‘No, I shall not have the marriage annulled,’ Justin said, his tone suddenly harsh and cold.

The sound of it sent shivers down her spine and she looked at him, startled by his change of mood.

‘I’ve had enough of gossip and of being laughed at behind my back, Lucinda. You are my wife, and you will accept your duties as a wife.’

‘Justin…’ She faltered, her throat tight with emotion. Tears gathered in her eyes but she held them back. ‘I know how angry you must feel…’

‘If you cared for me you might have trusted me, Lucinda. I would have given you a fair hearing. Do you not think it was your duty to tell me before you accepted my proposal?’

‘Yes. I think now that I should have told you. I—I was afraid you would not wish to marry me if you knew that I had such a terrible secret.’

SECRETS AND SCANDALS

Nothing stays secret for long in Regency Society!

The truth threatens to reveal a scandal

for all three couples in this

exciting new trilogy from

Anne Herries

THE DISAPPEARING DUCHESS—

February 2012

THE MYSTERIOUS LORD MARLOWE—

March 2012

THE SCANDALOUS LORD LANCHESTER—

April 2012

About the Author

ANNE HERRIES lives in Cambridgeshire, where she is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books, although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers. She is a winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association Romance Prize. She invites readers to contact her on her website: www.millsandboon.co.uk

Previous novels by the same author:

MARRYING CAPTAIN JACK

THE UNKNOWN HEIR

THE HOMELESS HEIRESS

THE RAKE’S REBELLIOUS LADY

A COUNTRY MISS IN HANOVER SQUARE*

AN INNOCENT DEBUTANTE IN HANOVER SQUARE*

THE MISTRESS OF HANOVER SQUARE*

FORBIDDEN LADY†

THE LORD’S FORCED BRIDE†

THE PIRATE’S WILLING CAPTIVE†

HER DARK AND DANGEROUS LORD†

BOUGHT FOR THE HAREM

HOSTAGE BRIDE

*A Season in Town trilogy

†The Melford Dynasty

And in the Regency series The Steepwood Scandal:

LORD RAVENSDEN’S MARRIAGE

COUNTERFEIT EARL

And in The Hellfire Mysteries:

AN IMPROPER COMPANION

A WEALTHY WIDOW

A WORTHY GENTLEMAN

The Disappearing Duchess

Anne Herries

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Prologue

Justin, Duke of Avonlea, looked round at the sea of faces. They were all staring at him expectantly, believing that he was about to make a speech of welcome and cut the cake with his bride. His mouth was dry, his chest tight with a kind of suspended agony, as he struggled to come to terms with what was seemingly going on.

Lucinda, his beautiful bride, had gone. She had left him almost immediately after the wedding ceremony. They’d returned from the church together in the carriage to his beautiful home, where the lavish reception was being held. She’d excused herself to him, saying that the flounce on her wedding gown was torn.

‘I shall be no more than ten minutes, Avonlea,’ she’d said with that shy smile he found so attractive. ‘Please make my excuses to our guests. I shall join you as soon as I can.’

‘Of course, my love.’ He’d taken her hand to kiss the palm. ‘You look beautiful, Lucinda. Have I told you how much I adore you?’

‘Yes, Justin, several times. I am very fond of you, too,’ she’d said, smiled and left him to run lightly up the stairs.

That was more than an hour ago and since then no one had seen anything of her. Concerned after thirty minutes or so that she was keeping their guests waiting unduly, he’d gone up to her rooms to ask what was causing the delay. He had found only her maid, Alice.

‘Where is your mistress?’ he asked. ‘We must not keep the guests waiting any longer.’

‘I have not seen Lady Avonlea since you left the church, your Grace.’

‘But she came directly up to have the flounce mended on her wedding gown. How can you not have seen her?’

‘I have been waiting for her,’ the maid said and looked nervous. ‘Truly, she has not been here, sir.’

‘Lucinda told me her gown was torn…’ He looked around the room, which had been recently refurbished in the colours his young wife loved: creams, various shades of rose and gold, blending perfectly. No expense had been spared and he had imagined her being happy in the luxury he had provided. ‘Is there no sign of her gown? Did she change into something else?’

The maid could not meet his eyes as she shook her head. ‘Forgive me, sir. I was gone but a few moments and only to make sure that my lady’s bags were safely stowed ready for your journey. When I returned I thought a few small things might have disappeared, but I was not certain.’

Avonlea strode over to the armoire and opened it, but the shelves were full of the gowns and beautiful silks he had purchased for his bride’s pleasure.

‘I cannot see that anything has been taken.’ He frowned at the maid, feeling stunned. How could his bride have disappeared from her home on her wedding day, and more importantly, why? ‘Make up your mind, girl—this is important. Surely your mistress would not leave without taking anything—or leaving a message?’

‘There was an old gown—and some trinkets that my lady valued, which have gone from the dressing chest, but all her good jewels are here, your Grace.’

‘Your mistress must be in the house or gardens,’ Justin said, refusing to believe that what the maid was implying could be right. Why on earth would Lucinda leave him? He could think of no possible reason for they had been on good terms; there had been no quarrel, no dispute between them. The marriage might not have been a love match, but there was respect and affection on both sides—at least he had believed so when Lucinda accepted his suit. What could have changed her? What had he done that she must flee from him without a word?

He took a turn about the room, trying to find an answer to his questions; discovering no clue, he turned back to the anxious maid.

‘Search your mistress’s room thoroughly and make certain whether there is a letter left somewhere. Also, please make a list of what has been taken. I need to know whether this was planned or an impulse. In the meantime, I shall have a search made for her.’

The search had begun, but as yet no sign of the new duchess had been found and no one seemed to have seen her.

The guests were getting restless, beginning to gossip amongst themselves. Justin could see concern, intrigue and some exchanged knowing looks; his true friends would be anxious, but some of his slight acquaintances might be amused if they learned that his bride had left him—not at the altar, it was true—but before the wedding reception had been held. It was a lowering thought and one that hurt his pride. Accustomed to homage, and with his good looks and vast wealth, sought after by every matchmaking mama in England, he had thought long and hard before asking a lady to be his wife. Lucinda might be a virtual nobody from the country, but her modesty and shy smile had convinced him that she would be the perfect wife for a man in his position.

Since childhood Justin had been taught his duty. He was born to a family of impeccable lineage and respectability. There were no skeletons to hide in his family closet, no scandals or acts of dishonour.

‘Always remember your honour,’ his father had told him as a young lad. ‘No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard, you must always do your duty, Justin. A gentleman’s honour and his family name come first. Promise me you will never forget, my son.’

Justin promised. His first offer of marriage to a lady of whom he knew his father to approve had been refused; slighted, it had taken Justin a long time to select another lady. He had believed Lucinda perfect in every way—and now she had run away, making a fool of him before his friends on his wedding day, hurting him in a way he would not have imagined possible until this moment. Looking round the room, he drew a deep breath, squashing the anger and disappointment that raged inside him.

‘Forgive me,’ he announced and the voices were silenced, faces inquisitive, eager for news. ‘I am distressed to tell you that my wife has been taken ill. She will not be able to attend the reception. Please, enjoy the food and wine provided. I want to thank you all for coming and beg you to excuse me.’

He saw from their faces that they guessed he was lying. They had sensed something was wrong. He cared not to speculate on what they imagined was going on, but nothing could be stranger than the truth.

Chapter One

‘You have no idea where Lucinda went or why?’ His good friend and neighbour Andrew, Lord Lanchester, looked at him thoughtfully.

‘I’ve had no word from her in almost two months,’ Justin replied morosely.

Andrew had just returned from a tour of duty as the Duke of Wellington’s aide in Spain. Wounded at Salamanca, he was now recovered, with only a slight limp to show for his suffering.

‘I’ve searched everywhere. I’ve spent weeks looking for her, but although one or two of the tenants think they may have seen her walking near the estate on the day of her disappearance no one knows where she has gone.’

‘What else have you done?’ Andrew frowned. ‘Have you employed an agent to trace her? Offered a reward for any information regarding her whereabouts?’

‘I have thought about employing an agent secretly. I did not wish to offer a reward, because it would cause such a scandal. If—when—Lucinda returns, I do not want vicious tongues to destroy her.’

‘You cannot hope to keep this brushed under the carpet?’ Andrew raised his eyebrows. ‘My sister Jane was here for the wedding and she told me as soon as I returned home from Spain that she felt something was amiss. She is not a gossip, but she was fond of Lucinda and is naturally worried about her, especially since she’s heard no word since that day. The tale of Lucinda’s disappearance has got about and people will talk, however discreet you are.’

‘Your sister has been both considerate and kind,’ Justin said, turning to look at his long-time friend and close neighbour. ‘I know that she is Lucinda’s good friend and I have been able to voice some of my concerns to her. However, she has no idea of what might have caused Lucinda to run away.’

‘Are you certain she has run away?’ Andrew asked gently. ‘Couldn’t there be another reason for her disappearance?’

Justin ran his fingers through his thick hair. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, proof of his sleepless nights, and a new harshness about his mouth. He seemed not to hear his friend. ‘What made her do it? I have racked my brains to try to think if I did or said something that distressed or frightened her. If she did not wish to be my wife, she could have sent me a note before the wedding to break it off. Why marry me and then leave without a word? Surely I am not such a monster that she feared me?’

‘I have no answers for you,’ Andrew said. ‘Had I been at home I should have advised employing an agent immediately, as it all sounds very suspicious to me. You are certain there was no letter? She left no word for you?’

‘Her maid had not seen her and there was nothing that either of us could find anywhere.’

‘Why not search her room again? Something may have been missed. I remember meeting Lucinda once when she and Jane were at the Raddlit Academy for young ladies. She did not strike me as the type of girl to behave badly. Jane liked her a great deal and my sister is usually a fine judge of character.’

