Byrne filling the wineglasses and the footmen in attendance, only the narrowing of Adversane’s eyes told Lucy that her comment had hit home.
The dinner was excellent, as always, but Lucy felt a tension in the air. Perhaps it was the weather. It was very close in the dining room, but the driving rain made it impossible to open the windows.
Ariadne did not seem to notice, but whenever Lucy looked at Ralph, he appeared to be frowning and distracted. He contributed little to the conversation and by the time the covers were removed Lucy was so incensed by his conduct that she barely waited for the door to close behind the servants before asking him bluntly what he meant by his boorish behaviour.
Those black brows flew up.
‘I beg your pardon, ma’am?’
Ariadne fluttered a warning hand at Lucy, but she ignored it.
‘You have barely said two words together during dinner,’ she retorted. ‘If there is something pressing upon your mind then do please share it with us. Otherwise it would be courteous to give us at least a little of your attention.’
‘If there are matters pressing upon my mind, madam, they are my business, and not for general discussion.’
‘Dinner is a social occasion,’ she retorted. ‘My father always said if you cannot talk about a problem then it should be left outside the dining room. He considered family dinners to be most important.’
‘When he was sober enough to attend them!’
He saw her flinch as if he had struck her, and it did not need Ariadne’s outraged gasp to tell him he was at fault.
‘Lucy—Miss Halbrook, I beg your pardon, I—’
She held up a hand to silence him. Slowly, she rose to her feet.
‘If you will excuse me, Ariadne, I think I shall retire.’
‘My dear!’ Mrs Dean put out her hand, then let it fall and looked instead to her cousin. ‘Ralph, how could you say such a thing? You must apologise.’
‘I have done so, Cousin.’
‘It is unnecessary, I assure you,’ said Lucy in freezing accents.
Keeping her head high, she left the room. She closed the door behind her with exaggerated care, determined to keep her anger in check. To her annoyance she could feel the hot tears coursing down her cheeks. She dashed them away but more followed. The through-passage was empty but she could see shadows moving in the Great Hall and hesitated, unwilling to allow the servants to witness her distress.
She heard the dining room door open and a hasty tread upon the boards behind her. Heedless of decorum, she turned and raced through the passage, heading for the gardens.
‘Lucy!’
She wrenched open the garden door and flew across the terrace, heedless of the drenching rain. The only light came from the house windows, illuminating the terrace with a pale gleam but leaving the rest of the gardens in darkness. Without thinking Lucy plunged down the shallow steps into the blackness. She had reached the bottom step when Ralph caught up with her, catching her arm and forcing her to stop. She kept her back to him, rigidly upright, anger burning through every limb.
‘Forgive me.’
She shook her head, unable to trust her voice, but thankful that the rain had washed away all evidence of her tears. She would not allow him to think she was so weak.
‘Lucy, you are right, I have had something on my mind. I have been distracted, ever since our meeting at Druids Rock this morning, but it is not something I could share with you in company.’
‘That does not give you the right to throw my father’s weakness in my face.’
‘I know, but I was taken aback by your reproof.’ An unsteady laugh escaped him. ‘No one has dared to admonish me at my own dinner table before.’
‘More’s the pity. Now leave me alone!’
She shook off his hand, only to find herself caught by the shoulders and whirled about so violently that if he had not maintained his hold she would have fallen.
‘Damn you, woman, you shall not leave me like this!’
‘Like what, my lord?’
‘Will you not at least be open with me?’
The injustice of his words made her swell with indignation.
‘It seems to me, my lord, that it is you who will not be open with me! You bring me here, make me masquerade as your wife yet you will not tell me why. I abhor these secrets, sir!’
She glared up at him, trying to see his face, but the darkness was too deep. She could see only his outline and the gleam of his rain-soaked hair. Then she could not even see that, for he swooped down, enveloping her in darkness as his lips met hers. The shock of it was like a lightning bolt. Her limbs trembled and she leaned against him, clutching at his wet coat as she reeled under the shocking pleasure of his kiss.
But only for a moment. Then she was fighting, some unreasonable panic telling her that she must get away from him or risk destruction. He raised his head, but he was still holding her arms and she began to struggle.
‘Let me go!’
‘Lucy, I beg your pardon. I should never—’
Anger swelled within her as she tried to shake off his hold. He was her employer; he owed her his protection, yet he was betraying her trust—just as her uncle had done—by attempting to ravish her as soon as she was under his roof. And had her father not betrayed her, also, by keeping his gambling a secret instead of sharing it with her, allowing her to help him?
Her sense of injustice grew. She tried again to break free but he held her firm, and she said furiously, ‘Do you think to impose your will upon me by this ruthless seduction?’
His hands fell from her shoulders and she took the opportunity to turn and flee to the safety of her room, where she relieved her anger and distress in a hearty bout of tears.
* * *
The rain had gone by the morning and the sun was shining in a clear sky, but the prospect did little to raise Lucy’s spirits. She had not slept well; the night had brought counsel and she knew what she must do. Quietly, she rose from her bed, heavy-eyed and depressed. It was still early and she could hear Ruthie snoring noisily in the dressing room, so she went to the linen press and brought out the grey wool robe she had worn for her interviews with Mrs Killinghurst. She needed no maid to help her into it, and she could dress her own hair, too, catching her curls back from her face with a black ribbon. A glance in her glass confirmed her sober, even severe appearance. Squaring her shoulders, she quietly left her room.
* * *
She found Lord Adversane in the Great Hall.
‘Good morning, my lord. I wonder if you could spare me a few moments, alone?’
When he turned to face her she thought he looked a little haggard, and there were dark shadows under his eyes, as if he, too, had not slept well. His searching gaze swept over her but with a silent nod he led the way to his study.
He closed the door and invited her to sit down.
‘Thank you, my lord, I would rather stand.’
He walked over to the large mahogany desk and turned to face her, leaning on its edge and folding his arms across his chest.
‘That, and your funereal garb, tells me this is important.’
‘Yes. I am resigning my position here.’
‘Indeed?’ One word, uttered quietly. No emotion, no surprise. Lucy found it difficult to keep still while he subjected her to a long, long look. ‘Is that because of my behaviour yesterday?’
‘In part, yes.’
‘For