The Bareknuckle Groom - Holly Bush Page 0,62
him now rather than risk loving him and losing him, even though he was not hers and never would be. And she must not love him! She could not risk it. She intended to rid herself of that ridiculous notion immediately.
She awoke from vivid and uncomfortable dreams of him when Mrs. Howell touched her shoulder. “I’m so sorry to disturb you, miss, but Mr. Vermeal is downstairs with another gentlemen. I told them you weren’t feeling well, but he said he would come up to your rooms himself to see what his daughter might need.”
Lucinda sat up slowly. “Thank you, Mrs. Howell. Tell Mr. Vermeal I’ll be there in a few moments and have Giselle come to my room.”
A few minutes later, her butler was opening the doors to the front parlor. Her father stood from the chair he’d been seated in, and Carlton Young turned from his place in front of the fireplace and hurried to her, his hands outstretched. She glanced at them and then up at his face until he dropped them.
“Miss Vermeal, it is so wonderful to see you. I have thought of our conversations many times.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Young. Papa, I’m not feeling well. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Your housekeeper informed us you’d just returned from a party of some sort. Where were you?” her father asked rather tersely. “Did you at least have a maid with you?”
“Aunt Louisa accompanied me.”
“May I say you are looking particularly beautiful?” Young said wistfully.
Lucinda ignored him and looked at her father. “I’m really not feeling very well, Papa, and would like to lay down.”
At that moment the door opened, and a young maid came in carrying a coffee tray. Mrs. Howell followed. “I didn’t order refreshments, Mrs. Howell.”
“But I did,” her father said. “Will you pour, Lucinda?”
She turned to her housekeeper. “Would you please bring me a cup of tea with some willow bark stirred in?”
“Yes, miss. Right away,” she said and motioned to the young maid to leave the room.
Lucinda resigned herself to a conversation, although she intended to keep it short, regardless of what her father might think. She poured coffee for both men and did not wait long for Mrs. Howell to bring her tea. She sipped the steaming liquid and tried to relax her shoulders, knowing that her headache was as much a chance event as it was a tense response to seeing James Thompson.
“Your father has plans to show me and my family some of the city tomorrow. I’m hoping you’ll join us. Or perhaps we can plan an outing to dinner or the theater.”
“Of course she’ll accompany us!” her father said.
“Thank you for thinking of me, Mr. Young, but I . . .” Lucinda trailed off when she heard Brandleford speaking louder than usual and a man replying. She jumped from her chair and stared at the door.
“Miss Vermeal,” James Thompson said as he entered the room. “I wanted to make sure that you’d gotten home safely and that you were feeling better.” He looked at her father and Young. “Am I interrupting something, gentlemen?”
“You most certainly are! What do you think you’re doing, barging into my daughter’s home this way? Get out!”
“Papa, please. Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Thompson?”
“I’ve met your father on a few memorable occasions but haven’t been introduced to this young pup.” James looked across the room. “Perhaps an introduction, Miss Vermeal.”
“Mr. James Thompson, Mr. Carlton Young. Mr. Young, Mr. Thompson.”
Carlton Young walked across the room swiftly and pumped James’s hand.
“The fighter? James Thompson, the fighter?”
“I am,” James said.
“Lucinda,” her father seethed, “have your butler bring your two largest servants to this room immediately and have this man removed.”
James looked at her father, unsmiling. “If you think a pair of burly servants will do the trick, Mr. Vermeal, then please do try. It should be entertaining, but it might be dangerous for some of the more delicate pieces of furniture in this room.”
“Are you threatening me, Thompson? Do you have any idea who I am?”
“You’re Miss Vermeal’s father. And this is Carlton Young,” James said and glanced at Lucinda. “Miss Vermeal’s suitor.”
“I do not have any suitors, Mr. Thompson. Allow Brandleford to see you out,” she said, now noticing that the butler was still standing in the doorway.
“Will you ever fight again?” Young asked. “I’ve read every article I can find about your fight with Jackson.”
“The rematch will be on the twenty-fourth.”
“It’s scheduled already! I didn’t know if it would ever