prominent display.
C HAPTER T EN
W hen Lucy awoke the following morning, she took more care than usual in getting dressed. Her amicable conversation with William the night before had given her a sense of comfortable companionship, renewing her hope that he might still warm to her—especially if she allowed herself to open up a little. With this in mind, she had confided in him her reason for insisting they marry at Grosvenor Chapel. Her parents had married there, and with both of them gone from her life, she’d hoped to bring them a little bit closer in spirit. William had held silent as she’d spoken, his eyes growing soft with sympathy. He hadn’t said much in response—just a simple, “I’m sorry.”
Donning a pale green muslin gown, Lucy asked her maid to fetch her cream-colored shawl, for although it promised to be a warm day, she didn’t want to catch a chill if she happened to find herself in the shade.
Regarding her appearance with a critical eye, she wondered if William might find her appealing. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of it, and she secretly hoped that he would. It had never before occurred to her to try to win a man’s affection, and she’d certainly never considered that she’d have to make a deliberate effort to do so with her own husband. He had every reason to be annoyed with her, yet last night it was almost as if he’d enjoyed her company.
Consequently, she’d spent a great deal of time later on in her bed, before falling asleep, considering how to tell William about her past. She wanted to trust him, but she also knew that men often felt they knew best when it came to matters of danger and gravity. If he knew what her real motivation was for wanting to go to Constantinople, she feared he’d insist that she remain at home where she’d be safe and try to put the entire matter behind her. Or, even worse, word would get out that the Earl of Hampstead’s daughter had resurfaced, and the man who’d killed her parents would seek her out and kill her too.
She felt her hands begin to shake at the thought of it. No, she couldn’t continue to live in such fear, forever looking over her shoulder. Besides, she needed the closure that the death of the assassin would offer. She only hoped that William wouldn’t be too furious once he discovered that she’d chosen to deceive him even further. Of course, there was still the possibility that he’d have their marriage annulled when he learned the truth, for as he’d said, fraud would make for a valid reason, and she had lied about her family name. It wasn’t Blackwell but rather Etheredge.
With a heavy sigh, she took one last glance at her own reflection to ascertain that she looked her best and then grabbed her straw bonnet and headed for the door.
“Would you care for a cup of tea?” Lady Lindhurst asked as Lucy took her seat at the table in the dining room. Only the women remained, the men having apparently finished their meal already and departed for the stables.
“Yes, thank you,” Lucy replied, raising her cup and allowing William’s aunt to pour.
“I must say that you do look particularly lovely today.”
The comment came from Alexandra and held no sense of mockery or sarcasm to it as Lucy might have expected a compliment from her to do. Instead, it seemed as if she’d given her honest opinion, which led Lucy to believe that William must have had a word with her. It unnerved her that Alexandra had so bluntly addressed the issue of her marriage to William the previous evening, but if she wished to make an attempt at amends, then it would be rather badly done on Lucy’s part to ignore the olive branch she’d just been handed, so she hastily shot her sister-in-law a smile. “As do you. I especially love that shade of blue on you. It goes so well with your complexion and really brings out the color of your eyes.”
“And I do so adore the color of your hair,” Mary added from the other end of the table,
C HAPTER T EN
W hen Lucy awoke the following morning, she took more care than usual in getting dressed. Her amicable conversation with William the night before had given her a sense of comfortable companionship, renewing her hope that he might still warm to her—especially if she allowed herself to open up a little. With this in mind, she had confided in him her reason for insisting they marry at Grosvenor Chapel. Her parents had married there, and with both of them gone from her life, she’d hoped to bring them a little bit closer in spirit. William had held silent as she’d spoken, his eyes growing soft with sympathy. He hadn’t said much in response—just a simple, “I’m sorry.”
Donning a pale green muslin gown, Lucy asked her maid to fetch her cream-colored shawl, for although it promised to be a warm day, she didn’t want to catch a chill if she happened to find herself in the shade.
Regarding her appearance with a critical eye, she wondered if William might find her appealing. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of it, and she secretly hoped that he would. It had never before occurred to her to try to win a man’s affection, and she’d certainly never considered that she’d have to make a deliberate effort to do so with her own husband. He had every reason to be annoyed with her, yet last night it was almost as if he’d enjoyed her company.
Consequently, she’d spent a great deal of time later on in her bed, before falling asleep, considering how to tell William about her past. She wanted to trust him, but she also knew that men often felt they knew best when it came to matters of danger and gravity. If he knew what her real motivation was for wanting to go to Constantinople, she feared he’d insist that she remain at home where she’d be safe and try to put the entire matter behind her. Or, even worse, word would get out that the Earl of Hampstead’s daughter had resurfaced, and the man who’d killed her parents would seek her out and kill her too.
She felt her hands begin to shake at the thought of it. No, she couldn’t continue to live in such fear, forever looking over her shoulder. Besides, she needed the closure that the death of the assassin would offer. She only hoped that William wouldn’t be too furious once he discovered that she’d chosen to deceive him even further. Of course, there was still the possibility that he’d have their marriage annulled when he learned the truth, for as he’d said, fraud would make for a valid reason, and she had lied about her family name. It wasn’t Blackwell but rather Etheredge.
With a heavy sigh, she took one last glance at her own reflection to ascertain that she looked her best and then grabbed her straw bonnet and headed for the door.
“Would you care for a cup of tea?” Lady Lindhurst asked as Lucy took her seat at the table in the dining room. Only the women remained, the men having apparently finished their meal already and departed for the stables.
“Yes, thank you,” Lucy replied, raising her cup and allowing William’s aunt to pour.
“I must say that you do look particularly lovely today.”
The comment came from Alexandra and held no sense of mockery or sarcasm to it as Lucy might have expected a compliment from her to do. Instead, it seemed as if she’d given her honest opinion, which led Lucy to believe that William must have had a word with her. It unnerved her that Alexandra had so bluntly addressed the issue of her marriage to William the previous evening, but if she wished to make an attempt at amends, then it would be rather badly done on Lucy’s part to ignore the olive branch she’d just been handed, so she hastily shot her sister-in-law a smile. “As do you. I especially love that shade of blue on you. It goes so well with your complexion and really brings out the color of your eyes.”
“And I do so adore the color of your hair,” Mary added from the other end of the table,
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