Page 7 of A Lady in Name

CHAPTER TWO

Lucy’s tongue felt thick, her throat dry. She did not know if she would be capable of pronouncing her own name.

Then rescue came, in a well-remembered inflection of irony and the voice of Lord Pennington. “Not yet gone, cousin? Perhaps you and Sarclet would like to take up your residence here and be done with it.”

Stefan eyed Paulina’s reddening cheeks with satisfaction, but his inner irritation was reserved for the Graydene woman. Why in Hades could not the wretch have remained where he put her?

“I will treat that remark with the disdain it deserves,” stated Paulina, her eyes snapping as she stared up at Stefan.

He began a leisurely descent of the stairs. “Do just as you wish, cousin. I am not, I thank God, responsible for your actions. Convey my deepest respect to Sarclet, won’t you?”

Not much to his surprise, his cousin turned tail without a word and trundled her heavy person across the hall, motioning to her maid, waiting patiently at the open door, to come to her assistance. Stefan reached the chequered floor as the door shut behind Paulina, and transferred his attention to the willowy black-clad figure standing silently to one side.

“What part of my commands were incomprehensible to you?”

The girl’s pale cheek whitened further, and he caught a flash in her eye as she looked towards him. Her voice was even, and distinctly cold. “I am not yours to command, Lord Pennington.”

A spurt of admiration interrupted Stefan’s annoyance, but he moved towards her, choosing to ignore the thrust. “I told you to remain in the breakfast parlour until I came to fetch you.”

She held her ground, meeting his gaze. “No, you did not. You led me there and left me, with no indication of how long I should be obliged to wait.”

Stefan cast his eyes heavenwards. “A modicum of common sense must have told you why I did so, and that it would be politic in you to refrain from wandering about the house.”

“I had no intention of wandering. I came out in the hopes of encountering a servant. It was unfortunate your cousin happened to be —”

“Unfortunate? That, Miss Graydene, is the understatement of the year. Is it too great a leap for you to realise in just what relationship you stand to my cousin Paulina?”

The girl was stricken to silence. She whitened. “Oh, no. No, it cannot be.”

Quick remorse kindled in Stefan’s breast. She looked like to faint. He put a hand to her elbow, grasping it strongly. “Don’t swoon on me, for the Lord’s sake!” His eyes swept the hall for a suitable resting place, and fell upon the porter’s chair near the front door. Guiding her to it, he pressed her to sit, regretting his hasty tongue. “Come, it is not as bad as you fear. Paulina can have suspected nothing, be sure.”

The dark eyes stared up at him. “She thought I was an applicant for a post.”

“Well, that is no bad thing,” Stefan said bracingly. “At need, we may fall back upon that to excuse your presence.”

Her bosom rose and fell in a hasty sigh. “There will be no need. I will be gone from here before she can return to find me out.”

“Very likely,” Stefan agreed, unwilling to prolong her disquiet with a flat negative. He did not know what he was going to do about Miss Lucinda Graydene, but he doubted the complexities of her situation could be settled in short order.

For a few moments he watched the pallid features for any sign of returning colour. No doubt the severity of her garb accentuated the whiteness of her cheek, but Stefan could not shake off his impression that the unhappy circumstances of her recent life had left their mark upon her well-being, perhaps upon her health. She looked frail, as if her burdens had been too much for her to carry. Yet her spirit had not been beaten down.

On impulse, Stefan pricked it. “When you have recovered a little, perhaps you will explain why you were flaunting your presence.”

She glanced quickly up at him, a frown between her brows. “Are you making game of me, my lord? Or is this meant to spur me to carp at you?”

Stefan chuckled. “You are sharp, Miss Graydene, I’ll give you that.”

A faint smile curved her lip, but there was little echo of it in her eyes. “It was how my father —” She broke off with a gasp, brought one fluttering hand to brush at her mouth as if she would stop the words, and then continued smoothly enough. “Papa was apt to use such methods to tease me out of the dismals.”

“Ah, then you are too fly to be caught,” Stefan said, keeping his tone light. “In which case I shall descend to the merely threatening and warn you I am not yet satisfied with your responses.”

Grateful for his efforts to swerve her from despondency, Lucy dredged up a dutiful laugh. “Well, the truth is I needed —” Again she paused, caught by a wave of embarrassment. How in the world was she to confess the urgency of need which had driven her out of the breakfast parlour? In the press of subsequent events, the urge had receded. But it renewed itself now, full force. She felt warmth swelling in her face and was obliged to look down.

“What the devil —?”

The mutter ceased abruptly. Next instant, Lord Pennington was striding across the hall to tug vigorously on a hanging bell-pull, and the faint clang of the answering bell could be heard in the distant reaches behind the stairwell. As his lordship returned towards her, Lucy read amusement in his face and knew he had divined her trouble. Annoyance surged up.

“You need not be so smug, sir!”