Secrets of Lady Lucy Read online

  Secrets of Lady Lucy

  Agents of the Home Office

  Rachel Ann Smith

  Secrets of Lady Lucy is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals are entirely coincidental.

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  First Edition September 2019

  Edited by Victory Editing

  Proofread by Gray Plume Editing

  Cover design by Impluvium Studios

  Copyright © 2019 by Rachel Ann Smith

  Excerpt from Mysteries of Lady Theodora copyright © 2019 by Rachel Ann Smith

  ISBN: 978-1-951112-01-1

  For Darren - my IRL hero

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Read on for an excerpt from Mysteries of Lady Theodora

  Mysteries of Lady Theo

  Also by Rachel Ann Smith

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Lucy!”

  Lady Lucille Stanford’s best friend whispered harshly at the open door.

  Lucy pressed herself deeper into the desk cavity. Blast, she had nearly been found out. She hurriedly folded and tucked the unread parchment in her hand under her garter.

  “Lucy, are you in here?” Muffled steps on the plush carpet came closer.

  “Lady Lucille Stanford, come out from under the desk, now!”

  Lady Grace Oldridge’s tone did nothing to alleviate Lucy’s frustration at having been discovered. She smoothed out her gown and slowly rolled to her full height, all five feet two inches. “Grace, please don’t be mad. I just needed a little time to myself.”

  Despite having successfully kept her unusual activities and investigations a secret during her first Season, Lucy was finding it increasingly difficult in her second now that her twin brother Matthew, Marquess Harrington, was intent on finding her a husband.

  At two and twenty, Lucy was practically on the shelf—and far too old for this to be merely her second Season. If she had her way, she would have had none. After losing James, for years she had successfully avoided all of it—the Season, a husband. But Matthew was no longer amenable to her resistance to marriage. The only advantage of being in Town among the ton was her ability to access resources that facilitated what she now considered her true avocation.

  Engulfed in a reassuring hug from Grace, Lucy was struck with guilt—which swiftly evaporated as she caught sight of Grace’s fierce expression. “You scared us all to death when we couldn’t find you in your usual hiding spots. I thought someone had… Well, never mind. We need to go back to the ballroom. I’m certain your brother is about to have an apoplexy.”

  “Must we go back? I’ve already danced with all the gentlemen Matthew coerced into asking me, and I’m no good at simpering or making idle conversation.”

  Lucy mentally pictured each of the suitors Matthew had deemed eligible. They totaled eight, doubled from last Season. Admittedly, all were rather dashing in their own way, but none had even come close to affecting her as James had.

  Grace tried bargaining, as if she sensed Lucy was at her limit. “Perhaps we could convince Matthew to leave after the supper dance if you were to participate.”

  Lucy nodded and allowed Grace to pull her back into the overcrowded ballroom. She blindly followed her friend, both pushing their way through the glittering sea of ladies in silk and men in their black evening attire. With each step, Lucy mentally admonished herself for letting Grace yet again convince her to attend the Duke of Fairmont’s annual ball.

  The terrace doors were open on the opposite side of the room, and Lucy clasped her hands tightly, eyeing the doorway. The temptation of the night air was so alluring, yet she stood stock-still next to Grace, awaiting Matthew’s arrival, confident that her brother would impart another long lecture on how Lucy was to remain in sight at all times and needed to focus on finding a suitable gentleman to marry.

  Grace turned to acknowledge an acquaintance Lucy did not recognize. The movement caused Lucy’s skirts to shift and the edge of the missive she’d secreted to graze against her leg. How to escape and gain a moment of peace to read the note? No matter how tempting the gardens sounded, they would not do. She needed adequate lighting. Lucy let out a slow, deep sigh and mumbled to herself, “Endure the endless balls and whatever other social events Grace wishes to attend. Eventually, my thickheaded brother will realize she is perfect for him.”

  Grace’s piercing gaze returned to her. The look rivaled the ones Lucy’s mama used to give her as a child whenever she was caught playing a trick on her brother. Lucy gave her friend a sheepish smile. Had she spoken too loudly? She really must cease the habit of talking to herself in moments of frustration.

  Looking past Grace, she spied Matthew approaching. How was it that he slipped through the crowd with ease while she had to sidestep and perform pirouettes to ensure she was not trod upon? If only she had been blessed with a few extra inches.

  Matthew nodded to acquaintances along the way but skillfully avoided being drawn into a conversation. Thus he was upon them in admirably quick order.

  “Lady Grace, thank God you found her.”

  Lucy’s admiration soured on being ignored and she rolled her eyes. “Grace suggested that we could all leave right after supper if I participate in the supper dance. Find me a partner, and I will happily oblige.”

