Marrying Captain Jack

‘Yes, that is what I thought. If Drew likes him, he cannot be so very wicked.’ Lucy smiled happily, taking her sister’s arm as they went downstairs together. It would be the last time they would have dinner together for some time, because Hal was taking Jo home the next day. She would probably spend the next few months quietly at his father’s home awaiting the birth of her baby, but she had told Lucy that she was looking forward to being with her great friend Ellen again.

Miss Tremaine was not present that evening. She, her mother and General Rawlings had left after tea, and it was just the family who dined that evening. Lucy had enjoyed meeting Marianne’s friends, but she thought it was even nicer with just her close family about her.

She felt happy when she went to bed, even though a little shadow hovered at the back of her mind. She knew that she must make every effort to put Lord Harcourt from her thoughts. He was older, a rake and, perhaps worse, he thought of her as a child. Only a foolish girl would break her heart for him. Lucy had decided that she would try to forget her feelings for him, and if she should meet someone else she could love that ought to be easy enough.

Jack walked into the less-than-respectable nightclub. It was frequented by young rakehells and ladies of dubious reputation, though sometimes impeccable birth. He stood watching as one rather raddled-looking lady gambled carelessly at the throw of the dice, her rouged cheeks disguising the ravages of dissolute living. A woman of advanced years, who had buried three wealthy husbands, she bore a name that had once commanded respect. She was with a party of gentlemen, who were encouraging her to gamble ever more recklessly and were, by the looks of them, the worse for drink. His eyes narrowed as he saw that one of her court was the man he sought—Sir Frederick Collingwood.

He strolled towards them, outwardly detached, as careless as they, though inwardly it was another matter. He wished that he could simply have come out with his accusations, but he knew that Collingwood would have covered his tracks well. Before he could bring him to his knees, he needed proof that he had been responsible for David Middleton’s death. He already knew that they had gambled on the night David was murdered, but that in itself meant little. What lay behind the events played out in public that night? Several people had spoken to him of a quarrel between David and Collingwood—but was it simply over a card game?

Collingwood turned to look at him as he approached, a guarded expression in his eyes, as though he sensed something. Since Jack Harcourt seldom frequented clubs of this nature and reputation, it was hardly surprising that the other man should wonder why he was there—especially if he had a guilty conscience.

‘Good evening, Collingwood,’ Jack said pleasantly. It took all his strength of purpose to speak politely to the man he knew to be a shark and a cheat, but he must do so if he were to learn what he needed to know. ‘I did not think dice was your game?’

‘It is not,’ Collingwood agreed, lifting his quizzing glass to look at Jack more closely. ‘I did not think that this was your sort of place?’

‘It is not,’ Jack agreed, resisting the urge to lunge at him and knock the truth out of the lying devil. ‘But there are times when a man needs something more…shall we say spiced with danger?’

‘Ah, yes.’ Collingwood nodded, for he understood that, being a reckless gambler himself. ‘So what is your pleasure, Harcourt?’

‘I am looking for a game of piquet,’ Jack said, because he knew that it had been his friend’s favourite game of chance. ‘But it seems there is no one willing to oblige me. I win too often, it seems.’

Collingwood studied his face, and then nodded. It was clearly a challenge and one that he could not resist, even though he suspected that something more lay behind it.

‘I am otherwise engaged this evening, as you see,’ he said. ‘However, I should be delighted to take you on, Harcourt—in more pleasant surroundings than these.’

‘Good. Shall we say tomorrow evening at White’s?’

‘We shall indeed.’ Collingwood grinned. He was a rake of the worst order, a man careful mothers told their daughters to avoid at all costs, but he was dangerously attractive. His black hair and dark eyes brought women to him easily, and he treated them all with contempt. ‘Tomorrow at nine, Harcourt. Now, do you care to hazard a bet on the roll of the dice?’

Jack had noticed a certain tendency for the dice to fall a certain way three times out of six. He reached forward, scooped them up, and blew on them and then called a hundred guineas on sixes as he threw. The dice fell with the six spots showing on both of the dice. He smiled at the reckless lady, who had placed her bet on sixes and was now gleefully gathering her winnings. His gaze strayed momentarily to the disappointed faces of the young rogues who had been hoping to fleece their victim of more of her money. He raised his brows, then turned and walked from the room, knowing that several of them were following him with their eyes, and that they would not be wishing him well.

