Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant

‘I wouldn’t have wanted you to turn it down, Coral. Of course you had to take it and I wish you every success. You are perfect for the part and it’s about time you had a major role to play.’ What Lucy said was true, for ever since Coral’s appearance in a minor role two years ago, she had been a favourite with the public, one of the most popular supporting players in the Portas Theatre.

‘Thank you for saying that. It’s more than I deserve from you. I would never hurt you deliberately, you know that. I value our friendship too much. What will you do now?’

Lucy shrugged. ‘I’ll look around. Trail the theatres. Someone might take me on.’

‘I do hope so. What happened, Lucy?’ Coral asked, upset and deeply concerned for her friend. ‘I can’t for the life of me understand what went wrong.’

‘I don’t know, Coral. I’ve been so busy trying to make ends meet. Aunt Dora hasn’t been well of late—I’m going to have to move out of my home and go to live with her. At least it will lessen the cost.’

‘Have you seen Jack?’

Lucy shook her head, suddenly realising she hadn’t seen him since the night of the party. Perhaps Nathan’s arrival had something to do with it. ‘I’m sure he’s busy—and he knows I have rehearsals—had rehearsals,’ she corrected herself. She smiled bitterly. ‘I think he’s finally given up on me. Goodbye, Coral. I must go.’

Coral caught her to her. They hugged tightly, emotionally. ‘Goodbye, Lucy. Take care,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll come and see you soon.’

‘Yes—yes, please do.’

* * *

Determined to find work, Lucy had gone from one theatre to another. Unfortunately none of them needed actresses at present, not even with her credentials. Angry and resentful, she had kept on looking, but it was the same at every one. Frustrated and defeated, she had turned for home.

Once inside her room she turned the key in the lock and leaned her head against the hard wood of the door frame. Not even Polly was allowed to witness the collapse of her brave façade as all her courage drained away and she sank to her knees and wept.

* * *

When Lucy called on Aunt Dora at her house in Bayswater, a basket of fruit over her arm, she found she wasn’t her only visitor that day. Nathan was standing on the doorstep, waiting to be admitted, slapping his leather gloves against his muscular thigh. His broad shoulders were squared, his jaw set in implacable determination, and even in this restrained pose he seemed to emanate the restrained power she had always sensed in him. He was looking every inch the handsome, elegant gentleman today, with his blue superfine coat and darker blue trousers, his striped blue-and-gold waistcoat and his immaculate white linen.

‘Well, well!’ she exclaimed drily, trying not to show her surprise on seeing him as her heart quickened its beat. ‘You are persistent if nothing else.’

Nathan turned his head and looked at her, a look of unconcealed admiration on his handsome face as he surveyed her jaunty yellow dress. Around her neck she had tied a matching yellow scarf, knotting it on the side, with the ends flipped over her shoulder.

‘Have you rung the bell?’ she asked.

‘Two minutes ago.’

‘Sarah must be busy. She serves my aunt’s every capacity. If you don’t wish to loiter in the street, perhaps you should come back later—or not at all,’ she said coldly.

‘It’s no bother. I’ll wait.’

‘I think you should go. She hasn’t been well. I don’t want her disturbed.’

No sooner had she spoken than the door was opened by Sarah, a pretty young woman with an open face and friendly brown eyes. ‘Good day to you, Miss Lucy. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but I was settling Miss Sharp in the drawing room. Please come in.’ She smiled at Nathan, flushing prettily and bobbed a curtsy. ‘She’s expecting you, sir.’

He is no doubt accustomed to this sort of feminine reaction everywhere he goes, Lucy thought irately. She looked sharply at him. ‘Do you mean to tell me you have already paid a call on Aunt Dora?’

‘I came to pay my respects yesterday. Unlike her niece she was pleased to see me and was keen for me to call on her again today.’

‘I can imagine,’ Lucy remarked drily, brushing past him into the house, leaving him to follow her or remain outside. Handing the basket to Sarah, who closed the door after Nathan, she walked towards the drawing room. ‘What are you doing here? What do you want?’

‘Now, why on earth should you think that? I am paying a social call on your aunt Dora. That is all.’

‘Why?’

‘Just because my former betrothed cut me out of her life doesn’t mean that I should stop seeing Dora. We were friends, good friends, and when I called on her she was happy to see me—unlike her niece.’

