Page 66 of A Lady in Name

Dion gasped, whipping about in her chair to stare at him. “I don’t know how you dare speak in such a fashion. After all Lucy has done for Paulina today!”

Acutely embarrassed, Lucy watched the man turn on Dion, his jaw stiff as he jerked out the words.

“Much as I deplore her involvement, I cannot think it but fair recompense for having brought on the labour prematurely. If Paulina had not —”

“If Paulina had not come badgering poor Lucy this morning,” interrupted Dion furiously, ‘she wouldn’t have gone into labour. It is her own fault!”

Much to Lucy’s relief, Stefan cut in. “Be quiet, Dion.”

The relief was short-lived, for Stefan then turned to Lord Sarclet, and there was contempt in the cool tone. “Whatever the rights and wrongs of the encounter, Sarclet, I have to say I am astonished at your incivility. Not to mention the base ingratitude of yourself and Paulina in the face of Lucy’s invaluable assistance. Most of all, permit me to say that neither you nor Paulina has the right to dictate my actions in my own house.”

Lord Sarclet glared at him. “I am not unmindful of the girl’s usefulness today.”

“Usefulness!” echoed Dion.

He paid no heed. “But the fact remains she was instrumental in bringing about Paulina’s distresses. And you, Pennington, must share in the blame. What possessed you to dig up such a skeleton in my deceased father-in-law’s closet is a matter for your own counsel, no doubt, but anyone would take you for a lunatic.”

Stefan’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Dion sat huffing and puffing like a pair of bellows. At any second, one or other would speak again and only make bad worse. Lucy could bear no more.

She got up from her chair, drawing all eyes. “Enough! Enough, if you please.”

From the lower end of the table, Mrs Ankerville clapped her hands. “Quite right, Lucinda. Stand up for yourself, child.”

Lucy acknowledged this but barely, turning her attention to Stefan. “I thank you for your support, but I must agree with Lord Sarclet. It was the shock of realisation of who I am that brought on Paulina’s labour.”

“Fiddle!” burst out Dion, but Lucy threw up a hand.

“Pray let me speak, Dion. I wish it had not happened, but events moved so fast there was no opportunity to undo the harm.”

“Which was not caused by you.”

“Dion!”

Lucy threw Stefan a look of gratitude, and fought to speak through an increasingly unsteady voice. “Furthermore, Lord Sarclet echoes my own opinion about the unwisdom of my being brought into this household. For my part, my sojourn has never been anything but temporary. I have no notion of embarrassing anyone, and it is no part of my plan to move in.” She was aware of her tone rising and struggled to keep it down. “My lord Sarclet may rest assured that I will be removing my disturbing presence in short order.”

She was too near to disgracing herself to be able to remain. Without looking to see how her words were received, she pushed back her chair and turned quickly to Mrs Ankerville. “I am very tired, ma’am. I trust you will not object if I excuse myself.”

Her legs were jelly, but Lucy managed to make herself walk to the door. In a moment, she was thankfully out of sight of anyone within the dining parlour, and it did not matter that she stumbled along and had to support herself at one wall, dashing tears away from her eyes with her free hand.

The dining parlour was momentarily silent. Stefan was unable to speak, for fear of the hot words choking in his throat. Enough of a scene had been made already, and anything he said could only make bad worse.

Then Dion jumped up. “I will go after her.”

Stefan got to his feet, reaching out and grabbing her arm. “No, sit down. There has been enough drama for one day, I thank you.”

“But Lucy is distressed. Could you not see how she was desperately trying to keep back her tears?”

Stefan did not let go his sister’s arm. “If I know Lucy, she will infinitely prefer to be left alone.”

At the other end of the table, Corisande was nodding. “Quite right, Stefanus. If one wants to have a really good cry, one must dispense with an audience.”

Stefan ignored this. “Dion, sit down.”

She looked rebellious, glaring at Thomas. “I have a very good mind to walk out of here.”

“You will do no such thing. We are all going to sit down and finish dinner.” Stefan looked for his butler. “Hawkesbury, ask Cook to make up a tray with something light from the next course and have it taken up to Miss Graydene’s room.”

As ever, he could rely on the butler’s imperturbability. “Very good, my lord.”