Lucy looked about her eagerly as the carriage bowled briskly through the streets of London. It was early in the morning and they were not yet crowded with the traffic of the day. She could see a milkmaid crying her wares, her pails suspended from a wooden pole she wore across her shoulders. A coster was selling fresh mussels and oysters from a barrow he wheeled through the streets, and a brewery wagon was trotting proudly along the road, its horses dressed in shining brasses that jingled.

They had stayed at an inn just outside London the previous evening and come on early this morning. Lucy craned excitedly to see as the carriage came to a halt outside the Marquis of Marlbeck’s London home. Although Drew and Marianne were to follow in a few days’ time, they had insisted that Lucy and Mrs Horne go ahead so as to begin the task of gathering Lucy’s new wardrobe before she was introduced into society.

Lucy was glad that her elder sister would be in town during their stay, for she knew that Marianne had many friends, and she would be sure to introduce her sister to them. As she got down from the carriage, she saw a man walking down the street and thought that she recognised his tall figure, though, as she could not see his face, she could not be certain. She wondered if Lord Harcourt was returning to his home after a night out, or if he had risen early—and then scolded herself for speculating. It was none of her business if he had spent the night gambling or…with his mistress. A little flush stained her cheeks, for she imagined he must have a mistress. It was what Jo had meant by an arrangement—and what Miss Tremaine had implied by saying that he was a rake, of course.

A butler dressed in formal black, his manner stately and slightly intimidating, had opened the door. He looked at her in what Lucy thought of as a stern manner as he welcomed them to the house, but as she entered behind her mama, a young footman winked at her. Lucy smiled at him, feeling better immediately.

The housekeeper bustled forward, introducing herself as Mrs Williams and apologising to Mrs Horne for not being there sooner to welcome them.

‘Your rooms are ready, ma’am,’ she said. ‘If you will follow me upstairs, the footmen will see to your luggage, and if you care for some refreshment in the morning parlour, a maid will unpack for you.’

‘We have only brought a small amount of baggage with us,’ Mrs Horne told her. ‘It is my intention to buy my daughter a fashionable wardrobe in town.’

‘Very wise, if I might say so,’ the housekeeper said, looking at Lucy. ‘Would you like me to send and have the seamstress of your choice wait on you here?’

‘That is an excellent suggestion,’ Mrs Horne replied. ‘Lady Marlbeck has given me the address of the seamstresses she uses and I shall write a note, asking them to call tomorrow if it is convenient.’

‘I am sure it will be,’ Mrs Williams replied. ‘The Marchioness is a very elegant and beautiful lady, and her custom is eagerly sought. A recommendation from her would be attended immediately.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Mrs Horne said, looking at Lucy thoughtfully. In her opinion Lucy was as lovely as either of her elder sisters, but there was no denying that she was fortunate to have the Marchioness of Marlbeck as her sister. It would be sure to bring her to the notice of gentlemen and ladies alike, though Lucy’s portion was not large. However, her two brothers-in-law had both promised her a dowry, which meant that she would not go empty-handed to her husband. All in all, Mrs Horne believed that her youngest daughter ought to make a worthy match, though she had no intention of pushing her towards marriage. She was young yet and it would be Lucy’s choice—providing, of course, that she chose sensibly.

Lucy looked about the house with interest as her mama continued to chat with the housekeeper. It was larger than it had appeared from the outside, for it was in a terrace of houses built at the end of the previous century. However, first appearances were deceptive and Lucy realised that it had considerable depth and width, and there were four storeys—the top being the servants’ bedchambers—and the kitchens and servants’ hall were in the basement. The staircase was wide and impressive, carpeted in a rich blue Persian design, as were the landings on the first floor.

There were beautiful paintings in gilt frames on the walls, also gilt pier tables interspersed with small gilt chairs along the landing of the first floor, which was where some of the main reception rooms were situated. They had to go up a second short flight of stairs to the guest bedrooms.

Lucy was taken to her room first. Her mama told her to simply tidy herself and go down, because they had not stopped for breakfast at the inn and would take some refreshment in fifteen minutes. As she stepped inside her bedchamber, Lucy gasped with surprise for it was very different to the furnishings at Marlbeck Place, which was all rather grand and formal—though Marianne had begun to change some of the rooms. Here, the furniture was far more modern and fashioned of a pale wood that gave the room lightness and style, blending well with the soft rose curtains about the bed and the windows. Rose and cream with a hint of crimson here and there was a pretty combination that pleased Lucy very well.

