Page 41 of A Proposal to Wed (The Beautiful Barringtons #9)

L ucy hummed as she walked up Vulcan Street, pulling her shawl more closely around her shoulders. She’d done something quite daring today. Something worthy of Romy, perhaps, or one of the other Barrington sisters. All things considered, she was rather proud.

Her husband had been greatly surprised and pleased to find Lucy at Pendergast with a basket in one hand.

She’d decided to surprise him with lunch, packed by Mrs. Bartle, and hoped for a tour of the ironworks.

Having never been inside one before, and given all she was learning about iron ore, smelting, and the like, Lucy was curious.

Harry had been most appreciative. After introducing her to his new ironmaster, he’d taken Lucy into his office, shut the door, and lifted her atop the desk.

“ Raise your skirts, wife, so I may express my appreciation for your efforts.”

Lucy stumbled on the cobblestones just reliving what had been a very stimulating hour. Harry had taken her so roughly, the stack of ledgers on the desk had slid to the floor.

Glorious .

If she could whistle, she would. Reaching up, she straightened her bonnet, tucking up a stray curl that was bumping along her cheek.

Marriage to Harry was much more satisfying than Lucy could ever have hoped when she’d been that shy, silent girl at The Barrow.

Nor had she spared much thought for Father, Dufton, and especially not Sally.

There had been no letters demanding Lucy’s return.

No more threats of an annulment. Thankfully—because Lucy was blissfully happy for perhaps the first time in her life.

That pathetic girl who had first been starstruck by Harry Estwood was gone, replaced with a more confident Lucy after all these weeks in Yorkshire.

She was no longer embarrassed if her lisp appeared, though it did so rarely now.

Nor did Lucy keep her opinions to herself.

Harry respected her mind. Thought her clever.

Many nights were spent over discussion of various projects he was considering, often while he sketched and scribbled on a pad of paper and Lucy discreetly sipped a brandy with a book in her lap.

And the other aspects of marital life were splendid indeed, as her visit to Pendergast had just proven. Lucy desired her husband. He did the most wicked things to her?—

She nearly stumbled again, caught herself, and laughed.

—all of which she welcomed. Every. Single. One. Harlot blood, indeed. Lucy smiled as she darted around a corner.

But while she blossomed as Mrs. Harry Estwood, Lucy had yet to confess her feelings to Harry, too afraid of his rejection, though given his actions, she thought he cared for her. At least a little bit.

Quickening her steps, she hurried down the cobblestones towards the row of shops one street over.

The draper, Mr. Wilcott, had sent word of a selection of damask he’d just received, and Lucy wanted a peek before ordering a new settee and chairs.

Mrs. Bartle had handed her a list of spices before departing for Pendergast, so that meant another stop before heading back to her carriage.

Middlesbrough had a far larger selection than Ormesby.

Turning down the next street, Lucy kept up her pace as she passed the Goat’s Head inn. Harry had taken her to dine there only last week because the tavern was known for its bilberry pie, a local delicacy.

Harry always made sure Lucy had dessert.

It would be a bit of a walk back to the carriage, but the weather was fine, and Lucy didn’t mind.

Exercise was required now that she ate dessert and was permitted to finish a meal that didn’t consist of a child’s portions.

If anything, Harry often insisted she eat more.

When Lucy protested she’d grow stout, he merely shrugged.

London—and her existence there with Father—seemed, at times, like a bad dream.

“My lovely girl. I want to hear your pleasure.”

She dipped her head to hide the silly smile on her lips. Lucy had been quite vocal in her enjoyment of lunching with her husband, so much so she worried every employee at Pendergast had heard them over the sounds of the roaring flames and melding of pig iron.

“Oh, yes. The cheesemonger. I nearly forgot.” Lucy came to a halt and changed direction, heading back towards the Goat’s Head.

Her thoughts had been so full of Harry, she hadn’t been paying attention and had walked right past Mr. Paul’s store.

Pulling out the list from Mrs. Bartle, Lucy read out the items she’d offered to pick up for the housekeeper in addition to spices, hoping she hadn’t forgotten anything else.

“Lucy. There you are.”

A sharp inhale of breath as she barely dared turn around. She must be hearing things because for a moment, it had sounded as if?—

“Lucy.”