‘Lucinda is the sweetest creature I have ever met,’ Justin said and the look he gave Andrew was one of despair. ‘I cannot believe she would hurt me like this—yet perhaps you are right, maybe there is more to this story than meets the eye.’

‘If you will permit me, I shall find an agent for you. I think we should give him Lucinda’s maiden name. She will hardly be using yours, Avonlea.’

‘Lucinda Seymour,’ Justin said. ‘She was such a quiet girl, but her smile attracted me from the beginning. When her aunt brought her to Harrogate I knew she was the one I wanted as my wife from the first moment I saw her—but she resisted me. She was polite but reserved, keeping me at a distance. It was not until she came to stay with Jane and we met again at your home that she let down her guard enough for me to have hope.’ His eyes reflected his anguish. ‘She told me she was very fond of me just before we parted. Why did she say that and then leave me? What could she hope to gain?’

‘My guess is that there is some mystery here,’ Andrew said. ‘I cannot solve it, but I am certain that when Lucinda is ready she will return and explain everything.’

‘If she cared for me even a little, she could have told me what distressed her so very much.’

‘Forgive me, Avonlea—are you in love with her?’

‘Naturally, I care for her…but I am not certain I know what love is in the sense you mean—there was precious little of it in our house when I was a lad.’

‘Then it was not a love match.’ Andrew looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps she felt that you might wish her gone if you knew the truth about her.’

Avonlea stiffened. ‘What do you mean, pray?’

‘How well did you know her? Was there some secret in her past, perhaps?’

‘Nothing that she could not tell me. I would have listened and helped her if I could.’ Justin frowned. ‘Do you know of something?’

Andrew hesitated, then, ‘I remember she left school quite suddenly and Jane did not hear from her for some years. She was very distressed about it at the time.’

‘You do not know why she left?’

‘I have no idea. Of course, it may have no bearing on this matter.’

‘I do not see how it could.’

‘Then perhaps she will return when she is ready.’

‘I pray that you are right. I fear for her. I think she has very little money with her. I gave her some guineas for use while we travelled, but it was hardly enough to live on for the past two months, though she may have some jewels and a little money of her own, I suppose.’

Justin’s mind was torn between distress, anger and bewilderment. He had searched every day for the past few weeks, but there was no sign of his duchess. In his heart he had begun to think that she might be dead—why else had she not told him where she was or why she had gone? Had someone abducted her—or, worse, murdered her to be revenged on him? He could not think of anyone who hated him that much—but why else would she have been taken?

‘So, you would take her back—no matter the reasons for her disappearance?’

‘She is my wife,’ Justin said and looked at his friend, as if surprised at the question. He was a gentleman and a man of honour—what else could he do but take his wife back if she came to him in trouble? ‘I’ve been in hell these past weeks. Besides, it is my duty to care for her. If she is in distress, I shall help her, no matter what. I should thank God for her safe return and pray that I could make her happy.’

‘Then I shall go to London in the morning and employ an agent for you,’ Andrew said. He reached out to lay a hand on Justin’s shoulder. ‘Do not give up hope yet, my friend.’

* * *

Lucinda looked around the small kitchen and sighed. She had scrubbed the floor that morning before it was light; it was much cleaner than it had been when she first arrived, but nothing would make this hovel the kind of home in which she could bear to live. However, it was all she could afford, because she had spent the guineas her husband had given her as pin money.

If she had not run away, she might have been at Avonlea now. Lucinda felt her throat catch and a tear slid down her cheek. She brushed it away impatiently. Her husband must be so angry with her. When she’d discovered the blackmail letter lying on her dressing chest on her return from the church, she had fled in panic, taking only a few things rolled into a paisley shawl. How could anyone know her secret? It was more than five years since that terrible time when the shame had come upon her.

Her first thought had been for her husband’s good name. Avonlea was such a well-respected man and the realisation that she had brought a stain of dishonour to that proud family had almost overpowered her. She knew that he had married her because he’d believed her a girl of blameless past, modest, her reputation beyond reproach.

How she had deceived him! What a wicked thing she had done by marrying him without confessing the truth. She ought to have been resolute in refusing his obliging offer; at first, she had managed to keep a distance between them, but, as she became more attracted to him, she had found it too hard to resist the prompting of her heart. In the end she had fallen so desperately in love that she could no longer refuse Avonlea—yet she sensed he did not love her as she loved him. He spoke easily of love, but she thought it merely liking: the kind of feeling that might grow to warm affection with the years and the coming of children—but the spiteful letter would destroy his respect for her. He would hate her, wish to be free of the burden she must become to him when he learned the terrible truth.

Lucinda closed her eyes and sat down in the rocking chair by the kitchen fire, trying to control her thoughts. She had tried to block out the memory of that evil night when as a young girl she had been raped in her own room by a man she had thought her father’s trusted friend.

Warned that unless she kept silent her father would be ruined, Lucinda had said nothing until her condition had become noticed. It was a terrible misfortune that she had fallen with child so easily. When she tried to explain that she had been raped, but would not give the name of her seducer, her father had refused to listen. He had banished her to live with her strict grandmother in seclusion; when her child was stillborn, she had remained in seclusion until her father died. It was her punishment and he would not allow her to return home. Her mother had relented after her father’s death and allowed her to visit Harrogate with an aunt. It was there she had met Avonlea and begun to fall in love. She had kept her distance, because her shame was so terrible that no decent man would wish to marry her if he guessed that she had borne an illegitimate child.

‘Your father told you that you had forfeited the right to happiness,’ Mrs Seymour had told her when she mentioned the duke’s attentions. ‘I do not wish to deny you all the pleasures of life, Lucinda, but you must surely see that you can never marry?’

Because of her late father’s strictures and her mother’s doubts, Lucinda had kept Avonlea at a distance in Harrogate, but then, when they met again at the home of her great friend Jane Lanchester, she had taken the bold step of confiding in Jane, who had advised her that she must follow her heart and marry him.

Lucinda sighed as she looked around the cottage. It had hurt her so very much these past weeks to stay away from Avonlea, but the blackmail letter had told her something she had needed to confirm. Now she knew the truth and she was going to do something so daring that it frightened her.

She had fled from Avonlea in panic, not knowing what she meant to do, conscious only that she was not ready to confess the truth to a husband who had married her believing her beyond reproach.

In a state of absolute shock, she’d hardly known what to believe. Not only had the blackmailer known all of her intimate secrets, but also surprised her with the revelation that her infant hadn’t perished at birth, but was in fact even this day alive.

The blackmailer had threatened to reveal her shameful secret to the world unless she paid ten thousand pounds, but he or she had also offered to tell her where her child was living—in poverty and danger, the note had said, the words sending icy shivers down her spine.

At first resentful of the babe growing inside her, during the months of her confinement Lucinda had grown to love the idea of a child coming to life within her womb. Rejected by her family, with no one to love or care for her, she had talked to the babe, believing that when the child was born she would no longer be alone, but then after hours of pain and suffering she’d been coldly informed that the babe was dead. Lucinda had grieved for the child, but come to terms with her grief, banishing all the tainted memories to a tiny corner of her mind. She had told herself that the past no longer mattered to her—and then, suddenly, on the morning of her wedding to the duke, to learn that her child was alive!

Her mother had lied to her. The distress of learning the extent of her parent’s cruelty had completely overset her. Instead of going to Avonlea and throwing herself on his mercy, as she might had she been certain of his feelings, she had thought only to run away. Better that she simply disappear than bring shame to him.

At first the shock had been so great that Lucinda could hardly take it in; then, seized by sudden panic and the need to know the truth, she’d taken an old gown and some trinkets and fled through the gardens. In confusion, with only a vague idea of what she meant to do, she set out for her family home. She was weeping, in terrible confusion and pain as she fled, unable to think coherently. It was only in the long lonely days and nights that followed that she’d begun to think about what she was doing—to discover her feelings about the child she’d believed dead.

Lucinda had arrived at her mother’s home some ten days later, having begged lifts for some of the journey, but walking much of it. After first making her escape, she’d changed into her old gown. She’d hidden her beautiful silk wedding gown behind some hay bales in a barn at the edge of the Avonlea estate; carrying only a small bundle, she had continued her journey wearing a plain grey gown more suited to a governess than the duchess she’d become. No one had given her so much as a second glance. When she finally arrived home, her mother had greeted her with a sour look. Mrs Seymour had refused to attend her daughter’s wedding on the grounds of ill health, though her true reason was that she did not approve of Lucinda marrying anyone.

‘So you’ve come to your senses. It was a stupid thing to do, Lucinda. I suppose he threw you out?’

‘Avonlea knows nothing,’ Lucinda replied. Shaking with anger, she had thrust the letter under her mother’s nose. ‘Where is she, Mama? Where is my daughter? The child you stole from me—the child you told me was dead?’

Her mother’s face had turned pale. At first she had continued to refute her daughter’s accusation. For ten days she had tried to deny all knowledge of the child, swearing it had died at birth and that she knew nothing. Lucinda had questioned her relentlessly, never giving her a moment’s peace, and in the end she’d broken down in tears.

‘Your father would not let you keep the babe. He took it to a workhouse and…I believe she was adopted by a childless couple.’

‘Tell me their names, Mama.’

Mrs Seymour shook her head. ‘I know no more. I swear he told me nothing.’

‘Very well, give me the name of the workhouse.’

‘It will do little good after all this time.’

‘Tell me what I wish to know and I shall leave you in peace. Deny me and I shall continue to question and demand. I am no longer the frightened child I was when I was so cruelly abandoned by you.’

‘It was not my wish—but your shame had to be hidden.’

‘Why? Had you loved me as a mother should, you could have taken me away, perhaps abroad, and let me keep my babe. We might have found an honest living somehow.’

