Chapter 3

It was a chilly morning when Lucia woke up the next day. Ravenshire, much like Lyonsyle, was situated by the ocean, and even during the summers, the temperature remained cool. Lucia was quite used to gloomy mornings, although she preferred the austere majestic cliffs of Lyonsyle to the gentle sandy seashores of Ravenshire. Maria was already bustling about, tending to the fire and brushing out the dust on her cloak. Lucia thanked the gods that her morning illness was not in the morning, but at night. Maria had not suspected anything unusual, and Lucia was thankful. However, to be more careful, Lucia refused breakfast, opted only for tea and some biscuits. She blamed her lack of appetite on the arduous journey. Maria clucked, but didn't argue with her. She did, however, lay a hand on Lucia's brows to check her temperature.

Cradling the teacup to her chest to keep warm, Lucia said, "Maria, would you please set out the purple mourning gown for today."

Maria was incredulous. She protested, "But my Lady, that outfit is on the edge of indecency." Crossing her arms in disapproval, she refused to budge from her spot.

"Exactly my point, Maria. If you do not hurry, I will be late."

"I don't understand why you didn't toss it out with the seamstress when you received it," Maria huffed. "It's indecent, I tell you. Absolutely unsuitable for a lady of your rank. It might as well been made for a... a..."

"Prostitute?" Lucia suggested.

Maria gasped. Lucia shrugged before hopping down from the bed. "Well, it is true," she said as she undid her braid. "Am I not selling myself for my father's benefit?" She sat down at her vanity table, swiping a finger across the curved edge.

"My Lady!"

Lucia turned to look at Maria. She gave a sad smile that broke Maria's heart. Ever since the late Lady Aubren passed on, Maria had been the main caretaker of Lucia. She had tucked her in at night, bandaged her first scrape, and praised her first embroidered sample. She couldn't bear the thought of her charge in such bleak prospect.

Her voice steady, Lucia said, "If you please, Maria. The gown. Let's see if we can impress this William of Ravenshire into thinking with his lust instead of his brain, not that it is a difficult task when it comes to men."

When Lucia looked into the mirror after Maria was done with her, even she was impressed. She said as much, and was pleased to see a smirk on Maria's face. Maria turned her around, cupping Lucia's face in her weathered hands. She looked into her eyes seriously. "Child, it is not easy, what your father demands of you, but you are more capable than anyone of making a man fall in love with you. You've got the beauty, and most importantly, you have a kind soul. May the gods watch over you today."

She kissed Lucia on the cheek. Lucia grasped her hand and squeezed it. "Thank you, Maria. You have been more of a mother to me than any. I believe I shall be fine."

A knock on the door broke the teary silence between them. The Count's maid appeared. "My Lady Lucia, the Count and his son await your presence in the Blue Room."

Giving Maria a confident smile that she didn't quite feel, Lucia smoothed the fabric of her gown before she swept out of the room like a regal queen.

William stared out the window of the drawing room. The landscape of his home was obscured with the fog that blew in from the ocean last night. A pity, he thought, that the lady would not be able to appreciate the beauty of his home. Almost immediately he crushed the thought. Why did he want her to see it anyway? Chances were that she wouldn't appreciate the natural beauty of his home anyway.

"Stop fussing, William," his father said.

Turning away from the view, William flopped down in the armchair facing his father's. "I wasn't fussing," he argued, mentally kicking himself for sounding like the petulant child he was acting.

As if realizing his son's thought, his father looked up from his book with a stern look. In the morning light, William suddenly realized how old his father had gotten during his absence. There were more lines on his face, and his gray hair was thinner than the last time William saw him. His skin carried the translucent quality that most people have as they grow older. His eyes were as sharp as ever, and in them William saw a part of himself. He had lived his life as his mother's son, but until now he never allowed himself to believe that he was as much his father's son.

Uncomfortable with his father's disapproving stare, William shifted in the leather chair. "Where is the chit anyway?" he demanded. "What's taking her so long?"

"I hope you will have better manners than that when she arrives," the Count said absently, returning to the text. "I should like to think that I have brought you up to at least be civil to a gentlewoman."

