Toblethorpe Manor (10 page)

“I will, dearest. However, I daresay once Lucy has met more people, she will be less interested in him.”

“Have you had that all day, too? ‘The major says this and the major says that!’ I wish the fellow would go back to India.”

“‘The major says’ he has several months’ leave due to him and a good deal of personal business to attend to.”

“‘The major says’ India is most interesting but three years is enough.”

They both laughed and went to dress for dinner.

A few minutes later, Lady Annabel entered Lucy’s room. Her abigail, who was brushing her hair, retired. Lucy turned to greet her mother and saw that she was holding a small, velvet-covered box.

“Dearest,” said Lady Annabel, “I have brought you my pearls.” She took them out and clasped them around Lucy’s neck. “Your father gave them to me when we were betrothed. I have not worn them since…since you were a baby. They are yours now.”

“Mama, how beautiful. I do thank you and I will take the greatest care of them, I promise.”

“They are just the thing for a young girl making her debut,” said Lady Annabel practically. “I shall wear my diamonds, which would never do for you.”

“Oh, mama, I shall be quite the thing! And look, Lord Denham sent me flowers.” She showed her mother a posy of primroses in a silver holder. “Richard said he thought I might carry them.”

“Yes, indeed. It will be quite proper. I am glad you had the sense to inquire. It will not do to be accepting gifts from just anyone.”

“I knew it would be unexceptionable from Tony. Richard said he inquired about the color of my gown, so as to match it. Was not that charming?”

Lord Denham had been invited to dine, and when Lucy descended the stairs a half-hour later he had just arrived. He regarded her with such evident admiration that she blushed. Richard looked at her with approval and came to take her hand.

“I have something for you, Lucy,” he said, and presented her with a tiny box.

“What is it, a beetle?” inquired Lucy suspiciously, and the gentlemen roared with laughter.

“What a memory!” exclaimed Richard. “That must have been ten years ago! Don’t be bacon-brained, Lucy. You are a young lady now, not a schoolgirl.”

Lucy flushed. “I beg your pardon, Richard,” she said stiffly. “May I open it now?”

“Of course, child. Go ahead.”

The box contained a pair of the daintiest pearl earrings. Offended sensibilities and genteel reserve alike forgotten, Lucy flung her arms round her brother.

“Oh, Richard, they are lovely. I am truly grateful and I did not really think it was a beetle.”

“Next time it may be,” said Richard wickedly.

Turning to Lord Denham, Lucy thanked him prettily for the flowers.

“I shall wear them tonight,” she promised.

“Better check them for beetles first,” he replied with a grin.

“You are both odious,” pouted Lucy.

Providentially, the butler entered to announce dinner. Bedford had been left in Yorkshire. The Carstairs’ London house was presided over by the supercilious Bell, who had regretted for years his young master’s dislike of entertaining. With the arrival of the ladies of the family, he foresaw the opportunity for a more adequate display of his talents and had gone so far as to unbend to Mrs. Dawkins, the housekeeper, “I thinks it ‘ighly likely, Mrs. Dawkins, as we shall ‘ave the honner of h’entertaining the ‘ighest in the land,” he had pronounced regally. “Miss Lucy is a fetching young lady and h’I do believe as ‘ow she will Bring ‘Em In, Mrs. Dawkins, if you gets my meaning. I thinks it ‘ighly likely.”

He had even condescended to say to Lucy, when she thanked him for some service, “H’it’s a pleasure to ‘ave you in the ‘ouse, miss, you and m’lady.”

Now, as Lucy and Richard followed Lady Annabel and Lord Denham to the dining room, he bowed to her and said in a ponderous, fatherly tone, “Begging your pardon, Miss Lucy, but being as it’s your first Lunnon ball, me and the servants was wishful to tell you as ‘ow you looks beautiful and to ‘ope you ‘as a ‘appy h’evening.”

Lucy dimpled up at him.

“Why, thank you, Bell. I am sure I shall.”

“My, what condescension!” whispered Richard in her ear. “He is never half so complaisant to me. I do believe you have made a conquest.”

“At least he is not likely to speak to me of beetles,” she retorted, her good humour restored. She was so delightfully gay during dinner that Lord Denham was inclined to think his suspicions were correct—he was in love.

In town they ate dinner at a fashionably late hour, so afterwards there was little time for the gentlemen to sit over their brandy before the carriage was at the door. Lucy was in an agony of impatience. It would never do to be late, for once the doors were shut, the patronesses of Almack’s would allow no one to enter.

