Page 70 of A Lady in Name

“Last night you spoke of some scheme for my relief, but I cannot remember what it was.”

His heart sank. “I was going to take you to live with my great-aunt at the Dower House.”

Her features brightened and she looked eager. “Yes, I recall it now.”

In the silence of impending gloom, Stefan waited for what she would say.

“Will you take me there tomorrow?”

Lucy woke next morning heavy-eyed from lack of sleep and the bout of weeping in which she had indulged, once Stefan had gone and she had buried herself under the bedclothes in despair. She did what she might to lessen the ravages, but it came as no surprise when Dion, who was in sole possession of the breakfast parlour, instantly exclaimed.

“Lucy, you look dreadful, and no wonder. I declare, I could kill Cousin Thomas!”

Seizing upon this convenient excuse, Lucy made haste to smooth Dion’s feathers. “I dare say he cannot be blamed. After all, he only knows what his wife has told him.”

Dion was successfully deflected. “Don’t talk to me of Paulina! How anyone could be so ungrateful is beyond me. And after the horrid way she attacked you too.” A puzzled frown was directed at Lucy as she helped herself to a couple of baked eggs, feeling hungry after last night’s interrupted meal. “What was the letter she said she destroyed? Stefan seemed to know of it.”

Lucy came to the table and sat down. “It must be the one my father wrote to your uncle to inform him of my birth. Stefan had not seen it in your uncle’s papers.”

“But he might have thrown it away,” suggested Dion.

Lucy took up her knife and fork. “No, why? Unless he had reason to fear anyone’s finding out.”

Dion considered this, pouring out coffee for Lucy and refilling her own cup. “Well, his father was alive then. But I cannot think Grandfather Fulbert would have cared much about a stray love child.”

Lucy winced, the reminder too raw now of what she had been obliged to give up because of her nameless state. Dion set down the coffee pot with a bang.

“Oh, forgive me, Lucy! I did not mean to distress you.”

Lucy shook her head. “No such thing. I should be used to discussing it by now.” She turned the subject quickly. “What was your grandfather like?”

“Old Lord Pennington? He was not profligate with money, like Uncle Beves. But in his day it was quite the thing for men of his rank to have a string of mistresses. Corisande says we are growing into a namby-pamby age, expecting our menfolk to be faithful unto death. She says it is unnatural for men. And of course she cites the manners of —”

“The Middle Ages,” finished Lucy in unison, and they both giggled, lightening Lucy’s gloom a trifle.

At this inopportune moment, Mrs Ankerville came into the breakfast parlour, immediately entering upon a discussion without even greeting the two younger women as she went to serve herself from the covered dishes. “I have been supplying Paulina with potential names for the infant, but I am afraid the wretched creature is perfectly recalcitrant.”

“I need not ask if they are medieval names,” Dion cut in drily.

Her mother directed an astonished glance at her. “Are there any other decent names to be had?” She filled her platter and came to sit at the bottom of the table. “I put it to Paulina that as the child was born in this house, I ought to have some say in the naming, but she would not have it so. I dare say the poor boy will be saddled with Thomas, like his father, than which nothing could be more vulgarly common.”

She appeared as thoroughly put out as one of her equable temperament could be, and Lucy derived a degree of entertainment from her discourse as some small solace to her heart-sore state.

But then Stefan entered the room, and her comfort was at an end. He looked pale, which must be set to her account, and his eyes met hers but briefly before he turned away to the sideboard. Lucy read reproach in his look and felt wretched indeed. She was glad when Mrs Ankerville drew his attention.

“Stefanus, I have spoken severely to Paulina about her ingratitude.”

He glanced at his mother, a frown catching at his brows. Lucy willed herself not to seek his gaze, and signally failed.

“On Lucy’s behalf, I trust.”

Stefan’s eyes came back to hers as he spoke. They softened and he gave her a brief smile. Lucy felt its tenderness and hugged the secret to her bosom.

“Naturally,” returned Mrs Ankerville. “I pointed out that Lucinda is the child’s aunt and behaved very properly. I also said Paulina had caused her husband to act in a most unmannerly fashion and I made it clear that I did not approve.”

Dion clapped her hands. “Bravo, Mama. Not that I suppose it will make the slightest difference, but at least you said it.”

“No difference at all,” agreed Mrs Ankerville tranquilly. “But I will not pander to unreasonable prejudice.”