Love for Lucinda (22 page)

“Thank you, Lady Sefton. I am indeed grateful,” said Lucinda. She had had hopes of just this very outcome, and she was extremely pleased that her main object in bringing Miss Mays to Lady Sefton’s notice had been achieved.

Lady Sefton nodded acknowledgement. “I shall provide her with the mildest of dinner partners this evening. She will feel herself more at ease then, I think.”

Again, Lucinda thanked her ladyship for her consideration.

“Think nothing of it, my dear Lucinda. I am happy to do it,” said Lady Sefton, before moving off to speak to another guest.

When dinner was announced, Miss Blythe was claimed by an escort from among the lesser personages of the gathering, as was Miss Mays. But Lady Sefton paired Lucinda with Hector Allanis, Earl of Pembroke.

Lucinda was pleased to discover that his lordship was to be her dinner partner. She had not forgotten their meeting in any of its details. “Lord Pembroke.” She offered her hand to him.

“Lady Mays! This is indeed a welcome surprise. My spirits have definitely taken a turn for the better,” said Lord Pembroke, shaking her hand.

“Oh, do you two know one another?” asked Lady Sefton, glancing curiously from one to the other.

“I met Lady Mays on the steps of the Lending Library. I was so clumsy as to knock her parcels out of her hands,” said Lord Pembroke, smiling. “It was not possible to remain mere strangers after that. We were forced to exchange names.”

“I see. Then I know that I shall not be needed to encourage conversation,” said Lady Sefton, amused.

Her ladyship moved away to see that the rest of her guests were suitably partnered. Even though their hostess was already well out of earshot, Lord Pembroke lowered his voice. “I had dreaded a dull evening, my lady. I am glad to discover that my assumption was incorrect.”

“If that is so, why did you come?” asked Lucinda, ignoring the last of his statement. She acknowledged compliments as infrequently as she possibly could without giving offense. She had learned to her regret that her beauty would always garner her pretty words, but often those words had little of substance behind them. She would not allow her head to be turned by flattery.

The signal was given that dinner was served, and Lady Sefton’s guests began moving toward the dining room. Lucinda allowed Lord Pembroke to escort her in and to seat her at the table.

His lordship did not reply to her question until he had taken his own chair beside her. “My mother is a close friend of the Seftons. I was coerced into accompanying her tonight as her escort,” he said. “I was never more glad of anything when she fell into a group of her own cronies and Lady Sefton was forced to look around for another dinner partner for me.”

Lucinda looked Lord Pembroke over in a considering way. She could not imagine that his lordship could be coerced into doing anything that he disliked. “That I cannot believe, my lord. You do not appear to me to be a gentleman who is easily driven.”

“Alas, it is too true. I may be a large fellow, but at heart I am the most placid of bovines,” drawled Lord Pembroke, smiling at her.

Under his warm gaze, Lucinda felt her heart flutter. Hoping to divert him, she asked, “Which is the countess, pray? I should like to ogle with the proper awe the formidable lady who was so brave as to introduce a great bovine into Lady Sefton’s elegant dining room.”

Lord Pembroke grinned. He gave a nod toward the end of the lengthy table. “The lady sporting the terrifying bunch of feathers is my countess mother.”

Lucinda looked curiously down the table. She was certain that she must have had the Countess of Pembroke pointed out to her at some point during her marriage, but it had been a number of years since she had been the least knowledgeable about society’s noted denizens. Certainly the countess had never graced Mays House while Lord Mays had been alive. No doubt the lady was of a generation which his lordship would not have been able to include in his circle of intimates.

The Countess of Pembroke was a small woman of patrician features. Her countenance was dominated by a large roman nose. While Lucinda studied the lady, the countess gave a quick laugh at something that was said to her, and Lucinda saw at once a resemblance to the gentleman beside her.

The headdress to which the countess’s undutiful son had alluded was indeed an astonishing concoction. Lucinda wondered that her ladyship had chosen to wear something that was better suited to the theater then to this gathering.

She turned back to Lord Pembroke. “The countess is a lady of imposing presence, certainly. However, I can discern nothing that lends your contention validity, my lord! Her ladyship appears to me to be quite amiable and not the least formidable,” she said, smiling.

