Page 31 of A Lady in Name

“You are, without exception, the most infuriating man I have ever met.”

“Since you can’t have met many, that is not saying much,” he returned.

Lucy eyed him as he took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her. “I believe you did that on purpose.”

Stefan uttered a short laugh. “I assure you I did not. I meant it. As for my rights, Lucy, I don’t care what they may be or why. I still would not permit you to throw yourself away on a fellow with whom you have nothing in common and for whom you cannot possibly feel the sort of regard necessary to a marriage. If that is autocratic and high-handed, as you choose to term my decisions, then so be it.”

Lucy knew not how to respond. How did Stefan manage to make his interference sound so reasonable? As if he truly had her interests at heart. Why should he when he hardly knew her? A tattoo fluttered in her breast. It was curiously endearing to have him so vehement against her possible union with Mr Waley. Almost as if he were jealous? It had crossed her mind before, but it must be absurd and impossible. Lucy was nevertheless conscious of a warm feeling inside.

A large cluster of oaks appearing ahead to one side of the road, she recognised abruptly where they were. “There is Corse Copse. We are but a half mile from Jenny’s new abode.”

So it proved. Stefan tooled the curricle into a straggling village, and turned off the main road at Lucy’s direction. Presently, he was able to set her down at a neat cottage standing by itself alongside a row of workers’ dwellings.

Stefan was necessarily obliged to remain with the curricle while Lucy went inside, but he had not walked the horses for more than a couple of turns before she emerged in company with a stout dame in country clothes with an apron over all, whose advanced years were evident in a heavy tread and the slowed pace of Lucy’s normally deft motions.

“Jenny insists upon seeing you for herself,” Lucy explained, with a comical grimace reminiscent of his sister.

“Aye, sir, I do that,” said the elderly woman, fixing him with a penetrating eye. “I’d not have courage to face our sainted vicar, if I’d let our Miss Lucy go off with a wrong ’un, not if he was ever so much a lord.”

Amused and rather touched, Stefan returned her deep look without flinching. “You may be sure of Miss Lucy receiving the best of care and everything which may add to her comfort. It is not dependent upon me, you know. She has my mother and sister to look out for her.”

He had struck the right note. Jenny nodded sagely. “Aye, it’s that way with the gentry. I weren’t taken with her purpose in going to you, sir, but if she’s landed on her feet, I’ll feel my duty done.”

“You have no need to fret over me, Jenny,” Lucy said soothingly. “Besides, you have nearer cares to worry over now.”

“My poor sister, aye. As you’d not come home when you said, Miss Lucy, I reckoned I’d best be off. If I’d known when you was coming, I’d have come back for you.”

“No need. I have his lordship’s sister to help me with the packing, and we will shut up the house and leave the key with Mr Waley. You can fetch your things at any time, for the new vicar will not be there yet awhile.”

Stefan could not forbear a glance at her as she mentioned the curate, but Lucy gave no sign of thinking of the fellow as anything other than a trusted friend. He was obliged to wait for a further period after Lucy disappeared into the cottage again with the old retainer, but within a short time, the curricle was bowling back in the direction of Upledon.

Lucy was silent for so long, Stefan began to be concerned. At last he felt obliged to break into her ruminations.

“A penny for them?”

She jumped, turning towards him with a look of startled enquiry in her face. Stefan was abruptly struck with a sensation like a barb in his chest. He put his attention back on the road, but the image of Lucy’s face stayed in his mind even as she spoke.

“What did you say?”

With difficulty, Stefan kept the blandness in his tone. “I was wondering what was so absorbing to hold your attention for so long.”

To his surprise, she answered without hesitation. “I have been puzzling and puzzling over the names Papa mentioned.”

The intensity of her utterance caught at him, akin as it was to the occasional whisper of tragedy which characterised her. “Which names?”

“Of the woman’s family. My real mother. I ventured to ask Jenny if she could tell me anything about her, but she was unable to remember. Or perhaps she is too harassed by her sister’s plight.”

“All too likely, I imagine,” Stefan responded. “Can you remember?”

“What papa said? Vaguely. Something like Oak or Oades.”

“I see. Well, I can understand your wishing to know more.” Without will, he gentled his tone. “What troubles you, Lucy?”

“I have found my father’s kin. But what of my mother’s? Who are they? From what manner of people have I sprung?”

He glanced at her again and found her eyes upon him, rich with the curse of her unsubstantiated ancestry.

“Who am I, Stefan? Who am I really?”