A Certain Want of Reason (31 page)

“You forget, I’ve spent enough seasons in London to have met a fair sample of ladies who consider themselves agreeable. Only I have not found any to be truly so. Or I had not, until the Adrington’s party.”

“It is you who are acting so very agreeable. To voluntarily take on the burden of caring for a family of no small difficulty. I feel I should not accept such kindness.”

“Ah, you have been listening.” He stopped and kissed her hands. “Will you please trust me, then? It is a great deal to ask, I know, as I have not given anyone much reason to trust in me.”

“There is no need for a reason.” She leaned in and gave way completely to the sincere, sparkling blue eyes. “I do trust you.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Edmund suppressed a grimace as he peered into the drawing room at Shady View. Lucia’s stepfather was indeed present among others in the room, as he had hoped, but he was engrossed in conversation with Geoffrey, which situation he had feared to find. If Geoffrey should make some untoward move, then Lucia might well have second thoughts about the prospects for their harmonious future together. But any reticence on his own part could be equally discouraging to her. So he decided to forge ahead and pray for the best.

He turned back to Lucia, who had just finished handing her cloak to one of the attendants. “Your stepfather and brother are in there. Let’s join them, shall we?” He grinned. “I have a particular question I wish to put to your stepfather.”

She bit her lip. “Are you certain?”

“More than I have ever been before.” He placed a hand on her back as he bent to brush a quick kiss against the indented lip. “You should not abuse your lips so,” he whispered.

She shivered lightly, then giggled once as she looked up at him.

He should have taken her arm for the short walk to the drawing room.

Instead, he leaned down to kiss her again, heedless of the ubiquitous attendant, the possibility of others entering the passage or the fact that her stepfather and brother might even see them if they happened to glance out the door.

None of it mattered for several long and wonderful moments.

“Ahem.”

The surroundings abruptly returned. Mr. Groves stood just behind Lucia, but in order to speak with him, Edmund first had to disentangle his fingers from her hair and the lace on the back of her gown.

“Lord Rutherford, your committee has agreed to sign papers permitting your return to London as soon we have procured the necessary physicians’ signatures, which we will do shortly.”

“Thank you. Did my committee require any…encouragement?”

“Only a quick reminder, my lord.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I am prepared to serve as witness should you—”

“Thank you, but I don’t believe that will be necessary. I believe she poses a negligible danger now, and I intend to arrange sufficient settlement to discourage any future discontent.”

The man raised an eyebrow, but replied with a perfunctory, “Very good, my lord. Shall I have your belongings prepared for departure?”

“Yes, thank you. And see if you can arrange some sort of hired conveyance to take us to London. I assume Miss Newman returned to London with the vicar in the Rutherford carriage.”

“Unfortunately, yes, my lord.”

He smiled. “No matter. It is well to let her use it one last time.”

Mr. Groves bowed and departed.

“Hmm.” Edmund sighed. “I suppose I should mention that circumstance to your stepfather.”

“Which?” Lucia asked.

“I have decided to settle a substantial portion on Jeanne. I objected to sharing my future with her, but I really have no objection to sharing the money.” He shrugged. “Perhaps in that way I can fulfill some of the promise, at least. But I must tell you, and your father, that the settlement will reduce our living somewhat, at least for a time Since I cannot give her the title, I shall give her more money than she needs.” With his money added to her own fortune, she would no doubt find a title for sale somewhere in the
ton.

“I am exceedingly glad of it, that you will help that poor young lady.”

“Poor young lady? Did you see the parting look she gave you? She’d have had you sliced and toasted for breakfast soon as not.”

Lucia giggled. “You had better stop being so silly if you are going to speak to Papa George.”

“I will not have to address him by that appellation, will I?”

She giggled again. “I expect he shall want you to call him ‘sir’.”

“Then I had better not disappoint him.”

They swept into the room at a good pace, so that they had almost reached her stepfather and Geoffrey before the two, deeply engrossed in conversation, noticed their arrival.

