Marrying Captain Jack

‘Yes, it was,’ Lucy said, trembling inside. She watched him as he moved away from Drew, going to speak to some of the other guests. Her memory of him was not quite accurate, because she had remembered him as very handsome, but he was not truly so. He was tall and strongly built, and there was no evidence of fat; his hair was dark, cut short and brushed forward in a fashionable peak. His features were classical, a little harsh perhaps, his nose aristocratic. No, not as handsome as either Drew Marlbeck or Hal Beverley, but attractive just the same. She did not know what it was about him that had made her remember him until he suddenly looked at her with his serious grey eyes and her heart jolted. ‘Very kind, Mama.’

‘Come and meet him, dearest,’ her mother said. ‘I would not wish you to be backward in any attention to Lord Harcourt. I know Drew thinks very highly of him.’

‘Yes, Mama. I remembered that he was of service to both Drew and Hal.’ She understood from her sisters that Captain Manton, as he had been known then, was a very brave and clever man. Manton was one of his family names, for as a peer he had many, and if what Drew had told her was true, he had not hesitated to use others that were false in the pursuit of his duty as a secret agent.

Lucy was trembling inside as she followed her mother to join the little group. The ladies were smiling and laughing up at him, especially Miss Angela Tremaine. She was a redhead, extremely beautiful, and a considerable heiress, and she seemed much taken with Lord Harcourt.

Lucy stood silently as her mama made the introductions, her cheeks slightly pink. She knew that people said she was a very pretty girl, because of her silvery blonde hair and azure eyes, but she felt at a disadvantage beside the vibrancy of Miss Tremaine. Surely he would think her an insipid child against such ravishing beauty?

‘Miss Lucy Horne?’ Lord Harcourt smiled down at her. ‘I seem to recall that we might have met at Drew’s wedding. I believe you fetched me a piece of wedding cake and then ate it yourself.’

Lucy flushed but gave him an indignant look. ‘You told me I should eat it, for you did not eat cake, sir!’

‘So I did,’ Jack Harcourt said and gave a husky chuckle, which sent little shivers winging through Lucy’s entire body. ‘Do you still eat two portions of cake, Miss Horne? If you do, I cannot see where it goes, for you are a sylph and as pretty as a picture.’

Lucy smiled at the compliment, and yet it was the way an indulgent uncle would speak to his young niece, which gave her a sense of disappointment. It was obvious that he still saw her as a child and not a young lady about to make her début in society. She knew that he must be several years her senior, but she did not see why he should treat her as a child and it touched a raw nerve. Just because she had climbed into a tree, it did not mean she was a little girl!

Fortunately for Lucy, she was spared the necessity of making a reply, because dinner was announced and Lord Harcourt offered his arm to Miss Tremaine. Lucy accompanied her mother into the dining room, stifling the little pang of jealousy she felt as she watched Lord Harcourt being attentive to his dinner partner, holding her chair and smiling as she settled down.

Lucy found herself sitting opposite them, between two elderly gentlemen, both of whom were great friends of Drew’s. They went out of their way to engage Lucy in conversation and after a few minutes she had forgotten her embarrassment earlier and was laughing and answering their teasing questions. Her eyes were alight with laughter and she could have had no idea of how enchanting she looked, nor did she consider that, seated as she was, it gave Lord Harcourt a perfect view of her.

Hearing a sudden burst of laughter from across the table, Jack’s eyes were drawn to Lucy’s face. She had seemed an awkward child earlier, but now she sparkled, responding to the gentlemen on either side of her in a way that was entirely charming. Jack thought that she reminded him a little of his sister as she had been when she was a young girl, innocent, full of the joy of living and lovely. The thought brought a frown to his face, his eyes narrowing, making him look severe. Amelia had lost the joy of living some time ago.

When Lucy glanced across at him what she saw was disapproval and it made her cheeks warm. What had she done that he should look at her that way? She had always remembered him as being charming and kind, for at Marianne’s wedding he had been kind to her, but now he looked as if he disliked her. She raised her head, pride coming to her rescue.

She knew that she had behaved badly earlier; she ought not to have climbed into a tree, and must have revealed much more than was decent as she climbed down from it—but surely she did not deserve to be looked at in that way? She turned to her neighbour, who was asking her what she thought of Lord Byron’s latest poem, determined not to let anyone see that she was hurting inside.

What a fool she had been to keep Lord Harcourt’s image in her mind all this time! He had been her hero, the prince she had dreamed of as a child when she had read all those fairy stories. Now she decided that he was proud and cold, and she decided that she would not think of him again.

Lucy had been lying awake for some time. Realising that she would not sleep, she threw back the covers and got out of bed. She slipped on a heavy silk dressing gown and slid her feet into a pair of soft leather slippers.

