Her Lord's Desire (The Forbidden Saga #3) - Maggie Ryan Page 0,49
him his approval on a silver platter despite their history together. His first impression of Charles Lloyds hadn’t been all that high though he had nothing to truly base his feelings on. However, hearing the man tell his story in the parlor and seeing the obvious approval in Eleanor’s expression, he realized that both she and Edward truly respected the quiet teacher. And the fact that Charles had spoken frankly, effectively firing the first salvo, he had to give the man far more consideration that he’d thought. Rather unused to competition, Lucas smiled, finding himself looking forward to the challenge.
“Don’t worry about me, Edward,” he assured his friend. “I have no intention of hurting your kitten.” He paused as Edward rolled his eyes. “I warn you though, I do have the intention of making her purr.”
“I would expect nothing less, Lucas, but let me warn you,” he said, leaning forward, his voice firm and tight. “I have come not only to respect Lucille, but to love her as well. I think you would be a perfect mate for her, however, do not take advantage of my friendship. There will be no dalliances here. You are not to attempt to win her if it is only to put another notch in your belt. She is not one of Eleanor’s students. Her spirit is indeed strong, but she is an innocent and, Lucas, she shall remain so or you shall deal with me.”
Lucas heard the warning and understood. He nodded and setting his snifter back onto the table between them, he stood. “I understand, Edward,” he said, “I give you my oath that I will behave myself.”
Edward nodded as he tossed back the rest of his drink. The men extinguished the lamps, left the study, and climbed the stairs, giving a final good night as Lucas turned to walk toward the guest chambers while Edward turned in the other direction toward his room. As Lucas undressed and moved to extinguish the lamp, he added a final vow to himself, “I will heed your words, Edward, but I promise you this… I will win her heart.”
The next morning Lucy found herself wondering where Lord Huntington and Edward were, but was grateful to be able to make her apology to Mrs. Bremmer without the man bearing witness. The housekeeper seemed pleased with the exchange, but that didn’t keep her from plopping her charge back down on the settee and handing her the mended dress. Lucy sighed seeing that more than half of her stitches had been removed. As Louisa sat sewing a tapestry in a chair nearby, Lucy redid her work. The next time Anna checked, Lucy watched, massaging her fingertips as several stitches were again removed. Clamping her mouth shut, Lucy simply accepted the dress for the third time.
When Lucy looked up at the sound of footfalls, it was to see Lord Huntington entering the room. She watched as he approached Louisa’s chair and asked to see her work. Lucy knew that, unlike her, Louisa was an expert seamstress. The colors of her threads popped off the linen, bringing the scene to life. Every decorative stitch was beautifully placed as well.
“This is Wintercrest,” Lucas said, with a smile.
“Yes, or rather, I’m attempting to depict the gardens of the estate,” Louisa said, running her fingertip over the raised bumps of hundreds of tiny French knots in different hues of pink that made up the hydrangea blossoms that bloomed in beds near their willow tree.
“I recognize the pathway that runs along the bottom of the terraces. You do beautiful work, Louisa.”
Lucas’ praise had Lucy’s eyes dropping to her work. Instead of vibrantly colored threads, her needle held a single gray strand. There were no intricately worked designs, only a line of boring stitches and even those weren’t perfectly placed. Sighing, she unthreaded her needle, using its point to pick out the last few stitches she’d made, saving Mrs. Bremmer the trouble.
“I thought you finished your mending last evening, Lucille,” Lucas said.
Lifting her eyes, she glared at him. “I did, but obviously Mrs. Bremmer is not as appreciative of my efforts as you are of Louisa’s,” she said, her tone indicating her anger. She saw the smile leave his face.
“Careful, little one,” he said. “I appreciate your spirit but am far less accepting of useless anger. I saved your bottom last night because I accept the blame for tearing your dress. However, don’t think I won’t hesitate to tend to it myself in the future if