Lord Pembroke leaned toward her with a confiding air. “It is the trick of those deuced feathers. They are quite deceiving in their apparent whimsy. My mother is in actuality a veritable tartar. I run in terror of her frowns, I assure you.”

There was such a laughing twinkle in his lordship’s eyes that Lucinda gave a gurgle of laughter. “You are too absurd.”

“I like it when you laugh like that. Your entire countenance lights up,” said Lord Pembroke approvingly.

Lucinda felt herself blush. Dropping her eyes, she replied coolly, “You flatter me, my lord.” She focused her attention on the food on her plate.

“I have offended you! Pray forget that I have said anything. I am a clumsy fellow at best, whether it is with my tongue or my feet, as you certainly have cause to know,” said Lord Pembroke.

Lucinda glanced up at him. He was regarding her with a sober enough expression, but there was still laughter in his eyes. She remarked, “I do not believe that you are ever serious, my lord.”

Lord Pembroke flashed a grin. “As rarely as possible, my lady,” he admitted. “The war gave me an appreciation of life. I think it frivolous to waste it in undue somberness of mind or concerns.”

His lordship’s notice was at that instant claimed by the lady on his far side, and he politely turned to her, so that Lucinda was spared thinking of a response to his surprising statement. She made a remark to her other partner at table, but the gentleman was too engrossed in his plate to utter more than a desultory sentence or two. Lucinda was glad when Lord Pembroke reclaimed her attention.

As dinner progressed, Lord Pembroke politely divided himself between the ladies on either side of him. Lucinda did not mind in the least that he did so, for she liked listening to his lordship’s deep voice and the outbreak of his frequent laughter even when he was not directing his conversation to her.

Lady Sefton eventually rose, signaling to the ladies that it was time for them to withdraw and leave the gentlemen to their after-dinner wine. Lucinda went with the other ladies, but she felt almost reluctant to be drawn away from Lord Pembroke’s side. She thought that she had seldom enjoyed a gentleman’s company more. Lord Pembroke had made her laugh a great deal. He had not said a somber word through the entire affair.

Lady Sefton led the ladies to the drawing room. Her guests leisurely composed themselves on settees and chairs, breaking into small groups to talk. Miss Blythe was drawn swiftly into conversation, a sight that pleased Lucinda. Her former governess had a natural dignity that had enabled her to slide with ease into her function as Lucinda’s chaperone and companion.

Miss Mays at once made her way to Lucinda’s side. She waited until there was a pause in conversation and then asked, “Lady Mays, would it be considered proper if I sat down at the pianoforte?”

“But of course, Agnes, if that is what you wish to do,” said Lucinda.

“Oh, I should like it above all else. I promise you, you shan’t have cause to be embarrassed,” said Miss Mays.

“I am not in the least concerned about that, Agnes,” said Lucinda gently.

Miss Mays flushed. “Thank you, my lady!” She hurried away to claim the pianoforte before the notion had struck anyone else.

A moment later, music floated softly over the company. There were several smiles directed toward the young woman seated at the pianoforte, for it was instantly recognized that Miss Mays was very well trained.

Lady Bishop, who had magnanimously reassured Lucinda a number of times that she had been forgiven for not attending her ladyship’s own soiree, leaned toward Lucinda. “She is quite good, isn’t she?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Lucinda, smiling. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that her sister-in-law possessed at least one social accomplishment to a rare degree. She decided on the spot to encourage Miss Mays at every opportunity to display her musical talent. That would be certain to garner her timid sister-in-law some compliments and perhaps would serve to build Agnes’s confidence in herself.

“I am sorry that you were unable to attend my own soiree, Lady Mays. But certainly I can understand when one has an unexpected guest to arrive. Does Miss Mays make a long stay with you?” asked Lady Bishop.

“I am hoping to persuade her to remain all Season. She has lived very quietly up to now, having devoted herself to caring for both her parents through their last illnesses,” said Lucinda.

“I thought that I had not seen her about before. Well, well! I had no notion that Miss Mays is an experienced nurse. I have an elderly relative of my own who is in need of a companion.” Lady Bishop looked speculatively at Miss Mays, the wheels obviously turning in her head. She smiled at Lucinda suddenly. “A filial dedication such as that is scarce these days. Miss Mays is to be commended.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Lucinda, smiling. She did not point out that Miss Mays had had very little say in the matter. There was little point in vilifying those that were dead.

