Lucy hugged the wall, keeping as much to the shadows as possible. She had not wanted to attend the ball, given what she had heard only this very afternoon, but she could not allow her parents to guess that she was privy to their conversation.

Pretending that all was well had been difficult, but not entirely unmanageable, although she had hated the sudden gleam in her mother’s eye as she discussed the upcoming ball and the various gentlemen that Lucy might meet.

She had managed to escape her parents’ attention almost immediately and had rushed to where she would be least likely spotted. It was not her usual behavior, of course, but she had to discover whether or not Lord Hutton was there—and if her parents were intending to speak to him that very night.

Her stomach rolled with distaste as the man himself came into her line of view, mopping his red, sweating face with a large, yellow handkerchief. His balding head gleamed in the candlelight, his rotund figure adorned in swathes of bright yellow and green fabric. It was an almost comically grotesque sight. Lord Hutton, of course, was known to be wealthy, and it was only because of his status that he was given so much leeway by society. However, Lucy found him utterly detestable. Shivering, she imagined his pudgy hand taking hers, his large fingers sealing her to him. Shaking her head, she diverted her gaze. She could not allow this to happen. She would not allow her parents to even introduce him to her.

Unfortunately for Lucy, that was exactly what unfolded in front of her. To her horror, she saw her father shaking Lord Hutton’s hand, his eyes searching the crowd. Lucy knew exactly who he was searching for, her stomach rolling with alarm and anxiety.

Her feet moved before she even thought about where she was going. Practically clinging to the wall, Lucy walked slowly, ducking behind tall gentlemen so that she remained hidden from view.

A blast of cool air hit her, making her heart beat a little faster. Cool air meant a door.

Moving as carefully as she could, she caught sight of the open French doors. The orchestra began to play and couples took to the floor, leaving her a little more exposed. Her breath hitched as she scrabbled for the door leading to the gardens, keeping herself low as she hurried outside.

The darkness welcomed her like an old friend, wrapping itself around her and hiding her from the prying eyes of Lord Hutton. Lucy drew in a long breath and scurried further into the gardens, wishing she had brought her shawl. The path was lit by only a few stray lanterns, bathing her steps in shadow. Lucy did not know what to do or where to go, realizing that she was only delaying the inevitable.

Her slippers grew cold and damp as she left the path and crossed the grass in search of a quiet place where she could be alone. If she remained on the path, she might very well come across courting couples, which would bring her only embarrassment.

Stumbling further into the gloom, she managed to find a small, enclosed arbor, encircled by a thick hedge and revealing a small bench within. A single lantern lit the way, and, to Lucy’s surprise, she found it slightly warmer inside, hidden from view.

The arbor was exactly the place she needed, somewhat sheltered from the cool night air and giving her the privacy to gather her scrambling thoughts. Sitting down heavily on the bench, Lucy put her face in her hands and tried desperately not to cry. She struggled to see any way out of her predicament while Lord Hutton’s leering face swam into her mind.

She had no doubt that her father would do exactly as he said, for he had always been a hard-hearted man. That was why he had been so prosperous in his business dealings: a man with a tender and compassionate heart would not be willing to make some of the callous decisions he had.

If Lucy refused to marry Lord Hutton, she would find herself without a home and without funds—and then what was she to do? Find employment somehow, even without references, without the proper attire? She would be cleaning the homes of her counterparts, easy pickings for any gentlemen who had his eye on her. Could she run to the country? Stay with her brother?

Lucy sighed to herself, knowing that Jonathan would not come to her aid so easily. He was too straight-laced and would most likely return her to her parents’ home, instructing her to do as she was told. No, he would not be any kind of help.

For the first time, Lucy wished she had some kind of close friend to whom she could turn. Of course, she had acquaintances, but none of the other young ladies had ever seemed remotely interested in what she considered her passions. They were too interested in discussing their latest achievements, whether it was on the pianoforte or just how many gentlemen callers they had. Lucy had never formed a particular bond with them, nor with anyone else.

This left her entirely alone, she realized. Her heart sank and moisture began to cling to her lashes. Her shoulders began to shake as she finally understood how desperate her situation truly was. So lost was she in her sorrow that she did not hear footsteps, followed by a sudden gasp of shock.

“I do beg your pardon, miss.”

The voice caught her attention at once, and, hastily wiping her eyes, Lucy glanced up at the tall figure in the doorway of the arbor.

“Oh, no, it is quite all right,” she murmured, hating that her privacy had been intruded upon. She said nothing else, hoping that the intruder would leave her in peace. In the gloom, she could not make out his face, and as her heart began to pick up its pace, she hoped desperately that he was not about to attempt anything discourteous.

Her face warmed with embarrassment. Perhaps he had been planning a liaison in this very place and she had put his plans awry. She would not leave, however, for that would mean returning to the ball where she was sure Lord Hutton would be waiting for her. No, that simply would not do.

“I do apologize for the intrusion,” the man said, not making any sign of leaving. “But I have noticed that you seem to be in some distress. Can I assist you in any way?”

“Not unless you can prevent my father’s dictates from being enforced, no,” Lucy replied before she could stop herself. “Please, do not let me bother you.”

“It is of no trouble,” he responded, gesturing to another bench to her left. “May I?”

She hesitated, still unable to see his face in the darkness. Her nerves jangled as a loud warning sounded in her mind that she absolutely should not be ensconced with a gentleman in a garden arbor, no matter how kind he appeared.