A ball of dread formed in her stomach. Lucy’s tongue immediately stuck to her teeth. She blinked in surprise at the expensively dressed woman standing before her. “ Thally ?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Her stepmother took Lucy’s elbow, looking up and down the street in a furtive manner.

“Your housekeeper advised me that you were not at home when I called. I confess, I thought it a ruse. But she said you were here…” Sally gestured to the shops around them.

“Taking lunch to your”—her features pinched with dislike—“husband. Fortunate, as I’ve taken rooms at the Goat’s Head.

The accommodations are a bit rustic but adequate. ”

Lucy stared at her in silence. Why was Sally here?

“I’ve been waiting the better part of the day for you to leave the ironworks. Not pleasant, mind you. While the Goat’s Head’s rooms are acceptable, their food is not.”

She tilted her chin, watching Sally wait for her to stumble about and apologize for the inconvenience, something the old Lucy might have done. Focusing, she pushed her tongue away from her teeth. Took a deep breath.

I am no longer powerless.

“What are you doing here? In Middlesbrough? Yorkshire in general?” The lisp had receded in the face of Lucy’s determination. She jerked her arm free. “Father disowned me—or did I misunderstand him?”

Sally regarded her with surprise—probably that she wasn’t lisping.

“A mistake he dearly regrets.” Her tone changed to one that was much more conciliatory.

She pulled out a handkerchief dabbing at her eyes.

“Please, Lucy.” Sally steered her towards the Goat’s Head with a far gentler touch.

“I’ll explain myself over a cup of tea and—I only ask that you hear me out, daughter. ”

“I am not your daughter.” Lucy’s tone was clipped.

Sally looked away with a sniff. “I think of you as such.”

Blatantly untrue .

“I’m rather busy today, Sally. One cup, and then I must be off.”

“Of course.” Sally bustled inside the Goat’s Head and found an empty table near a window. “If it matters, your father doesn’t know I’m here.” She settled, patting at her skirts. “He’d be most distressed to know I’ve come to you, but there is little choice.”

“Where does he think you are?”

“I have a friend—Lady Berber. Lord Berber has a small estate, really more a hunting lodge, near here. I told Mr. Waterstone that Lady Berber had fallen ill and asked for me.”

Lucy didn’t recall a Lady Berber, but that meant little. She had rarely been introduced to Sally’s friends.

Her stepmother’s lips tightened as a pot of steaming tea was placed between them. Fingers twisting the handkerchief in her hands, Sally said, “The situation—has taken a toll on Mr. Waterstone, I fear.”

“The situation?” Lucy didn’t touch her tea. Nor the biscuits that came on a pretty flowered plate.

“Your marriage and our debts.”

“My marriage is none of your concern.” Sally hadn’t even asked if Lucy was happy. “Your debts are none of mine.”

“That is certainly true,” Sally agreed. “But I worry for Mr. Waterstone’s health.

” Her voice grew thick. “He collapsed after breakfast last week, falling to the floor and knocking over his plate.” She looked down at her hands.

“The physician claims his heart is…under strain due to our circumstances.”

Lucy loved her father, but she didn’t like him. Or trust him. But neither did she wish him dead. She glanced at her stepmother. Her feelings for Sally were less gray.

“I blame myself, you see.” Sally raised tear-filled eyes to Lucy.

“For your lavish overspending?” Lucy asked.

Sally’s features sharpened, and she looked away once more. “No. I—recently informed him of my condition, and while once he might have found such news joyous, now…” Sally dabbed at another tear. “Well, now it has only added to his worries. He’ll be furious once he realizes I’ve sought you out.”

“Your condition?” Lucy suddenly wished she had run all the way back to Pendergast at the first sight of Sally.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Nor does Mr. Waterstone,” she wailed. “But I’m hopeful you might have some affection for…your new brother or sister.” Sally’s hand fell to her mid-section with a gentle smile.

Lucy’s gaze dropped to Sally’s waist. There was no sign of?—

The very idea unsettled her to such a degree, her tongue dared to stick to the inside of her teeth once more. “You are with child,” she finally got out.

“I am.” Her stepmother sobbed. “We’d been praying for so long. I had given up hope. I remained barren in my first marriage, and—we never imagined I would have a child. But it is a blessing, one we do not deserve.”

