“And yet you hide as a winter vole, tucked away from the world. This seems the very image of unhappy regret.”
She heaved a sigh. “You speak truth. I am unhappy. These rules… They overwhelm me. I seem to choose incorrectly whether silent or conversational. I am inadequate in movement, ineloquent in spoken word, and insufficient in face and form. How can I satisfy rules that I barely comprehend?”
The duchess leaned nearer, her eyes misting. “My granddaughter, my dear. Nothing of you is inadequate, ineloquent, or insufficient. My breast swells with pride at your progress, your quick wit, and your tireless effort. As for face and form? I consider you second to none.”
A tremor wracked Lucy. She wished to leap from her chair, rush to the duchess, and lock her in a grateful embrace. Decorum kept her planted where she sat. “I am grateful for your kind words.”
The duchess frowned in consideration. “Will you leave now? Perhaps return to your old life?”
Lucy’s hands fidgeted in her lap and she chewed her lip while attempting to bring forth a lie that might comfort the old woman. She failed.
“I do not know. For that, I am deeply regretful.”
…
Henry’s annoyance grew with each passing day. Freed from his moral morass and the impossible mission of reforming Lucy, the weight of the world should have lifted from his shoulders. Instead, deep remorse and unquenchable longing seeped into his soul, lowering his spirits hour by hour. Even an overnight patrol along the Bristol highway failed to moderate the mounting darkness. Initially, he blamed a sense of failing an assignment, a rarity for him. However, he slowly realized that the source of his dismay was something different, something wholly unexpected. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw only Lucy’s wounded expression before she fled the dining hall, all pluck and spirit drained in the face of relentless ridicule. And now all he wanted was to see her again and perhaps set things right, despite the danger of slipping further downslope toward the abyss. Instead of seizing the opportunity to refocus on his mission of redemption, he allowed himself to be drawn toward an all-consuming flame. It was with astonishment, then, that he rode toward Grosvenor Street three days after the disastrous dinner party, questioning himself aloud and drawing suspicious stares from passersby.
“What are you doing, Henry Beaumont? Leave well enough alone, muttonhead.”
He did not heed his self-advice and soon arrived at the house of the Duchess of Ramsbury. He rapped the door sharply. When it opened, Hawes regarded him with some surprise and mild approval.
“If you will allow me to pass, Hawes, I must speak to Her Grace about the completion of our agreement.”
“Come inside, sir. I will summon the mistress.”
Henry waited in the parlor, nervously pacing the floor. The duchess soon found him. “Mr. Beaumont! Your presence is most unexpected.”
“Unexpected? Or unwelcome?”
“I mean what I say. After what you did for Lucy, you are never unwelcome here.”
“What I did for your granddaughter? I did nothing but fail her miserably.”
“I disagree.”
She approached him and uncharacteristically seized his right hand in both of hers. Discomfort crawled up his neck at the breach of etiquette, but he held his ground. Moisture brightened her eyes.
“You vigorously and righteously defended my granddaughter’s honor even though it was disadvantageous for you to do so. You risked your reputation to cry shame for the unkind behavior toward the girl. For that, I will always be grateful.”
The claim took Henry aback. Had he done that for Lucy? Recalling the moment, he saw her point. The defensive anger that had roiled within him three nights earlier seemed fresh once again and brought into focus the indistinct feeling that had returned him to House Huntington.
Captivation.
Lucy’s spirit, sharp wit, and lovely face had grown within him a desire for the young woman. He did not wish to fail her. The duchess released his hand and examined his stunned expression as if harboring an amusing secret. He pried his collar away from his neck.
“Your Grace, it was my duty and pleasure to defend her honor. However, what has become of her? Is she still here?”
The duchess motioned for Henry to sit. She took her place across from him and explained Lucy’s three days of isolation and deep uncertainty about the future. As he listened, his resolve grew. When the duchess finished, he stood.
“May I speak to your granddaughter?”
Without hesitation, the duchess motioned to Hawes. He disappeared from the doorway with complete comprehension of the unspoken request. A few minutes later, Lucy tentatively entered the room. Henry took pleasure in the fact that she wore the yellow dress he had purchased for her and noted how well she wore it. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion upon spying him.
“Mr. Beaumont,” she said heavily. “Have you returned to heap additional ridicule upon me? My lack of decorum certainly proved correct your opinion of my flaws and failings.”
Henry stood and bowed. The suspicion on her face gave way to uncertainty when he smiled kindly. “No. I have not returned to disparage you in any manner. In fact, I have come to offer apology.”
“Apology? For…for what?” Hope suffused her abrupt and stumbling reply.
“For not believing in you sufficiently. Your grandmother asked for my best, but I failed to comply. I allowed pessimism to distract me from the effort. In doing so, I failed you. For that, I am deeply sorry.”
The confusion on her face grew. “Why would you apologize? My performance that evening was nothing short of a disaster in every possible manner.”
He chuckled. “Yes, in some ways. I cannot deny that. However…” When he paused, she leaned slightly toward him, seemingly desperate for any ray of hope. “In the face of overwhelming opposition bent on your public destruction, you held your ground admirably and fought bravely. I have rarely seen such backbone, even on the battlefield. In short, I underestimated you, to my everlasting shame. An apology to you is the least of my obligations. However, I wish to do more.”
She stared at him with eyes wide, disbelief competing with gratitude for control of her lively features. “What, then, are you suggesting?”
Henry hesitated. The door to freedom from the entire affair was only twenty steps away. He simply needed to silence his voice and run. But he failed miserably. Again. The siren’s call beckoned and he responded instinctually, the innate criminal that he was.
“I wish to continue my assignment of preparing you for an appropriate suitor so you might find a place in this odd Society of ours. But only if you allow it and the duchess agrees.”
Lucy’s grimness faded. She glanced at her grandmother and ducked her eyes before reengaging his. “Why? And with so little time remaining? What can you possibly hope to attain?”