The Last Word Page 8

  “Your background will always matter,” Lucinda said bitterly. “But how much money you possess matters more.”

  Persephone nodded and waded out a little farther into the lake. “My family has been treated with such kindness here. We have only known the Adlingtons for a month, and they invited us to this weekend party. That would make those New York City socialites stare. The Merritts, guests of an earl.”

  “This is my first invitation to a house party as well,” Lucinda said. “I have only recently left finishing school.”

  “I like you already,” Persephone said in the same loud tone. “I hope we shall be friends.”

  Lucinda could only stare. She wondered if it was because the girl was an American—they were practically uncivilized there. Or perhaps it was Persephone’s gregarious nature. To offer friendship so quickly, without ostentation … Lucinda had never experienced such openness. Nor had she any experience with friends of her own gender. To cover her own confusion, Lucinda bent over and touched her fingers into the water.

  “Do you not wish to be my friend, Miss Leavitt?” Persephone asked bluntly.

  This question propelled Lucinda back to standing. “I should be delighted to be your friend, Miss Merritt. Please, call me Lucinda.”

  “Persephone,” she said. “Do you know Lord Adlington well?”

  “Not really,” Lucinda admitted. “His cousin is my father’s business partner. I know his cousin well.”

  “Will he be here?”

  “Who?”

  “His cousin.”

  “Oh, David—Mr. Randall,” Lucinda said. “I shouldn’t think so. He’s very busy at the office right now.”

  Persephone digested this. “Mister Randall. No title for the cousin, then?”

  “No title. Only the son in line for the peerage can pass a title on to his children.”

  “So I would have to marry Lord Adlington to become an earl-ess.”

  Lucinda laughed. “There is no such thing as an earl-ess. An earl’s wife’s title is countess, but she is always addressed simply as lady. As in, Lady Mary Adlington.”

  “That seems rather complicated,” Persephone said, wrinkling her nose.

  “At least I learned something useful in finishing school.”

  “There you are, Persephone!” a voice cried from nearly halfway around the lake.

  Lucinda turned to see another young woman who was undoubtedly Persephone’s little sister; she had the same light brown hair styled in curls around her round face.

  “You must come at once,” she called out. “Mama is in a state. She wants Ingrid to start getting you dressed for dinner.”

  “I’m coming,” Persephone said, and started to walk out of the water. The bottom ten inches of her dress were soaked. She didn’t bother to put on her stockings but pulled on her boots and haphazardly tied the laces. She waved to Lucinda. “We will see each other very soon, my new friend.”

  Lucinda could not help but blush and smile as she waved back. “We will indeed, friend.”

  Nine

  DAVID STRAIGHTENED HIS CRAVAT BEFORE buttoning his black dinner jacket. The underbutler opened the door to the parlor where the party was gathering. Every pair of eyes in the room, except one, turned to watch him enter. Lucinda did not have to turn around for David to know exactly who she was. He somehow knew the angle of her neck, the curve of her cheek as she smiled. At last, she glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes widened in recognition. Clearly Lucinda had not known he would be here.

  “David, I was afraid you would not come after all,” his mother said, standing next to his aunt.

  David took his aunt’s gloved hand and bent over it. “I am happy to be here, Lady Mary.”

  Alfred appeared at his side and clapped David on the back. “We almost went to dinner without you.”

  “I am sorry if I kept anyone waiting,” David said.

  “Nonsense,” Alfred said jovially. “Come, allow me to introduce you to the rest of the party.”

  David followed Alfred to where an older couple stood by their two daughters—both girls had light brown hair and fresh, pretty faces.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Merritt, and their lovely daughters, Miss Persephone and Miss Antigone. It is with great pleasure that I introduce you to my cousin, Mr. Randall. He’s a businessman like yourself, Mr. Merritt.”

  David bowed formally.

  “I know that you’re already very well acquainted with Miss Leavitt,” Alfred said with a knowing smile. “And her companion, Mrs. Patton.”