  Matthew raised an eyebrow at her declaration. Despite his being the patriarch of the family, she was still older by six minutes. In this instance, being the older twin did not hold any weight. Lucy braced herself as her brother squared his shoulders and loomed over her. He was a full twelve inches taller, peering down on her. “I believe I’ve already assisted you this evening with dance partners—eight, to be exact. If you so desperately wish to leave, you will have to find your own dance partner.”

  “Matthew, really?” Lucy couldn’t believe Matthew refused to help her. He had never denied any of her requests in the past. In fact, he was generally rather accommodating and often allowed her much freedom, which meant she was able to conduct her clandestine activities without his knowledge.

  “I believe you heard me clearly, dear sister.” Matthew calmly walked away to join a group of friends.

  Her hands started to sweat in her gloves. Her heart rate increased at the prospect of having not only to dance again but also at the idea of trying to tempt a ge
ntleman into approaching her. Could she even attract the attention of one?

  She took a deep breath. Who would introduce her? Why was she short of breath? She was surrounded by women and men flirting with one another. If she could master the art of disguise, how hard could the task of luring a man to her side be? She needed to quickly develop the skills to take advantage of her full figure. She had seen many a barmaid employ their wiles to gain favors. She peeked at her own décolletage and began to calculate her odds of success.

  The only gentlemen she had been properly introduced to were in Matthew’s set of friends, all with whom she had already danced. To do so a second time would provide gossip or, worse, imply an intimacy she adamantly wanted to avoid. Her shoulders, which she’d been trying to hold straight, now rolled forward as she exhaled. Rudimentary calculations led her to conclude leaving the ball early was an impossibility.

  Lucy turned to Grace for support and raised her brows. What am I to do?

  Grace lifted her chin and declared with confidence. “I’m sure we will be able to find someone suitable. Stop worrying.”

  Unlikely. James was gone, and the idea of meeting a gentleman who might affect Lucy as James once had caused her heart to race. She scanned the crowd; her gaze flew past a pack of young lords who were known fortune hunters and fell upon a group of gentlemen seeking new wives, all of whom at least twice her age.

  Appallingly, the Marquess of Markinson filled her vision. The man was a renowned rake and notorious flirt. Lucy averted her eyes, having no wish to be entangled in a scandal that would have her superiors questioning her judgment.

  Grace stiffened beside her. Lucy scanned the perimeter and followed her friend’s line of sight, only to see Matthew chatting with this Season’s diamond of the first water. Lady Arabelle was the younger sister of the Earl of Hereford, who happened to be on Matthew’s list of eligible suitors. Glancing from the corner of her eye, Lucy caught Grace throwing daggers at Matthew with a hard stare. Meanwhile, her twin was pretending to ignore the evil glare.

  Slightly amused at the interplay, Lucy predicted Matthew’s next move would be to try to evoke an inappropriate response from her usually calm, reserved friend. Another sharp intake of Grace’s breath drew Lucy’s attention back to her brother, who leaned in closer and carried on feigned interest in the debutante. Lucy had seen that mischievous look in his eyes many a time. He winked at Grace just before she looked away.

  Lucy drew Grace away from needless agony and back to the matter at hand. “Matthew has tasked me with the impossible. I hate making small talk. In fact, I don’t even like to converse with Matthew’s friends. I really do wish we could leave.”

  A fresh breeze filtered in from the garden, redoubling Lucy’s desire to escape. Her gaze locked on to the terrace doors. As she formulated her plan to flee, a warm breath on the back of her neck caused her whole body to stiffen. How had she let someone sneak up on her? And who would be bold enough to stand so inappropriately close? But rather than alarm coursing through her, a strong current of energy and heat spread throughout her body.

  Grace’s gaze left Matthew, and her eyes twinkled as she mumbled something about a man being the answer to their prayers. Who had Grace sighted behind her? If she was acquainted with the man, why did she not greet him? Grace leaned in and whispered, “I have a plan—remain here while I find Matthew.”

  The stranger bent to speak close to her ear in a deep baritone voice. “It’s stifling in here.”

  Who dared to address her so intimately? Lucy turned, only to face a starched white shirt. The man was a giant. He had to be over a foot taller than herself. To hazard a guess, she would put him at six foot three, at least.

  Lucy was forced to take a step back to see his face, but only met with his nose. She had to raise her chin so she could look into his eyes. Deep emerald green with shards of gray stared back at her. Slightly stunned by his intensity, she remained mute. Surely she had never met the man standing before her—how could she have forgotten those mesmerizing eyes?

  She took another step back, placing distance between them, but his gaze kept her captive. There was a sense of familiarity about him that Lucy could not quite place. “Have we been introduced, sir?”

