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Oh no, this was terrible. She had not had the time to prove that she belonged here. And nowhere else. Certainly not on the arm of another man. Marriage had hardly ever occurred to her—with the exception of perhaps her girlish dreams of the marquis coming and sweeping her off her feet and telling her she could live here forever as his wife. Those dreams seemed mighty foolish now. Particularly when it seemed the marquis was not quite the man she had made him out to be in her mind. He was not unkind at all, but she rarely saw him smile, and there was a constant crease between his brows, as though life constantly pained him.

Somehow, she would have to ensure that the marquis realized this was her place. The mere thought of leaving the house made her chest tight and achy. Perhaps if she made the gentleman suitor realize she was not ready for marriage, he would go away. After all, if the gentleman was not interested in her, no one could force a marriage upon them.

She unfurled her hands, not even realizing they were clenched until little pricks of pain reached her awareness. She glanced at her skin, eyeing the little crescent shapes dug deep into them. This was her home, this was her life. It would not be taken away from her.

“I had better go and meet with our guests,” she said brightly to Lizzie.

Lizzie grinned at her. “You look radiant today, miss. No doubt you shall catch the young man’s eye.”

“I have far better things to do with my time than catch a gentleman’s eye.”

Lizzie’s lips twitched. “Sometimes, I forget that you are younger than me. You sound every inch the grand lady at times.”

Lucy smiled. “Good. Then perhaps the marquis will realize that I’m practically the lady of this house.”

“I do not know how he could not. But he cannot leave you alone here forever. One day, he will have a family and a wife and wish to settle here.” Lizzie patted her arm with a sigh. “It would not hurt to be nice to this gentleman. You never know, perhaps you will find you could love a man as much as this house.”

Lucy didn’t respond. She couldn’t fathom the possibility of loving another man as much as she loved this place. After the death of her parents, the grand house had provided her the ultimate comfort. There were constantly places to explore, places to hide, new things to marvel at. When she looked up at the many faces in the portraits, they comforted her. There was nothing quite like knowing that all this history was looking down upon her, that they had survived many trials and tribulations and had come out triumphant. She wanted to be like the women in those portraits—proud, hard-working, successful.

Of course, she had once thought she could love the marquis like that. As the years had gone by, those thoughts had not dwindled, but they had softened. Her memories of him had faded into some dreamlike apparition.

She sighed. How silly she was to imagine that a girlish infatuation could be at all real.

Lucy caught up with the three men whilst they were touring the formal gardens, following the path that cut between squared flowerbeds. The garden was slightly sunken and punctuated with a generous fountain in the center. She hastened toward them, slowing when she was a few paces away so that she could catch her breath and appear dignified. She forced a polite smile upon her face.

Lord Eastbrook spotted her first, a strange look in his eyes as he ran his gaze up and down her person. She glanced quicklyaway lest she find herself drawn in by those blue eyes and made a fool of herself.

The other two gentlemen turned to face her. She glanced at the younger man who was indeed close to her age—early twenties or so. He was certainly not unattractive with dark tousled hair, a pleasant profile, and the lithe figure. That did not mean, however, that she wished to marry him.

Or anyone for that matter. She forced her hands to remain relaxed by her sides as the desire to curl them into balls of annoyance struck again. By some miracle, the pleasant smile remained on her face.

“Is all well?” Lord Eastbrook asked.

“Of course.” She closed the last few paces between her and the group of men. “I did not realize we were having guests today.”

Mr. Barton dipped his head slightly. “That is my fault, Miss Jameson. Lord Eastbrook did not know to expect me today.” He beamed at her. “May I say it is a pleasure to see you. It has been many years. I still remember you as a small girl.”

Lucy’s smile became genuine, although she was slightly annoyed at herself for it. If she could not remain hardheaded and cold about all this, she would never persuade the marquis that she should stay. But she did remember Mr. Barton’s diligence over her care in ensuring that she was settled well at the house. She had not been overly close to her parents, who spent a lot of time travelling, but to leave one’s home and to know that one was alone in the world was a terrifying prospect. Mr. Barton had accompanied her here and had been most caring.

“And I remember you from when I was a little girl.” She offered him a warm smile.

“Mr. Barton and I were just discussing business,” Lord Eastbrook said abruptly.

“Well, do not let me stop you. Are you touring the gardens? Perhaps I can accompany you?” She kept her tone saccharine.

Lord Eastbrook and Mr. Barton exchanged a look. It sent a coil of dread to her stomach. She knew it. They were discussing her future. How dare they? It was her future not theirs. She might be under the care of a man, but that did not mean she had no say, surely? Except, of course, she knew she really did have no say just as many women in her position did not.

“I think—” the marquis started.

“Perhaps you can walk with my nephew,” Mr. Barton offered.

Lord Eastbrook nodded quickly. “Yes, that would be most acceptable. Forgive me, I have not introduced you. Mr. Andrews, this is my ward Miss Jameson. Miss Jameson, this is Mr. Andrews, Mr. Barton’s nephew.”

Mr. Andrews dipped his head while she offered a quick curtsy. She avoided maintaining eye contact and regretted her choice of gown for the day. It was one of her prettiest and flattered her generous curves. She hoped Mr. Andrews did not get his hopes up.

“Shall we continue?” Mr. Barton suggested.

The tour around the garden progressed. Mr. Andrews was intelligent and charming. But that meant nothing. There were plenty of intelligent and charming men, even in the home counties. She was not remotely interested in marrying this man, no matter how much Lord Eastbrook wanted this match.