  Lucinda had been standing nearby, talking to one of the American girls. She was wearing the scarlet dress again that made her look magnificent. She curtsied gracefully and gave him an arch look. She held out her hand and he bent over it. Instead of releasing her hand, he tucked it through his arm and brought her with him as he followed his cousin to complete the introductions.

  “Sir Thomas Hardin, Lady Althea Hardin, and their daughter, Miss Clara Hardin,” Alfred said. “And David, you already know Mr. Tuttle and Mr. Silverman, which concludes our party.”

  He bowed to the ladies and nodded to the gentlemen.

  Alfred clapped his hands together. “Let us go to dinner.”

  David placed his hand over Lucinda’s on his arm. He wanted to make it very clear that he had chosen his dinner partner. Alfred escorted Miss Hardin, and Mr. Tuttle and Mr. Silverman each took one of the American girls. David pushed in Lucinda’s chair and sat on the seat to the right of her. Miss Hardin sat on his right. David’s mind wandered from the dinner back to the proposal from another firm to put up half the money in a speculation in South America.

  “What are you thinking of, David?” Lucinda asked. “You seem distracted.”

  “I am being a poor dinner companion,” David said. “My mind is taken up with a speculation from the Durham firm.”

  “Their projected numbers are sound,” Lucinda said. “And if it is successful, your return on investment should be as much as fivefold.”

  “But it’s a risk.”

  “Isn’t all speculation a risk?”

  “I suppose that is why they call it speculation,” David said with a smile.

  “No business talk at a dinner party, Cousin,” Alfred complained.

  “I am sure I know nothing about speculation,” Miss Hardin said in her breathiest voice. “Or anything so unfeminine as business.”

  David supposed this last sentence was meant as a barb at Lucinda. But when he looked at her, she was giving Miss Hardin a dazzling smile. “I assure you, Miss Hardin, that no one could possibly ever think that your head had any thoughts … of business. For my part, however, I think everyone, whether male or female, should be well acquainted with their own finances and how they are derived.”

  “Is that not a job for a lady’s husband?” Mr. Tuttle asked.

  “What if a lady has no husband?” Lucinda countered. “Whether she be unmarried or a widow, and then what? She would still need to understand her business affairs.”

  “A lady of rank will always have male relatives who can assist her in such matters,” Miss Hardin said, her breathy voice sharp.

  “Hear, hear,” Sir Thomas said. “I would not want any daughter of mine to muddy her delicate mind with such matters.”

  “David, you’re the businessman in the room,” Alfred said. “What say you?”

  David could feel the eyes of everyone on him, but only a pair of depthless blue ones mattered. “I am of the same mind as Miss Leavitt. A person should know as much as they can about their financial affairs. You never know whom you can wholly trust, even family.”

  “A sobering thought,” Alfred said. “But this is a party! Aunt Randall, tell us all about the latest fashions in London.”

  David’s mother was only too happy to oblige. The rest of the dinner passed without incident. The ladies left after the blood pudding to retire to another room, while the gentlemen drank their port. Alfred poured glasses for Merritt, Tuttle, Silverman, and Hardin. David poured his own drin
k. Merritt opened a fancy box of Cuban cigars and offered them to the members of the party, but David declined and walked over to the window for some fresh air. Alfred followed him.

  “Perhaps I shall ask Miss Leavitt to tutor me in business,” Alfred said. “She appears quite adept at it.”

  David felt a twinge of irritation. “Miss Leavitt, like her father, is gifted with numbers.”

  “But you must admit she is much nicer to look at, Cousin,” Alfred said with a hearty laugh, clapping David on the back.

  David hoped he managed something close to a smile.

  “And if I were better with numbers, maybe I would not always be in debt,” Alfred said.

  “I will assist you in any way I can.”

  “No, no,” Alfred said. “I will not take another farthing from you. I mean to stand on my own and to redeem all of the mortgages.”