“ Congratulathuns .” Lucy winced at the hated lisp. Gone for weeks, and after less than a quarter-hour in Sally’s company, it returned with a vengeance. Of all the reasons she’d imagined Father or Sally seeking her out once more, she had not accounted for this .

“I am here for the sake of the child.” Sally dabbed at her eyes. “Not my sake. Or your father’s.” She placed a protective palm over her stomach. “As you can probably guess, Dufton was…” She looked away. “Quite furious when you married Estwood. He wanted to make you his countess.”

“Not as much as he wanted Marsden.”

Sally looked taken aback. “The match was an excellent one.”

“I disagree.”

“It hardly matters now. Dufton has made business matters difficult for Mr. Waterstone. The sum from Pendergast wasn’t nearly enough, and now—well, your father had to sell his horse farm.” Sally sobbed harder, her shoulders trembling. “It broke him, daughter.”

“Yet he had no such reluctance in selling me. I believe his exact words were that he would drug me with laudanum if need be to get me before the vicar.”

Sally wiped at one eye. “So you overheard his unfortunate choice of words. He was only worried over our circumstances. He never would have done such a thing. I don’t understand how you could have chosen Estwood.

You would have been the wife of a prominent man had you wed Dufton.

Wealthy. Your place in society assured. How is that so terrible? ”

Lucy’s entire body stiffened as anger coursed through her. “Do not dare to suggest Father even considered my well-being. He only sought to make himself whole.”

Sally fell back in her chair at the vehemence in her tone. “Lucy.”

“And Dufton was so wonderful, he threatened to have me put in a sanitarium, like his first wife.” Lucy made sure to keep her words clear. “That is who you and Father wanted me to marry for your own good, not mine. Do not pretend to be ignorant of his reputation. You knew what he might do to me.”

Sally had the decency to look down at her lap, unable to refute a word.

“I assume you want money.”

“That is rather impolite.” Sally’s hand raised to toy with the handle of her teacup.

Lucy snorted. “But correct.”

“I don’t know what’s come over you, Lucy. You’re usually so much more?—”

“Biddable? Silent?” She gave Sally a look. “Stupid? Na?ve?” Eyeing the biscuits, she had the urge to toss them all at Sally.

She’s with child.

“I—do not know how long Mr. Waterstone can continue to thrive under these circumstances. Dufton has done all but force us out of society. We are facing impoverishment.” She reached across the table to take Lucy’s hand.

“I understand your hatred for us, but surely, that does not extend to an innocent child.”

Lucy flinched, jerking her fingers away.

A tear rolled down Sally’s cheek. She sniffed as if seconds from falling to the floor in a fit of weeping. “I have nowhere else to turn.”

She watched the steam curl out of the pot of tea, her good mood from the visit to Pendergast gone.

Harry had placed a large sum in an account under her name.

Enormous, if she were being honest. Even if she redecorated every room in their new home, purchased crates of books from London, and every wheel of cheese Mr. Paul had, Lucy would never manage to deplete the sum.

He’d wanted Lucy to have her own money to spend any way she wished.

Harry didn’t want her to feel trapped, as she had with Father.

Your loyalty will be to me. Not Gerald Waterstone . I’ll make him a good offer for Pendergast despite his deceit, far more than he deserves. But nothing else. If I ever find out you’ve gone behind my back. If you give him money or betray me to him, you will wish you had not.

Lucy took a small sip of tea, the taste bitter.

But this was not for Father. Or Sally. But for her brother or sister. An innocent child. One Lucy would gladly welcome into her life. Harry had supported his family after the death of his father. He would understand.

The sudden pitch of her stomach had her fingers pressing into the table.

Harry would not understand.

“We only need a few thousand pounds,” Sally leaned forward. “Not much at all.”

A few thousand pounds. As if Sally were asking for a coin to purchase a sweet.

The Bank of England had an office in Middlesbrough.

Lucy could walk her stepmother down the street and withdraw the amount.

She would be back in Ormesby well before Harry arrived home.

When the time was right, Lucy would explain to him what she’d done and why.

“Very well,” Lucy said quietly, coming to her feet. “I’ve errands. Let us be quick.”

Sally stood, her sobs filling the air. “Thank you, Lucy. I won’t tell Mr. Waterstone. And I promise, we’ll bother you no more.”

“Doubtful,” Lucy whispered under her breath before turning to walk out of the Goat’s Head, hoping she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life.