“Oh God.” Lucy felt her heart slam against her chest. This could ruin everything. If the assassin found out that the Foreign Office had become involved there was no telling what he might do.
“I’m sorry, Lucy, but I had to know who I was married to.”
Of course he did. She was a fool for not considering it before. “You have to stop them,” she said, her eyes locking on to his.
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. The letter was sent out two days ago. I’m sure the agent has already discovered everything he could about you.”
Heaven help her. Heaven help them all. She felt herself grow suddenly hot and short of breath. The light in the room began to swim before her eyes, and it almost seemed as if the walls were closing in on her. Swallowing hard, she managed to say, “Nobody can know about this, William. Nobody can know you did this.”
He stared back at her for a moment and then nodded. “All right,” he muttered. “I’ll take care of it. You have my word.”
She knew he meant it, and yet she couldn’t help but worry. “Come,” he said as he pulled her to her feet and into his arms. “Let’s not think about it anymore tonight.” Bending his head, his lips found hers, gently at first and then with growing urgency.
All worries of the masked assassin fled Lucy’s mind as William’s tongue entered her mouth and his hands pushed away the fabric of her silk dressing gown, leaving her bare in the glow of the flickering flame. And when she felt his fingers stroke against her soft and aching flesh, it became impossible for her to think of anything but William and the passionate moment they now shared.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Thanking the maid for the coffee she’d brought him, William added some milk and sugar as she took her leave before settling back against his chocolate-colored armchair. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, his mind constantly working to try to solve the puzzle surrounding his wife. Hoping to contemplate the matter even further, he’d skipped breakfast, escaping quickly and efficiently to the peace and quiet that his study offered.
If someone was threatening Lucy as he now suspected, then there could be only two possible explanations. She’d either received a letter from the blackguard—perhaps with the intent to blackmail—or if not, then it had to be one their guests. A letter seemed most plausible of course, since it was hard to believe that any of the people he knew would be capable of alarming her so. Still, he couldn’t dismiss her serious reaction to Reinhardt yesterday or the fact that she felt it necessary to arm herself against a possible assailant. With a heavy sigh, he took a sip of his coffee just as a knock sounded at the door.
“Enter!” His voice sounded too loud to his own ears, but there was little he could do about that now except hold silent and wait.
The door opened, and his father stepped inside, nodding a quick greeting to his son before closing the door behind him. “Thank you for joining me,” William said, waving him forward. “Come have a seat. There’s coffee if you’d like some.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Bryce said as he reached for the pot and began to pour. “Splendid ball last night, by the way. You must remember to praise your wife, William. She did a marvelous job, especially on the canapés.”
“Yes, it was rather smashing, wasn’t it?” William studied his father for a moment. “And I couldn’t help but notice that you managed a dance too, in spite of the trouble that your legs keep giving you.”
Bryce shrugged, but however indifferent the old man desired to appear, William couldn’t help but notice the hint of a smile. “Lady Ridgewood was a wonderful partner, and therein lies the difference, my boy. You see, she was quite willing to move at a slower pace, not caring one way or the other if we annoyed anyone else with our dalliance.”
“You’re rather enjoying her company, aren’t you, Papa?”
Bryce frowned. “I’ve told you so before, William. You know that I both appreciate and admire the woman. She is a lovely lady after all.”
William feigned a cough to keep from grinning. “And after this house party is over, do you suppose you might desire to develop your acquaintance with her further?”
“So many questions, William. Tell me, what exactly is this about?”
William knew that his father’s patience would soon wear thin and that the time for honesty had come. “I need to speak to Lady Ridgewood, Papa, and when I do, it might get ugly. I’ve no desire to damage your growing relationship with her, though she’s highly likely to connect the dots once I’m through. She may be furious with you for seeking her company under false pretenses.”
“Perhaps I ought to—”
“No.” He grimaced at the wariness that rose in his father’s eyes, but in light of everything that had happened and with Lucy unwilling to cooperate, he could only hope that Lady Ridgewood might be able to tell him something—anything at all—that would help shed some light on who was threatening Lucy. “Things have progressed since you and I last spoke, and I need answers—answers I’m unable to get from Lucy.”
“I see,” Bryce muttered. “Shall I ask her to come and join us then? She’s just finished breakfasting and is currently waiting for me to take her for a ride in the barouche.”
“Yes,” William replied, regretting that his father’s outing would have to be delayed. “Unfortunately, this can no longer wait. I hope you understand.”
