Henry waited in silence before prompting her. “Then what?”
She turned her face toward him, eyes filled with regret. “Then his younger brother died a year later, from fever. My husband shattered. He was gone within six months. However, since our granddaughter was never found, he poured his last ounce of hope into his written will. Should she return and marry someone appropriate and approved by the age of one and twenty, his will settles on her a sum of one hundred thousand pounds.”
Henry whistled in awe. “Your granddaughter will inherit a fortune if she marries before the age of one and twenty?”
“Yes.”
“And if she does not marry by then?”
“She inherits nothing. The dowry reverts to the estate of the new duke, the scoundrel.”
He nodded grimly. “I see. How old is she now, if I might ask?”
The duchess grew grimmer still. “She is twenty and will reach her next birthday in a little more than three months. So, do you not see the stakes and urgency of the situation?”
He nodded, overwhelmed. “I do.”
“You will help her, then?”
“It depends. What did the duke mean by ‘appropriate and approved’?”
“Born of a British family in good standing with the Crown and in possession of a royally bestowed title, or heir to one.”
He clenched his jaw with mild frustration. “I see. In other words, Lucy must be prepared to impress a class of suitors likely to ridicule her in her current state.”
“That is how I interpret the situation, Mr. Beaumont.”
Henry pressed a fist into his chin as he considered the mounting challenge and his dire personal situation. Despite Lucy’s lofty new station, his very association with the ward of a criminal would serve only to drag him toward an unwelcome destiny. And yet, he could not simply abandon her. Visions of Lucy sailed through his mind. Her courage. Her determination. Her intelligence. And her seeming inability to understand how beautiful she was. With some reluctance, he came to a decision that would surely prove disastrous on every level.
“Agreed, then. I will devote my energy to the task, but I can spare only two weeks. This is a perilous affair fraught with inevitable ruin. I cannot squander what little reputation I have on such a risky project.”
She sighed. “Two weeks, then, Mr. Beaumont.”
“Very well, Your Grace. It will be as you say.”
She nodded approval but grew serious. “I expect your best, and nothing less.”
“You will have it. I am a man of my word.”
“Very well. Perhaps you may begin by using her given name rather than the one from a street rhyme.”
He dipped his forehead. “Lady Margaret Huntington it shall be then.”
As he made to leave, however, he admitted silently that a change of name would probably accomplish little. She was Lucy Locket and likely would remain so, despite his best efforts. And he would be destined to become a criminal.
Chapter Seven
Lucy wondered why Henry had left the previous evening without bidding her farewell. However, after contemplating the steady stream of antagonistic words between them, she concluded that his action was not surprising. She might have considered his departure a good riddance if only he had not been such amusing company and so easily riled by her teasing. And so devastatingly handsome in his uniform. She would miss the gritted square of his jaw and the flash of his luminous eyes when they argued.
The warm bath, soft bed, and sumptuous fare had lifted her spirits. Never far from her thoughts, though, was the specter of arrest and hanging for her unwitting participation in a crime. On the heels of that concern came the formulation of an escape plan. Despite the kindness of the duchess, Lucy had no desire to stay. Now truly free for the first time in her life, she wished to escape the clutches of a careless and corrupting Society and disappear from the eyes of Bow Street completely. If only she might borrow a small sum from the duchess, perhaps then she could set the plan into motion. She was debating just how to broach the subject with the duchess during breakfast when the butler, Hawes, entered the breakfast room.
“Mr. Beaumont has arrived as requested, Your Grace.”
“Very good, Hawes. Send him in straightaway.”
Lucy stared quizzically at her. The duchess smiled but offered no explanation. When Henry entered and failed to meet her eyes, fear crept up Lucy’s spine. Had he changed his mind? Had he told the duchess what she’d done at Shooter’s Hill?
“Good day, Your Grace,” Henry said with a bow.
“And to you, Mr. Beaumont.”
When Henry joined them at the table, Lucy shifted her glance between him and the duchess, waiting for an explanation. Both appeared content to leave her in suspense.
“What is this?” she blurted finally. “And where is the guillotine?”
He smiled, apparently amused by her unease. The duchess faced Lucy. “There is no guillotine, dear.”
“I will be the judge of that.”
The older woman rolled her eyes. “Lucy, Mr. Beaumont is to educate you in the finer points of Society so you may quickly adjust to your new life.”
The hairs on Lucy’s neck stood on end. “What sense of urgency drives the need for immediate education?”
When the duchess and Henry exchanged a wordless glance, she became certain that foul plans were afoot. She sat straighter and folded her arms.
“No urgency, my dear,” said the duchess. “I wish only to ease you into Society.”
Sensing the game, Lucy played along. She unfolded her arms and assumed an expression of relief. “Wonderful. Then I will adjust to my new surroundings at my leisure—before leaping into deeper water. Perhaps by New Year’s I will be ready to begin a more formal education, at which time we may call on Mr. Beaumont’s services.”
The duchess peered sharply again at Henry, her eyes filled with desperation. He cleared his throat and leaned toward her. “Perhaps you should opt for frankness. During my brief but highly eventful acquaintance with your granddaughter, I have learned one truth of her preferences. She prizes blunt speech over finesse and does not suffer evasion.”
The duchess breathed deeply through her nose. “Very well, then. Lucy, I shall be as frank as a Cheapside stall maiden. However, I should first ask if you recall your current age.”
“Twenty.”
“And your birthday is when?”
“September.”
“Yes. September. A mere three months hence, which means we possess only that measure of time to prepare you for Society, find an appropriate suitor, and get you married.”