She believed that she would be very much at home here and crossed over to the window to look at the pretty writing desk that stood there, taking off her bonnet and shaking out her long hair. The desk had a leather writing slope and drawers that contained paper, pens, ink and sealing wax. She was examining some other pretty items that had been placed there for her use and it was a while before she sensed that she was being watched. She glanced out of the window and saw that a young man was standing in the road below, looking up at her window. When he saw her, he doffed his hat, sweeping her an extravagant bow, a grin on his handsome face.

Lucy felt her cheeks grow warm. The look he gave her had been too intimate…almost insolent, and it made her shiver. She drew back from the window, retreating to the far side of the room. It had not occurred to her that she could be seen from the street for she was used to country houses, and no one would have been rude enough to stare at her aunt’s house. She realised that her time in London would open her eyes to many new experiences.

She had taken off her bonnet and now she removed her travelling cloak. Her dress was a little creased from the journey, but she smoothed it down, knowing that she did not have time to change before she joined her mama in the breakfast parlour.

She went over to the dressing table, which was to one side of the room, and sat down on the stool. She dragged a comb through her hair, which had begun to tangle about her face, as it often did, because it was so fine. Some of the gentlemen staying with Marianne in the country had told her that her hair was like spun silk and the colour of moonlight.

Lucy pulled a face. She supposed that she had nice hair, but she had always envied her sister Jo her red locks, which curled into ringlets if allowed to blow freely in the wind. Jo usually brushed her hair back, but sometimes she simply tied it with a ribbon, because it was the way Harry liked to see it.

Lucy’s hair was usually held by ribbons, because it was too fine to put up in elaborate styles, though Mama had told her she would be employing a hairdresser in London to dress her hair and style it in a more fashionable look. She made a face at herself in the mirror and sighed. She would do anything if it helped her to look a bit older!

Chapter Three

‘Lucy darling, that looks lovely,’ Marianne said, coming into her sister’s room as she finished dressing for the evening, some four days after Lucy’s arrival in town. They were all attending a ball, Lucy’s first in fashionable society. She was wearing a new gown of shimmering white silk with an overskirt of gauze trimmed with spangles. Her hair had somehow been teased into a single ringlet that curled enticingly over her left shoulder. It had been fastened with pearl-and-diamond pins—a present from her sister—and she had diamond drops in her ears, a large diamond pendent at her throat. ‘I knew Madame Suzanne would make something perfect for you and she has.’

‘It is wonderful,’ Lucy said, turning to her excitedly. ‘I really love it, Marianne. I never thought I could look like this—I look older, not like a child any more.’

‘Yes, dearest,’ Marianne said with a nod of satisfaction. ‘Mama was a little afraid that it might be too sophisticated for you, but I persuaded her that it was just right. You are eighteen and not a little girl any longer.’

‘Mama is a little reluctant to see me grow up, I think.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Marianne agreed and smiled at her. ‘She does not mean to keep you a child, but perhaps because you were the last of her daughters she has tended to protect you too much. However, I know you will be much admired this evening, Lucy.’

‘If I am, it is because of all the lovely things you and Drew have given me—and Jo, of course.’ She touched her necklace. ‘This was so generous of Drew, because he has already given me so much.’

‘He wanted you to have it,’ Marianne said. ‘I already have far more than I need, and Drew likes to give presents. Now, are you ready to go down? I know Mama is already there with Drew.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Lucy said. She picked up a small posy of roses, which had been given her by her brother-in-law and were tied with yellow silk ribbons. ‘These are so pretty.’

Marianne nodded her approval. ‘After this evening, I am sure you will have many tributes sent to you, Lucy, but Drew wanted you to have something for your first evening.’

The two sisters went downstairs together. Marianne was dressed in green silk and carried a stole of silver spangles over her arm. She was wearing a magnificent necklace of emeralds and diamonds, and matching drops hung from her ears. She made a perfect foil for her sister’s ethereal looks, being a warm, vibrant woman who was universally admired in society.

Drew’s eyes lit up as he saw his wife and he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek before turning his gaze on Lucy. He nodded his head in approval. ‘She is a sprite, an angel…’ He took her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss the back. ‘You look heavenly, Lucy. As I stand in place of a father to you, I think I shall have my work cut out this evening, defending you from the wolves.’

‘Oh, Drew!’ Lucy’s laughter was warm and delightful. ‘You do say such foolish things sometimes! You are not old enough to be my papa.’

‘But since you have none, I shall stand your guardian,’ Drew told her, a sparkle in his eyes. ‘If anyone asks you to marry him, you must direct him to speak to me first. I shall make sure that you do not fall prey to a rake or worse.’