  “How?”

  “Marriage,” Alfred said simply, “followed by moderate management.”

  “You mean to marry for money,” David said.

  “I’ve always known I would have to marry for money,” Alfred said. “I suppose it’s the lot of all peers saddled with estates they cannot afford to maintain. Lucky for me, there are plenty of lovely ladies with large dowries.”

  David gulped down his glass of port, feeling it burn the inside of his throat. The thought of his cousin—or any man for that matter—marrying Lucinda for her money made him feel rather ill.

  “Shall we join the ladies?” Mr. Silverman asked from the other side of the room.

  David was only too happy to leave the smoke-filled room and the company of gentlemen.

  The ladies were drinking tea. Lucinda sat with one of the Merritt girls at her side. Their conversation must have been amusing, for both young ladies were laughing. The other Merritt daughter sat by her mother. Miss Hardin was ensconced between David’s mother and his aunt. She had a sneer in her expression; clearly she thought she had been awarded the most esteemed seating of the younger generation.

  Lady Mary stood and greeted the gentlemen. She suggested they find a seat and enjoy their tea while the ladies presented their musical talents. Miss Hardin was the first asked to perform. She played a complicated classical piece on the piano. Alfred entreated her to play another, and for her second selection she played a minuet. The Merritt sisters were next. The younger one played the piano while the elder sister sang. Her voice was pure and pitch perfect. He even preferred it to the professional tenor that had performed in Bath. Lucinda clapped as loudly as the gentlemen. The Merritt sisters performed another song.

  “Miss Leavitt, do you by chance play?” Lady Mary asked in a tone more suited for addressing a servant than a guest.

  David blushed at his aunt’s manners, but Lucinda did not show any sign of discomfort. She sat at the piano and pulled off her gloves. Her piece was not classical, nor complicated, and her voice did not have the purity of Miss Merritt’s. Still, her simple country song captivated him in a way that the others had not. Even the insufferable Sir Thomas managed to be quiet during it.

  “Thank you, Miss Leavitt,” Lady Mary said.

  “Will you not play another song, Miss Leavitt?” Alfred asked, obviously trying to draw attention from his mother’s slight against her.

  Lucinda stood and slid on her gloves slowly, one hand and then the other. “I shall stop while the audience is still clamoring for more.”

  David was walking toward Lucinda when his aunt asked him to join a hand of whist. He acquiesced and spent the rest of the evening at the card table watching Alfred flirt with both Lucinda and the elder Miss Merritt at the same time. He cringed every time he heard Lucinda’s high laugh float across the room.

  * * *

  The next day they ate luncheon outside by the lake, at tables that had been set up underneath tents. Afterward, the male members of the party took turns lawn bowling. It came as no surprise to David when Lucinda, wearing a blue striped dress, asked to have a turn.

  She threw the first ball and managed to miss the wooden pins entirely. Her second throw was marginally better, hitting one of the pins. Mr. Tuttle set the pin back up and Lucinda handed the bowling ball to the pretty American girl, Miss Persephone Merritt. She hurled the bowling ball and knocked down all the pins.

  Lucinda walked toward the table where David stood. He handed her a glass of punch. She sipped it and said, “It appears that lawn bowling is not one of my talents.”

  “I would not add it to your list of accomplishments.”

  David saw his mother standing next to his aunt, and the Merritts were close by, watching the bowling game—all of the chaperones appeared to be occupied.

  “Miss Leavitt, would you do me the honor of taking a stroll through the gardens with me?”

  Lucinda looked from David to Mrs. Patton, who was busily devouring the cucumber sandwiches.

  “I should like that very much, Mr. Randall.”

  David tucked her arm into his and began to leisurely walk from the open lawn by the lake to the entrance of a garden, surrounded by a large thicket that obscured its view from the rest of the party. David swung open the small iron gate for Lucinda and closed it again after they had passed through.

