Francesca eyed her dubiously, but Lucia wasn’t going to let her sister’s dire predictions alter her decision.
Suddenly Francesca sat up. “Mamma will never agree to this. You’re to attend the Duke of York’s ball tonight.” She sighed in relief.
Lucia pursed her lips. She’d forgotten about the duke’s ball. But it needn’t be a problem if—
“I’ll go to the duke’s ball after a stop at the Seatons’,” she said. “Mamma need never know if you offer her a place in your carriage. Dandridge can escort me tonight, and there will be such a crush that if Mamma doesn’t see me until later in the evening she’ll think nothing of it.”
Francesca appeared unimpressed. “Dandridge won’t agree. The Seatons aren’t fashionable. Dandridge won’t give up the duke for Mrs. Seaton.”
“Yes, he will. I can be persuasive when the occasion calls for it. And though he’ll never admit it, I’m sure Reginald will be eager to make amends for his behavior last night.”
“That’s another thing I want to discuss with you.” Francesca placed a hand on Lucia’s shoulder. “Are you really going to go through with this marriage to Dandridge? It’s not too late to cry off.”
Lucia could hardly believe what she was hearing—call off the wedding? Be labeled a jilt? Disappoint her father and mother? Never. As Francesca had just pointed out, she’d made a muddle of things in the past. No wonder her father didn’t have faith in her. But she was going to show him that she’d changed—matured into a responsible, respectable woman. And marrying Reginald was the final proof.
“Not too late?” she choked. “We’re engaged. If I cry off there will be a horrible scandal. Father will be mortified, and our family will be the latest on-dit. It might ruin Father’s chances for advancement.”
“He survived it when I broke my engagement to Roxbury.”
“You’re different, Francesca,” Lucia said. You’re perfect.
“Nonsense. Daddy wouldn’t want you to marry someone you didn’t love or at least esteem.” She paused, her gaze searching Lucia’s face. “Do you love Dandridge?”
Lucia tried not to cringe. Love Dandridge? Of course not. But she couldn’t say she didn’t love him. She compromised. “Not everyone wishes to marry for love,” she answered. “Not everyone is lucky enough to fall in love, like you.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Francesca said with a smile. “I saw the way you were looking at Selbourne earlier. He was watching you, too. I’ve never seen you look at Dandridge that way.”
Lucia stiffened. Was her attraction to Selbourne really so obvious? Worse, was her dislike for Reginald so evident?
She’d always known her parents wanted a union between the Brigham and the Dandridge titles, but they’d been generous in giving her an entire Season to fall in love with some other eligible bachelor. When she had not, despite several marriage proposals from suitable men, discussions with Lord Dandridge and his dowager mother began in earnest.
Lucia was also aware that her father cultivated an alliance with the young viscount to gain the clout needed to realize his ambitions in Parliament. Eager to please him, Lucia had been more than willing to adhere to her father’s wishes, but when she’d first met Reginald she’d faltered.
He wasn’t unattractive, exactly. Lucia, if pressed, would admit that he had good…teeth. But he was also short and fat-faced, with a middle she thought would soon follow. Still, there was nothing wrong with him. He was polite, respectable, not clever but reasonably intelligent. He was like every other man, and she knew after only a few moments that she would never—could never—love him.
But then she had been waiting for what seemed an eternity to fall in love—to experience that earth-shattering feeling of soul connecting with like-soul, as Francesca and Ethan had. She searched the ballrooms and drawing rooms of upper-class London with a thoroughness that bordered on obsession, but there were simply no men who drew her.
She had wanted to fall in love. Wanted it desperately. But deep down she knew it would never happen. Not with any of the men of her family’s acquaintance.
She wasn’t going to tell Francesca this. Did it really matter when Reginald had so much affection for her? His eyes had lit like torches upon seeing her, and he’d grinned broadly at his good fortune. His smile faltered a little when she rose, and he realized they were the same height, Lucia being tall for a woman and Reginald being short for a man, but his grin returned. And if her height bothered him, as she suspected it did because he preferred to speak to her when she was sitting and he could stand, he never mentioned it.
But he was from a respectable family, had a good title, and had a future in politics. And love wasn’t really that important. She could certainly be practical, on occasion, and Reginald’s attributes were not to be overlooked.
At least that’s what her father said.
Keeping all this firmly in mind, Lucia said, “You’re a poor matchmaker, Francesca. Should I give up a marriage offer from Reginald in hopes of soliciting a carte blanche from Selbourne or some other rake? I hardly think that would be an acceptable substitute.” She tossed a curl over her shoulder.
“Don’t toss your head at me, Lucia. I’m liable to mistake you for one of my horses. Besides,” Francesca went on, “Alex wouldn’t treat you like that.”
“This whole conversation is ridiculous,” Lucia said with an impatient wave. “There’s nothing between Selbourne and me. I certainly don’t love him. I don’t even like the man.”
“It didn’t look that way to me.”
“Francesca!”
Francesca raised her eyebrows, and Lucia was forced to admit, “Oh, all right! I admit I’m attracted to him, but that doesn’t mean anything. His looks don’t compensate for his horrid manners. I may not love Reginald, but I can’t spend my whole life waiting to fall in love. I’ll probably never fall in love. So why not marry Reginald? He’s as good as any other man. Better because our marriage will please Father.”
