Page 52 of Everything a Lady is Not
Lucy’s hurt expression melted into wary consideration. She gathered herself into a defiant posture and turned to Charlotte. “If you would be so kind as to suggest additions to my low-class repertoire, I would be most grateful.”
“Have you heard ‘And Ye Shall Walk in Silk Attire’?”
Lucy shook her head.
“‘A Toll for the Brave’? Or ‘The Lass of Richmond Hill’, perhaps? It is whispered that the latter was written for the Prince Regent’s secret wife, Mrs. Fitzherbert, and that the prince penned the music with his own hand.”
Lucy shook her head again. “I am afraid I don’t know any songs suitable for public consumption, short of those for children.”
Charlotte took Lucy’s hands in hers. “Never fear, dear. I will teach you some. What manner of song would you like to learn first?”
Lucy shifted her eyes to Henry and their gazes locked for the space of several heartbeats. He attempted to decipher the meaning of her scrutiny while simultaneously experiencing the resurgence of longing that had plagued him of late. Then she broke the connection.
“Charlotte, teach me a song that speaks of haunting loss. Of a barrier that prevents one from finding the heart’s desire.”
Henry’s heart skipped. He puzzled over the deeper meaning and wondered—no—hoped she longed for him as well, despite their utter unsuitability for each other.
“I shall teach you ‘Black-Eyed Susan’,” said Charlotte after a brief consideration. “Not only is it beloved of every class, but the song speaks of a young woman bidding farewell to her love as he goes to sea, uncertain of his return. I believe you will find it suitably…haunting.”
Lucy dipped her head. “I am your willing pupil. Do what you can to make me presentable.”
As Henry watched mesmerized, Charlotte played the pianoforte and taught Lucy the words and tune verse by verse. Lucy sang with a deep sorrow that constricted his chest with ache. As she mastered the final verse, tears filled the wells of her eyes. When she finished, Charlotte placed a hand to her chest.
“Wonderful, my dear. Simply wonderful. I have no doubt your singing will greatly appeal to the fortunate young men in attendance.”
As Lucy dipped her head in humble acknowledgment, the constriction of Henry’s chest tightened, and he knew why. His attraction to the ward of a highwayman was evidence of his tainted soul. As a result, his longing for Lucy could never be allowed to bear fruit.
…
Emotionally drained from her surprisingly fruitful foray into musical accomplishment, Lucy asked for a solitary walk about the manor grounds. After Charlotte ensured she was sufficiently sleeved and bonneted for the late afternoon sun, Lucy set off. Her thoughts turned immediately to the day’s events. Her carefully crafted plan of resisting every attempt at refinement had gone bizarrely wrong. However, she found solace rather than dread in the outcome. Charlotte was all that Henry had promised—gracious, enthusiastic, and kind. As for Henry? He had seemed awkwardly silent during her lesson. She feared he disapproved of her talents and hoped the long walk might dispel her anxiety.
“What do you expect of me, Henry Beaumont?” she said aloud to none but the breeze. “I am less than you believe but more than you know. It seems unlikely you will guess me correctly.”
“Is that so?”
Lucy shrieked and spun to find Henry astride a black horse.
“What are you doing?”
His eyebrows arched. “When I saw you walking toward the adjacent estate, I assumed you were lost. I came to correct your path.”
“My path needs no correcting,” she erupted through startled breaths. “And what disregard to ride upon a lady without prior announcement!”
His lips grew a crooked smile. “So, you are a lady now?”
She glared at him, torn over an appropriate response. She discarded several caustic retorts and instead forced a smile. “The duchess considers me so. However, you and I both know what I am.”
“And what are you, Lucy Locket?” He continued to peer down at her from his mount, one hand on his muscled thigh and the other managing the animal’s reins. With the setting sun glinting behind him, for a moment he looked like a knight of old, gallant and true. She shook her head, shaking away the vision.
“I am a pretender. I pretend to be refined. I pretend to be delicate. I pretend to be a lady, but I am none of those. The only time I do not pretend, it seems, is when we argue.”
His smile grew wider. “Perhaps that is why we argue so often.”
She looked away from him in an act of dismissal. “If you do not mind, I will finish my walk.”
He dipped his chin to her. “As you wish, my lady. I must return now to speak with Hawes before he leaves for London in the morning. As for you, do not dally. The wolves emerge at dusk.”
With that, he wheeled the horse around and rode away. She glared at him before registering his parting words. Was it not true that wolves no longer existed in England? Uncertain, she began to retrace her path, hurrying and casting glances over her shoulder as dusk fell.
