"I don't know him well. He's Susan's brother, and we're neighbors, but he's visited Hawk in the Vale only once. But he seems an excellent man."

"In what way?" Lucy asked, aware of revealing her heart.

"He's good-looking," Maria said, "which despite what people sometimes pretend, is not to be discounted. He's also amiable. That sounds weak, but I mean he does his best to be pleasant and kind, not to upset or embarra.s.s. A surprising number of people don't. He makes light of heavy weather, I think Susan said once. Sometimes to her exasperation."

"He has a sterner side. He tore a strip off two men who were working up to a duel over me, almost as if he were accustomed to doing such things. As if he'd been an officer in the army."

"Ah," Maria said. "We all have many facets."

Lucy noted that "ah."

"Has he been in the army?" she asked.

"I don't believe so."

"You know something about him that I don't."

Maria was at her most smooth. "I can't know what you know, dear, and I suspect you know more of him than most."

Lucy would have persisted, but a maid knocked and entered to say that Miss Georgie was asking for her mother. The phrasing made Lucy smile, but she suspected Maria saw the summons as a means to escape.

She had no choice but to take her leave.

Maria walked with her to the door, saying, "Children and nature can be very demanding."

Lucy grasped her courage and blurted out her question. "My father must have seen all the hazards of the marriage. Did Mother have to push him very hard? Did she ever say?"

Another "ah." "She pushed as hard as she had to. She had no choice."

No choice. That's exactly how it felt.

But Maria added, "Be careful, Lucy. The Earl of Wyvern is not a simple man."

"I know that, I a.s.sure you."

Lucy walked back to Lanchester Street considering Maria's words. They contained a warning and she was sure it was justified but she, like her mother, had no choice. If her mother had been able to use pa.s.sion to overcome her father's steely will, she should be able to overcome David's even if it proved as strong.

The only question was whether she should.

Chapter 24.

She returned to find Clara alone in the drawing room, reading. The normality of that seemed shocking.

"Mother's still in bed," Clara said, "prostrated by her efforts."

"Her triumphant efforts," Lucy said. "I'm sorry to have left early."

"It did all go wonderfully. It's a shame, really, to do that only once. I wish I could have my own ball every year!"

"We have to allow each new wave their chance."

"Did you have a ball?"

"Of course. At a.s.sembly rooms like yours, but simpler. Most in attendance were old friends."

Lucy went to her room to take off her bonnet, gloves, and spencer. She thought of writing in her journal, but any thoughts would be too dangerous to commit to words. She did need to plan, however. One thing was clear-she'd get nowhere until she and David were together again, but he was in Devon and she was a day and a night's travel away.

She could simply go. She had some money with her and a trip to her bank would provide as much as she wished. She could hire a chaise and leave.

Yet she couldn't. There'd be an instant hue and cry. Even if she delayed detection, she'd eventually be pursued and caught before she reached Devon. The scandal would be horrendous, which wouldn't help her cause at all.

Oh, for an enormous kite to take her there within hours!

It seemed intolerable to be balked, but truly, she could see no way. Yet. Though her need felt urgent, it wasn't. Nothing terrible was going to happen if she didn't reach David in days or even weeks.

She tried to come up with a plan, but an hour devoted to the problem didn't present a solution. She and her father had sometimes talked over a tricky problem and two heads had proved better than one, but she certainly couldn't discuss this with him. He'd lock her up!

Who else? Betty was on her honeymoon, and in any case she would be horrified. Even Maria would feel duty bound to prevent her from such an act. She could talk to David. But he was the problem.

Her scrambling thoughts were getting her nowhere and she needed to rest her mind. She'd join Clara and read one of her novels. Perhaps one of the plots would inspire her. After all, Laura Montreville had gone to Canada, but through abduction.

Both Self Control and Love and Horror reminded her too much of David, however, so she chose The Animated Skeleton.

Clara smiled when she came in. "What book do you have today?"

"The Animated Skeleton."

"I haven't read that. You must tell me all about it."

"Wouldn't you prefer to read it without knowing?"

"I like to know what to expect. Surprises are so often unpleasant."

"You're right," Lucy said. "And secrets."

"Oh, secrets are more fun."

Clara returned to her own novel, and Lucy opened hers, but her mind was now stuck on secrets. She hadn't uncovered David's secrets, and there clearly were significant things she didn't know. He'd admitted it. Maria's "ah" had confirmed it.

