Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)

Lucy tore her gaze away from the jewels in her hand and looked up at her husband. Drat him. His little impassioned speech was wreaking havoc with all the words she’d practiced so faithfully and waited up late to say. That she didn’t want to go back to Waltham Manor. That the past five days had been sheer agony, and she never wanted to be parted from him again. She would go with him to Cornwall, if he asked it. Or Australia, or the moon.

But he wanted her to go to London. He wanted to buy her jewels and carriages and take care of her. He would make no demands on her, he said.

Even if she wanted him to?

Lucy loved him too much to let him go, even if she wasn’t loved in return. If he had wanted her enough to marry her, then being wanted would have to suffice. So she’d practiced her seductive speech and donned this tarty red negligee of Sophia’s—after all, something similar had worked once before. And now he was here on his knees, with jewels and promises and that beautiful, sincere blue gaze of his. Vowing not to desire her at all. Retreating back into that shell of indifference. Offering her a lifetime of opulent misery.

She didn’t know how to respond.

Her fingers tightened over the necklace. The polished stones felt like liquid under her fingertips. “It’s lovely, Jeremy. But I don’t need this. And I don’t need carriages, or a redecorated suite, either.” His brow furrowed, and his jaw tensed. Lucy sat up. This was coming out all wrong.

Pulling on his lapel with her empty hand, she slid the necklace inside and let it drop back into his pocket. Then she ran both hands up to his shoulders.

“Jeremy, can’t you see?” She swallowed hard, meeting his now-troubled gaze. “I don’t need you to take care of me. All I need is—”

A soft knock on the door interrupted her. The door creaked open a foot, and the head of a ghostly-pale chambermaid poked through the gap.

“B-begging your pardon, my lord. My lady.” The head bobbed a bit—a motion Lucy took for a curtsy. “I just thought … that is to say, we believed you should know … that someone ought to inform you …”

“For God’s sake, what is it?” Jeremy rose to his feet.

The chambermaid shook. “Her Ladyship’s aunt has gone missing,” she squeaked. Then her head disappeared and the door slammed shut.

Lucy leapt to her feet. “Oh, no,” she moaned, picking up the red silk dressing gown draped over the sofa’s back. She shrugged into the robe and cinched it about her waist before dropping to the floor to hunt for her slippers. “We have to find her. She doesn’t know this place, and the Abbey is so big. She could be anywhere. And it’s so cold, and she’s so frail. If she gets lost …” She jammed the slippers on her feet and scrambled up to a standing position, only to find herself nose-to-nose—or rather, nose-to-throat—with Jeremy.

“Don’t worry.” His hands went to her shoulders. “We’ll find her,” he said simply.

She nodded, staring stupidly at the open collar of his shirt.

“The servants have no doubt begun searching the house,” he said. “Stay here and help them. It’s unlikely she’d have made it outdoors, but I’ll take some footmen out to the gardens, just to be certain.” He tilted her face to his. “We’ll find her. And then we’ll continue this talk.”

“All right, then.”

Then he was gone. Lucy heard him thundering down the stairs, barking orders to servants as he went.

She crossed the corridor and entered Aunt Matilda’s suite. It seemed best to first verify that she was indeed missing, and not simply huddled behind the draperies. That had happened once at Waltham Manor—the whole house had been turned upside down before her nursemaid finally found Aunt Matilda squirreled away in the window seat.

Lucy combed through the chamber, peeking in cupboards and ducking under the bed. Finally she strode to the windows and pulled back the drapes.

Nothing.

Or something.

A flash of white outside caught her eye. She scanned the darkness. There it was again. Moonlight glinting off something pale and wispy, like a ghost. Or an elderly spinster’s shift. She pressed her face to the glass, straining to make out the landscape below. This window looked out over the front of the Abbey; the gardens were behind the house. Aunt Matilda was heading down the gently sloping green that bordered the woods, and the woods hid the narrow, winding valley of the stream.

Lucy rushed down the stairs and out the massive, open door. There were no footmen about. Jeremy must have led them all around back, to the gardens. She grabbed a carriage lamp from its hook beside the door and started off across the green. There was no time to go off in search of the men. By the time she found them and pointed them in the right direction, Aunt Matilda could be wandering lost in the woods, or worse—plunging into the icy stream.