She could.
She needed only to knock.
And yet there she stood, outside her uncle’s study door, her fingers curled into a fist, as if ready to knock on the door.
But not quite.
How long had she stood like this? Five minutes? Ten? Either way, it was enough to brand her a ridiculous ninny. A coward.
How did this happen? Why did it happen? At school she had been known as capable and pragmatic. She was the girl who knew how to get things done. She was not shy. She was not fearful.
But when it came to Uncle Robert . . .
She sighed. She had always been like this with her uncle. He was so stern, so taciturn.
So unlike her own laughing father had been.
She’d felt like a butterfly when she left for school, but whenever she returned, it was as if she had been stuffed right back in her tight little cocoon. She became drab, quiet.
Lonely.
But not this time. She took a breath, squared her shoulders. This time she would say what she needed to say. She would make herself heard.
She lifted her hand. She knocked.
She waited.
“Enter.”
“Uncle Robert,” she said, letting herself into his study. It felt dark, even with the late afternoon sunlight slanting in through the window.
“Lucinda,” he said, glancing briefly up before returning to his papers. “What is it?”
“I need to speak with you.”
He made a notation, scowled at his handiwork, then blotted his ink. “Speak.”
Lucy cleared her throat. This would be a great deal easier if he would just look up at her. She hated speaking to the top of his head, hated it.
“Uncle Robert,” she said again.
He grunted a response but kept on writing.
“Uncle Robert.”
She saw his movements slow, and then, finally, he looked up. “What is it, Lucinda?” he asked, clearly annoyed.
“We need to have a conversation about Lord Haselby.” There. She had said it.
“Is there a problem?” he asked slowly.
“No,” she heard herself say, even though that wasn’t at all the truth. But it was what she always said if someone asked if there was a problem. It was one of those things that just ca
me out, like Excuse me, or I beg your pardon.
It was what she’d been trained to say.
Is there a problem?