Taking her lighted candle, Lucy went downstairs to the little parlour where she had sat with her sister and mother for an hour or so earlier that day. She had left her book there and hoped that reading it would help her fall asleep.

As she entered the room, she felt a cool breeze; looking towards the French windows, she saw that they were open. That was odd, for it was unlike the servants to leave them open when they went to bed. She walked towards them, intending to close them, and then gave a little jump as a man’s figure loomed up out of the darkness.

‘Lord Harcourt!’ she cried as he entered and she saw him clearly. ‘I am glad it was you. I thought we might have an intruder.’

His eyes narrowed, going over her, taking in the fact that she was wearing a dressing gown over her night attire. ‘What are you doing down here, Miss Horne? I thought you retired long ago?’

‘Yes, I did,’ Lucy agreed. ‘But I could not sleep so I came down to fetch my book.’

‘Then we were both restless,’ he said. ‘I could not sleep either. I went out for a walk—and to smoke a cigar…’ His gaze was intent on her face. ‘I think it was fortunate for your sake that it was I you met on this nocturnal expedition…otherwise it might have proved embarrassing for you, to say the least.’

‘Oh…’ Lucy blushed, becoming aware that she was behaving in a decidedly improper manner by talking to a gentleman she hardly knew when she was dressed in her night-clothes. ‘I must go back to my room, sir. I hope you will find it easier to sleep after your walk.’ She turned and walked from the room clutching her book, her heart racing.

‘Goodnight, Lucy…’ His voice seemed to float after her, making her feel a little odd as she fled up the stairs to her own room. Once again she had the feeling that Lord Harcourt thought of her as a foolish young woman.

Jack Harcourt frowned as he sought his own room, taking a candle from the hall, where several were still burning, though the night porter had fallen asleep in his chair. He was thoughtful as he walked upstairs to his room. He had been startled to find Miss Horne wearing only her night attire. It was often his habit to walk for a while at night, especially when he had something on his mind. He had perhaps been a little sharp with her, for his thoughts were elsewhere, but it was unwise of her to wander about in that state at this hour—particularly when there were male guests. Some of those guests might not have been above trying to snatch a clandestine kiss—or more!

She might not be aware of it, but Lucy was a delightful young girl, very pretty, and the glimpse of her legs he had received as she climbed down from the tree was enticing, for she had lovely slender limbs. He thought her an enchanting child, perhaps a little shy still and completely innocent—as his sister had once been! Thoughts of Amelia brought a frown to his face, for Amelia’s innocence had been abused and that was the cause of her desperate unhappiness. He dismissed thoughts of his sister for the moment. It was useless to dwell on the past, and he had other concerns.

Jack had many friends and acquaintances, all of whom he was happy to meet at social occasions, but there was no one quite like David Middleton. They had grown up together, sharing their boyhood dreams and adventures, more like brothers than friends.

David’s death had been like a blow to the stomach, driving the breath from his body and leaving Jack feeling devastated.

Since receiving that mysterious letter, he had made some inquiries and what he had discovered had led him to believe that David might have fallen in with an evil crowd of sharks and heavy gamblers. If they had tried to cheat him of his fortune, David would not have taken it without a fight, and he now believed that perhaps the gamblers had killed him and dumped his body on the Heath. Collingwood was certainly one of the men David had been gambling with in the weeks immediately before his death, though there was no proof yet that he had had anything to do with his murder. The official view was still that David had been set upon by a highwayman on the Heath and robbed.

Jack frowned, for it made him angry to think that his friend might have been murdered over a card game—and yet was that the real reason? Jack was uncertain. He was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery somehow for he could not rest until he knew the truth. Even here, amongst his friends, he was uneasy, for something was nagging at him, something that made him think that there was more to this affair than he yet guessed, though he could not say why. If Jack was right, it had something to do with an entirely different matter, which meant the tale about a quarrel over gambling was merely a blind.

Oh, damn it! There was nothing he could do for the moment. He had come here to enjoy himself with his friends, and this other business could wait until he returned to London.

A smile flickered about his mouth as he thought of young Lucy Horne once more. In another life, before he had become disillusioned and hardened, he might have found her irresistible, but that time was long past. He knew that he owed it to his family to marry one day, but when he did he would choose an older woman, perhaps a widow who had no great expectations. He needed an heir, but he had become accustomed to being single and did not imagine a life of domestic bliss would suit him. He had a mistress, whom he visited when he felt the need, which was not often, for he had been too busy to indulge himself in the pleasures of life. As for marriage, he had not given it a thought until recently. Even now, it was something that he saw as being a long way off. His experience of personal relationships had not been encouraging and he rather thought that he was better off single, even if at times he was conscious of a great gap in his life. And marriage to a gentle, sweet girl was out of the question! He was mad even to think about it. Charming as she undoubtedly was, Miss Horne was not for him.