“You are reticent, of course,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “How rude of me not to introduce myself. I am Lord Caldwell.

Lucy’s eyebrows lifted with surprise. “Why are you not enjoying the ball? Won’t your parents be searching for you?”

Lord Caldwell sat down carefully, and the bench groaned loudly. “I needed some fresh air. My mother is currently enjoying the ball, but my father, the Marquess of Blackinstore, has gone to Paris on business of some sort. first son of.”

Lucy nodded into the darkness, thinking hard. Any man with such a title could be one of two characters: either they went out of their way to throw their wealth and title around, treating others entirely abysmally, or they took their responsibilities seriously and spent their years working hard so that they might one day be ready to take on their father’s title.

As of yet, Lucy did not know which character Lord Caldwell might be, although his voice was warm and friendly, which gave her some hope that he might be the latter. “I am Lady Lucy Donoghue,” she said heavily. “Daughter of the Earl of Withington.”

He inclined his head. “How very nice to meet you, Lady Lucy Donoghue.” A momentary pause left them in silence. “Might I ask what has upset you so?”

She let out a harsh laugh. “You may well ask, Lord Caldwell, but given that there is nothing you can do, then I see very little point in discussing it.”

“It might help lift your spirits somewhat,” he responded.

Letting out another sigh, Lucy stifled a sob and, instead, cleared her throat. “You are a gentleman, and titled at that, so I do not think you will be able to understand the quandary in which I find myself.”

“Ah.”

“You may marry whomever you choose,” she continued bitterly. “As for me, my path is set.” Brushing moisture from her lashes, Lucy tried not to give into the fresh tears that threatened to overwhelm her once more.

“Your parents have chosen your fiancé, then?”

“Sadly, yes. Although, I have not been introduced to the man yet, nor been told of their intentions. I was lucky enough to overhear them.”

“And you are hiding from them,” Lord Caldwell finished thoughtfully. “A wise choice, Lady Lucy.”

Hearing the slight humor in his tone, Lucy bristled. “I did not expect you to understand, Lord Caldwell,” she snapped, emphasizing his title so that he would not forget her earlier point. “Why don’t you return to the ball if my situation causes you such humor?”

Anger coursed through her veins, making her tremble with frustration. Why had she spoken to him? Was it simply because she had no one else to talk to, or because he had appeared to be kind? Irritated with herself, Lucy closed her eyes tightly, aware that she should not have revealed a single piece of her situation to a stranger.

“Is your betrothed so terrible?” the gentleman softly asked. “Surely the daughter of an earl will be wed to a fine, upstanding gentleman. I have heard of your father and know of his reputation within society. I doubt he would throw you away on some undeserving—”

“I am to be wed to Lord Hutton,” Lucy cut him off through clenched teeth. “Something about helping my father with a partnership of sorts.” She waited for Lord Caldwell’s jovial response, but received none. The seconds ticked by slowly, the atmosphere suddenly growing tense.

Without warning, the gentleman got to his feet, pacing across the arbor. “You cannot mean the elder Lord Hutton?” he asked, his voice growing louder with each word. “But his son is recently married, is he not?”

“I was not aware he had a son,” Lucy said quietly. “So yes, I do mean the elder.”

Lord Caldwell paused in his steps, turning to face her, although she could still not make out his features. “But that is quite ridiculous!”

“I am glad you think so,” Lucy told him. “I am also glad that you no longer laugh at me.”

“That is because I can understand your distress!” he exclaimed, walking over to her. “Why your parents are insisting on such a thing, I cannot understand.”

Lucy let out a harsh laugh, knowing exactly why her parents had chosen this course of action. “I am not the daughter they wish for, Lord Caldwell. I much prefer books and the expanding of my mind to practicing the pianoforte or learning the latest gossips that visit my home. In short, they have given up on me, and so have decided that I should be taken off their hands in the easiest way possible.” Pressing her hand to her brow, Lucy winced as pain sliced through her heart once more. “It seems I am nothing but a commodity, useful for bartering and trading and securing my father’s partnership.”

Lord Caldwell said nothing, simply stared down at her for a long moment. She managed to glance up at him, her vision blurry with unshed tears, managing to make out his features somewhat. Blinking hard, she took in his dark hair, the way his lips were drawn into an angry line. She could not tell what color his eyes were, only that they were focused entirely on her. He appeared to be tall with broad shoulders, every inch the gentleman.

“You appear upset, Lord Caldwell,” she said eventually. “I assure you, there is no need to be so on my behalf. You have enough troubles of your own, I am quite sure.”

“That is true,” he said quietly, coming to sit beside her.

Astonished, she made to move away, only for him to grasp her hand in his gloved one.

“I mean you no harm, Lady Lucy,” he continued. “Please, do not run from me. I might, in fact, have something of a solution for you.”

Lucy found herself unable to take her hand from his, the warmth of his body soaking into her chilled limbs. Instead of running, she turned her head to look into his eyes, taking in his serious expression.

“You are not funning me, I hope, Lord Caldwell,” she warned. “I have no idea what possesses you to offer to help me, but in truth, I have no other options available to me.”

“No, I am not funning you in the least,” he replied. “I have had dealings with Lord Hutton in the past and will do anything in my power to keep you from him.”

Lucy let out a long breath, knowing she had to at least listen to him. “Well then, Lord Caldwell. What is it you suggest?”