‘Why do you care about the child if you were raped, as you claim?’

‘How could you doubt me?’ Lucinda looked at her sadly. ‘The man who used me so cruelly was a monster and if my father had stood by me, he might have been punished—but Papa preferred to believe his friend’s lies. He, I hate—but my child is innocent. Mama, can you not see that I need to see my child? The knowledge that she lives is tearing at my heart. I shall never be at peace until I know how she is.’

‘What will you do if you find her?’

‘I am not certain—but I must know she is well and happy. Can you not see that I should never rest easy if I simply left her to her fate?’

‘I do not…’ Mrs Seymour’s eyes dropped in shame.

In the end she’d given her daughter all the details she had. Lucinda had left the house that same day.

It had taken her two weeks of travelling, often on foot, to find the workhouse and another week before she could persuade the woman in charge to tell her the names of the couple who had taken her daughter.

‘You understand that I told you nothing,’ she said and looked at the silver locket and ruby brooch lying in her hand. ‘Your father told us to have the brat adopted and Mrs Jackson had none of her own then.’

‘She has other children now?’

‘Aye, they come like that. She has four of them under the age of four and more than she can manage. She’ll likely be glad to get rid of Susan.’

‘You called my daughter Susan?’ The woman nodded. ‘Thank you, madam. Now will you kindly tell me where to find my daughter?’

‘You’ll find the family at the sign of the Cock’s Spur.’

‘Mrs Jackson and her husband run a hostelry?’

‘Aye, you might call it that, though some round here would have other words—’tis a den of thieves if you ask me.’

‘Thank you for the information. I hope you have told me the truth. If not, I shall return—and then you will be very sorry for lying to me. My husband is a powerful man and he will punish you.’

‘You don’t look like the wife of a powerful man.’ The warden sniffed.

‘What I choose to wear is my business,’ Lucinda said proudly.

She had walked away, her heart beating frantically.

It had not taken long to discover the inn of which the warden had told her. She had ventured inside, hoping to find a reasonable woman with whom she might bargain for the return of her daughter. However, she had soon discovered the innkeeper’s wife to be a filthy slut who harangued her husband and her customers and screamed abuse at any provocation. She’d eyed Lucinda suspiciously and demanded to know what she wanted.

‘If you’re after summat, yer’ll get naught here,’ she said. ‘If yer want to service men, you’ll do it elsewhere. I run a clean house here and don’t harbour doxies.’

‘I was looking for a child. She was adopted from the workhouse five years ago.’

‘What do yer want her fer?’

‘She is my daughter and I want her back.’

‘Yer do, do yer?’ The woman glared at her. ‘I’ll sell her fer five hundred guineas if yer like.’

‘I have only a silver trinket box and a diamond brooch that was my godmother’s,’ Lucinda said. ‘The child is my daughter. She was stolen from me at birth and I have just discovered that you have her. For pity’s sake, let me take her. I will give you all I have.’

‘Clear orf. The girl will fetch good money in a year or two. I’ve had offers for her already and they were more than you’re offering. I know your sort. Yer think I’m green behind the ears. Men will pay a fortune for a wench like that—and I’ll sell her to the highest bidder when the time comes.’

‘No, you mustn’t. Please, you can’t,’ Lucinda cried in distress. She could not allow such a wicked thing to happen. ‘I’ll get money for you. She’s my daughter. I swear it on the Bible.’

‘The price just went up to one thousand guineas,’ the woman said, a gleam of avarice in her eyes. ‘You’ve got a week to find the money or she goes to the highest bidder.’

‘Let me see Susan, please.’

‘Yer can see ‘er—but no funny business. Try snatchin’ ‘er and I’ll call me husband and yer’ll be sorry.’

Lucinda promised she would not and waited while the woman went into what looked like a kitchen at the rear. Her nails curled into the palms of her hands as she reappeared, dragging a reluctant child into the taproom. Lucinda’s heart plummeted as she saw how dirty and thin the little girl was. She wanted to weep for pity, but knew that she must show no emotion. Kneeling in front of the child, she tipped her chin with one finger and her heart turned over. She had seen those eyes before—a curious greenish-blue; she saw them every day when she looked at herself in a mirror. The child was hers. The warden had not lied to her.

Resisting the urge to snatch her in her arms and run, Lucinda smiled at the little girl, reached into her pocket and took out a small cake she’d brought with her. She offered it to the child, who looked suspicious.

‘It is a cake for you,’ she said. ‘Listen to me, Susan. One day soon I am going to fetch you. I am going to take you to live with me.’

‘Not unless I get me thousand guineas you ain’t.’ The woman shoved the little girl. ‘Back to your work.’

‘Please be kind to her,’ she said as the child bit the cake, her eyes opening in wonder as she tasted its sweetness. ‘I shall be back within the week.’

It had cost Lucinda so much pain to leave her daughter here. Her heart wrenched with pity as the child glanced back at her before disappearing into the kitchen.

‘What work does she do?’

‘Anyfin’ I tell ‘er,’ the woman answered. ‘Yer’ve got one week—and then she’s gone.’

‘I shall be back,’ Lucinda said and left before she wept.

She’d known even then that her trinkets would not fetch one-tenth of the woman’s demands for the child. Even had she sold the wedding gown she’d hidden, it would not have brought enough—though she believed it had cost many hundreds of guineas when Justin bought it for her.

Had she only brought her jewels with her she might have found the money easily enough. There was not enough time to return to Avonlea and fetch the jewels or even to ask Justin for a loan. Lucinda faced the facts. She could not raise such a huge sum and so she had only one choice. She must steal the child.

Susan had been stolen from her. She would steal her back.

First she had to make a plan. She had hired a cottage in the next village so that the innkeeper’s wife would not become suspicious. She bought other clothes and a wig to cover the flame red of her hair and she wore a torn and dirty shawl, rubbing dirt into her cheeks. In this way she had managed to visit the inn yard without being noticed by the landlady on two occasions. She had discovered that the child was given the chore of carrying out the slops first thing in the mornings, after the guests had gone down to break their fast.

* * *

And so today was the day. She locked up the cottage and left for the inn to claim her daughter as her own. At a quarter to the hour of nine she was in the yard watching, sheltering behind a wagon that had come to deliver hay for the stables. When she saw the child carrying her heavy pail down to the midden, she ran towards her.

‘Drop that and come with me,’ she instructed her. ‘I am going to take you away and look after you, my darling. That wicked woman will not punish you again.’

‘Will yer give me a cake?’ The child looked at her anxiously. ‘Yes, my dearest child. I will give you a cake every day. Come with me now and I shall take care of you.’

The child stood the pail down, offered her hand and together they ran. They hadn’t stopped running until they reached the crossroads and saw the mail coach heading towards them. Lucinda knew that it stopped briefly at the crossing and she ran to it as a gentleman got down, looking up at the coachman.

‘Please take me to the next big town.’

‘We do not stop again until we reach Watford, ma’am.’

‘That will be perfect,’ Lucinda said and placed the last of her money into his hands. ‘The child will sit on my lap.’

‘You’ve given me threepence too much,’ he said and returned the coppers to her. ‘Hop in and make sure the child behaves.’

‘She will,’ Lucinda said and put an arm about her daughter’s thin shoulders. ‘We shall both be as quiet as mice.’

Climbing into the coach, she pulled the child onto her lap, holding her close.

‘It will be all right now,’ she whispered. ‘The nasty woman will not find us and I’ll look after you. I’m your mother, you see? You were stolen from me when you were just a babe. I’d named you Angela and you are my daughter. No one will hurt you again. I promise.’

She had brought some food for the journey and took a small sugared bun from her bundle, giving it to the child. Angela’s thin body felt warm against her as she ate contentedly and then fell asleep, her head resting against Lucinda’s breast.

It was then that Lucinda realised she had only accomplished a part of her plan. The next phase would be more difficult. She had to find somewhere for them to live—there was no going back to that hovel of a cottage—and some way of earning her living.

Then she would go to Justin and tell him why she’d run away.

Tears trickled down her cheeks. She loved her husband so much and she feared he would hate her for what she’d done. Until this moment, all her thoughts had been centred on rescuing her child and it was only now that she had begun to realise the enormity of her cruelty towards the man she’d married. Afraid to tell him her secret, she had run away, leaving a simple note to say she had something she must do and would return when she could. He must have wondered why she had not confided her problem to him and he might not wish to see her.

For the first time Lucinda realised that in abandoning her husband so abruptly she might have lost her only chance of real happiness. She had been living in a nightmare, but now she had woken to the cold dawn of reality.

What was she going to do now?

* * *

‘Where was this found?’ Justin looked at the crumpled silk wedding gown, which was made of the finest materials available and had been a part of the many gifts he’d given his bride. ‘And why was it not discovered before this?’

‘It had been hidden behind some hay bales in a barn, your Grace,’ the man said, looking uncomfortable. ‘We looked in the barn for the young lady, sir. I swear we looked, but we did not think to move the hay because there was only the wall, or so we thought. The gown was found when the hay was used and someone saw a bit of silk sticking out.’

‘Yes, I understand,’ Justin said. ‘Very well. Thank you for bringing it to me.’ He took two guineas from his pocket, but the man shook his head.

‘I need no reward for bringing it to you, my lord. We’re all very sorry about what happened.’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Justin was short with the man, because he could not stand pity. His pride would not let him show his hurt to anyone. Lucinda had made a fool of him—and she’d done it deliberately. She must have hidden the gown, because if she’d been kidnapped it would not have been left behind. Besides, in all this time there had been no demand for a ransom.

After his tenant had gone, he paced the room. His nerves were at breaking point because of the hell he had suffered since his wife disappeared. Where on earth had Lucinda gone and why had she left him? Why run away on her wedding day?

There must be a clue somewhere.