  “It is a shame you do not remember me, Lady Lucy. I would recognize you anywhere.”

  Lucy had excellent recall, and she did not appreciate the insult. She turned to leave but hastily changed her mind. “Well, you have me at an advantage, Mister…”

  The man had the audacity to smile down at her. Lucy so wished she could raise one eyebrow as effectively as her twin to convey a challenge. Instead, she was reduced to giving the man a hard stare. The devilish smile she received was not the response she was expecting.

  “Would you care to go out onto the terrace to get some air?”

  Why had this stranger made such a shocking suggestion? Lucy took inventory of her inadvertent reactions to the man looming over her. Accelerated heart rate, heat radiating from her cheeks, and an increased level of curiosity. Lucy could never walk away from a puzzle, and he was no exception.

  Gone was the resounding feeling of boredom that frequently plagued her when in the company of the opposite sex. Replacing it was piqued curiosity, and now she wondered if this man had some special talent and could read minds. That he seemed to know her thoughts was confounding. He had been standing behind her as she looked at the terrace doors. He couldn’t have seen the longing to be outside in her expression.

  To deflect his attention, Lucy lied. “No, I’m currently looking for someone.”

  “Oh, who might that be? I might be of assistance.” His height allowed him to see over the majority of the heads. Lucy observed him as he made a point to glance out at the crowd. A strange notion crossed her mind that had she honestly been searching for someone, he would do all that was possible to aid her.

  Unaccustomed to the strange feelings this man evoked within her, Lucy pushed her shoulders back, raised her chin, and declared, “No one of your acquaintance, I’m sure.”

  Did he flinch at her statement? Surely not. But as her gaze fell upon his features, the man’s eyes betrayed a deep hurt only to be rapidly replaced with a dullness that masked his true feelings. Calmly he replied, “You might be right. I only returned to London a fortnight ago. But perhaps you could describe the individual for me.” His tone and words made Lucy question what she had seen in the depth of his eyes moments before.

  She had no choice but to continue with the lie. “He is about so in height.” She pointed above her head but just under his chin, then added, “He has brown hair, and I believe he is wearing a black jacket this evening.”

  A slightly rusty-sounding chuckle escaped his lips before he covered it with a cough and said, “My sweet, you have just described eighty percent of the men in attendance tonight.”

  Surprised by his intimate address, she gaped at him before she found her composure. “Well, I’ll be off to join my friends then. Good evening, sir.”

  Before Lucy managed a step, he placed a hand on her elbow and said, “Please don’t run off. Allow me to escort you to your brother. Or, if you prefer, to one of his friends.”

  This stranger knew Matthew and his set? If he was acquainted with her twin, why was she not able to place him? Lucy pointedly stared at his hand. When her gaze returned to his, she was startled to find a twinkle of mischief in his mesmerizing green eyes.

  Flustered, Lucy said, “That, sir, would be highly inappropriate, since I don’t even know your name.”

  Chapter Two

  The fire in Lucy’s eyes made Blake want to bend down and kiss her senseless. He had recognized her right away. Her name always of mind. Though Lucy’s hair had darkened since he last saw her—it was now a beautiful golden blond with honey-toned strands—her gray-blue eyes, set perfectly in her heart-shaped face, were as spectacular as he remembered. It still astounded him that while Harrington was of similar height to himself, Lucy was pixie-sized.

  Perplex
ed by the sight of a demure young lady reentering the ballroom and submissively standing by the beauty her brother had blatantly taunted, Blake had issued himself a challenge. Could he evoke the lively sprite he had first met all those years ago at Halestone Hall?

  As they conversed, he applauded his ability to make her come alive. Lucy’s eyes sparkled with emotion, and he recalled the one holiday he had spent with Harrington and his family nearly a decade ago. He distinctly recollected days filled with fun—swimming, skipping stones, riding and jumping all sorts of obstacles, and conspiring with Lucy to play numerous pranks on her brother.

  Gently squeezing her elbow to gain her full attention, Blake bent to say, “I see your brother is approaching, along with your friend.”

  As he tracked Harrington’s progress toward them, Blake tried to reconcile the carefree girl he had met years ago with the extremely cantankerous woman next to him. He admired her furiousness and clever banter, but he wondered where the compassionate girl of his memories had disappeared to. Harrington had informed him that her beloved Lord James Taylor, the Earl of Towerton’s heir, had been killed in the war. Had the loss caused her to become bitter? But it wasn’t bitterness he detected; it seemed she was wary of everyone and their motives. He could be accused of the same wariness, for he trusted very few. Admittedly, he was extremely guarded even with those he did trust.