Lucy hadn’t known what to expect from a family of rank. Her family had gone from poor—when it was just her and her mother—to well-off, when Mama had married Mr. Bateman, to extremely wealthy in a matter of a few years, thanks to her step-father’s rapidly expanding leather company. He now supplied leather to almost half the shoemakers in London, and had dealings in France and Spain as well. Even with that newfound wealth, Lord and Lady Bridgewater were a surprise to her.
She’d never had a Season, where she might have met a family such as the baron’s. But if all titled families expected their future daughters-in-law to pay for every shopping trip before the wedding, and dragged those daughters-in-law to shops three hours from London because they had heard the milliner in thatvillage had recently been to Paris and brought back the newest of fashions, then… well… Lady Bridgewater would fit right in amongst the lot of them.
Lucy trudged to the back of the shop. Three years was a long time to wait for a husband. Three weeks had seemed much too short when Lucy had been seventeen and promised to Mr. Harrison, but most people found a middle ground somewhere between the two.
Not that she was any closer to finding her runaway fiancé. Three years could stretch into an eternity.
She had been an absolute dunce for playing that trick on him.
At seventeen, Lucy hadn’t truly been ready to marry. She wasn’t certain she was ready to marry anyone even at twenty. But being married to Mr. Harrison would have been better than being tied to his mother day in and day out, wouldn’t it? She might have escaped a few shopping excursions at the very least, and that alone made marriage sound preferable. Perhaps she should have taken Mama’s advice and broken the engagement six months after Mr. Harrison went missing, but breaking this engagement wouldn’t make it easier for her to find another titled gentleman to wed, and even with the little she knew of Mr. Harrison, she knew she’d been fortunate in her parents’ choice.
“Have you ever seen a ribbon of this color?” Lady Bridgewater’s face was flushed. “It looks as if they mixed every shade of blue to create an entirely new shade of blue.”
Lucy eyed it. Blue was blue. The only thing remarkable about that ribbon was the price of the bonnet it adorned. But if history was any indication of what would happen next, that bonnet would be making the long, tedious drive back to the London townhome with them.
Her parents hadn’t given up on having a baron as a son-in-law, but at least it wasn’t Helena they were trying to marry off. Not yet, anyway. Lucy’s hand went to the locket around herneck with Helena’s portrait inside of it. Every month that Lucy’s fiancé stayed away, Helena grew older and closer to being put out to the highest-ranking bidder. How long could a man stay away from his family?
Lady Bridgewater squealed and ran to another hat.
Heaven help her.
Blast Mr. Harrison. If he hadn’t run off, marrying off Helena would have become Lucy’s problem to solve, not Mama and Papa’s. Her rank would have helped Helena immensely, and Mama and Papa would have trusted Lucy to find her a suitable match.
But Lucy held no rank as of yet.
All she had was a long-standing engagement, banns read and all done in order, without a groom in sight.
She should have known a future baron wouldn't have a sense of humor.
Not that she had given him an opportunity to showcase it, if he had.
“My Matthew’s eyes are about this color of blue, aren’t they?” Lady Bridgewater had made her way back to the original bonnet.
“I wouldn’t know.”
Lady Bridgewater winced. “Oh dear, of course you wouldn’t. I forget that you never met him. He is such a handsome fellow—tall and amiable. You will be quite happy when he returns. I guarantee it.”
From the bit of him she had seen, all of those things were true. He did have a good face, and he struck a fine figure. She had stared at him, perhaps too long, while he lay in the grass looking heavenward. He was to be her husband, after all. Who wouldn’t have taken the time to inspect him without his knowing? But all of her inspecting did her no good, since with each passing month it became less likely that she would ever get the chance to actually meet him.
Lady Bridgewater suddenly turned to Lucy, her eyebrows low and a hand at her abdomen. “Oh, I’ve just had the strangest pain.” She reached for the bonnet and handed it to Lucy. “I’d better sit in the carriage and wait for you there.”
“You don’t want the bonnet, then?” It was devilish of her. Lady Bridgewater definitely wanted the bonnet. She’d only just handed it to her.
Lady Bridgewater’s eyebrows rose and her hand dropped away from her middle. “Of course I want it. Someone else might get it if we don’t take it now.” She blinked, then returned to her slightly hunched position. “I will have to wait for you in the carriage though. This pain…”
Lady Bridgewater pushed the bonnet more firmly into Lucy’s hands before turning to leave the store.
Lucy sighed. She shouldn’t fight back like that. She had spent years living this way. Nothing was going to change. She took the bonnet to the counter and the shopkeeper smiled at her. Behind the counter a tall man in dark brown trousers was bent at the waist, placing things on the shelves.
The shopkeeper’s eyes ran up and down the man’s broad back. She touched the man’s shoulders and a different smile than the one she gave Lucy appeared on her lips. When he turned his face, Lucy froze. She thought she recognized that hard jaw-line and regal brow. His hair was longer and not as dark, as if he’d spent a lot of time in the sun, but the man with the broad back and dusty trousers had Mr. Harrison’s face, if not his lean and lanky body. “You don’t need to put those on the shelves, Mr. Scarper,” the shopkeeper said. “Mr. Bennion never did. He simply delivered them. Just leave them there, and I will get them put away once I finish ringing up Lady Bridgewater.”
At the mention of Lady Bridgewater’s name, the man’s shoulders stiffened and his hand paused over a shelf. He jerked his face back around so Lucy only saw the back of his headagain. He came to a half-standing position, and the shopkeeper stepped away from him without noticing. She told Lucy the price of the bonnet. Somehow Lucy managed to open her reticule and pay, all the while watching the man out of the corner of her eye. He went back to his knees, then up again indecisively, then back down. He reminded her of Lady Bridgewater deciding between two pairs of gloves, dancing back and forth between the two of them before simply deciding to buy them both. He made a similar choice, finally pausing half-crouched in front of the shelf.
“Thank you,” the shopkeeper said, bringing Lucy back to the task at hand. Lucy tore her eyes from the man and turned sharply toward the shopkeeper. Her cheeks warmed. Was she so desperate to find Mr. Harrison that she imagined him in this small-town stocking shelves? What if she’d been caught staring at the man as his jacket tightened across his back and shoulders? Lucy Bateman, fiancée to a baron’s son, ogling a working man? She’d never even gotten a good look at Mr. Harrison, and that was three years ago. Besides, Lord and Lady Bridgewater’s son, stocking shelves? The idea was preposterous. She’d spent too long expecting the man to show up at home any moment, and now she was hallucinating. That was the only explanation that made any sense.
She gave the shopkeeper a quick smile, then spun on her heel and made a fine noise of leaving the shop. The door shut behind her and she turned sharply to the right. The windows were large, but in only three steps she had managed to tuck herself behind their brickwork edge. Lady Bridgewater might think her daft, but she would never ask her to leave Bridgewater House. Ridiculousness was the last thing that would break off her betrothal. The families had a mutual understanding—Lucy’s engagement to the someday-baron would stay in place, guaranteeing the Bateman family some modicum of privilegein theton, while Lucy provided ample purse money to Lady Bridgewater.
She peeked her head around the brickwork, only to see the man in the milliner’s shop doing the same thing from around the back of the shelving. He must have finally decided to stand, but most of his broad form was still hidden. His eyes weren’t on her, however. They were on the Bridgewater carriage.
