Page 13 of The Tempting of a Devilish Lord

Because, chances were, if he met with Lucy again, he’d be mightily tempted to break every promise he had made to his mother.

∞∞∞

“I HEARD THERE’S ahugearmory in Eastwick Hall. We should go and see it.”

Lucinda shook her head vigorously at Mary-Anne. “We have only been invited to see the gardens.”

And Lucinda did not much blame the housekeeper for not offering them a tour of the house. Since their arrival in Langmere, more and more ladies had flocked there, filling up every inn, boarding house, and spare room in the modest town. By her count, at least twenty of them were touring the gardens today and she imagined there had been many more requests to visit the house. The housekeeper likely had much better things to do than lead a crowd of nosy, chattering women about the house.

“We should ask at least. I read it’s one of the biggest collections in the country.” Mary-Anne paused to run a finger along the petal of a bright pink rose. “Much more interesting than boring old gardens.”

“This is a beautiful garden,” Lucinda said primly.

“But not nearly as exciting as medieval armory and swords,” her sister declared. “Just think how many men those swords have likely run through.”

“How did you know about the collection anyway?”

“I can read, you know, and you, dear sister, have a vast collection of books on the medieval period.” She gave a smug smile. “I found one on the area in your room.”

Lucinda pursed her lips. “I would really rather you did not go into my room. Nor read those books. Some are quite gruesome and unsuitable for a young lady.”

“Then why do you own them?”

“Well, I—” Lucinda waved a hand. “I’m not that young. Besides, I would like some privacy please.” Lucinda hastened a few steps to catch up with the group of women. Their mother strolled alongside Mrs. Barker and Lady Nottingham quite a way ahead, leaving Lucinda to look after Mary-Anne.

Mary-Anne scurried to her side. “Why do you need privacy? You do not have secrets after all unless you count those boring letters from Bernie.”

Bernie. Lucinda sighed. She really ought to write him a letter. She’d owed him one for a few weeks. The trouble was, she struggled to know what to write to him. She did not do many interesting things and he never seemed to ask any questions, so she was forced to rabbit on about nothing in particular.

“Bernie is not boring,” Lucinda said.

In truth, she suspected she was the boring one. She never used to be but what else could she do? She had caused so many problems when she was younger that being boring seemed the preferable path.

“He is dull and boring and shall never propose.”

“He will someday. We are in no rush.”

“I hope he never does.”

Lucinda almost let slip an agreement. Bernie had shown interest since she turned twenty. At least, everyone assumed it was interest. He had never gone so far as to declare anything properly, but her family approved of him, he was fairly attractiveandhe was the sensible sort. Excellent husband material really. He would never flirt or cause scandal or break her heart.

The trouble was, she was not getting any younger and he still had yet to announce any proper intentions toward her.

The other trouble was she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

Her mind skipped to the man who had rescued her and his warm eyes, charming grin and hideously appealing arms. A man like Bernie paled in comparison to him.

She shook the thought away. A man like the stranger would hurt her, break her heart. Probably ruin her too. She’d met too many like him and she knew exactly how rakes like him behaved. No, it was far safer to continue this non-courtship with Bernie.

“You know—” She paused and peered around the gardens. “Mary-Anne?” She twisted, looking toward the trees that ran alongside the path. “Mary-Anne?”

Curses. How had she slipped away without her noticing? Blast that stranger. He had let her get all tangled up inside for no reason at all. She had only seen the man for a matter of minutes and would likely never see him again. How could he have her so preoccupied?

“Mary-Anne?” she tried again, peering into the shadows between the trees for any sign of her. The gap between her and the rest of the women widened, and Lucinda blew out a breath. She knew precisely where her sister had gone.

Why oh why could she not, for once in her life, behave?

Pivoting on her heel, Lucinda marched back the way they had come, following a path alongside a huge lake. Scattered along the path were stone benches and the occasional statue. Even a temple could be seen from here on the opposite side of the lake. The gardens were elegant, simple and most likely came at a huge cost. However, she had little time to appreciate them. Not when her sister was likely stealing into a house in which she had not been invited.

---