Page 38 of The Gentleman's Deception

Chapter 10

It seemed to Lucas thatthe earth actually stood still—like the suspension of time a soldier experiences before pulling the trigger immediately following the command to fire. It lasted less than a fraction of a second, this stopping of time, and then Lavinia transformed before his eyes into a new Lavinia, a Lavinia who was his betrothed.

She was always a wonder to behold, with her radiant hair and arresting looks. He never tired of looking at her. She couldn’t help but draw attention by simply beingherwherever she went. But there, right before his eyes, her back straightened a bit more, her chin tilted slightly upward, and her mouth curved into the most poised smile he’d ever seen.

She hadn’t looked at him in shock or given away his falsehood. Neither had her friends. Hannah had already assumed the role of servant and had retreated into the background. Mr. Drake stood stoically by, as though making such a pronouncement as Lucas had done was a daily occurrence. Miss Weston was smiling beatifically.

On the other hand, his mother’s mouth was uncharacteristically open, his father’s eyebrows had risen nearly to his receding hairline, Rebecca looked about to burst, and Isobel had gone pale.

All this happened in but a matter of seconds, although it seemed a lifetime to Lucas. He continued the introductions. “Lavinia, dearest, may I present myparents, the Viscount and Viscountess of Thurlby, my sister Rebecca, and myeldest brother, Thomas’s, wife, Isobel.”

Lavinia dropped into an elegant bow worthy of the court of the Prince Regent.

And the earth began moving again.

Rebecca squealed and dashed to Lavinia, giving her a bone-crushing hug and exclaiming how happy she was to be getting another sister while Lucas’s mother took his hands in her own and received his kiss. His father came forward to shake his hand and then bow over Lavinia’s.

“We knew it was a match made in heaven,” Lucas heard Miss Weston saying to his mother. “Did we not, Arthur?”

“Oh, indeed, indeed,” Mr. Drake said, winking.

“It appears we have much to discuss,” his mother said diplomatically, although if Lucas was to go by her countenance, he suspected the discussion would be a private one between him and his parents and could potentially occur at a rather high pitch. “You could have at least mentioned her in one of your letters,” she added in a low voice for Lucas’s ears only. “I feel rather thunderstruck.”

His father’s brows had nearly returned to their normal position on his forehead, which was a good sign, although he’d also gone somewhat serious after Lucas’s announcement, which was not. “Lucas, if you’ll point the coachman in the direction of the stables so Martin can see to their needs,” his father said evenly.

“Certainly, Father.”

“Come inside, Miss Fernley,” Mama said, “and your traveling companions, of course, so you may rest and we can get better acquainted. Isobel, if you’d be so kind as to ring for tea. Rebecca, let the rest of the family know Lucas is home and we have visitors. They will want to meet their brother’s . . . betrothed. This way, everyone. Miss Fernley.” She led the way inside, the others following close behind.

Lucas took a deep breath and brought up the rear.

He’d done it.

The son who’d left university to enlist and had no wife and no career had not faced his family empty-handed after all; he had not arrived home with nothing to show for himself.

He’d presented his parents with something—something quite impressive, in fact. He’d arrived with a bride in tow—a spectacularly beautiful bride. It was all a big lie, of course, but he’d deal with that later.

Best of all, Lavinia and the others had followed his lead. Well, Lavinia would—she’d pulled the same trick on him at the White Horse in London just a few days earlier, and he hadn’t even known her at the time. He’d followed her lead then, hadn’t he? Of course, she would follow his lead—they all would.

Isobel, he’d noticed, had gone pale and utterly still when he’d made his announcement. What had she expected would happen when he finally returned home? That she would ignore what they’d shared and the unspoken attachment they’d formed before she’d gone and married Thomas and then expect Lucas would simply remain her forlorn admirer?

No, he would not be sorry he’d done this.

His father fell in step next to him as his mother herded the others toward the drawing room. “Welcome home, son,” he said. “It’s past time you returned to the bosom of your family. Your mother in particular felt great anxiety after you traipsed off to war, taking the King’s shilling in Spain. It is good to have you with us again at last.”

“I’m truly sorry for any worry I may have caused Mama, Father. I am one of the fortunate ones. Many mothers lost and are continuing to lose sons in the fight against Napoleon.” It had been a close call for him on more than one occasion. “I’m here now at least, although I cannot say for how long. I must find the means to support myself.”

“Yourselfanda family,” his father added. “As you apparently have found a bride-to-be.” He was studying Lucas closely as he spoke those words.

“Indeed, Father, although we have yet to discuss a date for the marriage. It was important to return home and spend time with my family first.”

“Quite prudent of you both, I must say.” They stood next to the drawing room door while his mother led Lavinia to a small sofa and the others took the remaining available seats in the room. “She has quite dramatic coloring, does she not? Not the run-of-the-mill English beauty at all.”

“Indeed.”

“One might wonder where the two of you became acquainted. But I suppose London has a greater variety of young ladies from which to choose a bride than we do here in our modest little corner of Lincolnshire.”

“I believe Lavinia would be considered a rare beauty even in London, Father. I feel very fortunate.”

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