His mouth firming into a grim line, he turned, left the room and walked upstairs to the apartments that should have been hers. He would search the rooms himself. Something must have been overlooked.

The rooms were empty and very neat when he entered. He began opening drawers and taking things out. Silk lingerie, stockings, gloves, scarves and handkerchiefs were tossed on to the floor. Costly gowns were pulled from the armoire and thrown carelessly onto the bed. Each chest was searched, but nothing was found. He looked at the jewel box on the dressing chest and opened it. All the jewels he’d given Lucinda were there, but he remembered that the case had a secret drawer. He pressed the button and saw that her favourite ruby brooch and also a diamond pin that her godmother had left her were gone. Giving a snarl of frustration, he knocked the case to the ground.

‘Damn you, Lucinda. Damn you for leaving me to this hell on earth.’

Seeing the beautiful things scattered over the floor, he felt some remorse for his temper and bent to retrieve a lovely pearl necklace from beneath the dressing table. Something white caught at the back took his eye. It was a piece of folded paper that had fallen behind the dressing table somehow and lodged halfway down.

He reached up to retrieve it and saw that it was a note addressed to him in Lucinda’s hand. She had written to him! He began to read eagerly.

My dearest Avonlea,

Forgive me, but something has happened—something so shocking and disturbing that I must leave at once. I shall return to explain all to you as soon as I have solved this problem. I know that my absence will cause you unease and distress, but you may tell everyone that my mother is ill and say that I have gone to nurse her. It is not the truth, but I cannot explain now. I must hurry. I love you. Lucinda.

Why had he not had the room searched properly? If this letter had been found, it might have saved him hours of heart searching and distress. His throat caught with emotion. Lucinda did not hate him. She had not fled because she feared to be his wife. In fact, though they’d never spoken deeply about their feelings, it seemed his beautiful young wife loved him! All the nightmares that had haunted him since her disappearance had vanished, leaving just two questions.

Why had she gone so suddenly and what was so shocking that she could not tell him and ask for his help?

Chapter Two

Lucinda hesitated in the shrubbery. She could see Jane Lanchester working in her beloved garden. Kneeling on a cushion, Jane was planting a seedling, which would flower later in the year, and intent on her work. It was foolish to be nervous. Taking a deep breath, Lucinda lifted her head and walked towards her friend.

‘Jane. Forgive me. I had to see you.’

Jane’s head came up in surprise. For a moment she stared at her and then jumped to her feet and ran the short distance between them, her arms open in welcome.

‘Lucinda! I have been in such torment, wondering if you were captive or dead. You naughty girl. Why did you not write to anyone?’

‘It was difficult.’ Lucinda looked at her awkwardly. ‘Do you hate me for what I did?’

‘Why should I?’ Jane removed the gloves she wore for gardening. ‘Come in and have some tea and tell me what has been happening. I am perfectly sure you had a good reason for what you did, as I told Avonlea. Does he know you are back?’ Lucinda shook her head. ‘He has been in great distress, you know. He couldn’t understand your disappearance and thought you might have been abducted.’

‘Surely not? I left a note promising to explain when I returned. It was on top of my jewel case.’

‘I do not know what happened, but it was not found,’ Jane told her. ‘I think the poor man thought you were afraid of him—you weren’t, I hope? I have wondered if I was wrong to advise you to marry him.’

‘I love Justin very much.’ A little sob left Lucinda’s lips. ‘I feel so awful for what I did that day, but I was in such a state I could not think. Afterwards, I wished I had waited and asked Avonlea’s advice, but at the time all I could think about was—’ She broke off, shaking her head.

‘Come in and tell me all about it,’ Jane said and then frowned as she saw a man striding towards them. ‘Here is my brother. Do you remember Andrew? I think you met him once when he was in the army.’

‘Perhaps I should go…the scandal…’ Lucinda hesitated, but Jane grabbed her arm. ‘Your brother might not wish you to know me after what I did.’

‘Nonsense. You will not run away now, Lucinda. You must at least talk to Avonlea. It is the right and proper thing to do.’

‘Yes, I shall.’

Lucinda swallowed hard. Lord Lanchester was a tall, strong man with dark hair and eyes and at that moment he looked stern.

‘Duchess,’ he said without a hint of surprise in his voice, ‘I told Avonlea that you would return. I hope you have been to see him to explain?’

‘Lucinda wanted to talk to me first,’ Jane said. ‘I am about to send for tea. You may go away for half an hour, if you please, while we talk in private.’

‘Please, it is not necessary,’ Lucinda said. ‘I shall tell you both that I left in such a hurry because I was being blackmailed. I know that I should have spoken to Avonlea and asked his advice, but I thought he might be angry—and if I am to be disgraced, he will be better off without me. It should be easy enough to annul the marriage.’

‘Blackmail?’ He frowned. ‘Do you have the letter?’

‘No…’ Lucinda swallowed hard, because she did not wish to lie, but the blackmail note held too much information—information she did not wish to share with Jane’s brother. Had he not arrived, she might have told Jane that she had stolen her daughter back, but it was too difficult to tell this stern stranger. ‘I think I shall not stay for refreshments, Jane. Do you know if Avonlea is at home, sir?’

‘I have come from him this moment. Do you know we have agents out looking for you, young lady? Your husband has been scouring the countryside for you, searching everywhere himself, day after day and even at night. He is at his wit’s end.’

Lucinda’s eyes filled with tears and she gave a little sob. ‘He will be so angry with me. I should have written to him. He will not wish to see me.’

‘You’ve upset her,’ Jane said and put an arm about her shoulders. ‘Andrew, you are a bully and I am quite cross with you.’

‘Forgive me.’ Andrew was suddenly contrite. ‘I dare say you had your reasons, Duchess. I think you may find that Avonlea is more concerned than angry.’

‘I do not think I can face him…’

‘Of course you can.’ Andrew produced a large white kerchief and handed it to her. ‘If you will permit me, I shall take you to him and I will protect you. If he is angry, I shall bring you back to Jane—there, will that make it easier for you?’

‘Yes, you must certainly return to us if Avonlea is unkind, but I do not think that the case. He cares for you dearly, Lucinda, and I know he is waiting anxiously for news,’ said Jane and her brother took up the persuasion.

‘He asked me to call because he had just found your letter. It had fallen down behind the dressing table and become lodged there. Avonlea discovered it by chance just yesterday and sent word to me because I’d been helping in the search for you.’

‘Where did you go?’ Jane asked, as Lucinda hesitated. ‘I know Avonlea sent a messenger to your mama, but she said she had not seen you.’

‘It took me a long time to reach her home…’ Lucinda faltered. ‘I walked much of the way. I dare say Avonlea’s messenger reached her before I did.’

‘Why did she not write later?’ Jane looked puzzled.

‘Mama was upset with me. We parted in anger.’

‘So you have not been staying with her all this time?’

Lucinda shook her head. ‘Only for a few days. It is a long story, Jane. Perhaps another time. I think I should go to Avonlea now. I owe my husband an explanation.’

‘Promise me you will come to me if you need help?’ Jane said and reached for her hand. ‘I am your friend and remain so always. If you are in difficulty, I shall do my best to help you.’

‘I could bring shame on you,’ Lucinda said. ‘If you knew all…’ She saw the question in her friend’s eyes. ‘No, at least not for the moment, Jane. I must speak with Avonlea first. I should have gone there immediately.’

She had wanted reassurance from her friend, but it was impossible to tell Jane her secret with Lord Lanchester standing there waiting for her.

‘There is no need for you to accompany me, sir,’ she said to him. ‘I can quite well walk to the estate from here.’

‘You will do no such thing. I shall drive you in my chaise. Jane, I shall come back immediately. Please have your refreshments and then we’ll talk. I have to leave for London after nuncheon.’

‘You will visit me soon, Lucinda?’

‘Yes.’ Lucinda gave her a wan smile. ‘I shall come soon—perhaps sooner than you think.’

Jane squeezed her arm. ‘Chin up, my dear friend. I am sure Avonlea will be kinder than you imagine.’

Following Lord Lanchester to the stables, Lucinda thought that it was all very well for Jane to say that Avonlea cared for her, but she did not yet know the whole story.

Her husband might forgive her reckless flight. He might even forgive her for not telling him that she had borne a child, but she was certain that he would not allow her to keep her newly discovered daughter. If it became known that she had an illegitimate child, people would gossip. Many would cut her and her shame would reflect on Avonlea and on her friends.

Jane had offered her a place to stay, but she would not wish to take in Lucinda’s daughter. Even if she were willing to accept the child, her brother would forbid her. Jane was the kindest and wisest friend anyone could have. When they were at school together, she had confided to Lucinda that she did not want to marry.

‘I dare say I shall be an old maid and help care for my brother’s children when he marries,’ she’d said and laughed. ‘Or I may go and live in Harrogate and hold lots of card parties and poetry readings.’

Jane might dare to know her despite her brother’s censure for she was possessed of her own fortune, but Lucinda would not wish to disoblige her. She had already made up her mind that she must make her own living and the impulse to visit Jane had come from a moment of weakness.

* * *

‘I wish you will forgive me if I was harsh to you,’ Lord Lanchester said as he handed her into the chaise a few minutes later. ‘I do not know your story or why you were being blackmailed, though I think Jane does—but if you are in trouble and wish to confide in me I will help you if I can.’

‘You are kind, sir. I do not think anyone can help me, for it would bring shame on your family if this became open knowledge.’

He smiled at her. ‘I scarcely think you have done anything so very terrible, Duchess. It may be that a problem shared would be halved, as they say.’

‘I thank you for your kindness, but I do not wish to trouble you, sir.’

