ‘And it would certainly appear most odd if I did not evince some interest in my predecessor.’

      The icy look vanished, replaced by a more disquieting gleam in his eyes.

      ‘You are quite right, Miss Halbrook. Unless we put it about that you are marrying me for my money. In which case you need show no interest at all in me or my family.’

      ‘Oh, dear me, no. I would not wish to feature as a fortune-hunter.’ He laughed at that, and, emboldened, she continued, ‘I looked in the Long Gallery on my way here tonight. I thought I might see a portrait of Lady Adversane.’

      Mrs Dean fidgeted beside her, and Adversane’s gaze shifted from Lucy to his cousin.

      ‘You shall see her likeness,’ he said coolly. ‘But not tonight, for here is Byrne again to tell us dinner is served.’

      * * *

      By the time they had dined, the days of travel were beginning to catch up with Lucy, and when Mrs Dean suggested that instead of retiring to the drawing room after the meal she might like to go to bed, Lucy agreed. Ruthie was waiting in her bedchamber, taking such pains to say nothing while she helped her undress that Lucy was amused, but too exhausted to tease the girl. Once she had ascertained that Ruthie would be sleeping in the dressing room, she fell into bed and was asleep almost before her head touched the pillow.

      * * *

      Lucy woke very early the following morning. She had asked Ruthie to leave the window shutters open and not to pull the hangings around the bed and the sun was streaming into the room. Lucy stretched and plumped up the pillows, then she lay down again, thinking of the change in her circumstances. A maid was sleeping in the dressing room, there for the sole purpose of looking after her, and once dressed Lucy would be obliged to do very little except amuse herself. All day.

      And she was being well paid for it.

      With a contented smile she put her hands behind her head. She had imagined herself struggling to control a schoolroom of spoiled children, or running back and forth at the bidding of a querulous invalid, instead of which she was living the life of a rich and cossetted lady.

      She slipped out of bed and walked over to the window, throwing open the casement and leaning on the sill to breathe in the fresh summer air. Her room overlooked the front of the house, where the gravelled drive snaked away between neatly scythed lawns and out through the gates. Beyond the palings lay the park, bordered by an expanse of woodlands, and beyond that she could see the craggy moors stretching away to meet the sky. How could anyone be unhappy in such surroundings?

      Lucy had a sudden desire to be outside, while the dew was still on the grass. Rather than disturb her sleeping maid she dressed herself in a morning gown of primrose muslin, caught her hair back with a ribbon and, picking up her shawl, she left her room. There would be a quicker way of getting to the gardens than down the main staircase and through the Great Hall, but Lucy did not yet know it and was afraid of losing herself in the maze of unfamiliar corridors. It was still early, and although she heard the servants at work she saw no one as she made her way to the long through-passage and out of the doors that opened onto the formal gardens.

      A broad terrace ended in a shallow flight of steps leading down to flower beds separated by wide gravel paths. A series of statues decorated each bed and at the far end of the gardens was a small pond and fountain. It was very beautiful and the air was already heavy with the scent of flowers, but the formal layout did not fulfil her wish to be at one with nature, so she made her way around to the front of the house, where she could stroll across the smooth grass, leaving a trail of footprints in the heavy dew.

      Although it was early, a skylark trilled ecstatically somewhere above her and she thought how wonderful it would be to live here through the seasons. Immediately upon the thought came another, less welcome idea, that the late Lady Adversane had not thought so. From what Ruthie had said Helene had been very unhappy here, although Lucy suspected that it was not because of the property but its owner. As if conjured by her thoughts two horses emerged from the distant trees, galloping across the open park, their riders bent low over their necks.

      Even at a distance there was no mistaking Ralph, Lord Adversane. He was riding a magnificent black hunter and was a good horse’s length ahead of his companion. Man and beast were as one, flying across the turf with strong, fluid movements that made their progress look effortless. He slowed as he approached the drive, waiting for his companion to come up to him before they trotted between the stone pillars of the main entrance.

      Lucy knew they must see her, a solitary figure standing in the middle of the lawns, but she determined not to scuttle away like some timid little mouse. She thought they would ride around the side of the house to the stables, and she was not a little surprised when they turned their horses onto the grass and came directly towards her.

      Lord Adversane touched his hat.

      ‘You are about early, Miss Halbrook.’

      ‘Not as early as you, my lord.’

      His brows rose a little, and she wondered if he had expected her to explain her presence. As if—and she bridled a little at the idea—as if she had no right to be there. However, he did not appear to be offended by her response and replied quite cheerfully.

      ‘I often ride out in the morning. It is a good time to see just what is happening on my land.’ He indicated the man beside him. ‘This is Harold Colne, who acts as my steward here at Adversane.’

      Lucy nodded. ‘Mr Colne.’ She shot him a quick, questioning glance. ‘Acts? Is that not your main role?’

      ‘Harry is also a lifelong friend and a business partner for some of my ventures.’ Ralph grinned. ‘In fact, the partnership is flourishing so much that I fear I shall soon have to find myself a new steward. However, for the present Harry manages everything here at Adversane. If you are in need of anything, you may ask him.’

      ‘I will be delighted to help you in any way I can, Miss Halbrook.’

      Mr Colne touched his hat and gave her a friendly smile. Lucy warmed to him immediately. He looked to be a similar age to Lord Adversane, but instead of short black hair he had brown curls and a kindly face that looked as if it was made for laughter.

      ‘I have a great curiosity about this place, Mr Colne,’ she told him. ‘And I shall undoubtedly seek you out, if you can spare a little time.’

      ‘As much as you require, ma’am, although I assure you Lord Adversane knows everything there is to know about the estate.’ He held out one hand to his companion. ‘If you will give me your reins, my lord, I will see to the horses and leave you free to walk with Miss Halbrook.’

      ‘What? Oh. Of course.’

      Lucy kept her countenance until the steward had ridden away, then she said, her voice rich with laughter, ‘I suppose