Francesca stared at her, and Lucia wished for the thousandth time she’d held her tongue. “Is that what this is all about?” Francesca asked. “Pleasing Daddy?”
Lucia was silent for a minute, staring at her gown and threading the material through her fingers. “I do want to please Father,” she said, looking up. “I’m not the firstborn like you or the only son like John. I don’t have your sweetness and good nature. Oh, I know I’m supposed to be ‘the beauty of the family,’ but that hasn’t compensated for all my faults, which everyone seems to enjoy pointing out at every opportunity.” She blinked back tears again. Lord, she’d been weepier in the past hour than she’d been in twenty years of life.
“Lucia, you’re too hard on yourself,” Francesca began.
“I wish I were,” she answered, finally in control of her emotions. “But I say what I think before I even stop to consider if I should. I’m impulsive and temperamental—all tolerable qualities in a son, but a daughter? Father doesn’t know what to make of me.”
“Then stop being impulsive for once, Lucia.” Francesca squeezed her sister’s hand with meaning. “Think what you’re doing. Marriage isn’t temporary. This is the rest of your life.”
“I know, Francesca. I’m not as capricious as you seem to think. I’ve thought this out, and it would be wrong of me not to marry just because I don’t love Reginald. People marry every day who can barely tolerate each other’s company, and Reginald really does try to please me.”
“I know he does, but Dandridge and his mother can be so controlling. You won’t have any freedom.”
“Would it be any different if I married another man or became a spinster? At least a married woman has some freedom, and Dandridge and I get along very well when I keep my temper in check and mind what I say.”
“Lucia!” Francesca’s jaw dropped. “You know you can’t keep that up forever. Do you want to live your whole life playing a part? Some men are always going to be threatened by your spirit, but there are men who’ll appreciate it, too.”
“He would not,” Francesca said firmly.
Lucia sighed, looked away. Her sister huffed, grumbled, and gave in. “Well, he might be a little angry at first,” she admitted. “But you could always live with Ethan and me.”
“And ruin all the good graces you’ve brought to the Winterbourne name?” Lucia shook her head. “No. For once I’m going to do what’s expected of me.”
No matter how much she despised it.
Chapter 7
“The Right Honorable Viscount Dandridge and the Honorable Miss Dashing.”
Alex grit his teeth at the butler’s announcement. He turned slowly, muzzling his temper until he could vent it, and saw Lucia and her pompous fiancé greeting the widowed Mrs. Seaton, her daughter, and her son. The drawing room in the Seatons’ town house on Davies Street had just become much too crowded.
Alex scowled. What the devil was Lucia doing here? Like the rest of the ladies and gentlemen privileged enough to belong to the upper echelons of the ton, she should have been on her way to the Duke of York’s ball.
Ah, but there would be no way to interfere in his investigation of her brother’s absence at the duke’s ball. Here she could find an infinite number of opportunities to get in the way. With mounting irritation, Alex saw she was already at work, engaging her brother’s friend, William Seaton, in conversation as soon as Dandridge left her side. Alex would put a stop to this right now. She and that buffoon Dandridge could turn right around and be on their way to the duke’s.
Lucia’s discussion with their host was brief, and Alex intercepted her at the far end of the drawing room the Seatons had converted into a ballroom for the evening.
“Lord Sel—”
He slashed her a look and, taking her arm, barreled through the guests. He spotted a semiprivate alcove at the far end of the room, where the refreshments had been squeezed in, and tugged her toward it.
“Lord Selbourne!” she hissed and tried to pull away.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” He thrust her into the alcove, then caught her elbow and spun her to face him.
“Unhand me, sir, or I shall—”
“Stubble it, Lucia,” he growled, but he released her. “I don’t have the patience tonight.”
Her eyes were beginning to resemble those Yorkshire storm clouds again, and Alex fully expected one of her scathing rejoinders, but instead she straightened, met his gaze, and…smiled? Alex’s senses went on alert.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” he repeated.
“I was thirsty.” Her voice had more sugar in it than one of Gunther’s ices. “I was about to get a glass of ratafia.”
“Well you can bloody well get it at the duke’s.”
“Oh, but I can’t!” she replied, all wide-eyed innocence. “It would be in very bad taste to leave so soon after arriving.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
Alex clenched his hands to keep them from curling around her skinny neck. Lucia was about as sweet as King George was sane. “I know what you’re doing. And you might fool your parents or fiancé, but you don’t fool me.”
She flicked her fan open and waved it lazily. “I’m sure I don’t take your meaning.”
He leaned closer. “Save the playacting for Drury Lane. It’s wasted on me.” But he had to admit that she was putting on a pretty good performance, not that it surprised him. He imagined she’d had years to perfect it.
Still in character, she tossed her curls. “Your incivility is really quite tedious, Lord Selbourne.” Her tone exuded weariness, but he saw the storm clouds flash in her eyes, and a surge of lightning bolted through him. He kept forgetting her beauty—not that she was beautiful, but that she was so achingly beautiful.