Dismissing Lucy from his mind, he walked along the upper landing to his own bedchamber. He would stay three days, as he had promised Marianne and Drew, but then he would return to London and the pursuit of the man who he believed responsible for David’s death.

Lucy was up early. She had slept for a while after returning to bed, but the sunshine pouring in at her open window called to her and she knew that she could go for a walk before anyone else was stirring.

She walked as far as the lake, which lay glistening in the early morning sunshine, entirely tempting and mysterious. There was a little island in the middle of the lake, and a temple that looked like something out of a fairytale. Lucy looked at it longingly, for she would have liked to visit it to explore, though of course it was only small and she doubted there were any secrets. However, in her mind the summerhouse was a palace where a sleeping prince lay waiting to be awakened after the wicked witch had cast a spell on him.

Had there been a rowing boat nearby, Lucy might have been tempted to try and row herself out there. But the boats were kept in the boathouse for safety’s sake and she did not wish to disturb anyone this early in the morning, because the servants would be busy with their work. She sighed and turned, intending to return to the house, only to discover that Lord Harcourt was standing a little way behind her. He was staring at the lake, apparently lost in thought.

She breathed deeply and then took a few steps towards him. ‘Good morning, sir. I think it will be very warm today. Just right for a trip to the island, do you not think?’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Jack replied, focusing on her. ‘The water looks tempting—especially if it becomes hot later. At home I should probably go for a swim on a day such as this promises to be.’

‘It would be delightful,’ Lucy said. ‘I have sometimes bathed in the cove at home, though I do not swim—but I like to splash in the shallows.’ She gave him a shy smile. ‘The island looks as if it might be enchanted, do you not think so? Perhaps there is a sleeping prince—or princess—waiting to be woken from slumber?’

‘Ridiculous child,’ Jack said in an indulgent tone. ‘I can see that you have read too many fairy stories, Miss Horne. I fear that you will discover life is very different. Are you sure you are eighteen? Your mama should think twice before taking you into London society—I think you are too innocent to mix with the rogues you may find there.’

‘I know that life can be sad as well as happy,’ Lucy replied, lifting her head proudly, because his tone stung her. ‘I have helped out with various events to alleviate the condition of the poor—not only of this country, but others abroad. Papa taught us to think of people less fortunate than ourselves, and I am not ignorant of the evils of poverty.’

‘I was not thinking of the plight of the poor,’ Jack said. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her exactly what he did mean, but he held back. He ought not to be the one to disillusion her. Her mama would no doubt warn her of the kind of men who led young innocents astray. ‘But it is to your credit that you do, Miss Horne.’ He smiled at her, his mood relenting. ‘Come, let us walk back to the house. I believe your sister Mrs Beverley has written some stories for children, has she not?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Lucy said, giving him an enchanting smile. ‘She wrote them for me, you know, because I had always loved fairy stories—but Hal had them published for her as a wedding gift. She has written a few more, I believe, but she does not have much time these days, for they are always so busy entertaining their friends.’

‘Yes, I dare say.’ Jack nodded. ‘I understand there is to be a ball tomorrow evening? Shall you be there?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Lucy said, her lovely eyes glowing. ‘Marianne arranged it because she said it would be good for me to attend my first real dance at her home. I have danced at the homes of my friends, of course, but this is my first ball.’

‘Then you must be looking forward to it?’ Jack was caught despite himself. She was a lovely girl, very young and naïve, of course, but with a pleasing manner. ‘Tell me, what colour is your gown—or is that a secret?’

Lucy blushed as she saw the teasing look in his eyes. He seemed very much more approachable this morning, and she was reminded of the man who had attended her sister’s wedding. He had seemed to be more carefree then and it made her wonder what had changed him, for something had—and it had taken the devil-may-care look from his eyes.

‘It is white with silver spangles,’ she said. ‘And Mama has loaned me her pearls, though I have a pretty pearl-and-diamond bangle of my own that Drew gave me for my birthday.’

‘Yes, charming,’ Jack said, making a note to send her a posy of white flowers—or perhaps pink ones tied with white ribbons. ‘Well, Miss Horne, I think we should join the others for breakfast, don’t you?’

Lucy nodded, feeling shy again. She usually waited until her mama came down to take breakfast, but did not wish to tell him that. After all, how difficult could it be to join the other early risers and talk in an easy and companionable way? She lifted her head, determined that she would give no indication that she was nervous, even if her mama and sisters had not yet come down.