Page 80 of A Lady in Name

“Not that, no.” Lucy pulled out of his arms. “I wish you will not laugh at me.”

“I can’t help it, my love, if you will say such ridiculous things.”

“How do you know it is ridiculous?”

“Don’t rip up at me, I beg of you.”

At this inopportune moment, the door opened to admit the landlady bearing an overloaded tray, with her husband bringing up the rear similarly burdened. Lucy retired to her side of the table and took up her glass, feeling alienated and resentful.

After a flurry of activity, the landlady and her spouse retired, leaving the table groaning with covered dishes, which Stefan was investigating. He cast her a tentative look. “I said a light meal. Our hosts have brought enough to feed a couple of pythons.”

A faint ripple of mirth crept in to lighten Lucy’s mood, and she tried to respond in kind. “Well, I am very hungry.”

Stefan lifted two of the covers with a flourish. “What is your pleasure, Lady Lucinda?”

Lucy started. “What did you call me?”

A wry look creased Stefan’s mouth. “You are the daughter of an earl.”

She looked at him, abruptly swept with the shock of realisation. In all the ups and downs of sensation she had experienced, the essential fact had escaped her. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“You are. But I confess I am a little sorry to exchange Lucy Graydene for Lady Lucinda Ankerville.”

Lucy watched him serve out from the dishes on offer. “I am still myself, Stefan. I have not changed.”

“Except in your willingness to become my wife.”

Lucy took up her fork. “I was unwilling to become anyone’s wife.”

“With the exception of the very Reverend Mr Waley.”

The acid note stung Lucy. She dug the utensil into a portion of chicken with a savage motion. “I did not then know he was a deceitful wretch. And in any event, I was not willing to marry him.”

Stefan finished serving himself and sat down. “You said you would if he knew the truth about your past.”

“Which he evidently did,” Lucy snapped. “The real truth. Only he did not see fit to tell me of it.”

Stefan groaned and reached for his glass. “We are back to that, are we?”

Lucy fairly glared at him. “Of course we are back to that. Can you not see how it rankles with me?”

“I’m not permitted to see anything else!”

Lucy regarded him, the baleful feeling giving way to puzzlement. “I cannot conceive why you should object to my talking of it. Every time I mention Mr Waley, you try to turn the subject.”

Stefan did not answer immediately, addressing himself to his meal by way of excuse. He was obliged to concede the truth of Lucy’s accusation. Why he could not abide mention of the fellow’s name was unfathomable. Except for his having taken a dislike to the curate from the first moment of meeting him. Indeed, from the moment of hearing his name in connection with Lucy.

He looked up to find her watching him, in her eyes a faint echo of the tragic air that had first caught at his senses. Stefan straight away forgot about the curate.

“Don’t look at me so, Lucy.”

She blinked, starting back a little. “I don’t know how I look.”

“As if a world of tragedy lay in your bosom.” He felt cut, wounded to the heart, and did not know why. “Are you not happy? Can you not put all the horrors of the past behind you?”

A spasm crossed her features, and Stefan saw remorse catch in her eye. He threw out a hand.

“Ah, don’t. I didn’t mean to reproach you. Perhaps it is asking too much that you should share what I feel.” She shook her head, and Stefan cursed himself to see the glistening at her eyes. His elation at winning her was overwhelming. He must remember Lucy had a whirlwind of change to take in. His impatience was out of place. “Forget what I said, Lucy, I beg of you. You must forgive me if I find it hard to partake of your sentiments. Life has been cruel to you, and I keep forgetting that.”