Last night it had been too dark to see her clearly, but this morning, with the sun streaming through the breakfast room bathing her in golden light, she’d been glorious. By the light of the moon, her hair had shone pale blond, almost silver, but in the morning sunshine it gleamed like spun gold.
But it was her eyes that drew him. They were the darkest blue he’d ever seen. The same blue as the ocean at the point where the safe shallow waters ended and the sandy floor plunged downward into the unknown. She would have been beautiful without those eyes, but with them she was exquisite—exotic, untamed. A man couldn’t help but look twice. And though he knew her to be young and innocent, one look from those eyes—wide with just a slight tilt at the corners—was a full-blown seduction. How could he have forgotten how tempting she was in the space of only a few hours?
He shook his head. Her eyes hadn’t pulled him into that dark water quite yet, and he was still in possession of enough of his senses to see through her façade of artlessness. “I know why you’re here, Lucia.”
She opened those big blue eyes wider. “My lord, do you think such intimacy is appropriate?” She put her hand on his arm.
“Don’t flirt with me, brat.” He shook her gloved hand off his sleeve, and her smile faltered.
“I made it clear this morning that I don’t need your assistance in this matter.” He made the mistake of leaning closer to emphasize his point, and her scent enveloped him. It reminded him of home, of a time long, long ago—a time and an innocence he thought he’d forgotten. She smelled of his mother’s soft voice, his father’s laughter, and his favorite dessert. She was vanilla and cinnamon, a scent as delicious and enticing as the woman she’d grown to be.
She blinked at him, the artifice in her features dissolving. “And I’m not interfering in your little matter,” she said through tight lips. “I’m simply going to spend a few hours at the Seatons’ ball. After all, Mr. Seaton is a dear friend of my brother. No one will wonder what I am doing here. Your presence, however, might well be the cause of speculation.” She looked over his shoulder, pretending to count the number of guests whispering about him.
Alex frowned. She had a point. He’d been thinking the same thing right before she’d arrived. He could hardly approach Seaton and ask directly about Lucia’s brother. The two men had never been introduced, and Alex didn’t even have an invitation to the ball. Not that anyone would dare refuse him entrance; his presence here could only elevate the Seaton family in the eyes of the ton, but Seaton might not see it that way. And he’d get nowhere if the boy was offended or suspicious.
Lucia was still pretending to survey the room, though smiling with triumph.
Damn.
He needed her, after all. She could approach Seaton as any concerned sister might, and the man would think nothing of it.
Damn. He forced himself to speak, voice so low he could barely hear it in the din of the room. “You have a point.”
“What was that?” she asked. She’d heard, of course. He could tell by her irritating smile. He imagined emptying a glass of ratafia over her head, and this time the words were almost too easy. “I said, you have a point.”
“I do?” Her hands flew to her heart in feigned astonishment, and Alex looked around for a footman with a beverage tray.
He didn’t see one and settled for scowling at her. “Yes. You do. What are you going to do about it? You can’t exactly pull Seaton into a dark corner and quiz him about Dashing for a quarter hour. Not unless you want to irritate your fiancé as well as give the ton a new topic for gossip.” Ignoring the fact that he was doing just that, Alex jammed a shoulder against the wall of the alcove, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow. That ought to erase her gleeful smirk.
“I don’t need a dark corner, Selbourne,” she said and gave him a genuine smile. “My plan is simple, and that is the beauty of it.”
Alex clenched his jaw in irritation and apprehension.
“A simple plan is always the best.” She waved an arm, emphasizing her point. “If one strays from simplicity—”
“Lucia.”<
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She glanced at his face and sighed. “I have already promised Seaton the first dance.”
“What? How?” Forgetting his intention to appear smug, he jumped as if bitten by the wall he’d been resting against. “You just arrived.”
The triumphant look returned to her eyes. “I’ve promised Seaton a country dance.”
“And Dandridge?”
“I’ve promised him the second dance. The cotillion, I believe.” She sounded bored, as though it was all part of her daily routine.
Alex shook his head in disbelief as she craned on tiptoes to scan the room, probably trying to judge how soon the dancing would begin. Alex squinted at her. “There’s something stuck in your hair,” he said picking at the wreath circling her head.
She swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch! They’re grapes, and they’re all the crack.” She raised her chin a notch. “Lord, but you’re appallingly ignorant in matters of fashion. It’s a wonder you look so presentable tonight.”
He wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment or an insult. And as her eyes took quick stock of him, he had to resist the ridiculous urge to straighten his cravat.
She glanced back at the room. “In any case, we can’t idle about talking like this all night. My reputation won’t withstand many public appearances with you, so if you’d planned to dance with me, I’m afraid you’ll have to suspend that pleasure.”
Alex snorted. “I don’t dance.”
“Well, that won’t do,” she said matter-of-factly. “The dancing is about to start, and you must begin it.”
The heavens were obviously involved in some conspiracy against him because just then the strains of violin and cello strings rose above the clamor of voices as the orchestra began to tune.
“I think Miss Seaton would be the appropriate partner,” Lucia announced. “Here, I’ll introduce you.”
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