“Lord Rutherford, it is good to see you again.” Geoffrey reached out to shake Edmund’s hand. “You seem to be getting around much better these days. Leg well healed, I daresay? May I present my stepfather, Mr. Lewis? Papa, this is Lord Rutherford. We just concluded work together on a criminal investigation. Captured the notorious Redcloak. Who’d have ever guessed the thief would turn out to be a woman, eh? The red cloak, though, should have been a dead giveaway. Because only women wear red cloaks! Is that not prodigiously funny? Here we thought ‘he’ was being so clever, disguised in a woman’s cloak, when it was really a woman all along.”

Edmund nodded. “Very amusing, yes.”

Mr. Lewis cast a suspicious glance at his stepson before turning to address Edmund. “I am glad to hear that Geoffrey has been of…service in the investigation.”

“Oh, yes. He did a splendid job.” Edmund took a breath, hoping he was about to make the right move. “And I trust, Mr. Wright, that we can count on your help in future investigations in town?”

“Ah, no, I am sorry to say that I’ve decided to retire from investigations,” Geoffrey replied. “In fact, I’ve decided to retire permanently to the country.”

The collective sigh of relief was nearly audible as Lucia, her stepfather and Edmund glanced at one another.

“I will manage my stepfather’s estate,” Geoffrey announced with obvious pride. “I imagine that will take the better part of my time. And, of course, I shall need to see to his health and so forth, now that he is getting on in years.”

“Of course.”

Lucia looked confused. “But Papa George may not—”

“It is all arranged, Lucia,” her stepfather assured her. “I asked for Geoffrey’s help, and he graciously agreed to give it.”

“But…” Lucia glanced at Geoffrey.

“Geoffrey,” Mr. Lewis urged, “perhaps you had better go see to your things so that we can be on our way as soon as the physician signs your release.”

“Excellent idea, sir. If you will excuse me, Lord Rutherford, Lu?” Geoffrey bowed and turned all in one motion, exiting the room with great, bounding steps.

“Sir, I have a request.” Edmund spoke in haste, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he was even aware of them. “Would you do me the honor of granting your daughter’s hand in marriage?”

“I would be most pleased to do so, but it is not mine to give. Lucia is of age and it is for her alone to make such a decision. Although I gather from her appearance here that she does not object.”

“Indeed I do not, Papa.” Lucia smiled, but only for a moment before a frown darkened her face. “I do, however, have some concerns about Geoffrey and Helen. I promised Mama that I would always take care of them, and I mean to keep my promise. If you’ll forgive me for saying so, you have spent little time with them these last years and you may not realize what—”

“I do realize.” Mr. Lewis sighed. “And that is why I have kept my distance. It became so difficult to watch, you see. I only hope some day you can forgive me. That they can forgive me.”

“We’ve never seen a need to forgive, sir. Your marriage to Mama came late in our lives, and since we are not your children, we had no reason to expect your close involvement after her death.”

Mr. Lewis shook his head. “You had every reason. A man who marries a woman with children should ensure their happiness after her passing.”

“You always managed our affairs for us.” Lucia offered a smile of reassurance. “We could have no complaints.”

“You should have.” Mr. Lewis rubbed his fingers together as if they had gone numb. “I fear it is only your goodness that has kept you from thinking ill of me.”

Lucia took his hands in her own. “I am only pleased now that we are to see more of you.”

Edmund shifted impatiently. As wonderful as it was to see Lucia settle differences with her stepfather, he could not help but feel that the scope of conversation now left him out entirely, when all he wanted was an answer to the marriage question so that he could get back to London to see to his mother’s health. “Yes, well, now that you’ve settled everything, and if you have no objection to our marriage, sir, then—”

“We’ve not settled everything,” Lucia objected. “It is my responsibility to keep watch over Geoffrey, and if he moves to my stepfather’s estate—”

Mr. Lewis held up his hand. “Geoffrey is not your entire responsibility. It is I who should exercise care over him.”

