Marrying Captain Jack. Anne HerriesЧитать онлайн книгу.
a blow to the stomach, driving the breath from his body and leaving Jack feeling devastated.
Since receiving that mysterious letter, he had made some inquiries and what he had discovered had led him to believe that David might have fallen in with an evil crowd of sharks and heavy gamblers. If they had tried to cheat him of his fortune, David would not have taken it without a fight, and he now believed that perhaps the gamblers had killed him and dumped his body on the Heath. Collingwood was certainly one of the men David had been gambling with in the weeks immediately before his death, though there was no proof yet that he had had anything to do with his murder. The official view was still that David had been set upon by a highwayman on the Heath and robbed.
Jack frowned, for it made him angry to think that his friend might have been murdered over a card game—and yet was that the real reason? Jack was uncertain. He was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery somehow for he could not rest until he knew the truth. Even here, amongst his friends, he was uneasy, for something was nagging at him, something that made him think that there was more to this affair than he yet guessed, though he could not say why. If Jack was right, it had something to do with an entirely different matter, which meant the tale about a quarrel over gambling was merely a blind.
Oh, damn it! There was nothing he could do for the moment. He had come here to enjoy himself with his friends, and this other business could wait until he returned to London.
A smile flickered about his mouth as he thought of young Lucy Horne once more. In another life, before he had become disillusioned and hardened, he might have found her irresistible, but that time was long past. He knew that he owed it to his family to marry one day, but when he did he would choose an older woman, perhaps a widow who had no great expectations. He needed an heir, but he had become accustomed to being single and did not imagine a life of domestic bliss would suit him. He had a mistress, whom he visited when he felt the need, which was not often, for he had been too busy to indulge himself in the pleasures of life. As for marriage, he had not given it a thought until recently. Even now, it was something that he saw as being a long way off. His experience of personal relationships had not been encouraging and he rather thought that he was better off single, even if at times he was conscious of a great gap in his life. And marriage to a gentle, sweet girl was out of the question! He was mad even to think about it. Charming as she undoubtedly was, Miss Horne was not for him.
Dismissing Lucy from his mind, he walked along the upper landing to his own bedchamber. He would stay three days, as he had promised Marianne and Drew, but then he would return to London and the pursuit of the man who he believed responsible for David’s death.
Lucy was up early. She had slept for a while after returning to bed, but the sunshine pouring in at her open window called to her and she knew that she could go for a walk before anyone else was stirring.
She walked as far as the lake, which lay glistening in the early morning sunshine, entirely tempting and mysterious. There was a little island in the middle of the lake, and a temple that looked like something out of a fairytale. Lucy looked at it longingly, for she would have liked to visit it to explore, though of course it was only small and she doubted there were any secrets. However, in her mind the summerhouse was a palace where a sleeping prince lay waiting to be awakened after the wicked witch had cast a spell on him.
Had there been a rowing boat nearby, Lucy might have been tempted to try and row herself out there. But the boats were kept in the boathouse for safety’s sake and she did not wish to disturb anyone this early in the morning, because the servants would be busy with their work. She sighed and turned, intending to return to the house, only to discover that Lord Harcourt was standing a little way behind her. He was staring at the lake, apparently lost in thought.
She breathed deeply and then took a few steps towards him. ‘Good morning, sir. I think it will be very warm today. Just right for a trip to the island, do you not think?’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Jack replied, focusing on her. ‘The water looks tempting—especially if it becomes hot later. At home I should probably go for a swim on a day such as this promises to be.’
‘It would be delightful,’ Lucy said. ‘I have sometimes bathed in the cove at home, though I do not swim—but I like to splash in the shallows.’ She gave him a shy smile. ‘The island looks as if it might be enchanted, do you not think so? Perhaps there is a sleeping prince—or princess—waiting to be woken from slumber?’
‘Ridiculous child,’ Jack said in an indulgent tone. ‘I can see that you have read too many fairy stories, Miss Horne. I fear that you will discover life is very different. Are you sure you are eighteen? Your mama should think twice before taking you into London society—I think you are too innocent to mix with the rogues you may find there.’
‘I know that life can be sad as well as happy,’ Lucy replied, lifting her head proudly, because his tone stung her. ‘I have helped out with various events to alleviate the condition of the poor—not only of this country, but others abroad. Papa taught us to think of people less fortunate than ourselves, and I am not ignorant of the evils of poverty.’
‘I was not thinking of the plight of the poor,’ Jack said. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her exactly what he did mean, but he held back. He ought not to be the one to disillusion her. Her mama would no doubt warn her of the kind of men who led young innocents astray. ‘But it is to your credit that you do, Miss Horne.’ He smiled at her, his mood relenting. ‘Come, let us walk back to the house. I believe your sister Mrs Beverley has written some stories for children, has she not?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lucy said, giving him an enchanting smile. ‘She wrote them for me, you know, because I had always loved fairy stories—but Hal had them published for her as a wedding gift. She has written a few more, I believe, but she does not have much time these days, for they are always so busy entertaining their friends.’
‘Yes, I dare say.’ Jack nodded. ‘I understand there is to be a ball tomorrow evening? Shall you be there?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Lucy said, her lovely eyes glowing. ‘Marianne arranged it because she said it would be good for me to attend my first real dance at her home. I have danced at the homes of my friends, of course, but this is my first ball.’
‘Then you must be looking forward to it?’ Jack was caught despite himself. She was a lovely girl, very young and naïve, of course, but with a pleasing manner. ‘Tell me, what colour is your gown—or is that a secret?’
Lucy blushed as she saw the teasing look in his eyes. He seemed very much more approachable this morning, and she was reminded of the man who had attended her sister’s wedding. He had seemed to be more carefree then and it made her wonder what had changed him, for something had—and it had taken the devil-may-care look from his eyes.
‘It is white with silver spangles,’ she said. ‘And Mama has loaned me her pearls, though I have a pretty pearl-and-diamond bangle of my own that Drew gave me for my birthday.’
‘Yes, charming,’ Jack said, making a note to send her a posy of white flowers—or perhaps pink ones tied with white ribbons. ‘Well, Miss Horne, I think we should join the others for breakfast, don’t you?’
Lucy nodded, feeling shy again. She usually waited until her mama came down to take breakfast, but did not wish to tell him that. After all, how difficult could it be to join the other early risers and talk in an easy and companionable way? She lifted her head, determined that she would give no indication that she was nervous, even if her mama and sisters had not yet come down.
Chapter Two
Lucy felt pleased with herself as she went upstairs a little later that morning. Far from feeling out of place, she had enjoyed being fussed over by the gentlemen who had come down early to take breakfast. She had not been allowed to help herself, but was waited on by one elderly gentleman who called her ‘my pretty’ and piled her plate with tempting morsels from the chafing dishes. Another had filled her tiny cup with coffee and yet another had set her chair.
She had thoroughly