Why had Maria reacted that way? She'd said something about David having been in the army? Surely he hadn't. The more she thought, the more sure she became that one or more secrets might have sent him off to Devon. But what could they be? If she pressed Maria, would she tell all? Could Lady Amleigh be persuaded to? What of Mr. Delaney, who'd seemed familiar with David in some way? Lucy couldn't imagine approaching any of them about this.

She turned pages, pretending to read, but trying to imagine any secret that would prevent their marriage. The dramas and scandals surrounding him were the opposite of secret and not his fault. His seat was set in countryside that included cliffs and mists, but that wasn't a secret, either. In fact, he'd made a point of telling her.

Smugglers operated in his area and he didn't intend to do much about it, but that seemed to be the case all around the coast. It was neither secret nor shameful.

So, what?

A marriage?

Betty had talked of a novel where the wicked king had kept his mad wife in a nunnery and pretended she was dead so he could attempt to marry the heroine. . . .

"I don't like Siegfried. He's always bemoaning his fate."

Lucy dragged her mind back to the drawing room. "What?"

"The Sicilian Curse. Siegfried is pursuing the bandits who have captured Isabella, but he's ended up in the dungeon of Duke of Malbrocaccia and he's bemoaning."

"A hero should never moan," Lucy agreed. "But is his love for Isabella impossible?"

"Of course. She's betrothed to the King of Sicily."

That would be a surprise to the current King of Sicily, Lucy thought, but she didn't complicate the conversation with reality, especially as Clara had returned to her book.

Complicate with reality . . .

Despite peculiarities, she lived in a sane, modern world. David couldn't possibly keep a wife secret from his sister and friends, and none of them would condone such a thing. Maria certainly wouldn't.

"What sort of hero will you marry?"

Lucy suppressed a sigh. "None of them. Such an odd lot."

Clara giggled. "I mean, what sort of man will you marry?"

"A sensible one."

"How dull."

"There are worse things than dull-such as Stevenhope."

Clara giggled again. "Imagine poetry morning, noon, and night."

"Excruciating poetry."

"Oh, you must be particularly sensitive to that. I do wish you'd share a stanza or two."

"Not yet."

"You must wish for something more than sensible," Clara persisted. "How should he look?"

Tall, broad shouldered, honey brown hair . . .

"Not much taller than I," Lucy said. "And brown haired. Brown hair is trustworthy."

"You don't have a romantic soul!"

"Alas, I fear you're right. What is your ideal man?"

Clara looked into a dream world. "Quite tall. Blond hair, but not too pale a blond. Smiling eyes and a kind heart."

p.r.i.c.ked by jealousy, Lucy said, "That sounds like the Peasant Earl."

"Wyvern?" Clara stared at her. "I'd never marry him."

"Not even to be a countess?"

"What good would that be when he goes mad?"

"Clara, he's not going to go mad."

"How can you know? His father was merely eccentric when young."

"Eccentric," Lucy pointed out. "Like Poodle Byng with his silly dog and the man who dresses only in green."

"Perhaps, but he did create a torture chamber, complete with waxwork figures to be tormented."

"Clara! That's impossible."

"No it isn't! Town was agog during the court hearings on the t.i.tle, and stories swirled."

"Stories were invented, you mean."

"Not at all." For once, Clara was annoyed. "Come to the library. We have ill.u.s.trations."

Lucy desperately didn't want to, but knew she must. Here was a secret worth preserving-that he had inherited insanity.

As they entered the room, she noticed how carelessly Clara invaded the room. Clearly it wasn't a sanctum at all. Perhaps nothing in her current world was as it seemed.

Clara hunted through some portfolios and brought one to the table. "These were on sale last year and Mama bought a set." She untied the laces and opened the boards to reveal a set of prints. The first was t.i.tled, "Crag Wyvern."

David hadn't exaggerated the ominous peculiarity of his house. The rectangular stone building stood tall on a steep headland, truly not far from the cliff edge, showing only arrow slits to the world, and backed by billowing storm clouds.

"Unpleasant," Lucy said, "but many people have built odd homes. Horace Walpole at Strawberry Hill. Sir William Beckford at Fonthill Priory."

"Beckford's deranged," Clara pointed out. "He built that huge place and lives alone in it, and Fonthill at least has windows. Wyvern's place does have some, but they're inside." Clara flipped through a few sheets. "Here. A courtyard with trees and gardens."

Lucy relaxed. "And good-sized windows all around. I see a fountain as well."

"There was a detailed print of that, but Mama removed it. From the glimpse I had," Clara said in a whisper, "it showed a dragon behaving most improperly with a naked lady."

Not wise to challenge a dragon . . .