  “This is truly a beautiful place,” Lucinda said.

  “Rather overgrown.”

  “I had noticed, but nothing that time and attention could not put to rights.”

  “Lucinda…,” David said. “I feel I must caution you against my cousin.”

  “Lord Adlington?” she said, the surprise in her tone obvious.

  “Yes,” David continued. “His finances are in an awful state, and I do not wish for you to be taken advantage of.”

  Lucinda turned her head away from him. “Am I so unattractive and ineligible that it is impossible for your cousin to sincerely attach himself to me?”

  David placed his hand on her arm. “That is not my meaning at all. I simply wished to warn you that some of your suitors might have their eye on your fortune, and I should hate to see you taken in by a fortune hunter.”

  Lucinda brushed his hand off her arm. “Allow me some intelligence, David. I know exactly why each lady is here. The Misses Merritt are American heiresses, Miss Hardin’s portion is rumored to be at least fifty thousand pounds, and I am the only child of a wealthy businessman. Your cousin obviously intends to marry one of us for our money in exchange for this historic estate and a title. It would not be the first, nor the last, of such bargains to be made.”

  “No, it would not.”

  “And I fail to see how my suitors are any concern of yours.”

  David cleared his throat. “I was only trying to look after you, as a friend.”

  “I don’t want you to look after me. I’m very well able to look after myself!” Lucinda exclaimed. She pushed away from him, but stepped onto uneven ground, stumbled backward, and fell into a thornbush.

  David offered his hand to help her up, but she waved him away, managing to get back on her feet without assistance. She tried to walk forward, but the back of her dress was hooked on several thorns. He watched her try to reach her hand around to where her dress was caught, but her arms were not long enough. She made a strange noise—something between a sob and a hysterical laugh—then buried her face in hands.

  “Lucinda, are you all right?” David asked, concerned.

  Lucinda’s eyes peeked between her fingers, and he saw that she was laughing. She sobered long enough to say, “The irony of this situation is not lost on me.”

  “Would you like me to help you?”

  “Please,” she said with another giggle.

  David stepped forward until his body was nearly touching hers. He carefully began to unhook each thorn from the back of Lucinda’s dress.

  “Try to come toward me slowly.”

  Lucinda took one small step forward, but could move no more. “I’m still caught on the bottom of my dress.”

  David took off his hat and swallowed as he moved closer to Lucinda. H
e tried to reach the thorns but couldn’t, so he stepped closer still until their bodies were touching. He could feel her chest rise up and down quickly as she breathed. Laying one hand on her waist to steady himself, he leaned around her so he could see the thorns. With his other hand, he deftly unhooked the last four thorns that were holding her in place. He stood up straight, and as if they were waltzing, he led her by the waist away from the thicket.

  His mind said to let her go, but his body wasn’t listening. Her face was so close. Her lips looked so soft. He leaned in a little closer, his hand touching her shoulder.

  “Ow,” Lucinda said, biting her bottom lip.

  David released her immediately and saw blood on the glove that had touched her shoulder.

  “Lucinda, you’re bleeding!”

  She smirked. “David, I’ve told you before, do not underestimate my intelligence. I am very well aware I am bleeding.”

  David turned her around and saw that one of the thorns had ripped a large hole in the back of her dress, revealing a vicious scratch on her shoulder blade. He could even see the top of her corset. He averted his eyes, gazing pointedly at the sky as if he suddenly found clouds fascinating. He heard Lucinda laugh.

  “It’s only a shoulder, David,” she said. “Everybody has one.”

  “I know—” he said, still avoiding her eyes … and her entire person.

  “Two, in fact,” Lucinda said.

  Without looking at her, he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and held it out in her direction. She laughed again at his expense before taking the handkerchief and pressing it against her opposite shoulder.

  “I see them!” a loud American voice said.

  Alfred and the elder Miss Merritt walked toward them. David stooped to pick up his hat and deftly placed it on his head.