Knowing it was some ulterior motive that had brought him here and not to make idle chit-chat, Lucy glowered at him and opened the door.

Dressed in a green-brocade dressing gown over a white-muslin shift, her silver hair loosely dressed beneath a pretty lace bonnet, Aunt Dora reclined like a pale and beautiful spectre on a chaise longue, seemingly unaware of the tense, charged atmosphere that existed between the two people who had just entered the room. She had been unwell for four weeks. A persistent cough had kept her confined to her bed and all the cures and remedies applied since then had done little to remedy it.

‘Good afternoon, Aunt Dora,’ Lucy said, crossing to her aunt and hugging her warmly. She worried constantly about her aunt’s frail health and wished she could do more for her. ‘How are you feeling? A little better, I hope. I met this gentleman on the doorstep. I hope you are feeling up to visitors.’

‘Most assuredly,’ Dora protested, sitting up so that Lucy could place a cushion behind her back, the effort of doing so making her breathless. ‘Nathan was kind enough to pay me a visit yesterday. I do so enjoy his company—I always did—and he’s in London for such a short time.’

‘I think we both know that he always has a reason for what he does,’ Lucy retorted, avoiding meeting Nathan’s steady gaze.

Though he was arrested by the beauty of the sunlight streaming in through the small bay window behind her, illuminating her hair and shoulders in a subtle halo, the look she gave him made it clear that she was in no mood to be placated.

‘You are wrong, Lucy. I would be most offended had he not called on me...’ Dora’s voice trailed off as a cough she had tried to restrain got the better of her.

‘Oh, Aunt Dora,’ Lucy whispered, hating to see her weakness. Handing her a glass of water, she held it while she took a sip. ‘Is that better?’ Her aunt nodded, resting back on the cushions and dabbing her lips with a handkerchief. ‘I’ve brought you a basket of fresh fruit from the market, along with a book of poetry I thought you might like to read. I’ve given them to Sarah.’

‘Thank you, dear,’ Dora said, casting her niece a worried look, ‘but I wish you would not spend your hard-earned money on me.’

Lucy gave her a loving smile. Aunt Dora had no idea of the dire straits she found herself in, but the time had come when she would have to be told. ‘I like to spoil you. How I would like to take you to the country where the fresh air will make your chest better.’

Dora airily waved a slender hand. ‘You must try not to worry so, dear. I do so hate to be a bother. As you see I am better than I was—and I do so hate the country, as you well know. I’m only at my best when I’m in town close to my friends, and you, Lucy dear—although I was so sorry when Nathan told me you are no longer to play Portia. What is Mr Portas thinking of to give the role to someone else?’

Lucy threw Nathan a reproving look. ‘I’m amazed Nathan was able to give you the news when it is yet to be made public. I would have preferred to tell you myself.’

‘I called when you were out, looking for work,’ Nathan explained, his voice quietly sympathetic. ‘Your maid—Polly?—gave me the unfortunate news. I’m sorry, Lucy. I know how much that part meant to you.’

‘Don’t be too downhearted, Lucy,’ Aunt Dora said, giving her a comforting pat on the hand. ‘There will be other parts. Although I confess I am extremely disappointed with Mr Portas.’

‘I am more than willing to provide a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on, if so desired,’ Nathan offered.

Lucy dragged her gaze towards his tall commanding figure. He was gazing at her with an air of surprising openness, as he stood in front of the fire in a casual, manly pose, his arm draped along the mantelpiece. ‘I do not desire. At present I am extremely angry and disappointed.’ He raised that damnable eyebrow at her, so knowing, so thoroughly in control.

‘I can understand that.’

Lucy glared at him, hating that mocking smile that twitched infuriatingly at the corners of his mouth. ‘I don’t think you understand the enormity of what has happened to me,’ she retorted, going to stand in front of him and glaring into his eyes. ‘I did wonder if for some malicious reason you might be the perpetrator of my downfall,’ she said angrily, for the suspicion had briefly crossed her mind.

‘I want you with me, Lucy, but I would not stoop that low.’

She was relieved to hear him say that. Her emotions told her she could not possibly survive the pain of it if he had.

‘What nonsense is this, Lucy?’ Aunt Dora piped up, her voice reproachful. ‘How can you accuse Nathan of such a thing? He does not have a malicious bone in his body. You accuse him most unfairly.’

