Page 46 of A Lady in Name

“Lucy, I beg of you.”

The glitter at her eyes intensified. “I want to understand.”

Stefan threw up his eyes, and let his breath go in a frustrated sigh. “You are disgracefully importunate. It must be well nigh three in the morning, and you want to engage in a discussion of your mother’s intimate exploits?”

“Yes.” It was staunchly said.

Stefan inwardly cursed the demon that had sent him hunting her into the seductive darkness of a cold inn parlour in the small hours of the night. “Very well,” he said, moving to the table and pulling out a chair opposite. He sat down, leaning his arms along the polished wood. “What is it you wish to understand?”

Now he had capitulated, Lucy was smitten with a sudden bout of shyness. She hardly knew what had come over her, except for an urge to keep him here. Was this her mother coming out in the hidden aspects of her character? On the thought, her tongue loosened.

“Am I wanton, as she was?”

Incredibly, Stefan laughed out. “Of course you are not.”

Lucy slammed the flat of her hand down on the table. “But I wanted you to kiss me!”

He reached out, covering her hand with his own and leaning a little towards her. “Lucy, such things happen between a man and a woman. What would you? Darkness and candlelight, and disrobed as we both are. It would be surprising if we had not succumbed to such an atmosphere.”

But there had been neither darkness nor candlelight in the curricle. She had been fully clothed with a thick coat between, but it had not stopped her from the onset of heat. Lucy knew now what it had been, and she was deeply ashamed. Impossible to speak of that.

Her hand flamed under his, and she slid it out from the disturbance of his touch. Stefan slowly pulled his own hand back, not looking at her. Lucy watched him in silence. He looked younger in his state of undress, his hair untamed, the planes of his face softened by the candlelight. He looked up and caught her looking at him, and a smile flickered on his lips.

Lucy felt as if her heart turned over. The recognition was blinding — and utterly devoid of hope. She loved him. She had fallen in love with Stefan Ankerville.

With a dignity born of despair, she got up from the table. “I think I had better go to bed now.”

Stefan rose too, a frown snaking on to his forehead. “Have you done with questions?”

With great care, as if it was the most important thing in the world, Lucy rested her fingertips on the tabletop. “It is clear to me now.”

He gave his ironic laugh, and a pin pricked into Lucy’s heart. “As simple as that?”

She smiled at him. “Just so.” With fingers that trembled, she took up her candle and went quickly to the door.

“Lucy!”

She halted, glanced back, and her insides turned to liquid at the puzzlement in his face. “Yes?”

He came to her then, and it was all Lucy could do to keep her feet as he stood before her, close enough to reach out and touch.

“Am I forgiven?”

She wanted to caress the planes of his face with her fingers, so tender a feeling enveloped her. Instead, she brushed the stem of her candle, feeling comfort in its warmth.

“There is nothing to forgive.”

Turning quickly away, Lucy walked swiftly to the stairs, praying her knees would not give way beneath her.

It came as no surprise to Lucy when Dion broke into eager questions almost the instant the coach bowled out of the yard of the Half Moon. Stefan’s altered demeanour towards her had clearly not gone unnoticed, and since Lucy had schooled herself to respond in kind, just as if there had been no revelation to turn her world upside down, she had prepared herself to meet Dion’s searching questions.

“How can it have happened? When I left you last night, upon the point of going to bed, you were adamant against any reconciliation.”

Lucy made no attempt to hide the truth. “I was unable to sleep. Stefan found me in the parlour.”

Dion’s bright eyes were accusing. “At what hour was this?”

“Lord knows! Stefan thought it must be three o’clock at least.”