'Miss Rishworth, Miss Havenham. Allow me to present my cousin to you, Captain Hugh Duggan.'
Lucas stood back as soon as he had made the introduction, allowing his cousin to do all the talking. Hugh was good at that. He was five years older than Lucas and was always a great favourite at parties. His charming manners and ready smiles might grate upon Lucas, but the ladies seemed to like it. Even now Miss Rishworth was engaging Hugh in conversation, and Annabelle had her eyes fixed upon Hugh's handsome face as if she was captivated by his every word. Damn him.
'So you are staying at Oakenroyd, Captain Duggan,' said Celia, making great play with her fan.
'I am indeed.' Hugh cast a laughing glance at Lucas. 'I decided to visit my cousin and arrived in Stanton today, expecting to put up here at the Red Lion, only to find that Lucas has bought Oakenroyd!'
'Yes, it was Miss Havenham's home until very recently,' put in Celia, in case their new acquaintance should say anything untoward.
'Indeed?' Hugh turned his charming smile upon Annabelle. 'Of course. Havenham. I should have remembered the name. I was used to visit Lucas's family when they lived at Morwood, you see. That is why I came to Stanton. I heard my cousin had bought the old place and was curious to see what he is doing to it. Then to find he owns Oakenroyd as well. It is a charming house, Miss Havenham. You must be sad to leave it. But you are still living locally?'
'Yes, we live in Stanton now. At Croft Cottage.'
'A cottage?' Hugh laughed. 'How romantic. I hope I may be allowed to visit you there.'
Lucas waited to hear no more; he excused himself and walked away. His cousin no longer needed him, he had the sort of easy-going nature that allowed him to fit in anywhere.
Hugh had arrived earlier that day while Lucas was at Morwood, and had already established himself in a guest room by the time Lucas returned to Oakenroyd. Lucas could hardly blame Gibson. The butler had understood from George Stebbing that Hugh was his cousin and had raised no demur about his staying. And of course there was no problem about it. If Lucas had been there to meet him he would have been obliged to put him up, even though he had never felt less like company in his life.
Yesterday he had ridden back from Oldroyd Farm, barely able to see for the blind rage that had overtaken him. Annabelle was wrong. She had made the most outrageous allegations against his father in an attempt to protect her own. How dared she accuse Jonas of setting fire to his own house! If she had seen him, when he lay dying from the burns he had suffered trying to save his wife, she would know it was ridiculous to suggest any such thing.
Lucas had stormed back to Oakenroyd and spent the rest of the day in a black mood, unable to settle to anything. That night his sleep was disturbed by dreams, nightmares that took him back to that awful night twenty-five years ago, the shouts, the screams, the awful roar of the flames and the smell of burning. The memory had followed him into wakefulness today, as had Annabelle's accusations.
Samuel's letter was still in the side drawer of his travelling writing box. As soon as he was dressed Lucas went to the study and took it out. It was pristine, since he had done little more than break the seal before shutting it away. He read it through from beginning to end. The tone was measured, scholarly, like its author and Lucas quickly dismissed it as Samuel's attempt to justify himself. But he forced himself to re-read it, to calmly consider the arguments.
It was then that the doubts had begun. Memories he had suppressed for so many years, the arguments, his mother's tears, locked doors, blows. The voices arguing beneath his window on the night of the fire.
Damn you, Havenham, she's my wife! No one shall have her if I cannot …
No! It could not be true. Lucas had taken himself off to Morwood after breakfast, throwing himself into the work there to try and forget, but when he had arrived back at Oakenroyd he was confronted by another reminder of the past. His cousin Hugh Duggan, urbane, smiling, confident of his welcome. It had been an effort to be hospitable and Lucas had decided that coming to the assembly was preferable to sitting alone with his cousin all night.
Having introduced Hugh to several acquaintances, he now felt at liberty to take himself off to the card room where he need not make idle chit-chat with anyone.
The presence of Captain Duggan certainly brought a little buzz of excitement into the assembly rooms. His red coat stood out boldly amongst the general blacks and browns and when he announced laughingly that his intention was to dance with every young lady in the room, Annabelle was aware of a positive frisson of anticipation running through the ladies gathered about her. Watching him as he worked his way through the little group, she thought his constant smiles and ready charm a little disingenuous, but no one else seemed to think there was anything wanting. She concluded sadly that her nature was somewhat contrary. How else could she account for the fact that she preferred harsher features and a rather more abrupt manner? Quickly she buried all thoughts of Lucas Blackstone. She was done with him and would not allow him to hurt her again.
Belle turned her thoughts to the entertainment on offer for the evening. Since she was here she would dance and dance and think of nothing else. The tears, the regrets would be banished for a few short hours. Surely she could allow herself that small respite? There were plenty of partners willing to oblige her, including Captain Duggan, who proved to be an excellent dancer. That particular set was followed by a short interval and she allowed him to carry her off to the refreshment table where they were soon joined by a number of young ladies.
'Do you make a long stay in Stanton, Captain?' asked one, rather breathlessly.
'That depends upon how long Blackstone will have me.'
'Surely he would not throw you out,' declared Celia. 'He is your cousin, is he not?'
'He is, Miss Rishworth. His father was my mother's brother, and after my own father died, Mother and I often stayed at Morwood. Blackstone and I were very close, as children, but after the fire he went to live with other relatives and we lost touch. Even though I am his heir I did not see him again until a couple of years ago, in Brussels.'
'Ah, you were at Waterloo together,' exclaimed Celia. 'How exciting that must have been.'
'It was,' he agreed. 'But we were not together as such. That is, we were not in the same regiment. My cousin was in the guards, a major. I was merely a lowly captain of infantry. However, it was fortunate for me that he was there. He rescued me from the battlefield, you know, when I had been struck down. Recognised me amongst the fallen and carried me to safety. Hoisted me on his own shoulders to do it, too.' He tapped his leg. 'I'd taken a bullet through the thigh. Dashed lucky not to lose the whole leg, and it's left me with a slight limp, but as you can all bear witness, it don't affect me when I dance.'
He gave a merry laugh and the ladies gathered around him, only too willing to sympathise and admire his bravery. Belle smiled to herself. Captain Duggan positively basked in their attentions. She slipped away unnoticed and went off to join Lady Rishworth until the dancing commenced again.
Lucas spent a couple of hours in the card room where he lost heavily, wandering back to the ballroom in time to see Hugh dancing with Celia Rishworth. Annabelle was dancing too, partnered by Henry Blundell, the bookseller. He wondered if Hugh had danced with her. If not, he would certainly do so before the evening was out. Hugh made a point of dancing with all the pretty girls at any party, and even though she was wearing a gown he had seen before and with her hair dressed with a simple ribbon, Lucas thought Annabelle Havenham very pretty.
Watching her, Lucas did not think she was enjoying herself. Her smile was forced and the enticing sparkle had gone from her eyes. Had he caused that change in her? He kept his distance, remembering her distress yesterday, but he could not look away as the dance ended and Blundell escorted his partner from the floor. He disliked the way the bookseller had his hand on her back, as if he owned her. And he was leaning over her, far too close. Lucas's brows snapped together. The fellow would never have taken such liberties when she was mistress of Oakenroyd. Did he think now she was poor she deserved any less respect? Annabelle was trying to disengage herself, even as her escort was hustling her towards the door. The flush on Blundell's cheek told its own tale. Confound it, the man was drunk.
Lucas shouldered his way through the crowd. 'Ah, there you are, Miss Havenham. Have you forgotten that you promised me this next dance?'