Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(73)

Henry stood. “Lucy, I’m glad you’re here. Come in, take a seat.”

She shook her head, smoothing the skirt of her gown. “I’ll get wrinkled.”

“Suit yourself.” Henry shrugged and dropped back into his chair. “But you needn’t be concerned about the dress. I’ve just been explaining to Jem that I’m going to do you both a favor and put an end to this farce right now.”

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked. “What farce?”

“This!” Henry gestured toward them both. “This engagement! This wedding!”

Lucy threw Jeremy a stunned glance. Jeremy cleared his throat. “Henry, I don’t think—”

Henry waved off his objection. “I’ve thought it all through. No one even knows you’re engaged, but the eight of us. Felix and Toby can keep their ladies quiet, I think. Lucy’s reputation needn’t suffer. I’ll take her to Town in the spring, and she’ll have her Season. You’ll both be free to marry when and where you choose. Everyone’s happy.”

Happy? Was the man daft? Jeremy couldn’t quite name the sick feeling rising in his chest, but he felt tolerably certain it wasn’t happiness. “Henry, listen. I’ve no intention of crying off. I’m going to marry Lucy. I have an obligation to her, and to you.”

Henry scowled. “Leave off with the nobility, will you? I know that ridiculous letter wasn’t yours.” He rose from his chair and rounded the desk, making the apex of their small triangle. His voice softened. “Jem, you’re my best friend. Lucy, you’re my only sister. I know each of you better than anyone else does, I’d wager. And I know you’d drive each other utterly mad.”

Lucy’s expression went from stunned to outraged. “Henry … I can’t imagine what you mean.”

“Of course you can! You’ve been sniping at each other for eight autumns now. Do you expect me to believe that would suddenly change?” Henry took a step toward his sister and lowered his voice. “And if Jem will forgive me for saying it, Lucy—all these years, you’ve been sniping at his amiable side. You think he’s overly sober here at Waltham Manor? That’s your future husband onholiday . Here, he’s a bit cold. The rest of the year, he’s a veritable glacier.” He cast a withering look in Jeremy’s direction. “There’s more to him than you know, Lucy.”

It was a true enough statement. True enough that Jeremy wasn’t at all certain how to reply. He just stood there, frozen, waiting for Lucy’s response.

Her brow wrinkled as she shifted her gaze back and forth between them. “I’m certain there is,” she said. “And I’m equally certain there’s more to me than he knows. What confuses me, Henry, is how that concernsyou.”

Henry strode back to his desk. “Damn it, Lucy, of course it concerns me. Don’t you realize that most men would jump at the chance to marry their sister off to an earl? I’m trying to do what’s best for you.”

And that was the crack that broke the ice.

Jeremy gave a harsh laugh. “Well, that would be a novelty. Come on, Henry. You’ve never done what’s best for her. You ought to have sent her to school, taken her to Town, given her exposure to culture and society. She’s years overdue for her debut. And now you claim to know what’s best for her?” He walked to Lucy’s side and laid his hand on the small of her back. It was vital, somehow, to touch her that instant. Claim her. He fancied she leaned against his hand slightly.

“Lucy has never had the opportunities or security she should have had,” Jeremy continued. “I can provide for her. I can take care of her.”

Lucy bristled away from his touch. “Who says I need anyone to take care of me?”

Henry ignored his sister, keeping his steely glare locked on Jeremy. “Oh, yes. You have money. Is that what you’re saying? You don’t need to remind me that you could buy and sell Waltham Manor with the spare change under your barouche seat cushions. And any other lady would be thrilled to attach herself to your bank account. But this is Lucy we’re discussing. She doesn’t care about jewels or silks or luxuries.”

“How would you know?” Jeremy demanded. “You’ve never offered her any luxuries. Perhaps she’d like to go about dripping in jewels. Perhaps she’d enjoy the life of a countess.”

“Oh, would she?” Henry turned to his sister, a wry smile spreading across his face. “Do you really want to be a countess, Lucy? Think about it carefully. A countess can’t spend all afternoon climbing trees in the orchards. A countess can’t take the hounds out for a romp and come back with muddied skirts. A countess doesn’t go fishing.”

Lucy frowned. “I should think a countess can do as she pleases.” She looked to Jeremy. “Can’t she?”

Jeremy sighed. This wasn’t the best time or place to have this conversation, but he supposed it would have to happen eventually. “No, Lucy. Henry is right. Corbinsdale is … well, it’s not Waltham Manor. You can’t behave there the way you’re accustomed to behaving here.”

“What do you mean?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not?”

Jeremy’s hands flexed at his sides as he groped for the best way to explain. Marrying her meant taking her into his protection. Not just providing for her materially, or rescuing her from weeks of watching Toby fawn over Sophia—he meant to keep her physically safe. He still hadn’t recovered from watching her trip a measly snare three days ago, let alone that breakneck ride through the orchard or her bath in the river. The thought of Lucy set loose on Corbinsdale land, with all those bluffs and boulders, not to mention the tenants … well, Jeremy couldn’t think it. It was unthinkable.