Page 12 of The Scoundrel's Daughter
As the elder, Alice needed to take the lead, because if this scheme were to work, she needed to establish a relationship with Lucy that was, at the very least, civil and cooperative.
Luncheon was a simple meal of clear soup, bread and butter, sliced ham and a green salad. After grace, they drank the soup in silence. Then as they were buttering bread and serving themselves ham and salad, Alice spoke. “Are you happy with your room, Lucy?”
Lucy nodded and continued buttering her bread.
“My maid, Mary, will come after lunch and to unpack for y—”
“I said, I don’t need her. I’ll unpack my own things.”
Alice blinked at the abrupt declaration, but all she said was, “Very well.”
For the next few minutes they addressed themselves to the meal.
“You’re not his usual type.”
The comment out of the blue startled Alice. “I beg your pardon?”
“I wouldn’t have picked you as one of Papa’s fancy women.”
One of his fancy women?Alice stiffened. “Are you implying that there is something—something personal—between your father and me? Because if so, you are quite, quite wrong.”
Lucy quirked a cynical brow. “Really?”
“Yes, really! I met him for the first time yesterday.”
The girl narrowed her eyes. “You never met him before that?”
“Never. I hadn’t even heard of him.”
“Then why . . ?”
“Why did I agree to take you into my home and sponsor your come-out?” It was a fair question and not unexpected.
Lucy nodded. “And go through that—that stupid godmother rigmarole. Mama had me baptized when I was a baby.”
A trickle of relief ran down Alice’s spine. So the girl didn’t know the sordid details of the arrangement her father had made with Alice. “It’s business.”
“So you’re doing it for money.” It wasn’t a question.
Alice nodded, hoping she looked convincing. Money played no part in why she’d agreed to this mad scheme, but shewasaccepting money from Bamber to cover the costs. But the less Lucy knew about the arrangement, the better.
At least the girl was talking now.
She tried for some more pleasant conversation. “Where do you come from, Lucy?” The more she knew about her background, the easier it would be to introduce her.
Lucy poked at her salad. “Nowhere.”
“What do you mean ‘nowhere’?” Everyone came from somewhere.
Apparently uninterested, the girl lifted a shoulder.
Alice persisted. “Well, where were you living before your father brought you to me?”
“With another woman, a Frenchwoman in Sussex.” Her tone was world-weary.
“And this woman was your father’s...” Alice paused delicately.
“No. She wasn’t one of his mistresses. She was old.” She glanced at Alice. “Much older than you.”
