Page 3 of The Duke’s Wager

She was not certain whether the words were whispered by the wind or whether her own mind was telling her what to do, but she moved forward without thinking.

The storm clouded her vision, so she strained her eyes to see. There was something far below. Yes, there it was. Far below the balcony in the garden, Lucy could make out a figure.

She squinted, trying to make sense of it. For a few minutes, her mind was befuddled. But when she realized, it shot through her body like a flash of lightning.

The figure wore mama’s favorite white dress, and its head bent at an impossible angle.

“Mama?” She could only whisper the word as she leaned over the balcony to see better. The figure was still, and all her doubts dissipated instantly. “Mama!” she whimpered.

* * *

Lucy awoke with a start, screaming, her entire body covered in sweat. She pressed a hand against her racing heart as she sat up in her bed.

The dream was always the same. She took a few deep breaths in a futile attempt to calm down, tears already pooling in her eyes. Recently, the dream had become even more frequent.

The blood in her veins turned to ice. The scream that had left her lips may have awakened her father; he despised it whenever someone disturbed his sleep. She stifled a yawn and reached for the robe that hung haphazardly over the chaise in her room.

Only one thing would help now; a cup of tea.

Anguished thoughts warred in her mind as she made her way to the kitchen. It had been ten long years since her mother’s death, but she could still picture her lying in the garden like a broken doll.

An accident, they had called it. How could her mother have been so careless as to slip and fall over the railing of the balcony? Even if that were a possibility, what would her mother have been doing out on the balcony in that awful weather?

It simply did not make sense.

Another thing that did not make sense was the torn-up portrait. No one had mentioned it, and Lucy herself was far too scared to ask her father about it. No… she had learned long ago that he did not welcome questions, so she had remained quiet about what she had seen.

Still, the portrait troubled her. Who would have gone through the trouble of shredding it into pieces, and more importantly… why? Could it have been her mother, who had grown tired of the false smile she wore in the painting?

And why had the room been in such disarray?

The silence in Lucy’s room was a far cry from the bustling activity in the kitchen when she arrived. Her maid Maria was leaning against a counter with a cup of tea in her hands.

“I made you a spot of tea already, my lady.”

Lucy took the cup with relief and shook her head at the older woman.

“Sometimes I wonder if you are a witch, Maria. How on earth did you know that I would be having a dream again?”

Maria smiled sympathetically and reached over to put a gentle hand on Lucy’s wrist. “I’m no witch, my dear lady. I just know that you have your dreams whenever a storm brews outside, so I was expecting you.”

She looked at Maria earnestly, thinking how far more at ease she felt with the staff than with her own family.

Maria kept her voice light, though the concern was still evident in her eyes. “You will never believe what I heard today. Your chambermaid is in love!”

Lucy took a delicate sip of the warm tea, her eyes wide.

“What? Katherine? With whom on earth could she be in love?”

Maria made a big show of looking at the cook conspiratorially. “With the new stable boy. Ben, I think his name is. The two cannot stop stealing furtive glances at one another.”

Lucy pressed her hand against her heart and smiled. “Oh, that is too precious! I have not met Ben yet, but I will have to make a plan to meet him now. He better not hurt Katherine, or I will have his head.”

The cook laughed jovially at this. They all knew that Lucy was far too kind to even consider having anyone’s head. She could hardly give anyone a stern talking-to.

“That is not the only gossip, my lady.” It was the cook’s gruff voice that sounded now, and Lucy looked at him curiously. “Apparently, young Abigail is expecting. Yes… they believe that the baby will be here by summer!”

Lucy clapped her hands together in excitement. “That is wonderful news! Oh, we will have to make some clothes for the baby, and perhaps a little blanket!”