England's Perfect Hero (20 page)

Even after a night of showers, Lucinda almost wished it would rain again. True, the fireworks display at Vauxhall looked to be the best of the Season, and the Regent along with most of the population of Mayfair planned to attend. She'd even found the prettiest of outdoor evening gowns to wear, a soft lavender with deep purple lace and beading.

She loved such events, the crowds and the spectacle, but over the past days it had occurred to her that Robert hated them. And yet, he meant to attend. And as a reward, she planned to tell him that Geoffrey had told her the items on his own list—a wife and a promotion—and that their marriage was practically arranged. She was finished with delivering her lessons, and his assistance was therefore no longer required.
Thank you very much, and goodbye. And no more kissing
.

"Good morning, my dear," her father said, emerging from his office to join her in the breakfast room.

"Good morning, Papa. How long have you been working?" She looked at him more closely. "Have you even slept?"

The general handed her a plate and motioned for her to precede him along the sideboard. "I rose early. Just trying to straighten out a few tangles."

"But I thought the chapter was going well," she said, selecting a peach and a few slices of toasted bread.

"The chapter
is
going well. This isn't about that. Oh, and by the way, Geoffrey was here already this morning. He left a letter and a box of chocolates."

"For me, or for you?" she couldn't help asking.

"We chatted about a few things, but I'm fairly certain the things are for you. He apologized for leaving, but he had an appointment with his tailor."

She glanced back at him again. He'd put a few pieces of fruit on his plate, and nothing else. When the general didn't have an appetite, something was seriously wrong. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Her father took his usual place at the head of the table, while Lucinda sat to his left. When he refused the footman's offer of tea in favor of coffee, she knew for certain that something was troubling him.

"Papa?"

He blinked, looking up at him. "Ah, no. It's nothing, really."

"Are you still attending the fireworks tonight?"

"I don't know yet. I'll certainly try." His steel gray gaze focused on his plate. "You know, perhaps you
can
help me."

"Anything, Papa."

"Who mentioned Chateau Pagnon to you?"

The blood drained from her face. She had nothing to hide, but Robert had asked specifically that she not say anything about their conversation to her father. As for why, she meant to ask him tonight. "I told you that I don't remember," she said lightly. "Pass the jam, will you please?"

The general slid the jam in front of her. "Lucinda," he said slowly, "it's important. None of your friends will be in any trouble, but this could be a clue to something else."

"Your tangle?" she suggested.

"Yes, my tangle. I can make a very good guess, of course, but I need you to confirm it for me."

She drew a breath. "I made a promise to be discreet," she told him. "I'll tell you because you're my father, but… please. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"I understand," he said simply. "At this point, I would just like to know for my own peace of mind. Was it Robert Carroway?"

"Yes." Even as she spoke she felt dirty and evil—it had only been yesterday morning that she'd given her word, and already she was betraying it. "We were talking about the war, and he said he hadn't been at Waterloo, and that instead he'd spent several months at Chateau Pagnon. I thought it might have been a hospital, since he was so badly hurt."

Her father sat in silence for a long moment. "Did he say how he ended up there or how he left?" he asked finally, his expression unreadable.

"No." Lucinda frowned at her breakfast plate. "You do know more about that place than you told me, don't you?"

"What I know about Pagnon isn't fit for a lady's ears, Lucinda."

"Papa, I want to know—"

The general pushed away from the table. "I have a meeting this morning." He stopped, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. "If you go out today, don't say anything about our conversation to anyone." Her father grimaced, then smoothed the expression away again. "Especially not to a Carroway."

"Papa! What is going on?"

He left the room, and a moment later she heard the front door open and close. His breakfast sat untouched beside hers.

This was wrong, and so strange. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just done something terrible to Robert. That her father had known something terrible about Robert, and she'd confirmed it.

Slowly she set her napkin on the table. She knew where she could find some answers, if he would talk to her. And if she had the courage to ask the questions.

If she went to see Robert again this morning, after a visit yesterday, people would begin to talk. Even Georgie, who knew of the agreement she had with Robert, would doubt she had only her lessons with Lord Geoffrey in mind. And she would be right.

Lucinda went upstairs to change into a visiting dress. One good thing about Robert's reticence was that he tended to stay at home. So she would go call on Georgiana—who would be at breakfast with her aunt, the Dowager Duchess of Wycliffe. Lucinda took a quick breath as a thrill of excitement went through her—anticipation which had nothing to do with asking questions and everything to do with seeing Robert again.

Dawkins pulled open the door of her coach as she arrived at Carroway House. "Good morning, Miss Barrett," he said, handing her to the ground.

As she stepped down she spied Robert around the side of the house. His jacket off and his shirt sleeves rolled up, he was crouched down, pulling weeds from his flowerbed. With dirt smudged across his arm and lanky black hair fallen over one eye, he looked so delectable that her mouth went dry.

"Miss Barrett?" the butler said, looking at her curiously.

Concentrate
. "Is Lady Dare at home?" she asked, forcing her gaze and her attention away from the garden. As soon as the butler told her Georgie was out, she could pay a visit to the roses—and whomever happened to be tending them.

"She is indeed, Miss Barrett."