Five minutes later, Lady Ridgewood was seated across from William with Bryce at her side. Although William didn’t know her too well, having spoken to her on only a few occasions, he’d developed an instant liking for the countess. This had not changed. If anything, the way in which Lucy spoke of her had served to increase his admiration for the woman who’d taken his wife in when she had nobody else to go to.
A tray with tea and biscuits was brought in by the same maid who’d brought the coffee earlier. Again, William waited for her to take her leave before commencing. “Forgive me if what I am about to say offends you in any way, my lady,” he said, “but there has been a development, so to speak, and because of this I must insist on knowing if there is anything my wife may have kept from me. Are you aware that she has told me about her past?” William couldn’t help but notice the frown that crossed his father’s face. Carefully setting down her teacup with the elegance and poise of a true aristocrat, Lady Ridgewood offered him a calm smile. “She did mention that she has told you everything. Whether or not she truly has, I cannot say.”
“Then perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me yourself, in your own words?”
Lady Ridgewood’s eyes narrowed, though her smile did not fade, and when she spoke again her voice was clear and even. “My first duty lies with Lucy, my lord, so unless you give me a compelling enough reason to betray her trust, I fear that I must remain silent, even to you.”
She would not be bullied, he realized, and noting the hard stare that his father was giving him, he silently cursed himself for assuming that she would. “Very well then, I have reason to believe that Lucy may be in grave danger.” From her stiffening posture and taut expression, it seemed that he now had Lady Ridgewood’s full attention. Good. “She’s been acting quite strange for the past couple of days, and last night I happened upon her as she was trying to make away with my pistol. She was terrified of something.”
Lady Ridgewood closed her eyes briefly, nodded, and then took a deep breath, which she exhaled before saying, “That changes everything. I must protect her, even if she doesn’t want me to. Tell me, Lord Summersby, what exactly do you wish to know?”
William blinked, then shook his head and tried to focus. “From what she’s told me, her father was the Earl of Hampstead, British Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire. When he and his wife were brutally murdered, Lucy managed to escape back to England where she’s spent the last six years in your care. She married me so that I could accompany her back to Constantinople, find the man who did it, and bring him to justice.”
Lady Ridgewood offered a thoughtful nod in response. Her gaze was distant for a moment, but then her eyes met William’s and she said, “All of this is true, though there’s one significant thing missing from your account. Did she tell you that the man who killed her parents wore a mask? She has no idea what he looks like.”
William paused as he reflected upon the conversation he’d had with Lucy. No, she hadn’t told him about a mask, though he didn’t believe the omission had been deliberate. Talking about the incident had visibly shaken her. Still, he couldn’t help but ask, “How did she expect me to help her find him when she has no idea what he looks like?”
“You are an excellent spy,” Lady Ridgewood told him seriously. “It’s the reason why Lucy picked you, you know. I advised her to be honest with you and to seek your help, but she feared the consequence of what might happen if her existence was made public. I’m glad she eventually did confide in you though. You’re a good man, Lord Summersby. I know you’ll do what you can to help her.” Picking up a biscuit, she took a bite while both men’s attention remained riveted upon her. She glanced at Bryce. “I suspected that you sought my company with the intention of discovering as much as you could about Lucy, but I couldn’t betray her trust. I hope you’ll understand, just as I understand your motivation.”
“It was only my reason for instigating our friendship. It’s not my reason for wishing to maintain it, for in all truth, I hold you in the highest regard,” Bryce told her as he reached for her hand and placed a kiss upon her knuckles.
“And I you, Lord Moorland,” she responded with a smile.
They certainly seemed to handle the situation in a mature fashion, William noted, deciding that a person’s ability to forgive and forget probably grew in accordance with their age.
“How long have you known that Lucy was the Earl of Hampstead’s daughter, William?” Bryce asked, his eyes narrowing just enough to suggest that he didn’t like being lied to either.
“A couple of days,” William told him.
Bryce nodded. “You might have mentioned it. I could have called off Percy’s agent.”
“I was sworn to secrecy, Papa. Besides, as far as Percy’s agent is concerned, it was too late to stop him by then. You sent the letter three days ago.” He hesitated only a moment before adding, “No one can know when a reply arrives, however. The mere thought of it sent Lucy into a panic when I told her about the possibility. I’ll ask the butler to keep all correspondences on his person and to deliver them to me only and in private.
Again Bryce nodded. He took a sip of his coffee, frowned a little, and said, “I thought she was dead.”
“As do most people, I’m sure,” Lady Ridgewood remarked with a wry twist of her lips, “but her body was never found, as you well know, and she’s done her best to keep it that way. It was quite an ordeal for her as you can well imagine—twelve years of age and forced to flee a foreign country after witnessing her mother’s murder.”