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

shaking her head. “I don’t kna, Miss. That would feel loike a lie, and your papa used ter say—”
    Lucy heaved a sigh of frustration. “I never lie, Georgy, and I wouldn’t ask you to take up the habit either. If my mother asks if we were required to rescue a gentleman and tend to some scratches and bruises, we will answer that we did indeed, and you may have my leave to tell her everything. But if she does not ask, it is not a lie to say nothing, now is it?”
    “I suppose not, Miss.”
    “Good, then we are agreed.” Lucy pushed herself up from the sofa and cringed at her filthy skirts. “Let us change into something dry, and I will see about finding the odious man something to wear. Together, I am certain we can get him dry, dressed in clean clothes, and off to bed. How does that sound?”
    “Loike somethin’ a proper vicar’s daughter would say,” said Georgina. “Except the odious part, that is. ’A do ya kna ’im, anyway? I ’ave never seen ’im before. I would ’ave remembered that face for sure.”
    “His name is Colin Cavendish,” said Lucy, offering no further information than that. “And you can take my word that he is, indeed, despicable. As soon as he wakes up, you shall see for yourself.”
    Lucy forced her tired body up one flight of stairs to her bedchamber where she quickly changed into a worn blue morning gown and tied her hair back with a ribbon. Then she ascended two more sets of stairs to the attic, where she paused in front of one of her father’s old trunks and eyed it with misgiving. It had taken her and her mother months to muster the fortitude to carefully fold all of his clothes and stash them in these trunks. They had recounted many memories while doing so, shed many tears, and folded many clothes that day. When it came time to close the trunks and leave them behind, Lucy had never felt heavier.
    Memories were tricky things. They could play with one’s heart, twirl it around the way her father used to twirl Lucy around, and then drop it in the dirt to be stepped upon, never to feel the same again.
    Lucy’s heart had been tread upon too many times, and she knew from experience what the cost would be if she opened that trunk. But what other choice did she have? Dress the earl in one of her gowns? She almost giggled at the thought. If only one would fit him, she might be tempted to do it. But alas, he was too large. The only clothes that would work rested before her in this dark and dusty room.
    Drawing a deep breath, Lucy knelt in front of the trunk, unhooked the latch, and hefted it open. She had hoped to smell the scent of sandalwood that she had so often associated with her father, but sadly, that scent had departed, replaced by the unfriendly odor of must and old wood. She picked up the white shirt on top and breathed it in, hunting for sandalwood and not finding even a hint of it.
    She set it down and sighed, feeling a renewed sense of loss. It was for the best, she tried to tell herself. If her father’s scent was still intact, it would be much harder to share the clothing. Yet the memories were as vibrant as ever. Her father, wearing this shirt as he exited the church after giving a wonderfully inspiring sermon. The people in his parish had flocked around him, wanting a word, and yet his eyes had sought out his wife and daughter. When he saw them, his mouth lifted into a smile and his hand rose in greeting. Lucy’s mother once told Lucy that she would never have to wonder if they came first in Mr. Beresford’s eyes because he would prove it to them every Sabbath after service.
    And he had. At least until the day he no longer could.
    Tears pooled in Lucy’s eyes, and she quickly blinked them away. She dug into the trunk, determined to find something for the earl to wear that would not reduce her to a watering pot every time she glanced his way.
    Near the bottom of the stack, she finally found a soft, pink shirt and dark green trousers, both of which her father had