Nathan’s smile was almost sweet. ‘Your aunt is right. You are letting your imagination run riot.’

Lucy’s temper flared. ‘I am not accusing you, but my troubles began the day after you came to see me. It began with the trade’s people I owe money to. Have you any idea how humiliating it is to have people coming to your home and demanding money.’

‘You could put an end to this situation.’

‘How? By agreeing to go with you to Portugal?’

‘Portugal?’ Aunt Dora cried, the mere idea of her niece disappearing into a war zone bringing her upright. ‘Why on earth would you go to Portugal with Napoleon’s soldiers running wild all over the place?’

Lucy was quick to reassure her. ‘Please don’t upset yourself, Aunt Dora. I am going nowhere.’

‘Don’t be distressed, dear,’ Aunt Dora said. ‘I have a little money put by. We are not destitute. It’s not the end of the world.’

How Lucy wished that were true. ‘It certainly feels like it to me. Don’t you see? No one is going to employ me now.’

‘But you are a talented actress. I’m sure something will turn up.’

‘You have more faith than me,’ Lucy murmured. ‘I’ve been to every theatre in London looking for work, but no one is taking on new actresses.’

‘Lucy...’ Nathan wanted to go to her.

She lifted her gaze solemnly to his. ‘Yes?’

When he saw the painful sadness dulling her beautiful eyes, remorse dragged his spirit down into the depths of a dark abyss. ‘I am sorry things are as bad as that.’

‘But—how will you manage?’ Aunt Dora wanted to know.

How shall we manage? Lucy thought, for Aunt Dora no longer had the money to pay her own bills. She would never know the enormity of them. Not that Lucy minded while ever she was working and could afford it. Lucy’s parents had died shortly after her birth and Aunt Dora had raised her as her own. There had never been much money and Lucy had spent most of her childhood hanging about theatres in the company of actors, but they had managed and Aunt Dora had done her best. Lucy would be grateful to her for ever and she loved her dearly.

‘I shall have to look for some other kind of work and of course I shall have to give up my house. Things will be difficult for a time. I’m afraid we’ll both have to tighten our belts.’

‘Then you must move in with me. You can have your old room. It will be like old times having you close by me.’

Lucy smiled at her fondly. ‘Thank you, Aunt Dora. I think I shall have to take you up on that.’

‘You have work if you want it,’ Nathan said quietly.

Her gaze passed over him scornfully. ‘With you? I think not.’

‘Why are you so angry with Nathan, Lucy? As you will remember, Nathan, my niece can be quite volatile at times. She is a woman of mighty will.’

‘So am I,’ he replied firmly.

In spite of their broken engagement, Lucy knew that in her heart Aunt Dora had always held an image of Nathan as her betrothed. She had been deeply disappointed when they had parted. ‘Nathan is anxious to preserve me to use for his own ends, Aunt Dora, but I’m afraid that will never happen.’

Nathan lifted a brow questioningly as he dared to delve into those shining green orbs. ‘And you’re certain of that, are you, Lucy? I wonder if you have really considered the full depth of your predicament.’

‘I am fully aware how dire my situation is and I know you to be the most persistent. I resent very much your high-handedness in arranging my life. I have done quite well without you in the past four years and will continue to do quite well without you in the future—without further interference from you.’

His voice was calm when he spoke. She could not seem to shake him. ‘You seem to forget that it was you, not I, who ended our engagement, Lucy.’

‘Out past relationship has no bearing on the future.’ Turning her back on him, she went to her aunt. ‘I must go now, Aunt Dora. I will come and see you tomorrow with better news, I hope.’

‘Must you go so soon?’ She sighed and kissed her niece. ‘Very well, Lucy. As I said, something will turn up. I am sure of it.’

Purposely not looking in Nathan’s direction, Lucy went out.

‘Go with her, Nathan,’ Dora said. ‘Talk to her and come and see me again soon.’

Chapter Three

With long, purposeful strides, Nathan drew level with Lucy as she left the house.

‘What do you want?’ she asked without looking at him.

‘To talk.’

‘We have. Now, go away. I have to look for work.’

‘Come now. Your earnings as an actress were not great.’

She felt insulted. ‘I may not earn as much as the leading actresses at Covent Garden or the Opera House, but I have so far managed to earn my way quite comfortably.’

