Page 10 of A Proposal to Wed (The Beautiful Barringtons #9)

Lucy’s fingers twisted in her lap. Anger bloomed in her chest. A shocking, ugly burst of it. She loved her father, but she could no longer allow him to dictate her life.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. One of the maids entered, a girl Lucy had spied only in the kitchen scrubbing pans. She asked if Miss Waterstone would care for tea.

No, she didn’t want any bloody tea and waved the girl away.

Toying with a book, Lucy studied the page before her, weighing the words to use when she confronted Father about Dufton. She must remind Father that she could not be forced, as she was no longer a child. Inform him of Dufton’s ill intent.

Twenty minutes later, the same maid returned, asking once more if Miss Waterstone wanted tea.

“No.” Lucy stood. “I do not want tea.” What she needed was air and to be alone with her thoughts, not hounded incessantly. Why was the girl hovering? And why wasn’t she in the kitchens?

Marching past the maid, Lucy exited the house and felt better the instant she stepped into the gardens, though the beds were a disaster and weeds sprouted everywhere.

She doubted Mr. Milner was ever returning.

Taking a deep breath of the rose-scented air, Lucy studied each hedge that needed trimming, noting the roses had grown wild and taken over one corner of the garden.

Stopping to admire a struggling spray of lilies, Lucy turned, catching sight of the same maid who had been so determined to bring her tea darting behind a maple tree. When Lucy moved farther down the short path to a stone bench, the girl followed at a discreet distance.

Oh, good grief.

Lucy spun on her heel. She had been planning to discuss Dufton with Father this evening but now would serve as good a time as any. The insanity of having her every step dogged by the maid had her seething.

How dare Sally have me followed about.

Determination surged through her veins. She had been hungry for years. Silent, so as not to embarrass Father. Her dowry, her only means of independence, stolen. Not to mention Estwood?—

You can’t possibly imagine I would welcome your attentions.

Father had once dictated the very words from her mouth, but he could not force her to become Lady Dufton.

She had reached her limit of obedience. If he failed to see reason, Lucy would take what little pin money she possessed and flee.

The sum wouldn’t get her far. But away from London was all she needed.

The maid followed her inside the house, trailing a few steps behind.

“I am going to see my father.” She stopped and snarled at the girl, who wisely took a step back. Lucy never raised her voice. Rarely spoke. But she was so… angry . “Stop.”

The maid sent her an apologetic look but continued to follow behind as Lucy marched to Father’s study. “Go away.” She halted once more. “I’m hardly likely to flee through an open window.”

Intolerable . This had to be Sally’s doing.

The girl wisely retreated, but Lucy spied a hint of her skirts at the end of the hall.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled her resolve.

Father was many things, but he loved her.

Lucy was his only child. He couldn’t possibly know the extent of Dufton’s character defects.

Nor would he knowingly push her towards a marriage in which she would be abused.

He need only be apprised of the situation.

Father loves me. He is only…ill-advised.

Reaching the study, Lucy was surprised to find the door already open. She stepped inside, chin raised and summoned the courage to make her speech but met only an empty room instead. She was about to look for Father elsewhere when footsteps sounded in the hall.

“Unfortunate that we cannot simply sell the land. How much easier this would be.”

“If it were possible, I would have already done so. Joshua Marsden, whom I hope is rotting in hell, made sure I could never profit from the property, not that Marsden is worth much. But the stipulations of his will are ironclad.”

Lucy quickly ducked behind the large sofa in Father’s study, covering her mouth to keep the gasp of surprise from being heard.

How could she have forgotten?

Joshua Marsden had been Mama’s grandfather.

Lucy hadn’t heard the name spoken since she was a child—and then only rarely.

Their lone meeting, when she had barely been out of the nursery, had been so long ago.

A vague, misty memory came to her of an elderly man, hardly able to sit upright in a chair.

Mama had fussed over him, fluffing pillows and kissing his cheek.

There was nothing else Lucy could recall. She’d never seen him again.

“Colm’s chance meeting with Lord Dufton has proved most fortuitous,” Sally cooed. “He strikes me as a most useful sort of man. Colm.”

Lucy did know Colm. Not personally of course, only that he managed Pendergast for Father and did a poor job of it. According to the ledgers Lucy had reviewed, Colm was far better at adjusting the ledgers than handling the ironworks.

