His words finally produced an effect, for the young man fell into one of the chairs and buried his head in his hands.“I know.I know.And it’s no more than I deserve.”
Grayson stared at the boy in disgust, outraged that this baleful pup had passed as himself.“Do you know who I am?”he asked in a tone that had turned far steadier opponents to jelly.
The young man lifted his head and frowned in confusion.“Lucy’s guardian?”
Grayson laughed harshly, the sound echoing in the close confines of the cottage.“I am Wroth,” he said, and he had the distinct pleasure of watching every bit of color fade from the young man’s face.
“My lord!I… Forgive me, I never planned to…”
“Steal my name?Just how far did you take the charade?To Chisterton?To London?Is this debauchery the sum of it, or have you run up bills to my accounts?”
“Debauchery!Now—now wait a minute, my lord,” the young man stammered.
“No, you wait a minute,” Grayson said savagely.“You used my name to despoil a green girl who knew—”
“Stop!”The young man surged to his feet, took one look at Grayson’s face and then sat back down, obviously thinking better of his brief show of temper.“Do what you will to me.Shoot me right now, if you like, but don’t drag the lady into it,” he said with a tight frown.
“A little late for that, isn’t it, boy?”
Grayson was relieved to see the young man’s quick flash of anger.Apparently, Lucy’s beau was not totally spineless.
He drew himself up and met Grayson’s eyes evenly for the very first time.“My name is Archibold Rutledge, my lord.And you have no cause to malign Lady Courtland.She is an innocent in all of this.”
“Not anymore,” Grayson said softly.
“No,” Rutledge said, dropping his gaze.“But it’s not what you think.I… I had been out scouting property.”He glanced back up at Grayson, his expression too earnest to deny.“I manage the farm for my uncle, Squire Wortley, and he had been talking of buying more land.I came upon her in the woods, and she was like an angel, a fairy, so beautiful and fine.”
He flushed and stared at his boots.“When she said she was one of the earl’s daughters, I knew she wouldn’t think much of some poor relation to the squire.So I lied.I knew the marquess had—” He paused, swallowing nervously.“I knew your hunting box was nearby, so I said I was Wroth.It was just for the day, and I didn’t think any harm could come of it.”
“But you saw her again,” Grayson said.
“Yes,” Rutledge admitted in a low voice.“I couldn’t help myself.She was so lovely and regal, like a queen, but gentle, too, and sweet.”
Grayson lifted a brow at the description, for he had yet to see that side of Lucy’s nature.
“Each time I told myself it would be the last, but it was like a fire in my blood, this need to see her,” Rutledge said, lifting his head as if to seek understanding.Grayson refused to give it to him, but shifted uncomfortably as the boy’s raw admission struck perilously close to his own obsession with Kate.
“I love her, my lord.”
The devastation on the youth’s face made Grayson heartily glad that he did not subscribe to such nonsense.“Then why did you leave her?”
“What else could I do?”Rutledge asked.“I have no money, no prospects, no title, nothing to offer a lady like Lucy.”
“Still, a man who claims to care for a woman does not abandon her, or his child, to the Fates,” Grayson said.“The Courtlands are in dire straits, without the burdens you have added.”
Rutledge’s startled look made Grayson release an impatient breath.Apparently, Lucy had not been candid about her circumstances, either.
“I thought her guardian would marry her off to someone… better,” the boy muttered, burying his head in his hands again.
Privately, Grayson doubted there was anyone better suited to Lucy than this besotted youth who, no doubt, would be willing to spend a lifetime worshiping at her feet.The lady in question was known to have a mind of her own, however, and it rarely was in accord with Grayson’s.Although Grayson would like to put her life in good order, he had no desire to be blamed if her grand romance turned sour.
It was time for Lucy to make her choice.
Grayson found her in the garden, sewing under the shade of the large alder.Calling softly to announce his approach, he walked toward her, stopping to lean a hand against the tree trunk.She gave him a sulky nod of acknowledgment that did not wound him in the least.If all went well, he would soon be rid of the chit.
“I have found him,” Grayson said, without preamble, and her eyes flew to his, bright with astonishment.
“His name is Archibold Rutledge, and he is nephew to Squire Wortley, whose farm he manages,” Grayson said.He saw the swift play of emotions cross her features: hope, dismay, disappointment, and a building anger.