‘So far.’

‘So far, and I will continue to do so—when I can find someone who will take me on. If not, I will find other kind of work until they do.’

‘You must be concerned about the bills that are accumulating.’

‘I’m concerned about everything just now.’ She glanced at him. ‘You sound as if you care.’

‘I do. I’m worried about you and your aunt. That is one of the reasons why I am offering to pay generously for your services. Your aunt is worried about you,’ Nathan rushed on to reason with her before she could express further indignation.

‘Aunt Dora worries about most things.’

‘Mostly about you. Which is why I’m willing to pay you five thousand pounds if you come with me to Portugal.’

Lucy halted and stared at him incredulously. ‘Five thousand pounds?’ Letting out a small sound of frustration, with a toss of her head, she stalked ahead, her hands clenched by her sides. ‘You jest, Nathan Rochefort,’ she hissed when he fell in beside her. ‘How dare you play with my mind—with my feelings in this way? You really are quite despicable.’

Taking her arm, he brought her to a standstill. ‘I’m being serious about this offer,’ he stated firmly. ‘I want you with me.’

She raised her head with an impassioned air. ‘Doesn’t it matter what I want?’

‘Of course it does.’ The intensity receding slightly from his stare, he smiled. ‘It matters to me a great deal what you want. Just don’t ask me to believe that you are indifferent to the money I am offering to pay you.’

He spoke the truth. Of course she was tempted by the amount. Who in their right mind would not be? Five thousand pounds would mean she never had to work again and enable her to get the best possible care for Aunt Dora. But could she tolerate being with Nathan day in and day out, feeling his presence, his gaze, for ever watchful, commanding her, when she had struggled so hard to put the past and him behind her?

‘But why me?’ she cried. ‘Why pay me all that money?’ Her eyes locked on to his face and her gaze did not waver.

Seeing that his offer of five thousand pounds had taken the wind out of her sails and that passers-by were beginning to stop and gape at them, taking her arm, he began to escort her along the street. ‘I would prefer to carry on this conversation in private—at your house.’

* * *

Neither of them broke the charged silence on the way home, but no sooner were they over the threshold and the parlour door had closed behind them than Lucy faced him.

‘I’m not at all cut out for what you are asking of me. I would probably turn and run at the first sound of gunfire.’

Nathan gentled his gaze when he saw her staring at him with a stricken look. ‘Lucy,’ he said quietly, ‘I will always keep you safe.’

She bristled as though he had given her some great insult. ‘No.’ She shook her head, glaring at him accusingly. ‘No one can promise that.’

‘I can be very determined,’ he answered, with a half smile, as he saw he should push her. It was obvious he’d already touched a nerve. ‘I am not perfect. Far from it, in fact. But if you come with me, I will do all in my power to see that you come to no harm.’

‘How?’ she demanded, her green eyes glittering with remembered pain. ‘How can you claim you will do that? And why is there no one else you can ask?’

‘Because I know you. You are exactly the person I am looking for. You speak French for a start. As I recall it is very good.’

‘Aunt Dora taught me. She spent many years in France as a child. She considered French an important part of my education. What else?’

‘You are an accomplished actress—the only actress I know. Your talents may be required of you to play a part. You are also witty and wise enough to know a fool when you see one.’ He moved to stand directly in front of her, encouraged that she did not step away from him. ‘You have confidence, too, as well as a sense of humour—although I have seen very little of that of late. And your compassion for others compels my admiration and respect.’

Lucy trembled, staring at him.

‘You are also brave,’ he continued as she turned away abruptly. ‘The fact that you have worked your way through adversity in your profession and the care you take of your aunt is commendable and bespeaks your courage and good sense. It makes me feel that I can trust you, trust in your integrity, which is a rarity for me. It is not often I come across a person I can trust.’

She looked at him, listening like a doe in the woods, but poised to flee from him. She was rendered helpless by his words. It was difficult to argue with a man who praised her not for superficial things, as Jack had done, but for the very qualities that she most valued in herself. It would seem he did understand her a little better than she had given him credit for.

The tantalising channels in his cheeks deepened as he offered her a smile that seemed every bit as persuasive as it once had been. ‘Will you not relent, Lucy?’