"Oh, well, in that c—Oh."
Drat
. "Is she receiving callers? I don't want to disturb her."

Dawkins guided her into the front sitting room. "I shall inquire."

What was Georgiana doing at home? She and the duchess had scheduled this breakfast over a week ago. Lucinda scowled out the front window. Now she would have to think of a reason for making the visit.

"Miss Barrett, Lady Dare is upstairs in the music room."

"I know the way." With a nod of thanks to the butler, she climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Georgiana sat at the piano, arms outstretched to reach the keys beyond her rounded belly. She looked up, smiling, as Lucinda strolled into the room. "I'm so glad you're here, Luce," she said, bringing the Haydn tune to a halt. "I am desperate to go for a walk without being surrounded by large, overprotective men."

Despite her frustration, Lucinda chuckled. "Well, I'm not large, or a man, but I can't promise not to be over-protective." She helped Georgie to her feet. "I was halfway here when I remembered you were going to breakfast with the duchess," she lied. "I'm surprised to see you here, actually."

"Aunt Frederica sent over a note cancelling." Georgie grinned. "I think she was out late playing cards with her friends, and wanted to sleep late."

"She must have won."

"She always does."

They headed downstairs, Georgie holding the rail with one hand and Lucinda's arm with the other. It was the first time Lucinda realized just how far along in her pregnancy Georgiana was. Seeing her nearly every day, the change hadn't been all that noticeable. "Are you certain you want to go walking?" she asked.

"I'm certain I don't want to stay shut up in the house all day while my men are at the boat races." She sighed. "I don't know how Bit can stand being alone all the time, but he seems to find it peaceful."

"He's actually outside right now, working in his rose garden. I saw him when I drove up."

"Did you? His knee didn't seem to be bothering him as much this morning. A short walk might do him some good."

Lucinda hadn't meant to suggest he be dragged along. Yes, she wanted to talk with him, but not with Georgiana present. He probably wouldn't talk in front of Georgie, anyway—except that he had. Georgie knew things about Robert that she didn't, and Lucinda abruptly realized that she didn't like that much.

Oh, that was stupid. Stupid and wrong. Georgiana was Robert's sister-in-law, for heaven's sake. And
she
was just a friend. A friend who was going to marry Lord Geoffrey Newcombe as soon as he asked her. A friend who really had no business gawking at another man—and especially not at Robert Carroway.

Robert looked up from his weeding a moment before Georgiana and Lucinda rounded the corner of the house. He straightened automatically, which amused him. Apparently he still remembered some manners. Or rather, he remembered them when Lucinda was present.

She looked like spring in her white and green sprig muslin, her brown hair topped with a matching green bonnet. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
Stop it
, he told himself. She didn't belong to him. He didn't deserve her, and she would be much better off without him.

"Bit, care to escort us on a short stroll?" Georgie asked.

Since he was already on his feet, he didn't have grounds for much of an excuse. Shrugging, he rolled down his sleeves and pulled on the jacket he'd tossed over a phaeton wheel. His limp was more noticeable than it had been for over a year, but he'd discarded Aunt Milly's cane as soon as he could stand it.

They started down the street, passing by pretty front gardens and mansions with dozens of staring glass windows. Lucinda and Georgie walked arm in arm, while he stayed close by Georgie's other side in case she stumbled.

"We make a fine group, don't we?" Georgiana said after a few moments. "Luce, you may end up having to carry Bit and me both back home."

Lucinda laughed. "One at a time, if you please."

"Did General Barrett go to view those silly boat races, too?"

"No, he had a meeting."

A meeting
. Robert could guess what it was about. A shudder of uneasiness went through him. If the old generals of the Horse Guards chose to meet on a Saturday morning rather than attend boat races on the Thames, something serious was amiss.

They made a circle of four blocks, and by the time they returned to Carroway House, Robert wasn't certain who was more grateful to be back—himself or Georgiana. Ignoring the sharpening ache in his knee, he put a hand under his sister-in-law's elbow to help her up the front steps.

"Dawkins, I would be extremely grateful for a glass of lemonade," Georgie said, collapsing on the sitting-room couch.

Because he was always aware of where Lucinda was, Robert knew she was going to touch him a heartbeat before she did so. He tensed his arm, but flinched anyway. She burned straight through the material of his jacket.

"Georgie, are you all right here for a few minutes?" Lucinda asked. "When we were outside I noticed a mildew on some of the roses. They're still quite delicate, and I—"

"Go, go. I'm not moving. Ever."

Robert followed her back outside. He could play aloof; he was an expert at that. On the inside, though, he was imagining kissing her again. Kissing her, and peeling her out of her springtime gown and running his hands along her warm, smooth skin.

"I lied," Lucinda said abruptly, stopping to face him.

"I know," he answered.

"You do?"

He couldn't help a brief smile. "I've seen mildew. My roses don't have any."

Her cheeks darkened. "But you came out here, anyway."

"I thought you probably wanted to talk to me about something."

Lucinda's shoulders heaved with the breath she took, and abruptly she began pacing toward the street and back again. Cursing under his breath at the pain to his knee, he shifted backward so he could keep her in sight.