The Regency Season: Blackmailed Brides: The Scarlet Gown / Lady Beneath the Veil. Sarah Mallory

sisters are concerned for the succession,’ put in Ariadne.

      ‘They need not be. I have an heir.’

      ‘Adam Cottingham? He is merely a cousin.’

      ‘He bears the family name. That is sufficient.’

      ‘But they would prefer to continue the direct line, Ralph—’

      His cousin’s persistence hit a nerve. He had heard all these arguments before.

      ‘Enough,’ he said impatiently. ‘I have married once for the sake of an heir. I do not intend to do so again. I shall never take another wife.’ He rose quickly before anyone could respond. ‘Shall we go in to dinner?’

      * * *

      Lucy accompanied Lord Adversane into the dining room, her fingers resting lightly on his sleeve. She could feel the tense muscles, strong as steel beneath the expensive Bath coating. He was angry, and she had some sympathy with him. His wife had been dead for but two years and he was being nagged to marry again. He must have loved her very much.

      In an effort to divert his mind she asked him about his trip. He told her that he had been in Leeds, discussing the prospect of a steam railway. She dragged from her memory whatever she had learned of steam power in order to ask questions that would not result in his dismissing her as a fool. She succeeded very well, and the conversation continued during dinner. Lucy included Ariadne where she could, but although Mrs Dean professed herself interested, she was content to allow the discussion to continue around her while she concentrated upon her meal.

      * * *

      ‘Steam power has a lot to offer,’ concluded Lord Adversane, when the covers had been removed and they were sitting back in their chairs, choosing from the dishes of sweetmeats left on the table. ‘It has even more potential than the canals, I think, and we will be able to move huge quantities of goods to and from the new manufactories.’

      ‘And will it mean the demise of the horse?’ asked Lucy.

      ‘Good God, no. Or, at least, not for a long time.’ He pushed a dish of sugared almonds towards her. ‘Which reminds me. Did I see your new riding habit amongst all those new clothes delivered today?’

      ‘Why, yes, sir.’

      The high-waisted style was very different from her old habit, and the soft dove-blue linen not nearly so hard-wearing as the olive-green velvet, but, she thought wryly, the future Lady Adversane did not need to worry about such practicalities.

      ‘Good,’ remarked her host. ‘Then perhaps you would like to ride out with me tomorrow. Greg tells me you have not been near the stables since that first ride.’

      Lucy hoped her face did not show her embarrassment at the memory.

      ‘No, I did not like to presume.’

      ‘It is no presumption, madam. Brandy needs exercising and you may as well do that as the stable hands. You may order the mare to be saddled whenever you wish, and Greg will find someone to accompany you.’

      ‘Th-thank you, my lord.’

      ‘So? Are you free tomorrow? It will have to be after breakfast. Colne and I have business before that, but I should be free soon after ten.’

      Mrs Dean gave a little cluck of admiration.

      ‘You are so industrious, Ralph, to be conducting your business so early.’

      ‘If I do not then the day is lost.’ He looked again at Lucy, who met his enquiring glance with a smile.

      ‘I shall be ready, my lord.’

      * * *

      Lucy was already in the stable yard and mounted upon the bay mare when Lord Adversane appeared the following morning.

      ‘I wanted to accustom myself to this new habit,’ she told him as she waited for him to mount up. ‘The skirts are much wider than my old dress. I hope Brandy will not take exception to them if they billow out.’

      ‘She is used to it, having carried my sisters often enough.’

      They trotted out of the yard and as soon as they reached the park Lord Adversane suggested they should gallop the fidgets out of their mounts. The exercise did much to dispel any lingering constraint Lucy felt, and her companion also seemed more relaxed. When they left the park he took her through the little village of Adversane, where she noted with approval the general neatness. All the buildings were in good repair and it did not surprise her to learn that most of the property belonged to the estate. They met the parson on his way to the church, whose square tower was visible beyond a double row of cottages. They drew rein, introductions were performed and the reverend gentleman smiled up at Lucy.

      ‘So this is your second week here, Miss Halbrook.’

      ‘It is.’

      Her eyes flickered towards Adversane, who said easily, ‘I was away last Sunday, Mr Hopkins, and Miss Halbrook was reluctant to attend church alone.’

      Lucy cast him a grateful glance. It was almost true. Mrs Dean had cavilled at taking her into the church and, as she put it, continuing the pretence of the betrothal in such a holy place.

      ‘We will wait until Adversane is here to escort you,’ Ariadne had said. ‘The Lord’s wrath will come down upon his head then. Not that he will care much for that!’

      Mr Hopkins was directing a sympathetic look towards Lucy and saying gently, ‘Ah, yes, quite understandable, in the circumstances. You were afraid everyone would be gawping at you, Miss Halbrook. And they would be, too, I’m afraid. Perhaps you would like to come and see the church now? It has some quite wonderful examples of Gothic architecture. And I doubt if there will be anyone there at present—’

      ‘Thank you, Mr Hopkins, but next Sunday will have to do for that. We must get on.’

      ‘Ah, of course, of course.’ The parson nodded and stepped back. ‘And there is plenty of time for all the arrangements, my lord. You need only to send word when you wish me to come to discuss everything with you.’

      Lucy knew not what to say and left it to Adversane to mutter a few words before they rode off.

      ‘He meant the arrangements for the wedding, I suppose,’ she said, when they were safely out of earshot.

      ‘Of course.’ His hard gaze flickered over her. ‘Feeling guilty?’

      ‘Yes, a little,’ she admitted.

      ‘Don’t be. Our betrothal has given the locals something to talk about, and when it ends they will have even more to gossip over. A little harmless diversion, nothing more.’

      ‘I suppose you are right, my lord.’

      ‘I think it is time that we abandoned the formality, at least in public.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘You cannot keep calling me “my lord”. I have a name, you know.’

      Lucy felt the tell-tale colour rising up again.

      ‘I do know,’ she managed, ‘but—’

      ‘No buts, Lucy. There, I have used your name, now you must call me Ralph. Come, try it.’

      She felt uncomfortably hot.

      ‘I—that is, surely we only need to do so when other people are near—’

      ‘And how unnatural do you think that would sound? We need to practise.’

      ‘Of course. R-Ralph.’

      He grinned. ‘Very demure, my dear, but you look woefully conscious.’

      ‘That is because I am,’ she snapped.

      ‘Which proves my point,’ he replied in a voice of reason that made her grind her teeth.

      Observing