by Gayle Buck
The musicians at the other end of the room struck up a familiar air, diverting Lady Thorpe from her astonishing thoughts. Several couples began forming up sets. “Oh, I do adore the quadrille!” she exclaimed. “I wish Gerald was with me now, for I would at once have him take me onto the floor.”
“That’s right. I haven’t seen Gerald of late. Where has he gotten himself off to?” asked Lord Mays, glancing about casually.
A shadow crossed Lady Thorpe’s face. A measure of vivacity left her face as she replied, “Gerald wished to sit down at cards for a few moments with Mr. Stassart.”
Lord Mays and Lucinda exchanged a quick look. Lucinda was horrified. Lord Thorpe was a mere babe, little older than his eighteen-year-old bride, and a thoroughly easygoing young gentleman. It appalled her that he should be in her cousin’s selfish, callous hands. Something of her feelings must have expressed themselves in her expression, for Lord Mays gave a slight nod of reassurance.
“I think that I shall wander over to the cardroom and see if I can wrest Gerald free. I wished to speak to him about a hunter that I saw yesterday, for he told me a few weeks ago that he wanted to acquire one,” said Lord Mays casually. After a few more departing words, he left the ladies.
Lucinda put her arm through Lady Thorpe’s and in a friendly manner said, “Why don’t we two go after some lemon ices? I am all of a sudden parched. The ballroom has gotten to be so warm. I have been thinking of opening a few of the windows. Do you think that anyone would have any objections?”
“Oh no, not to speak of,” said Lady Thorpe, willingly entering into her hostess’s concerns. She allowed herself to be borne off toward the refreshment tables, saying, “Some of the more rigid might talk of the evils of the night air, but for my part I would far rather risk a putrid throat than have melting candle wax drip down upon my head!”
“So should I,” said Lucinda, chuckling. “Very well, then! Upon the approval of the very original Lady Thorpe, I shall give the orders to scandalize the rigid.” They had reached the refreshment table, and she signaled a servant to her to give the orders for some of the windows to be opened.
“As though you needed anyone’s approval, my lady,” said Lady Thorpe, making brisk inroads on the lemon ice. “Why, as a widow, I suspect that you may do very nearly anything you wish and not risk censor.”
Lucinda gave a half smile. She cast a glance down at her shorter companion. “But you said not a few minutes ago that I am discussed, and not at all in a friendly manner. Therefore it seems clear that I, too, must be careful of offending certain individuals’ sense of propriety.”
“It is all jealousy and envy,” said Lady Thorpe dismissively. “None of them realize at what cost to you this came.” She waved her hand, encompassing the elegant mirrored ballroom with its numerous sprays of sumptuous blooms, the branches of candles that created a blaze of light, the milling, noisy crowd.
Lucinda raised her brows, both amused and astonished by the lady’s assumption of worldliness. “And you do?”
Lady Thorpe shrugged her slender shoulders. “I think that I should horsewhip any woman who dared to make sheep’s eyes at my Gerald. I have heard how ill-treated you were at your husband’s hands. How he could have set his mistress over you, I cannot fathom! Why, there is not a lady here tonight who can hold a candle to you. I have observed the way the gentlemen look at you and heard the flatteries. I think that his lordship was a great fool.” She realized of a sudden that she was taking liberties with their short acquaintance. Lady Thorpe colored to the roots of her bright hair. “Forgive me, Lady Mays! I should not have spoken in such an intimate fashion to you.”
“Pray do not apologize. I am not at all offended. In truth, I find your forthrightness rather refreshing,” said Lucinda, laughing. “Though I must tell you in all honesty that mine was not a blighted love match, as you seem to think, so do put that out of your head. Lord Mays and I contracted a marriage of convenience. It did not prove satisfying to either party. There! You will understand now that you must not make me out to be some tragic heroine.”
Lady Thorpe regarded her hostess for a moment, her head tilted in the manner of an inquisitive little bird. Her eyes were thoughtful and keenly observant. “I do not think that quite true, my lady,” she said slowly. “I suspect that there is more of tragedy in your life than you have allowed anyone to know.”