Lucinda sat primly in the chaise, hands curled in her lap as she was driven through the narrow leafy lanes of Sussex that led to Avonlea’s estate. As they crossed onto the duke’s land, her heart began to race. She knew that some of his people had seen her and saw their heads turn as they watched the chaise drive by. She felt hot all over, knowing that she had already caused so much trouble and scandal. If her secret were known, it would be terrible for everyone she cared about.

‘Believe me, nothing you could do or say would be a trouble to me, Duchess.’

‘Please…call me Lucinda,’ she whispered, her cheeks hot. ‘I think Avonlea may wish to annul the marriage very soon and I shall be Miss Seymour again.’

‘I doubt he would be such a fool,’ Lord Lanchester said and smiled at her. ‘If I am to call you Lucinda, then you must call me Andrew, as my sister and close friends do.’

Lucinda blushed and gave a little shake of her head. ‘You are so kind, sir, but I assure you, I do not deserve such consideration.’

He was bringing his horses to a halt and did not immediately reply, but as he assisted her down, his smile was warm.

‘I wish to be your friend, Lucinda. Jane loves you dearly and she is not normally wrong in her choice of friends. When you are ready to talk I shall be there for you. I am certain Avonlea will not turn you away, but if he did I would open my doors to you.’

Lucinda thanked him shyly. ‘I think I shall go in al—’ She could not finish the sentence for her husband was coming towards them. Her heart caught with pain as she saw the distress in his face and realised that he had been under a great strain. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and she thought he had lost weight. Had she done that to him? Her heart caught with remorse. She turned to meet him. ‘Avonlea, forgive me…’

‘Lucinda, my dearest. You are safe. Thank God! I thought you lost or dead.’ Avonlea turned to Lord Lanchester. ‘You found her and brought her back to me. How can I ever thank you, my best of friend?’

‘You owe me no thanks, sir. Your duchess visited my sister and I brought her to you. She was a little anxious, but I assured her you would not scold her too much. I believe she has something important to tell you.’

‘Of course I shall not be unkind,’ Justin said and looked at Lucinda. ‘Come inside, my love. You look tired and pale. I would hear what you have to say. Lanchester, you have my thanks. I shall speak to you later.’

‘When it suits you,’ Andrew replied with a slight smile. ‘My heartfelt thanks for your safe return, Duchess. Your friends are glad of it. Please call on Jane whenever you wish.’

‘You are very kind, sir.’

Lucinda could not look at him or her husband. She walked towards the house, Justin at her side. Several servants had gathered in the hall and were looking at her curiously. The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy and asked if she could do anything.

‘You may bring some tea when we ring,’ Justin said. ‘My wife has had a long journey and she is tired. We shall have nuncheon in an hour.’

Lucinda allowed him to make the arrangements. She was thirsty and hungry, and she knew that someone she trusted was caring for her daughter. Angela would be safe until she could return to her.

‘Mama will be gone for a while,’ she’d told Angela and kissed her before she left. ‘I have to find somewhere nice for us to live, but then I shall come and fetch you.’

‘You won’t leave me?’ Angela had clung to her. ‘You won’t let them take me back?’

‘Never,’ Lucinda vowed and held her tight. ‘Mama loves you and she wants to look after you, but she cannot be with you all the time. She has to work and earn money to buy our food.’

Inside the small parlour at the back of the house, Justin shut the door firmly and then turned to look at her. His hands worked at his sides and she thought that she had never seen him display such emotion. Always when he courted her he had been the polite gentleman, teasing, flirting gently, courteous and considerate. If he had a temper, she’d not seen or felt it; even his kiss when she’d at last accepted his offer had been sweet, but passionless—which was perhaps why she had dared to say yes. Avonlea had seemed kind, but capable of expressing only warm affection; this stranger with his tight mouth and tortured eyes was someone she did not recognise.

‘What was so terrible that you could not tell me, Lucinda? I took a vow to become your husband. Whatever trouble you were in I would have helped you.’

‘Yes, I know,’ she said and gave him a little smile. ‘Afterwards, I wished I’d had the courage to tell you. I panicked, Justin. Please let me explain if I may. When I returned to my rooms after the church I discovered a letter. It was a blackmail letter and the sender demanded ten thousand pounds. He—or perhaps she—threatened to expose my secret and shame your good name. I ran away rather than allow it to happen. My first thought was for you—because I had wronged you.’

‘A blackmail letter here in your room?’ Justin looked shocked. ‘I have considered all manner of reasons why you should leave, but I must admit that was not high on my list. May I enquire as to the reason for the blackmail?’

Lucinda drew a shuddering breath. ‘I fear you will be angry and hate me.’

‘I could never hate you.’

He had not denied that he might be angry, but she must find the courage to continue. Her words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other.

‘It…happened one Christmas Eve. I was home from school and my father had friends staying. I was asleep when Father’s friend fell on me and, though I woke instantly, I could not fight him off. He had been drinking and the stench of his breath sickened me. I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth with his hand. Beneath his weight I was helpless. He was my father’s best friend, but he…he raped me and then told me that he would ruin Papa if I told anyone what he’d done.’

‘Raped you? My God!’ Justin looked as if someone had punched him hard. He recoiled and seemed stunned, turning away from her and then sitting down heavily in one of the comfortable wing chairs placed in pairs about the salon. ‘Forgive me, this is a shock. It must have been a terrible experience for you, Lucinda.’

Lucinda went to him and knelt on the floor by his side. ‘I think even that was not the worst of it, Justin. I was distressed, but could tell no one—and then, at Easter, my mother discovered that I was with child.’

Justin looked down into her face, concern in his eyes. The thought of her suffering wrenched at his heart. She was so innocent and sweet—how could any man treat her so vilely? Anger raged through him, but for the monster that had violated her. He did not doubt her word for an instant. He reached down and touched her cheek as she gazed earnestly up at him.

‘Your father covered the scandal, of course. Most fathers would do the same. What happened next?’

‘I was sent to live with Grandmama. She was very unkind to me and caned my hands whenever it pleased her. When my child was born I was told it had died…but still my father would not allow me to go home or to enter society. Only after his death was I allowed the visit to Harrogate with my aunt.’

‘Was that why you kept your distance from me at first?’

‘My father told me I was dirty, a thing of shame, and that no decent man would want me. Both he and my mother said I should never marry. I defied her to wed you—and I meant to tell you the truth that night and beg you to forgive me, but then the note arrived and—’

‘You were frightened and ran away.’

Justin stood up. He reached down, drawing her to her feet so that they looked into each other’s eyes.

‘Do you have the letter?’

Lucinda hesitated. She hated to lie to him, but if she told him the whole truth he would want to know if she had found her daughter and he would force her to give her up, because to do anything else would cause a scandal.

‘No…I am sorry, Justin. I destroyed it. I should never have married you. I know you must hate me now. I shall go away and you may have the marriage annulled. All I ask is a small sum of money so that I may live quietly until I can find some respectable work.’

She would not have asked so much if it were not for her child. Until she could find a home of her own and a nursemaid to live in, Lucinda must pay for lodgings and the care of her daughter. Surely he would allow her something?

For a moment he studied her in silence, then, ‘No, I shall not have the marriage annulled,’ Justin said, his tone suddenly harsh and cold. The sound of it sent shivers down her spine and she looked at him, startled by his change of mood. ‘I’ve had enough of gossip and of being laughed at behind my back, Lucinda. You are my wife and you will accept your duties as a wife.’

‘Justin…’ She faltered, her throat tight with emotion. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she held them back. ‘I know how angry you must feel…’

‘Do you, my dear?’ His bitter tone flayed her like a whiplash. ‘Had you trusted me enough to confide in me from the start, none of this need have happened.’

‘Forgive me. I was so anxious.’ Her voice was low, scarcely more than a whisper. ‘I did not think how it would look. Besides, if you had told everyone I had gone to my sick mother, it would not have seemed so bad.’

‘Had I found your letter at the start, I might have done so.’ He turned from her abruptly, walking to the window to gaze out. ‘If you cared for me you might have trusted me, Lucinda. I would have given you a fair hearing. Do you not think it was your duty to tell me before you accepted my proposal?’

‘Yes. I think now that I should have told you. I—I was afraid you would not wish to marry me if you knew that I had such a terrible secret.’

Justin turned to look at her, his face proud, eyebrows raised. ‘You wished to be the Duchess of Avonlea, I suppose?’

‘No…’ Lucinda hesitated, then, in a voice caught with tears, ‘I loved you, Justin. I loved you from the start. I suppose I hoped that if we were married you might forgive me.’

‘You thought I would accept you rather than face the scandal of divorce?’ His top lip curled scornfully. ‘Well, you were right in that, my dear. I have no intention of either annulling the marriage or divorcing you. I hope in time that we may begin again, have a sensible arrangement. I need heirs after all and you are my wife. I dare say we may brush over the scandal now that you have returned. I shall say that you were called to the bedside of a relative and your letter was misplaced—which is in part the truth.’

‘Justin…’ She took a step towards him, her hand outstretched. It fell to her side as she saw the anger in his handsome face. ‘Will you not believe that I care for you? Will you not try to forgive me?’

‘I shall certainly endeavour to forgive you,’ he said, but his eyes were cold, his mouth thinned with anger. ‘But you will forgive me if I do not fall at your feet and tell you that everything is as it was. You will remain my wife and I hope in time we may find a way to be comfortable together—but as for the feelings…the affection I bore you, for the moment I must be honest and tell you that I feel nothing but disappointment.’

‘Please…’ She gave a cry of distress. ‘I beg you not to hate me, Justin. I know that I have hurt you, but I was in some distress myself.’

‘I fail to understand why.’ His eyes held neither compassion nor warmth. ‘You had the advantage of me for you knew your situation. Why the letter should occasion such shock I do not know—unless you meant to conceal the truth from me forever?’

How could she explain? Justin might have understood had she been able to put her feelings into words—but the shock, the numbness, incredulity and fear she’d felt on learning of her child’s existence were too difficult to express.

