Page 63 of Everything a Lady is Not
“I see your suspect behavior continues well into adulthood.”
Henry jerked around at the sound of the familiar voice to find his brother, James, not ten feet away. He cut a striking figure with his dark hair swept back from a widow’s peak and piercing blue eyes. Though Henry had avoided the man for five years, every word of judgment from earliest childhood flew back to him in a rush.
“Lord Ravensheugh.” He clipped the name more than he intended. “Why are you here?”
James’s stony brow failed to move. “To visit my beloved sister, of course.”
Despite the gulf between them, Henry could tell when his brother was lying. “Tell me and be done with it. You need not play coy with me.”
The flat line of the earl’s lips curled slightly. “Still frank. Perhaps your only redeeming quality.” He sauntered nearer, stopping an arm’s reach away. “I will respond in kind, then. I received a letter from an associate of the well-known criminal, Sir Steadman. You have heard of him?”
Perspiration immediately dotted Henry’s brow. “Who hasn’t?”
“Of course. He informed me that you had entangled yourself with a duke’s granddaughter who had participated in a highway robbery. He was bitter about the loss of a fortune and demanded one hundred pounds for my silence.”
“And you believed this man? And paid him?”
James chuckled darkly. “I did believe him, as the story fit so well with your character. However, I had him beaten and committed to a London asylum to keep him quiet for now.”
The phrase “for now” caught Henry’s attention. James clearly harbored a plan that somehow involved tormenting his inferior younger brother. “What is your intention, then?”
“I am pleased you ask. When I heard the rumors of an enormous dowry, I suspected money was your motivation. However, when I learned of the requirement of a title, it gave me pause. Thus, I could only assume that your involvement was one of simple trajectory. Your downward spiral leads in the same direction as Lady Margaret’s does.”
Henry nearly turned to walk away, but the unspoken threat of dire conditions held him. “What do you want of me?”
“Simple, really. Redemption for your miserable soul. A chance to sever your ties with your poisonous lineage and do something right, perhaps even noble, for once in your life. An opportunity to remove the blight of your existence from the Beaumont family name.”
James crossed his arms and peered down his nose at Henry, expectantly. Henry worked his jaw back and forth in debate before swallowing James’s lure. “How?”
Satisfaction painted his brother’s lips. “Push Lady Margaret and her fortune in my direction. I will fix her brokenness; tame her stubborn will. Or, you may turn her over to the Bow Street magistrate for prosecution. Either will do.”
Bile rose in Henry’s throat. “And if I choose neither?”
“Then I will send her to hang. She is nothing to me.”
James’s conditions hammered Henry. In the face of insidious logic from his familiar judge, jury, and executioner, he crumbled. His association with Lucy had put him on the wrong side of the law and on a course opposite the one that might free him from a dark destiny. His only options were to hand Lucy to his lifelong tormentor or betray her altogether. He felt his soul shattering piece by piece as he agonized over what he must do.
…
Unable to sleep, Lucy wandered away from her chamber in the west wing during the depths of night, armed with only a flickering candle. Deep in thought, she stopped and blinked upon arriving at the end of the long hallway. A nondescript door occupied the wall, and it stood ajar. She pushed carefully inside.
“Hello? Anyone?” No response. Raising the candle, she scanned the room. The tile floor was devoid of furniture short of a large cabinet against one wall. Recognition drove her toward it. She opened one of the two doors and held the candle inside. Steel glinted back.
“Swords!” she whispered. She opened the other door to reveal an array of rapiers, fencing foils, and weather-beaten swords.
“An armory,” she said aloud, “and this is a fencing room.”
“What the devil are you doing in here?”
She whirled around to face the voice, nearly losing the candle in the process. Henry stumbled backward.
“Mr. Beaumont! Why do you insist on frightening me at every turn?”
He seemed grim. “Why do you insist on wandering the house alone in the dead of night? And in your night dress?”
She pulled her dress tighter and noted with relief that Henry at least had donned breeches. “I could not sleep and simply went exploring. What is your excuse?”
“The same. It’s just…”