She hesitated. All things considered, she could do worse. Feeling herself weakening, before she could do so completely, in a moment of desperation, she said, ‘I don’t know. And now I would like you to leave. I have much to think about.’

Shaking his head slowly, he moved to stand in front of her. Perhaps it was time to try another method of persuasion. ‘Not yet.’ His eyes delved into hers, seeking he knew not what. ‘I’d appreciate a few more moments of your time. We have much to reminisce over.’

His voice was low, incredibly warm, melting her. Lucy feared, from the inside out. She couldn’t believe what he was able to do with her emotions and with such little effort.

Sighing softly, he touched her cheek with the tip of his finger. ‘I remember our time together and our conversations and the first time I ever heard you laugh—the first time we kissed and the first time we made love,’ he said, his voice low and fierce and wrenching to hear. Suddenly he was catapulted backward through time while the image of the beauty before him abruptly blended into another image—that of an enchanting, curly-haired young girl who had once looked up at him with unconcealed love glowing in her eyes.

He could not prevent his thoughts from returning to what it had been like to be with her. The exquisite tease of her ankle caressing the back of his leg beneath a table, the feel of her arms coming up around his neck in a wave of delicate scent, the heat of her body. Most of all he remembered her face after they had made love, the genuine pleasure of her smile, pleasure that his kiss had given her, pleasure she had not been able to hide from him.

All that passion was within her still. It simmered just under the surface. He had been driven to unleash it and that was coming back to taunt him now, for he wanted to unleash it again. Within him, he felt a pang of nostalgia, mingled with a sharp sense of loss because the girl he had known was gone now.

‘I remember how it felt to hold you, how your skin felt to my touch. I remember how you looked in the moonlight with your face upturned to mine, wanting me to kiss you.’

‘Stop it.’ She felt her face grow hot beneath his eyes and turned from him, trying to still the trembling in her limbs.

Nathan moved to stand close behind her, bending his head so that his lips were close to her ear, his breath warming her neck. ‘I remember how you liked me to touch you, how you would say my name over and over again, of how you filled my senses until I could not think.’

Lucy placed the back of her hand over her mouth and caught back a sob of pain and fury. ‘You are cruel, so cruel,’ she told him in a fierce whisper. ‘You should not say these things to me when we both know it is only to get me to do what you want that impels you to say them.’

‘You accuse me of being cruel after what you did to me? You killed what we had without giving me an explanation. It is you who has been cruel, Lucy, to deny me that.’

‘Stop it,’ she cried, moving away from him. ‘I will not listen to this.’

‘Close your ears all you like, but I remember everything and I cannot believe you have forgotten. If you have, I will make you remember. I swear on my life I will.’

Turning round and staring into those translucent eyes that ensnared her own, Lucy felt as if she were being swept back in time. Drop by precious drop she felt her confidence along with her resistance draining away. How could she have deluded herself into believing she could sway him from his purpose? Not once since she’d met him had she ever emerged the victor in any conflict with him.

Drawing a ragged breath, she turned from him, passing cool fingertips across her burning eyelids. She was tired, so very tired of trying to find work, tired of being turned away from one theatre after another. She would miss her work and she worried so much about money and how she was going to pay her creditors. She couldn’t even pay her immediate bills. And how was she to care for her aunt?

But she could not do as he asked—could she?

Folding her arms across her chest, she turned and looked at Nathan.

Nathan saw her struggling with indecision. ‘Do say yes, Lucy,’ he said in a quiet voice.

Perhaps it was the use of her name. Perhaps it was the change in his tone. She thought for a moment, then said, ‘I can’t fight you any longer. You should congratulate yourself, Nathan. You have outmanoeuvred me. You have been very clever. It would seem you have left me with no alternative. Very well. I will work for you.’

He looked at her steadily, knowing just how difficult this was for her. ‘I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear you say that.’

‘I am sure you are. However, there are conditions you must adhere to. Ground rules must be established between us.’

‘Which are?’

‘That whatever there was between us in the past is over and done with. What you have just said will not be repeated. We are two different people. If this new arrangement is to succeed, you will not try to initiate any kind of intimacy. We must be careful to keep the two strands of our lives from becoming tangled. You have to promise me this otherwise I will not go with you. If I do, I will do my best not to let you down. I will be singularly focused and our future relationship must be a working one if I am to succeed in the mission I am to be presented with.’