Drawn to Lord Ravenscar. Anne Herries

and her mama.

      Actually, they had both followed Mark like troopers falling in behind a glorious commander—and they had both looked up to him as their leader. Mark always took the blame if they were caught in some scrape, though once Paul had insisted it was his fault and been beaten for his misdemeanour. Mark had never been given more than a lecture on his inappropriate behaviour, which, when you thought about it, was a little unfair—but of course he could never be wrong in the eyes of his doting family.

      Lucy and Paul had been as mesmerised as everyone else, but, when she remembered, it was Paul to whom she had confessed her childhood fears—and it was for her sake he had taken the beating.

      She had been expressly forbidden to go roaming that day, for her uncle and cousin were coming to visit, but the sun had called to her and she’d sneaked off to play at pirates with her friends. During their play she’d fallen, torn her pretty gown and cut her hands and knees. Paul had driven her home in the governess’s cart and when her mama scolded her, he had claimed that he had teased her into her truancy. Lady Dawlish had told his father and for that crime he had been beaten...whereas when Mark had confessed to so much worse, including putting frogs in their tutor’s bed and setting the boar in with the sows, besides a hundred other tricks, he had escaped with a scolding.

      How could she have been such a fool as to think herself in love with Mark when she had always loved Paul? Lucy had been blinded by the elder brother’s magnificence when he returned from the wars as a hero. He was glorious and a wonderful friend, but she had never truly loved him as she had Paul. Tears stung her eyes as she realised what her mistake had cost her: her happiness.

      Was it too late to show Paul that she cared for him? And what of the earl?

      Lucy liked the earl and she thought that she might find a kind of content with him if Paul no longer loved her. If only she knew for sure that he had cared for her truly. Paul had spoken much with his eyes, but apart from a few emotional words before he went off to grieve alone, she had no reason to think that he had ever considered her as the lady he would like to marry.

      Perhaps she had imagined the whole, which was humiliating.

      Lucy felt hot all over. How could she make the first move to heal the breach between them when she did not even know if he particularly liked her? If he thought she was throwing herself at his head, she would die of embarrassment. She must give no hint of her feelings. If he cared for her, he must speak first.

      Dismounting and giving her horse into the care of a stable hand, she hurried up to the house. She must change into a pretty afternoon gown to be ready for the arrival of her cousin, Judith.

      * * *

      ‘How pretty you are,’ Judith said and kissed Lucy’s cheek. ‘It is such an age since I saw you, Cousin. When we last met you were in the schoolroom.’

      ‘And you were about to be married,’ Lucy said, and then, as she saw a flash of grief in the other’s eyes. ‘Forgive me, that was clumsy.’

      ‘No, it was truthful. I was married and then I was widowed and now I have put off my mourning. Sir Michael was very good to me and I was happy as his wife, but he would not wish me to grieve for ever. I can speak of him now without hurting, Lucy.’

      ‘I am glad. You...you look beautiful, Judith.’

      Her cousin had dark hair, which was swept into a sophisticated chignon at the back of her head, a few tendrils curling about her face. Her complexion was pale, her eyes so dark that in a certain light they looked black. Her gown was crimson silk with a buttoned bodice and a deep lace collar and cuffs; rubies sparkled in her ears and in the gold brooch she wore at her throat. Anyone looking at the two girls might think them a perfect foil, the one so dark, the other so fair. Lucy had a delicate colour in her cheeks, but her lips were not as red as her cousin’s and there was a sparkle in Judith’s eyes—a sparkle that spoke of laughter and a joy of life.

      ‘Thank you, Lucy,’ Judith said and laughed softly. ‘I would say I have more style than beauty, but I do not turn up my nose at compliments, I assure you.’

      ‘You do have a style of your own,’ Lucy said thoughtfully. ‘I do not know quite what it is—but you are not like most ladies I know.’

      ‘I am told I resemble a Greek goddess,’ her cousin said, laughing. ‘I think they mean statuesque... I am certainly not a wraith like you and I mean that as a compliment.’

      ‘You mean I am thin,’ Lucy said. ‘Papa says I am too thin, but I cannot help it.’

      ‘And I am nicely rounded...’ her cousin twinkled ‘...but because I am tall I can get away with it, you see. If I were diminutive, I should be fat, but the Greeks liked their goddesses well rounded, it seems.’

      ‘You are not in the least fat,’ Lucy said and shook her head. ‘You are—yes, you are statuesque, but I find that magnificent.’

      ‘I should have visited you long ago, for you are good for my morale,’ her cousin teased. ‘We shall certainly be friends, Lucy dearest. I am told you have travelled to Italy and France. I should like to travel more. I was taken to Paris for a wedding trip, but unfortunately my husband became ill of a fever when we returned and was never quite well again. Our plans to visit Greece and Spain never came to anything.’

      ‘I enjoyed my time in Italy but...’ Lucy sighed. ‘I was grieving and I did not wish to come home for a long time, but now I do not think I wish to travel for a while.’

      ‘You disappoint me,’ Judith said. ‘Had you been eager for it we might have travelled together...but never mind, I shall not tease you. Papa says I should find myself an obliging husband, who will take me to the places I want to see, and perhaps I shall.’

      ‘Are you looking for a husband?’

      Judith seemed thoughtful, then gave an expressive shrug. ‘I am not certain. He would have to be someone I could respect... A man who would be willing to indulge me and not dominate me. You see, I am quite wealthy and can afford to indulge myself. I would not risk that freedom unless...’ Again she shrugged. ‘The future will take care of itself. Tell me, are you thinking of marriage in the near future?’

      ‘My parents think of it for me,’ Lucy said. ‘I was to have married, as you know. Since then I have not met anyone new that I liked enough. I was asked in Italy more than once, but I could not consider any of the gentlemen who were so obliging as to offer for me.’

      ‘Well, perhaps we shall help each other to find husbands,’ Judith said and her soft laughter made Lucy want to giggle. ‘After Papa leaves, perhaps my aunt would take us both to Bath, if we asked her nicely.’

      ‘I am sure she would, for she has spoken of it,’ Lucy agreed and tucked her arm into Judith’s. ‘Tell me, Cos, do you ride or do you drive yourself?’

      ‘I enjoy both,’ Judith said. ‘I have arranged for my horses to be brought down, Lucy. Do you think your father will stable them for me—or should I ask his advice as to where adequate stabling may be had?’

      ‘How many horses do you have?’

      ‘Three that I wish to bring with me,’ Judith replied. ‘Queen Mab is my mare and an excellent riding horse—but Thunder and Lightning are two of my favourites. I drive them when I go out in my phaeton—but I have others at my home. Sir Michael kept an extensive stable and I have not wanted to sell his horses, though most serve no practical purpose, other than to draw my travelling coach, because I could not handle them.’

      ‘You should offer them to Adam Miller should you wish to sell any of them,’ Lucy said. ‘I think he would offer a fair price for good horses.’

      ‘I do not know the gentleman,’ Judith said. ‘I would only sell to a man I could be certain would treat them well.’

      ‘Captain Miller is a cousin of both Paul and Mark Ravenscar...Hallam, too.’