“More advantageous that Dufton wants the property because of the river access, but I’m grateful to Colm for ascertaining his interest.” Father made a disgruntled sound.

“Trust me, if Marsden could be sold, I would already have forged Lucy’s signature instead of entering into this agreement with Dufton.

And I would have used the proceeds to purchase that blasted ironworks instead of using her dowry. But I had little choice in the matter.”

“We could dearly use that sum now,” Sally said.

Lucy’s fingers dug into the rug. Father had used her dowry. She pressed her mouth to the floor to keep from screaming —so that he could take Pendergast from Estwood .

“But where Lucy goes, so goes Marsden. He attached the land to her,” Father spat out.

“Like some sort of burr on a saddle. Can’t be sold but must stay in the possession of a direct Marsden descendent.

How he managed to make such a stipulation legal is beyond me.

” Father choked. “Lucy can barely form a sentence. Why attach property to her? Can’t even be used as a dowry.

” A sigh. “Joshua always was the most despicable of men.”

Or he’d hated Gerald Waterstone.

Lucy’s fingers curled into fists, heart stinging from Father’s mockery of her. She kept her face pressed into the rug. Mr. Hopps had lied.

Oh, Lucy, of course he had.

A small flicker of hope flared inside her. If Marsden was land and it was attached to her, perhaps there was a small estate on the property. A cottage. A place to which Lucy could escape.

“Colm speculated there might be a bit of copper on the land. Possibly. But Marsden has little else to recommend it—except rock and half decent access to the river.”

“Copper?” Sally breathed.

“Put it out of your mind. As I’ve said, even had I the funds, I’m not permitted to excavate the land or use it in any way. I couldn’t build a dock and lease it to others. If there were a house on that barren strip, I would not even be permitted to live in it. I can’t touch Marsden for any reason.”

Lucy shut her eyes, her hopes that Marsden might offer some sort of escape dashed.

“Marsden is worthless,” Father chuckled. “Until now.”

A horrible realization twisted in Lucy’s stomach. One so terrible, she nearly covered her ears to keep from hearing what Father would say next, because she knew, didn’t she? Dufton’s words in the park now made a great deal more sense.

“It is a fair trade,” Sally murmured.

“More than fair. Lucy and Marsden are both entirely useless unless one needs access to the River Tees. Or a wife. Dufton conveniently needs both. Even if he finds a bit of copper, I still have the better end of our deal.”

How bloody clever of Father. Pain pulled at Lucy’s heart, every bit of hope she’d held onto gone.

“You are quite clever, darling.”

Lucy could practically see Father’s chest puffing out at the compliment.

“I am, aren’t I? I’ll be rid of Pendergast, since Estwood still wants the ironworks and will pay a ridiculous amount for it.

He’ll be responsible for the contracts I’ve defaulted on, the evidence of which Hopps and Colm have buried far too deep to be found.

Dufton pays off our debts and takes Lucy off our hands.

I’ll be made whole. Once all is settled…

” His voice lowered. “We’ll go to Paris for a time. Would you like that, my dear?”

Sally didn’t answer. Peering beneath the sofa, Lucy could see her pacing across the rug.

“There is something I must tell you, husband.” Her pacing stopped. “Lucy attempted to refuse Dufton. I grow concerned that she…”

“She did what?” Father growled.

The silk of Sally’s skirts rustled as she moved in his direction.

“During their carriage ride in the park. She told Dufton they weren’t a good match.

And then again today, she said the same to me after he took his leave.

She was rather adamant…for Lucy. I—took the precaution of having one of the kitchen maids watch her. ”

Father huffed. “Unbelievable. My daughter hasn’t shown a streak of independent thought in years. Can she not see I’m doing her a favor? Lucy would never garner such a match on her own.”

Well, no . Lucy’s mind screamed. Because you stole my dowry.

“She is of age, Mr. Waterstone. Well past. You can’t force her.”

“To marry?” A dry, caustic laugh came from Father.

“I most certainly can. She’ll do as I say, as she has her entire life.

My daughter is like a dog, Sally. Ever obedient.

Willing to do anything for praise or a reward.

Rebellion is unknown to her. Even had she the courage to leave, where would she go?

Lucy has no friends. No funds. I am her only family.

Do not fear—if she manages to summon the bravery to run away, I’ll have her brought back. ” He spat out the words.

“But—”