He was a perfect gentleman, an excellent dancer, and someone who looked out for the feelings of others. Why had this man ever needed to have his marriage arranged? Was he so heartbroken over that Sally woman that he no longer cared? “So I got the same treatment as everyone else, I suppose.”
He pulled his head back and tried to catch her eye, but she didn’t dare look at him. She kept her chin over his shoulder. “No. I mean, I suppose yes.” He stumbled over his words. “I don’t know who you mean by everyone else.”
A soft chuckle escaped Lucy’s lips. “The Johnson sisters, Miss Creighton, most of the available young women in Fenswallow…”
“You’ve never even seen me with Miss Creighton.”
“But ye treat her the same, don’t ye? Or do ye return her affections?”
Matthew took a deep breath. Lucy could feel the rise and fall of his chest. She could live like this—warm, in his arms, measuring each of his breaths by the sensations they broughtdeep within her bones. “I don’t believe Miss Creighton has any special regard for me, but if she did, I wouldn’t return her affections.” He pulled her just a bit closer. “I’d really rather not talk about Miss Creighton or any other young women in Fenswallow. You’ll be leaving soon, and I don’t think we will have an opportunity like this ever again. Could we just dance? Let me hold you, and let's just dance.”
Lucy nodded, tears threatening her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to hold him and tell herself they would find a solution to their problems. But she glanced up to find Miss Creighton’s steely and knowing eyes watching them, and her eyes dried up almost immediately. She stood a few feet behind the Garvis family, waiting for them to finish their dance.
Lucy should lean forward and tell Matthew the truth about who she was. It would be a shock to him, but better to shock him, herself, than to have Miss Creighton divulge her secrets. But she couldn’t work up the courage. Like he’d said, this could be one of their last moments together, and she just wanted to spend it dancing.
As the final notes of the waltz ended, she took a deep breath and gave Matthew a low curtsy. He returned it with a bow, equally as reverent. When he stood, he caught her eye. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Shroud. Would you like me to escort you back to Mrs. Tucker, or would you rather have some refreshment?”
Refreshment. This was her answer to stall Miss Creighton. A glass of punch might have just saved her from public humiliation.
Lucy pasted a smile on her face. “I believe there is punch at the inn. Would you mind fetchin’ some for me?”
“I wouldn’t mind at all. I’ll escort you to Mrs. Tucker first.”
Lucy laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as false to Matthew’s ears as it did to hers. “’Tisn’t some fancy ballroom, and I’m too thirsty to wait. I’ll find my way to Mrs. Tucker on my own.”
He looked confused, but Lucy didn’t give him the chance to overthink what she said. She turned and quickly strode toward the Garvises and Mrs. Tucker, only glancing back once to make certain Matthew was on his way to the punch, and not following her.
Miss Creighton reached the Garvises at almost the same time Lucy did. She smiled at Mrs. Garvis, then turned to Lucy, her dark eyes flashing. “You must be Miss Shroud,” she said. She smiled, but something about the way she flexed her jaw made it clear that she wasn’t actually happy.
“Aye,” Lucy answered. “’Tis my name.”
Miss Creighton’s eyebrows shot up. “You're Scottish?”
Blast it all. Why had she spoken? She could have just nodded and pulled Mrs. Tucker away. She needed to ask Mrs. Tucker to find a way to occupy Miss Creighton until Lucy had a chance to speak with Matthew alone.
“She is,” Mandy piped up. “She talks like Old Mr. Brennan.”
Lucy had no idea who Mr. Brennan was, but apparently he was actually from Scotland.
“I don’t remember you having a Scottish accent,” Miss Creighton said. “I think I would have remembered you having a Scottish accent. That was you, wasn’t it? You came into the millinery with that high and mighty lady to buy a hat and you asked after Mr. Scarper.”
“Yes,” Lucy said, not completely dropping the accent, but trying to use English words. She caught Mrs. Tucker’s eye. Her companion was wide-eyed, frantically searching the square, most likely keeping an eye out for Lucy’s unwitting fiancé. “I was asking about him for my father’s sake, remember?” Thankgoodness Lucy had used a very similar story when she later met with Mr. Bennion.
Miss Creighton narrowed her eyes. “Mr. Scarper has mentioned you. I had no idea you were the woman he spoke of. From his description, I assumed you were much older.”
From his description? Matthew had been speaking of her to Miss Creighton? And he’d made her sound…old?
“What do you mean by that?”
Miss Creighton waved off Lucy’s question as if it didn’t matter. And it shouldn’t. It really shouldn’t. But what, exactly, had Matthew said about her to this woman? “Why don’t I ever see you in the shop? Mr. Miner said you’d been to his shop.” She pointed to Mrs. Garvis and Mandy. “And you must have visited the bookshop if you know the Garvis family. Why not the millinery? You’ve been here nearly three weeks, and you’ve never set foot in the place.”
“I usually take that time to go to the bookshop.”
Miss Creighton put a hand on her hip. “And do you have a Scottish accent when you go to the bookshop?”
“Miss Creighton,” Mr. Garvis said with a frown. “What are you saying? Of course she still has her accent. She always has her accent.”
Lucy nodded in agreement, but her eyes searched the path to the inn. Matthew would be back any moment, and if Miss Creighton said anything about Lucy being in the shop with the high-brow woman from London, he would know exactly who Lucy was. There was no possible way she would allow Miss Creighton to tell him that Lucy had been lying to him since the day they met.