“Perhaps when Miss Mays’s visit to you is done, I shall have a word with her. She will undoubtedly be looking for another post. A poor relation is in such an uncomfortable position, is she not? But I am persuaded that I may have just the thing for her, for I trust in your recommendation of her character, Lady Mays,” said Lady Bishop.

Lucinda smiled again, but inside she was seething. It had not seemed to occur to Lady Bishop that Miss Mays had sacrificed a good portion of her youth through no desire of her own, nor that she might not wish to be given another such position that could just as easily be filled by a paid nurse. Of course, a professional nurse would command a considerably greater salary than someone like Agnes, thought Lucinda, reflecting uncharitably on Lady Bishop’s motives.

“I hope to show my sister-in-law the rewards of her sacrifice to family duty by sponsoring her this Season,” said Lucinda quietly. “She has never been brought out, you see. Lady Sefton has already been kind enough to offer her vouchers
to
Almack’s. I was most gratified, as you may imagine.”

“Indeed!” Lady Bishop was doing a rapid recalculation of Miss Mays’s position in the scheme of things. Her ladyship had a brother who had never married. It would be gratifying indeed if Lady Mays should bestow her hand upon the gentleman, for Lady Mays was wealthy and commanded an estate of her own. These were commodities that her brother did not at present possess. Of course, Lady Mays had not yet met her ladyship’s brother, and she obviously had many admirers. It was not at all a certain thing that Lady Mays would wed an obscure gentleman when there was such competition for her favor.

Miss Mays might be another thing altogether. Lady Mays was obviously fond of the young woman, and perhaps she could be counted upon to settle a nice tidy dowry on Miss Mays upon the announcement of her engagement. Certainly the diffident Miss Mays would be easier to mold into the epitome of what Lady Bishop considered to be the proper wife. Lady Mays displayed a lamentable lack of malleability. Lady Bishop had not missed that flash of temper in her ladyship’s eyes when she had merely remarked that she could possibly offer Miss Mays a place. She must tread carefully with Lady Mays, for she did not wish to put her ladyship’s back up. Not when there was a possibility of snaring a suitably dowered wife for her unfortunate brother.

Lady Bishop’s plump face became wreathed in smiles. “You must include Miss Mays in any invitation of mine to you and your companion. In fact, pray do bring her to my little ball next week. I shall exert myself to see to her enjoyment.”

“That is most gracious of you, my lady,” said Lucinda, resisting the temptation to grimace. Really, the woman was patently false in her assurances of friendly concern.

The lady nodded grandly and passed on to speak to another acquaintance.

Lady Sefton came up and claimed Lucinda’s attention. “Whyever did you not tell me how beautifully that child played?”

“I did not know it until this evening,” Lucinda confessed.

“Such exquisite ability goes far in redeeming her lamentable lack of conversation. But you and Miss Blythe shall do something about that, I know,” said Lady Sefton.

“We hope to, my lady,” said Lucinda.

Lady Sefton nodded, satisfied. “Now come. I wish to take you around in the event there are some who do not precisely recall who you are. You were on the town such a short time and people quickly forget.”

“That is true,” said Lucinda, smiling. She allowed herself to be gently squired by her hostess round the gathering. Though there were some curious glances at her face and attire, there were none who did not prove themselves gracious in their words.

One of those that Lady Sefton introduced Lucinda to was the Countess of Pembroke. “This is one of my dearest of friends, Lady Pembroke. You may perhaps recall Lady Mays, my dear. She came out four years ago, the same year that Waterloo was fought.”

The Countess of Pembroke looked keenly at Lucinda as she gave the younger woman her hand. “Yes, I recall you. The child bride of that impossible rake, Mays. I felt for you, my dear. But one must not pass judgment upon the dead, must one? Come, sit beside me. I would like to talk with you.” Perceiving that Lucinda had fallen into good hands. Lady Sefton moved away to her other guests.

Chapter Twenty-one

Lucinda thanked the countess and seated herself beside her on the settee. She awaited the countess’s pleasure.