‘I was asked to pay ten thousand pounds for the writer’s silence.’

‘Had you given the letter to me, I should either have paid or discovered the man’s identity and threatened him with imprisonment.’

‘You would still have hated me.’

‘I do not hate you,’ Justin said, a flicker of regret in his eyes. ‘I feel hurt, betrayed by your lack of trust, Lucinda. Had you confided in me at the beginning, I think I might have learned to accept the fact that you were raped. You were not to blame for that—or for bearing a child—but your deceit, your thoughtlessness in running away and your lack of faith in me, have given me some disquiet. I must say honestly that you are not the woman I thought you.’

His quiet words, his dignity and the hurt in his eyes struck into her heart. She was overcome with guilt, realising just how deeply her thoughtless behaviour had hurt him. Justin was angry with her now. Lucinda was not sure why she had not told him the whole truth. It would have been better to have the whole thing out, but she had hesitated and now it was too late. He would undoubtedly either return the child to the woman who had so mistreated her or have her adopted by a worthy couple.

No, she would not give her daughter up! Although it was only two weeks since she’d rescued her, Lucinda knew that she loved her too much to think of letting her be adopted, even by a kind and gentle woman.

She loved Justin, too, but he no longer cared for her. A part of her wanted to walk away, to tell him that she would not continue with a loveless marriage, but her lips were frozen and she could not speak.

‘You should go to your room and change. That gown is hardly suitable for my duchess,’ Justin said. ‘I am relieved that you are alive and unharmed, Lucinda. It will take a little time for me to come to terms with your revelation, but I hope in time that we may find a kind of contentment together.’

‘Yes, Justin. I am sorry to have caused you so much distress.’

‘I shall tell them to serve luncheon in an hour. Please do not keep us waiting.’

‘I shall not,’ Lucinda replied. Her pride was reasserting itself and with it a kind of anger. He was showing dignity and dealing with the situation in a civilised way, but she would almost rather he’d raged at her. ‘I am truly sorry for hurting you.’

He made no reply, merely inclining his head as she made him a slight curtsy and then left the room.

Lucinda knew that the servants must be agog to know where she’d been, but she carried herself with pride and dignity as she walked up to her own apartments. Alice was there and appeared to be busy tidying the place as she entered. She curtsied, looking slightly flustered.

‘Forgive me, my lady. Your room—his Grace searched it and then forbade me to touch it. I have been trying to make it respectable, but some of your things will need washing and ironing for they lay on the floor for a few days.’

‘You may help me change into a fresh gown, if there are any decent enough to wear?’

‘Yes, my lady. There is a morning gown here that is not creased.’

‘Take your time with the others,’ Lucinda said. ‘I shall not scold you if things are not just as they should be; it is not your fault.’

‘I fear the duke lost his temper, my lady.’

‘Yes, I fear he did and that was my fault. Was he very angry with you, Alice?’

‘For a time,’ the girl admitted. ‘I did not mind so very much, my lady. I am glad to see you returned.’

‘If I were to ask you to help me—to keep my request private—would you do so?’

Alice did not hesitate as she said, ‘Yes, my lady. I would do anything for you.’

‘I am not certain yet,’ Lucinda said and smiled at her. ‘Do not look so anxious, Alice. It is nothing very terrible—but I might need you to take a message for me later.’

‘Yes, my lady. You can trust me. I swear it on my life.’

Lucinda hid a smile. Her maid probably thought she had a lover. If she decided to trust her, she would soon learn the truth, but for the moment she must be cautious.

Lucinda was determined not to give her daughter up. She thought that rather than accept that Angela should be adopted, she would leave Justin and find a way to live independently. However, what little money she had was almost gone and she was not certain how she could earn her living.

No respectable lady would take her either as a governess or as a companion. Even if she did find work in a respectable household, the discovery that she had an illegitimate daughter would lead to instant dismissal without a reference. All that left was work as a seamstress or hard manual labour in a mill or on the land; even work as a servant would be denied her in most respectable houses.

Justin did not wish for more scandal and for that reason he had decided they would stay together and try to find a way to live comfortably. She supposed that when his anger or disappointment had eased a little, he might still find her attractive.

The thought of what she had done was almost unbearable. Justin had looked at her with such admiration and gentle warmth when he courted her, showing such patience and kindness to a shy young woman—and now his eyes were cold and unforgiving. She did not know how to bear his coldness, but the thought of never seeing him again was equally as painful.

She held back the foolish tears. What had she expected? She ought to have known that her husband would not accept her wayward behaviour as if it meant nothing. He’d believed her modest and innocent and must think her a cheat for having hidden her shameful past.

At least she had a roof over her head and the generous allowance Avonlea had given her in the marriage contract would be hers to use as she wished. She could use some of it to pay for Angela to be properly cared for nearby. It was not what she wanted, but what was her alternative? She knew she would find it difficult, if not impossible, to bring up her daughter in the way she wished alone. Perhaps it was best this way—and yet at the back of her mind she feared Justin’s disgust and anger when he discovered her deceit.

She had hurt her husband too much already and she did love him deeply, whatever he might believe. If she left him again, it would convince him that she had never loved him and he would surely divorce her. Perhaps if she stayed he might learn to forgive her—and if he did, one day, she would tell him the rest of her story. It might make him angry again, but perhaps he would understand that the pain of discovering that her child had been stolen from her had made her forget everything else for a time.

Oh, it was all such a coil! Lucinda wished that she could return to the day Avonlea had asked her to wed him. Had she told him then he might have withdrawn his offer, but he might have accepted the truth and forgiven her—yet even had he done so, he would never have accepted her child.

She had no choice but to keep the child’s existence a secret from him.

* * *

Justin went for a long hard ride after luncheon. Lucinda had looked so serene and beautiful when she came down to the dining room. He had felt a rush of desire at seeing her in one of the beautiful gowns he had purchased for her use. She was his wife, the woman he had chosen, and her revelations had left him feeling bruised and bewildered.

She was not the shy innocent girl he had thought her. Justin had believed her reticence in Harrogate had sprung from modesty and a natural desire to know him better. Now he wondered if he had been deceived in her character. Could he believe her story of rape? She had not told him before the wedding that she’d born an illegitimate child, nor had she given him any reason to believe that she was not the pure untouched woman he thought her. For a brief moment he doubted, but then dismissed the thought as unworthy. Lucinda had not been honest with him at the start, but he would not think less of her for what that evil man had done to her. The hurt in her eyes as she told her story was proof of her innocence, though she ought to have told him before they were wed.

Yet she ought never to have been faced with such a dilemma. No young girl should be subjected to such wickedness.

He thought that if he knew the man’s identity he would break the rogue’s neck. Fierce emotions raged through him as he considered taking revenge for the hurt inflicted on a vulnerable girl of sixteen. Justin would thrash the devil to within an inch of his life. Indeed, he would gladly see the man dead.

He wished that she’d kept the blackmail letter. He might have been able to get to the bottom of this business, but, as things stood, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Who had sent such a letter on their wedding day? How had that person discovered the secret that Lucinda’s father had so carefully hushed up?

Of course these things were never a complete secret. Someone knew the child had been born. There must surely have been a doctor or a midwife at the birth—or perhaps a servant in Lucinda’s grandmother’s house. It would be there he should begin his search if he intended to make enquiries.

Did he wish to discover more? Justin frowned. It was after all his wife’s secret, but if she were being blackmailed, he had a duty to protect her—and not just for the sake of his good name. Even if she paid the fellow—or woman—to keep quiet, they would come back for more. It was the nature of such creatures.

There was only one way to deal with blackmail and that was to meet threat with threat. He would make whomever had done this thing shiver in their boots and, if they continued with their evil purpose, he would see them punished.

The agents who had searched for Lucinda were discreet. He was certain he could trust them to discover the whereabouts of Lucinda’s grandmother—or, if she were no longer living, her servants. No need to disclose his wife’s secret. He would question the servants and then, if they answered openly, any doctor or midwife who had presided over the birth of Lucinda’s child.

She had told him the child had died—but was that certain? Justin frowned as he thought about the probable scenario. Mr Seymour would not have permitted his daughter to keep the child. It was possible that he might have ordered that she be told the babe was dead while in truth he’d had it adopted.

The net widened, for anyone involved in the handling of that secret adoption might have decided to use blackmail when they heard of Lucinda’s wedding plans. It was clear that it was her marriage to a wealthy man that had brought the toad crawling out from under its stone. Someone had seen an opportunity because she was to be the wife of an important man.

Justin felt angry that his wife had been subjected to such a foul blackmail on her wedding day. It had been meant to be a joyous occasion and had ended in distress for them both.

He felt a pang of regret when he recalled his own harshness towards her. He had felt such jealousy, such disappointment and pain when he learned that she was not the shy virgin he’d thought her that he’d lashed out. He’d promised he would not be unkind to her and he’d broken his word. He was uncertain why he had acted in such an uncharacteristic manner. At the start he had believed he could accept what she’d told him; after all, it had happened before they met—but then emotions he had not recognised welled up in him and his anger erupted. Why? Yes, she had deceived him, but he felt it was more her uncertainty that made her hold back rather than deliberate malice. At one time he’d briefly considered marrying a widow and the loss of the lady’s maidenhead to her first husband had not disturbed him one whit—why then should he feel such rage because Lucinda was not a virgin?

Why should he be jealous? It had not been meant to be a love match. He’d chosen her because she did not throw herself at him every time he so much as looked at her, as almost every other lady he’d met did constantly. It was her smile, her quiet charm and her sweetness that had made him notice her. She had not changed. It was Justin who felt differently, though at this moment he could not explain the conflicting emotions that raged within him or their cause.