Lucinda was startled and not a little dismayed. The girl standing beside her had just displayed a discernment that was far beyond her years. Lucinda wondered uncomfortably how she could turn aside Lady Thorpe’s too-close probing.
The lady herself put an end to it. “But I shall not tax you, nor shall I speculate. I am not one of those obnoxious tabbies always going about sniffing for a morsel of gossip! Your private affairs are your own, Lady Mays.” Her gaze was caught by something beyond Lucinda, and her eyes lit up. “Here is Gerald now, with Lord Mays!”
The gentlemen came up, greeting the two ladies. Lord Thorpe immediately took his wife’s hand, gently swinging it to and fro. “Wilfred tells me that you are pining for a quadrille,” he said teasingly, looking down into her piquant face.
Lady Thorpe cast down her lashes, her mouth making a pretty moue. “Indeed, my lord, it is only the truth. But I had no one to partner me and so you discover me quite forlorn.”
“What! Isn’t there anyone about to dance attendance upon my pretty wife?” Lord Thorpe looked around as though in earnest search. “Do not fret, my girl. I shall at once engage the services of a suitable cicisbeo!”
“Oh, Gerald!” Lady Thorpe lightly hit her husband in the chest with her small hand. “You are a monstrous tease! As though I should like anyone half as well as you to squire me!”
“Surely Wilfred here—”
Lord Thorpe began laughing as his scowling spouse once more punched him with her dainty fist. “Yes, I tease you most abominably. Come along, then. This set is just forming up. Let us show everyone how it is done.”
Lady Thorpe made a departing wave as she and her still-laughing lord hurried off.
“They are a sweet pair,” murmured Lucinda. She shook herself and smiled at Lord Mays, who still stood beside her. “I think that I envy them, Wilfred. I wonder whether I was ever so carefree and happy and confident with my world?”
“I would like to see you like that, Lucinda,” said Lord Mays with unexpected seriousness.
Lucinda stared at Lord Mays, quite taken aback at the tone of his voice. She was even more startled when he seized her hand in an uncomfortably tight grip.
Chapter Eleven
“Lucinda, I have felt for some time that you are in need of the influence of good friends and merriment.” Lord Mays spoke with unexpected fierceness.
“Why, that is precisely the reason I came to London, my lord,” said Lucinda, trying to understand his lordship’s sudden earnestness. She did not know what to make of it.
Lord Mays shook his head impatiently. “No, I do not mean this!” He swept the oblivious crowd with a dismissive glance. “I mean spending time with people who care for you and value you. Most of these here tonight see you only as Lady Mays, the beautiful and rich widow. They express their respects and make overtures of friendship, but it is scarcely the same thing.”
He smiled crookedly at her. “And you know it as well as I, for I can see how guarded is the expression in your eyes. No, I want you to be able to laugh and jest and rest completely assured that you are with trusted confidantes.”
“Bravo, my lord. It is just what I was myself telling my lovely cousin only a few days ago.”
Lord Mays uttered something low under his breath and broke away from Lucinda. He stared at the gentleman who had come up so inopportunely, a decidedly unfriendly expression in his frowning eyes. “Stassart. How is this? I would never have guessed that any of us would see your face outside the cardroom as long as there were games of chance to be had.”
Mr. Stassart smiled, but his blue eyes were suddenly very hard. He flicked an ima
ginary speck from his elegant sleeve. “In truth, my lord, the cards palled. Naturally I came at once to seek out my fair cousin. You must know that I have a great fondness for Lucinda.”
Lord Mays gave a shout of laughter. His gold-brown eyes gleamed as though from a good joke. His good humor was inexplicably and completely restored. “Dipped already, Stassart?” He bowed to Lucinda and sauntered off, whistling.
Ferdie stared after Lord Mays. “I do not think that I care for his lordship,” he said softly.
Lucinda was indifferent to his opinion. “Do you not? Whereas I count him as one of my closest friends.”
“One can only decry your naiveté, my dear cousin. However, I did not come up to argue the doubtful virtues of Lord Mays’s character with you.” Ferdie cast a soulful glance at her amused face. His entire attitude was worshipful as he carried her hand to his lips. “I can scarcely keep myself from you, Lucinda. Behold, I fly to your side like a moth to the lovely flame.”