He left William to sulk silently. William pushed away from the chair and returned to the window. He placed a hand on the glass pane, feeling the coldness of the outside world. How he wished he was outside with his stallion, exploring the terrain that both of them knew and loved. He would never admit it to his father, but he had missed home during his absence.

When the tentative knock came, he didn't bother to turn towards the door. "Lady Lucia of Lyonsyle, my Lord," the manservant at the door announced.

"My dear, you look well-rested this morning," William heard his father said.

"Thank you, my Lord. I have no complaints of your hospitality." The voice was low yet melodic. Unable to resist his curiosity any longer, William turned to look at the girl he was expected to marry.

She was more beautiful than he ever imagined. Even in mourning colors, she was exquisite. Her jet black hair was swept up, held by little pearl pins, revealing the soft nape and the delicate curve of her cheeks. Her shoulders were bare, the neckline of her gown scooping dangerously low between the swell of her breasts. It was dark purple this time, trimmed with black lace, but entirely flattering for her figure. Unlike the other court ladies, Lady Lucia kept her ruffles to the minimum, just enough to draw the eye to her most stunning attributes. The gown flared out from her small waist, accentuating the curve of her hips.

At his father's introduction, she turned to look at William. He knew his heart must have stopped momentarily. His brain certainly did.

Her eyes were compelling. They were crisp blue, almost amethyst when reflecting the color of her gown, framed by thick dark lashes. Rosy lips parted to speak, but he couldn't hear. He saw her lick her lips nervously, then tried again to gain his attention, but he couldn't draw his eyes off of her.

"Please excuse my son for his rudeness," Lord Ravenshire was saying. "Heaven only knows how long it has been since he was last in the company of a gentle lady. The militant life has worn away his upbringing, I'm afraid."

Lucia turned her gaze away from the uncomfortable stare of the stunning stranger. He was breathtaking. His hair hung down around his shoulders, a very different style from most of the gentlemen with whom Lucia was acquainted with. The fine strands were such a pale blond color that it looked almost like silver. He didn't look much like his brother, for his jaw was strong, his nose crooked as if it had been broken before, and his physique tall and lean. Lucia was thankful for the differences. His eyes, though, were the same green as Henry's, bright and cold. She suppressed a shiver at the resemblance.

Though Lucia intended for the gown to encourage staring, his piercing gaze was unnerving. "My father often said it was admirable of your son to stay in the Mohana Mountains for such an extensive period. I have heard that the winters there are terribly cold," she said.

As if waking up from a trance, William said quickly, "Yes, the winters are indeed mercilessly long."

Belatedly, he stepped forward to kiss the back of her hand, a gesture he thought charming. He noticed that her fingers were long, and immediately thought about how it would feel if she were to use them on him. He chided himself for his ungentlemanly behavior. Gods help him, he was no better than the lewd soldiers he commanded.

"Ah, would you like some tea, my dear?" his father said as they all sat down. When Lucia wasn't looking, Lord Ravenshire sent his son a look of disgust. For the first time, William could not agree with his father more. He was acting like a fool.

"Tea would be wonderful, my lord," she answered, arranging her many skirts around her.

While Lord Ravenshire gave the maid detailed instructions, Lucia finally found the courage to meet William's eyes. She found, to her surprise, that his eyes were not on her breasts, but on her face. "You must have traveled night and day to arrive home so soon after your brother's death," she said.

"I left as soon as I could, but you understand, the autumn harvest is a busy time for all of us."

"Indeed."

Lord Ravenshire had noticed his son's expression and fought to keep the glee out of his face. It seemed that his stubborn son might not be so hard to turn around after all. Standing up, he said to the young people, "It seems you two are getting along swimmingly. I shall leave you to discuss freely without my interferring presence."

William panicked. Though he fully expected his father to do something like this, he did not want to be left alone with Lady Lucia. She was much too dangerous to be dealt with alone. By her very presence, she could send his brain to hell. No, his father must stay so that he didn't do anything silly, such as marrying the chit.

Desperate, William argued, "But father, you have not had a chance to ask after Lord Aubren. Surely you must stay for tea."