Justin knew that he was in the wrong, but for the moment he could not quite forgive her for not confiding in him sooner. The look in her eyes had wrenched at his heart. She’d seemed to beg for something—something he had not been able to give. His own lack disturbed him, adding to his feeling of rage and he’d lashed out without thinking. In time his hurt would ease and he hoped that they might still have enough respect for each other to make a go of their marriage, but for the moment he needed to be alone.

He would tell Lucinda that evening. There was some business in London that needed his attention. It meant that he would be away for perhaps ten days. When he returned he hoped that he would have come to terms with his disappointment and they might begin again. It must be better for both of them to go on with the marriage than suffer a painful divorce. He would recover from the scandal, but she would be ruined. He could not do that to her. It would be cruel and unfair.

Relieved to have settled the matter in his mind, he returned home. The servants must not suspect anything, for there had been enough scandal. He would take tea with Lucinda in the small salon just as if nothing had ever come between them. If he suspected that he had not been quite truthful with himself in his motives for his decision, he was not yet ready to face the possibility that he might care more deeply for his lovely wife than he’d thought possible.

Romantic love was a myth. To give one’s heart without reserve was to invite pain. Affection was sufficient and once he had recovered from this absurd attack of jealous rage, he would resort to being the considerate husband he’d always intended to be.

* * *

That night, Lucinda sat in front of her dressing mirror brushing her hair when Justin knocked and asked if he might enter. She gave permission and he came in, looking at her oddly as she stood and turned to face him. Something in his expression spoke of hunger and a need to take her in his arms and for a moment she hoped that he intended to make up their quarrel, but his next words chilled her.

‘Forgive me, I did not intend to disturb you, Lucinda. I said nothing downstairs for I would not have the servants hear me. I must go to London tomorrow on business. You will give me your word to remain here and do nothing to cause more scandal.’

His harsh words hurt her. ‘Why should I cause more scandal? Can you not accept that I am sorry for harming you?’

‘Perhaps. I was merely making myself clear. I need a little space to come to terms with what you told me earlier. I should be no longer than ten days—perhaps less. When I return we shall take time to know each other properly. I think perhaps we wed in haste. We know very little about one another’s lives.’

‘I told you that when you asked me to wed you, Justin.’

‘I believed I knew you,’ he said and a tiny nerve flicked at his temple. ‘Now I know that I was wrong. I think we must both work at this, Lucinda. I did not mean to be so harsh earlier. Had I not cared for you, it would not have been such a shock to learn that you were not what I thought you.’

‘Yes, I understand you must feel disgust and anger,’ she said, but kept her head high. ‘I have apologised for not telling you—but I am as I was. I did nothing to encourage that man’s attack, I promise you.’

‘You will give me his name?’

‘What do you intend to do?’ She was startled, her eyes on his face.

‘He may well be your blackmailer—had you not thought of him?’

‘No,’ Lucinda whispered, putting a hand to her throat. ‘I have not thought about who wrote the note.’

‘You have not wondered?’ Justin looked puzzled. ‘Surely you must realise that whomever it was will most likely try again. Next time I insist that you bring the letter to me.’

‘Yes,’ she said, not daring to meet his eyes. ‘But it was not signed.’

‘No, it would not be—but sometimes there is a clue. Was it well written or badly formed?’

‘Oh, I had not thought…well written, I think. Yes, the letters were clear and there were no spelling or grammar mistakes.’

‘Then it makes it more likely that it was either your father’s friend himself—or perhaps the doctor who assisted at the birth. Who else would know your secret, Lucinda?’

‘Grandmama, my parents and the doctor—also my grandmother’s servants. They knew what had happened, I am sure.’

‘Yes, they must, but most servants could not write a letter of that quality. I think it narrows the options a little.’

‘Unless…Grandmama had friends. She may have told someone in confidence.’ Lucinda raised her eyes to his. ‘Why is it important?’

‘Because I must be ready in case whomever it is tries again. You will not pay, Lucinda. You will have nothing to do with this person, whomever it may be. I shall deal with the problem, do you hear me?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Very well. We shall not speak of this again unless we must.’ He moved towards her. For a moment she thought he meant to touch her or kiss her, but instead he picked up a perfume bottle from the dressing table and held it to his nose. ‘This is such a haunting scent. I kept smelling it when you were away and it brought you closer. I am glad to have you back, Lucinda.’

She swallowed hard. ‘Thank you for accepting me.’

‘You are my wife. What else should I do?’

The expression in his eyes caused Lucinda’s heart to race. For a moment she thought he would take her into his arms and kiss her. Had he done so she would have clung to him, returned his kisses and then confessed her secret, but the look faded. He inclined his head to her, then turned and walked away without touching her or speaking further.

Lucinda stared at the door for some moments after he closed it behind him. She almost wished that he had raged at her. His quiet, controlled anger was hard to bear. She could not blame him, because she’d brought it on herself, but it still hurt. Justin had been so courteous towards her, so careful and caring of her feelings and her comfort. Where had that charming, gentle, teasing gentleman gone? Would she ever see him again—or had her thoughtless deceit destroyed him?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she discovered that she could no longer hold back her tears. They trickled unheeded down her cheeks for some minutes, then she wiped them away. She would not waste time feeling sorry for herself.

She must think about the future. If she was to keep her daughter and hide the secret from Justin, it would mean taking Alice into her confidence. Her maid was honest and would help her by taking messages to her daughter and making excuses for her absence when she went to visit the child.

It was not an ideal arrangement keeping Angela in the old cottage at the edge of the estate, but it was all she could do for the moment. She had been so lucky to find that Nanny was still alive and living a precarious existence since her dismissal from Mrs Seymour’s employ.

‘She is a little love, but too thin,’ Nanny said as Lucinda explained the circumstances. ‘Yes, of course I will look after your daughter for you, my love. I never agreed with the way your father treated you—and to tell you she was dead, that was wicked. Had I been in a position to help you before this I should have done so, but I was dismissed instantly for having a bad influence on you.’

‘That was unfair.’

‘Well, it is past and the child is the important one now.’ Nanny smiled and touched her head, but Angela sniffled and looked apprehensive, as though she feared she would be smacked or bullied.

‘She has been ill-treated, so you must not scold her too much. I know her speech is bad, but correct her kindly, Nanny. She will learn by example.’

‘Yes, of course she will. I never smacked you, Lucinda, and I shall not smack this little darling—but she must start to learn her manners for she is your daughter.’

‘For the moment I cannot acknowledge her. My husband would not allow it.’

Nanny looked at her sadly. ‘You should tell your husband the truth, Lucinda. He couldn’t let you acknowledge her, of course, but if he is a good man he will allow you to see her—and he’ll find a decent place for us to live.’

‘I hope in time to confide in him, but for now it must be our secret.’

‘Very well.’

Nanny had agreed reluctantly. Lucinda knew she would care for the child as if she were her own, but she did not approve.

Alice might not approve, either—but for the moment Lucinda had no choice.

Perhaps after Justin’s return, if they became friends again, she could tell him. He might not let her have the child with her, but he might allow her to have Angela near her and visit sometimes.

Retiring to her bed, Lucinda lay restless, her mind in turmoil. If Justin discovered that she had lied to him again, he would hate her.

* * *

Justin lay sleepless. He had brought the decanter of brandy to his room, hoping that a glass or two of his favourite tipple would dull the edge of his need, but at the moment it did not seem to have worked. The desire to touch and kiss his wife was burning through him, making him groan. Had he been less proud, more sure of his own feelings and hers, he would have gone to her, taken her in his arms and begged her to forgive him. Being close to her that evening had made him aware just how lovely she was—and how much he burned to make her his wife in truth. He was a fool to let himself be hurt. Why not simply make this quarrel up with her and forget everything in her arms—bury himself in her perfumed flesh?

No, that was foolish. His father would have called him a weakling for considering such an action. Justin had been strictly reared to understand the position he held as head of one of the leading families in England. Indeed, the first duke was rumoured to be one of Charles I’s by-blows, borne of a titled lady who had kept her secret even from the king until later in life when she made a request for her son and was granted the title on his behalf. His father’s words ran through his mind.

‘Remember what you owe yourself and the family, Justin. Feeling must always be denied for, if once set free, it will ruin any man. You are of noble blood and must never forget your duty. Our family has upheld the true virtues of honour and decency for centuries. Do not be the one to break that slender thread.’

His father would say it was his duty to annul the marriage at once, to send Lucinda away in disgrace and marry a girl of impeccable reputation.

No, he could not do that. Justin was angry and hurt, but beneath the pain and the rage he knew that he still wanted his beautiful wife. He still cared what became of her. To abandon her to the gossips would be cruel and senseless. Deep within him the need to protect her from hurt had asserted itself. He must not let what had happened ruin both their lives.

Somehow he must come to terms with the situation and the only way to do that was to put a little distance between them for a while. If he stayed here, he would not be able to keep from her bed.

Chapter Three

Lucinda set out early the next morning, just after she’d seen Justin drive away in his curricle. It was cool and she was wearing a warm cloak to cover her gown, which was one of her plainer ones. She had saved some of the sweet biscuits and a soft white roll that had been sent up for her breakfast. Her daughter enjoyed sweet trifles, perhaps the more so because she had never tasted a cake until recently. Nanny said she ought not to have too many, but Lucinda felt a deep hurtful guilt because of the way her daughter had been mistreated and she wanted to spoil her.

She wished with all her heart that she might have the child living with her at the house and acknowledge her openly, if not as her own child, as a child of a relative sadly deceased. However, she knew that it was impossible. The fact that she must deceive Justin added to her grief, but for the moment there was no other way. Perhaps in time he might learn to trust her and then she might confess her secret, but even an indulgent husband would not allow her to have the child with her permanently. The likeness between them was marked and someone might guess her secret.