Lucinda shook her head at her cousin and forcibly withdrew her hand from his insistent clasp. “What do you want, Ferdie? Is it as Lord Mays said? Have you lost again? Do you wish me to frank you at my own card tables?”
Mr. Stassart swept his hand to the front of his frilled shin, assuming an appalled expression. “Cousin! That the thought could even cross your mind is a dishonor. I would not dream of importuning you for such a purpose. No, I am well able to frank myself to whatever tune is required.”
“My mistake, Ferdie. I do apologize,” said Lucinda, not at all convinced. It was her unalterable experience that her cousin had little enough to do with any member of her family unless he wanted something. Certainly he had never been above importuning them for monies, and why he should cavil at doing the same with her was beyond her. But she had no wish to set the stage for an unpleasant scene and so she smiled on him. “Have you a complaint, perhaps? I should not wish any one of my guests to feel slighted for any reason.”
“Oh, dear cousin,” he sighed. “My only complaint, the only slight that I feel, is that I have had so little opportunity to persuade you of my everlasting devotion. I discover in myself a yearning to bask in the light of your beauty. I am all eagerness to win your precious favor. In short, Lucinda, I am like a desert without the gentle rain of your smiles upon me. Dare I admit to it? Dare I open myself to the possibility of your rejection?”
Lucinda stared at her cousin in complete consternation. She had had no clue that he even harbored such sentiments. “Ferdie, I—”
Ferdie threw out his beringed hands in appeal. In throbbing accents, he said, “Dance with me, cousin!”
Lucinda was made speechless. Then as the point of his extravagant periods burst upon her, she started laughing. “Oh, Ferdie, you are such a cad! Why in heaven do I like you so well?” She gave her hand into his.
Ferdie drew her onto the floor, his handsome face lit by the boyish grin that he cultivated. “You like me because we two are so much alike, cousin.”
Lucinda drew back from him a little, her fine brows rising. With a straight look, she said, “That we are not! You are a desperate gamester and an opportunist of the worst son. Only see how you tricked me into believing, for a moment only, that you had become quite besotted with me! And all to throw me off guard and gain my hand for a set!”
Ferdie escorted her to her place in the set that was forming, turning to face her. He looked at her with a curiously sharp expression. “Am I not besotted with you, Lucinda?”
Lucinda shook her head, laughing. “Of course you are not! If you have persuaded yourself that it is so, then I suspect it is this—” She tossed an encompassing glance about the magnificent ballroom. “It is the glittering setting of Mays House that has turned your head, Ferdie, not me. Pray recall that I have no claim whatsoever on any of this magnificence, and you will swiftly come to realize that you are the victim of illusion.”
“Ah, you believe that you know me so well! You have named me a gamester and an opportunist, Lucinda, and so I am! I stake all—my person, my fortune, my pride—and lay it before you.” Ferdie’s eyes measured the effect of his words. His lovely cousin was staring at him in patent amazement and uncertainty.
Mr. Stassart’s smile widened slightly as he said in his soft voice, “But are you not cut from much the same cloth, Lucinda? You have staked yourself to this London season. You seize every opportunity granted you to cause the ton to take notice. The very society that shrugged its shoulders when you were thrust out of its scintillating center is now importuned to pay you court. It is your pretty revenge, is it not, Lucinda?”
The music dictating the set moved them away from one another, but not swiftly enough that Mr. Stassart missed the sparkle of anger in his cousin’s narrowed glance. He smiled to himself. But when the movement of the dance placed him opposite Lucinda again, he had schooled his handsome countenance to a contrite expression.
He said quickly, anxiously, “Forgive me, cousin. I spoke out of turn. I recognize it too late, but offer my abject apology. It is only my familiarity with your character and circumstances that have led me into indiscretion.”
“I do not think that I like you very well after all, Ferdie,” said Lucinda distantly.
“I am undone. I am utterly cast down. My hopes are completely dashed,” declared Ferdie.
Lucinda’s color rose as his dramatic utterances began to draw the attention of others in the set. She said quietly, urgently, “Pray do not, Ferdie! We are attracting stares.”
