The Fall of Lord Drayson (Tanglewood Book 1) Read Free Page A

inside. “Would you care to wait for her?”
    He blinked for a moment, obviously taken aback by such an offer. “Surely you jest.”
    “Of course,” Lucy said with a laugh. “As diverting as this conversation has been, I think it would be most unseemly to allow you entrance into our home when neither my mother nor our maid is present.”
    His eyes widened, and his gaze swept over her appearance in a show of surprise. “Are you Miss Lucy Beresford?”
    She dropped into a quick curtsy. “How do you do, sir? Did you think me the maid?”
    He did not try to pretend otherwise. “Of course I thought you the maid. You answered the door and are wearing an apron, for heaven’s sake. And your hair is . . . ahem, never mind.” At least he had the presence of mind to refrain from finishing that sentence.
    Lucy’s insides were positively whirling at what he must be thinking. It wasn’t every day a handsome man mistook one as the maid, but she refused to let his obvious shock at her appearance and lack of propriety unsettle her. She lifted her chin instead, holding out her palms for his inspection. “Have you noticed the deplorable state of my hands as well? They are red and blotchy from scrubbing the kitchen floor.”
    He continued to stare at her, his mouth opening and closing a few times before finally speaking. “Are you in such dire straits as that?”
    Pity or concern was the last thing Lucy wanted from this man. She dismissed his question with a wave of her hand. “No, of course not. I was simply bored, is all.”
    “You scrub floors to stave off boredom?”
    “Only when the alternative is embroidery or practicing the pianoforte,” she said, her eyes dancing merrily.
    Once again, his lips twitched and quirked, but the stubborn man refused to smile. Perhaps it was for the best. Lucy’s heart would likely turn to jelly if he became any more attractive.
    “You have me at a disadvantage, sir,” said Lucy. “Apparently you know me, and yet I haven’t the faintest notion of who you are.”
    He cleared his throat, perhaps attempting to gather his wits about him. “My apologies for not introducing myself in the beginning. I am Colin Cavendish, the Earl of Drayson and current owner of Tanglewood.”
    Lucy’s forehead wrinkled. He appeared to be quite serious, and yet . . . “I find that very interesting, sir, considering I have met Lord Drayson not two years ago, and you look nothing like him.”
    “I should hope not,” said the man. “My father was bald and portly, with a ruddy nose. I, fortunately, take after my mother’s side.”
    All humor faded from Lucy’s being as an otherwise nondescript, three-letter word captured her attention. “Was?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
    “He passed on last summer, I’m sorry to say.”
    Lucy’s palm flew to her mouth. She didn’t know why she found the news so distressing—she had hardly known the man—but the late Lord Drayson had been so kind to her family after her own father had passed away. The earl had journeyed all the way to Askern for Mr. Beresford’s funeral and, upon learning that the widowed Mrs. Beresford had been left only a paltry income, had offered them the use of the dower house. Since that time, Lucy had held him in high esteem and was saddened greatly by this news. Her mother would find it even more upsetting, no doubt.
    “I am sincerely sorry for your loss,” she managed to say. If anyone knew what it felt like to lose a beloved parent, it was Lucy. “I was not aware—nor was my mother—or I daresay she would have informed me. Goodness, he seemed so young and in good spirits . . . but then so did my father before . . .” She lifted sad eyes to his. “Life can be unpredictable in dreadful ways, can it not?”
    “Yes.” Lord Drayson didn’t look at all comfortable at the turn the conversation had taken. He cleared his throat again and looked away from Lucy’s face. “I had hoped to speak to your mother, but I cannot