As she approached the small cottage she had rented for her child and Nanny, Angela saw her from the window and came out, running to meet her. Lucinda opened her arms, sweeping her up and hugging her tightly as she burst into tears.

‘I thought yer would never come back,’ Angela said and looked at her with reproach. ‘You promised to take care of me.’

‘And I shall,’ Lucinda promised and kissed her cheek. She smelled of soap and her skin shone. Wearing the pretty dress Lucinda had purchased for her before they came here, she looked beautiful, her stick-thin body beginning to show signs of the good food she was now eating every day. ‘I promise you that no one will hurt you again, my darling. Nanny is good to you, isn’t she?’

‘Yes…but I want to be with yer…you,’ Angela corrected herself and then sucked her thumb, her eyes wide and expectant.

Lucinda pulled the thumb from her mouth and smiled. ‘You will spoil your pretty hands if you do that, dearest. Mama has to work to provide a home for you and Nanny. I shall come to you whenever I can, my darling, but you must be good for me and do as Nanny tells you.’

‘She is no trouble at all,’ Nanny said as Lucinda looked at her enquiringly. ‘Did you notice that her speech is improving already?’

‘Yes, with a few slips,’ Lucinda said and kissed her child before setting her down. Angela went off to play with some brightly coloured bricks that Nanny had given her, a relic from her mother’s childhood. ‘She will learn by our example, Nanny. I am sorry I could not return last night, but I was afraid to leave the house too late in case it was noticed.’

‘You have not told him about the child.’ Nanny shook her head in disapproval. ‘I fear you’re laying up trouble for yourself, Lucinda. When he knows you’ve deceived him he will be angry.’

‘I do not wish to hurt my husband,’ Lucinda said. ‘He was angry with me when I told him why I left that day, though he insists that our marriage must continue.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I…love him,’ Lucinda confessed, her voice breaking. ‘At least, I love the man he was when we married. He seems so harsh now, but I know that is my fault for hurting him. Nanny, it is so hard, so very hard. I love them both. How can I choose one or the other?’

‘Perhaps it would not be necessary if you told him the truth?’

‘He would not accept her—how could I expect it?’ Lucinda asked, blinking back the tears that threatened. ‘It would break my heart to leave him and yet I must see her every day—I must!’

‘Well, there is nothing to prevent you while I am able to care for her—but that may not be forever. I am nearly sixty and she will need a home until she is old enough to care for herself.’

‘In time I shall try to make other arrangements, but for now I must leave her in your care.’

‘And you may do so safely,’ Nanny promised. ‘I love her as if she were my own, just as I loved you.’

‘Yes, I know, that is why I came to you.’

‘Where is your husband now?’

‘He went to London on business. I think he hopes that a little time apart will be healing for us both. The revelation I made was a terrible shock for him.’

‘How much worse might it be if he learned that you had a child—that you had lied to him? You must be careful when you come here,’ Nanny said and looked doubtful. ‘But we shall say no more. Play with the child while you have the chance. In time she will get used to your coming and going.’

‘Yes, of course. She must. Even if she lived with me I should only be able to see her a few times a day.’

‘Children belong in the nursery until they are older. It is the way of things amongst your class, Lucinda. It is just that at the moment she is fearful that she will be taken back to that dreadful woman,’ Nanny said. ‘That will not happen while I have breath in my body. If I had my way, that woman would be thrown into prison and left there to rot—and others like her who exploit children.’

‘How fierce you are, dearest Nanny,’ Lucinda said and laughed softly. ‘I see that I do not need to worry for Angela while she has you.’

* * *

Lucinda was conscious of the housekeeper’s curious looks as she returned to the house later that day. Clearly the woman thought it strange that she had been gone for such a long time.

‘I should like some tea,’ she said. ‘It was such a lovely day that I walked farther than I knew. I will take tea in the small parlour at the back of the house, please.’

‘Yes, your Grace.’

‘Please, Mrs Mann, I would rather you called me “ma’am” or “my lady.” I am not used to such a grand title.’

‘As you wish, ma’am. I shall bring your tea at once.’ The housekeeper started to walk away, then stopped and looked back. ‘Miss Lanchester called earlier. I told her you had gone for a walk.’

‘Oh, how unfortunate,’ Lucinda said. ‘I should have liked to see her.’

‘Miss Lanchester asked if you would take tea with her this afternoon?’

‘Yes, I think I shall. I shall change my gown and you may have the carriage sent round. Please do not bother with the tea. I shall wait and take a dish with my friend.’

‘But you must be famished, ma’am. You’ve had nothing since breakfast.’

‘Oh…I took one of my breakfast rolls with me. I like to go for long walks and seldom need much in the middle of the day. You may tell Cook to give me an extra roll and biscuits in the morning—or a croissant or two. Also fruit, if we have apples or soft fruits that I may carry with me to nibble as I walk.’

‘Yes, my lady. If it is your wish.’

Clearly Mrs Mann thought it a very odd request. Ladies in Lucinda’s position did not spend hours walking about the countryside alone and they certainly did not eat in public.

Amused by the housekeeper’s ill-hidden disapproval, Lucinda went up to change for the afternoon. Angela had cried and clung to her when she left her and that had made Lucinda reluctant to leave, but Nanny told her the tears would stop as soon as she had gone.

‘Children often cry when their mothers leave them, but they soon get used to it. Angela will settle to a routine. I shall begin easy lessons soon and, as she begins to want to learn, she will not miss you so much.’

Lucinda accepted her word. Nanny had had a great deal of experience of such things. Besides, Lucinda could not spend all her time with her daughter.

Nanny had brought some books and toys with her, but she would need more as Angela grew. There must be a nursery here at Avonlea House, but as yet Lucinda had not visited it. She made up her mind that she would ask Mrs Mann about it that evening and then she would see what she could find that might be useful. All nurseries had old books and toys pushed away into cupboards; they would not be missed and she could take them to her daughter.

Feeling much better about her situation, Lucinda hurried to change into a fresh gown. She did not think she would disclose her secret to Jane just yet, though she might have done so the previous day if Jane’s brother had not arrived at the wrong moment.

Her thoughts turned to Justin and she wondered what the business was that had taken him to London. Was it important—or simply an excuse to put some distance between them?

The meeting with his lawyer took longer than expected. It was late in the afternoon when Justin left his office and began to walk towards his club. He was feeling thoughtful, reflecting on the scene with Lucinda the night before he left her. She’d looked so beautiful when he went into her bedchamber and the scent of her had made him weak with longing. He’d known a fierce desire to sweep her into his arms and make love to her. It was merely his foolish pride that had kept him from making up their quarrel instantly.

A quarrel of his making! Lucinda had not quarrelled at all. It was he that had driven a rift between them with his foolish pride. Now that he’d had leisure to reflect, he knew that she’d been placed in an intolerable position and he was angry, not with her, but himself for not being more understanding, and with all the people who had hurt her.

He understood her father’s anger when her condition became known, but if she had been raped Mr Seymour’s anger ought to have been directed at the man who had taken such foul advantage of her.

The past three days had given Justin time to come to terms with the shock and to reason things out in his mind. Lucinda had not set her cap at Justin. Indeed, she had given him no encouragement at the start, as if she felt herself unworthy or unfit for marriage. His persistence had brought her to a change of heart. While she ought to have told him the truth, he could understand her fear—especially if her heart was touched.

If she loved him, as she professed, she would have feared his rejection. Yet she ought to have known that he cared for her and would listen to her story with sympathy.

It was not her secret that had hurt him so much as her lack of trust, Justin thought. However, she had told him the truth now and he must respect her for that because…he did not wish to lose her. He was not certain why he disliked the idea of an annulment; it was not fear of scandal, though he would be loath to sully his family’s good name. No, it was more—an odd feeling that his life would become an empty wasteland if Lucinda were no longer in it. During the time she was missing he’d never allowed himself to consider his own feelings, but he’d never given up hope that she would be found.

To throw away all the good that could come from his marriage because his wife had been the victim of an evil man would be ridiculous.

He had a few more people he must speak to in town and then he would return to Avonlea. Justin could only hope that his show of temper had not alienated Lucinda altogether. He would try to save their marriage, because he did not wish for a final parting. Meanwhile, he would buy her a pretty trinket to show her that he was sorry for his show of temper.

* * *

Lucinda looked around the nursery. It was a large pleasant room that had a sunny aspect and would be warm even in winter. She thought how pleasant it would be if Nanny and Angela could live here. The cottage was well enough for the moment, but as her daughter grew she would begin to wonder why she was forced to live in a cottage while her mother lived in the big house through the woods.

Sighing, Lucinda opened the cupboard door. She had discovered a hoard of treasure in the form of books and small toys. So far she had taken a doll with a wax head, which might have been used by a dressmaker to show off her latest designs, a carved wooden horse and two picture books.

She was reaching for an abacus when a noise behind her made her aware that someone was there. She turned with a little start, feeling absurdly guilty.

‘You startled me, Mrs Mann. Did you wish to speak with me?’

‘Will you be out this morning, ma’am? Cook wondered what to do about luncheon.’

‘Oh, yes, I shall,’ Lucinda said. ‘I was just admiring the nursery. I think my husband and his siblings were fortunate children to have such a pleasant room.’

‘Yes, it is nice,’ Mrs Mann said. ‘Were you thinking of having it refurbished? I know the last lady of the house thought that Nanny’s room needed some attention.’

‘Yes, perhaps I shall,’ Lucinda said. ‘I shall speak to his Grace about it. Thank you, you may go now.’

‘I was wondering about some of the rooms in the west wing, my lady. When you have time you might wish to take a look—especially at the attics. In the old days the servants had rooms there, but they were moved to the east wing because the rooms needed repairs. His Grace’s father spoke of having them improved, but it did not happen. Some of the maids are sharing and it would be better if we could use those rooms again.’

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