Ferdie’s voice rose a notch more. “I cannot contain myself, cousin! I have sunk myself beyond reproach with you. Ah, but for one tiny smile! One small word of encouragement! Would not my spirit revive? Would not hope once more raise its head in my breast?”
Mr. Stassart’s loud laments had captured the unriveted regard of everyone within earshot. Even those in other sets had turned around to stare. Lucinda’s face burned with embarrassment. “That you could do this, Ferdie!” she choked.
It was to her unutterable relief that the music concluded at that instant. She turned on her heel and swept quickly from the floor, her head held high.
She did not recognize the gentleman until he stepped deliberately into her path, interrupting her swift flight. He hailed her affably.
“Lady Mays! It is a pleasure to thus come face-to-face with you. I had hoped to persuade you to join me in a glass of wine,” said Mr. Weatherby.
Lucinda forced a smile to her face. “Mr. Weatherby, how nice to see you again. I am sorry, sir, but I—”
He took a firm hold of her elbow and began to steer her away from the dance floor, where several people were still looking after her and whispering behind their hands. Mr. Weatherby smiled down into Lucinda’s startled face as she realized that she was being inexorably bent to the gentleman’s will. “I apologize for the rough and ready, my lady. But I felt it imperative to see you quickly away from that crowd. Good Lord! Doesn’t Stassart have any more sense than to throw a lady out of countenance in the middle of a crowded ballroom?”
He had guided her to the refreshment table. Releasing her arm, he lifted a decanter of wine. He proceeded to pour out a generous glass, saying, “Don’t run off again while I am thus engaged. It would be taking unfair advantage of me, you know, since I have but one hand.”
Heedless of Mr. Weatherby’s words, Lucinda pressed her hands against her heated cheeks. She gave a shaky laugh. “I have made a fool of myself, have I not?”
“Not altogether,” said Mr. Weatherby coolly. He offered the glass to her. “Here, drink this. It will give you time to compose yourself.”
Lucinda thanked him and took the wineglass. She sipped slowly at the champagne. She could feel her nerves settling. When she had had enough, she set down the wineglass.
Lucinda directed a wavering smile up at her waiting companion. “Thank you, Mr. Weatherby. I can scarcely express my gratitude enough for your timely intervention. I believe that I might have rushed heedlessly out of my own ballroom if it had not been fo
r you. What an abominable stir that would have caused!”
“Quite. And over little more than that mincing puppy’s provocations,” said Mr. Weatherby, directing his firm chin in an offhand gesture in the gentleman’s direction. He offered his arm to her. “Will you do me the honor of strolling with me to the windows, Lady Mays? It has become tiresomely warm in here. I could do with a breath of cooler air.”
“And I, sir,” said Lucinda, placing her fingers on his elbow.
They walked slowly around the perimeter of the ballroom. Mr. Weatherby glanced down at his silent companion. “You may safely confide in me, Lady Mays. I promise that I shall not bray it from the rooftops, however titillating it may prove to be.”
Lucinda laughed. She shook her head. “It was all such nonsense, scarcely deserving to be repeated now.”
“Nevertheless it will be repeated, by everyone who was privileged to overhear what was said.”
“Yes, I know. That is what is particularly galling,” said Lucinda.
“You would do well to confide the whole to me, you know. I may be able to help you,” said Mr. Weatherby.
Lucinda lifted her eyes to his face. Her brows were slightly drawn. “Why should you wish to help me, Mr. Weatherby? We are the barest of acquaintances. I can mean nothing to you.”
“On the contrary. Your welfare is of the utmost importance in my scheme of things,” said Mr. Weatherby. At her startled expression, a flicker of a grin touched his mobile mouth. “I am not declaring myself to you, my lady.”
A blush of color stole into Lucinda’s face. “You have an unfair advantage of me, sir. You read my mind perfectly, while I find you to be a very dark horse indeed.”
He laughed. When he met her questioning glance, his own gray gaze was rueful. “I fear that I cannot satisfy your curiosity at this juncture, my lady. Suffice it to believe that I mean you no harm and that I shall do whatever it is in my power to do to see you come off safely. Now tell me what that fop of a cousin of yours has done to set you all on edge.”