Edmund suppressed a groan—this could go on for some time.

“But, sir,” Lucia protested, “we have never expected you to exercise care over children not your own. I am their own flesh and blood.”

“They are as much mine, Lucia, as yours.”

“Yes, I understand what you mean, but—”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Mr. Lewis spoke in a hushed voice so fused with meaning that Lucia let her objections fade into the air. “Geoffrey and Helen are my children, Lucia. I am their natural father. Not yours, but theirs.”

“I-I do not understand.” The blood drained from Lucia’s face and Edmund reached out to steady her. “You and Mother did not marry until we were—until I was…”

“No,” Mr. Lewis sighed, “we were not married. That is why I’ve said nothing of it all these years. But you needed to know, or at least, I felt I needed to tell you.”

“But Father was still…”

“Still alive, yes. He had been very ill for over a year when we—”

“Mama! How could she?” Lucia was growing limp in Edmund’s arms.

“You must not think any less of your mother, Lucia. It was my fault entirely. I had—had always cared for your mother so much, I…took advantage of an opportunity when I should not have. Then, when…I thought that she would surely marry me, when your father passed on.”

Lucia now looked at the floor. “But she did not.”

“No. She made me wait twelve years. It wasn’t until she feared her own health was failing that she let me step in and care for her.”

“I cannot believe all this. And yet …” She turned her gaze back up to her stepfather. “I see Geoffrey in you, or I guess it must be you I see in Geoffrey. I do not remember what Father looked like.”

“I fear the facial resemblance is not the only trait we share. There is a certain…want of reason in members of my family. My brother Fitzwilliam particularly. When I saw signs of it in Geoffrey and Helen, I-I could not bear it. And so I moved out.”

“Your family. You said this…malady runs to members of
your
family? So perhaps I am not…”

“You are as reasoned a creature as I ever beheld, Lucia. I felt quite confident leaving Geoffrey and Helen under your guidance. But that was too great a burden for you. I see that now. I do hope someday you will forgive me.”

“I do not know what to say.” Lucia grasped Edmund’s arm. “I feel as if the carpet, or the whole floor has been pulled out from under me.”

Edmund quickly led her to a chair, though despite her assertion, she seemed much stronger and steadier now than she had a few minutes earlier. “I do not think you need to say anything, except to answer my question. Will you accompany me to London to meet my mother? I hope you’ll forgive my haste, but with her delicate health I am most anxious to see her as quickly as—”

“Have I mished the wedding?” a woman’s voice croaked from the doorway.

“Possible. Good heavens! Mother!” Edmund raced to the door, where his mother stood with her weight supported by her maid, Susan, on one side and Franklin on the other. “This is…this is a miracle! Should you be out?” He glanced accusingly at the accompanying servants.

“No, sir, she should not,” Franklin agreed with the unspoken accusation. “Dr. Hamilton would be horrified.”

“He would be thrilled,” Susan objected, “to see her up and taking an interest like this.”

Edmund peered at his mother’s pale face with concern. “Well, she should not be up any longer than necessary. Let’s move her to that sofa, quickly!” He helped them carry his mother’s frail body to a sofa near the fire, then kneeled beside her.

When they had her settled and removed her cloak and mittens, she stretched forth one hand to touch her son’s cheek. “I am so pleashed,” she murmured.

“Oh, Mother, it is I who am pleased. To see you awake, and speaking, when I had heard you lay as if dead.”

“She did that, sir, long enough.” Her maid nodded. “Until Miss Newman told her you were to be married at last, sir. Miss Newman left in all haste, but my lady tried to call after her. She moved her lips like to speak, but no sound came out. After a time, she could make some sounds, only I was the only one as could understand her. We’ve been together so long, you see.” She smiled at her mistress. “She thought you were dead, and I think she didn’t want to go on living herself. Then when Miss Newman said you would be married—”