At last Richard and Tony appeared. Lucy thought her brother looked very fine in his knee breeches, black coat and snowy white linen. Richard made no attempt to ape the extremes of fashion, modeling himself rather on the quiet elegance of Beau Brummell, with whom he had been at school. Constantly conscious in public of his dark complexion, he had taken to heart the Beau’s tactful and kindly advice. Observing an exquisite who had a large wart on his nose and wore a candy-striped waistcoat, he had pointed out that to draw attention to one’s appearance in such a case was shockingly unwise. Never a fop, Richard had since studied to give no offence with his clothes to add to the offence caused by his face.

Lucy knew none of this. Lady Annabel had an inkling, though she did not know of the occasion in his youth when a reigning beauty, known for the liberality with which she granted her favours, had turned from his request for a dance and giggled behind her fan to her companion that she could not possibly dance with a blackamoor. That had been the last time he had danced at any but small private parties where he knew everyone. He was determined that tonight his sister should be his only partner.

His resolution was soon broken. The first people they saw upon entering the already crowded rooms were their Aunt Blanche and their cousins. Edward hurried up and claimed Lucy’s hand. He was a sight to behold, in an orange satin coat and mauve waistcoat, his collar so high and tight that his eyes were popping with semi-strangulation.

“Do you think you should dance, cousin?” asked Lucy solicitously, not daring to look at Richard or Tony lest she burst into laughter. “The exercise might spoil your finery.”

“Do you like it?” he preened. “I am surprised that no one has previously thought of combining orange and mauve. A particularly felicitous combination, do you not think? I am sure no one has done it before.”

“I feel certain you are right, Edward,” reassured Richard. “You had better take Lucy to dance now, the sets are forming.”

He, too, avoided Lord Denham’s eye, but in fact Tony was wondering if Edward was not right. Perhaps a little too extreme, he decided. He himself was very fine in green, with a primrose waistcoat in compliment to Miss Carstairs.

Richard introduced Lord Denham to his other cousin, who was sitting disconsolately by her mother. Miss Jennifer Carstairs was a plump blond in her second Season. She had had a moderately successful first Season, and this year she had been fired by emulation of her brother’s finery. Her pink gown was so embellished with lace and frills and knots of ribbon that the color could barely be seen. Mrs. Geoffrey Carstairs looked despairingly at her sister-in-law as Lady Annabel, scarce recovered from Edward’s appearance, was newly stunned by her niece Jenny.

Lord Denham, always well-mannered and obliging, requested a dance and Jennifer gratefully complied. She now wished she had heeded her mama’s warnings, and resolved ruthlessly to strip away all the decorations her abigail had painstakingly sewn on her gowns. Not without sense, she had realized as soon as she saw her cousins how much more elegant their simpler clothing appeared. She decided Edward looked like a popinjay, but a lingering taste for frills made her think Lord Denham quite a Pink of the Ton.

In spite of providing a partner for his cousin Richard could not in all decency avoid putting his name down for a country dance, and he knew that if she remained a wallflower he would be forced to exert himself further. Having seated his mother, then conversed for a few minutes with his aunt, he spotted Brummell across the room and left the ladies to a comfortable cose.

The Beau was the one crony of Richard’s of whom his uncle, Lord Mortlake, could not approve. His father had been a clerk, his grandfather, it was rumoured, a valet. Educated at Eton, he had made the acquaintance of the Prince of Wales and on entering the Fashionable World, had quickly become its arbiter of fashion. His membership in Prinny’s set did him no service in the eyes of high sticklers like Lord Mortlake, who was quite unable to understand Richard’s friendship with him, especially as Richard had no interest in frequenting Carlton House. However, the friendship had started at Eton and showed every sign of continuing.

“Who was that charming child who entered with you?” Brummell accosted Richard.

“My sister, George. With your accolade there will be no further need for me to exert myself on her behalf. Will you let me present you to her?”

“By all means, my dear chap, provided your cousins are not in the vicinity. You cannot expect me to lend them countenance.”

Richard laughed ruefully.

“I fear not,” he said. “Come, let us take a hand at piquet until this dance is over, then I will attempt to separate Lucy from Edward.”

Lucy was thoroughly enjoying the dance, in spite of her partner’s wheezes and alarmingly purple face, which clashed distressingly with his clothes. It ended not a moment too soon for Edward, who mopped his forehead and conducted her back toward her mother. As they made their way through the crush, Lucy found a familiar figure beside her.

“The next dance is mine,” claimed Major Bowen.

Lucy presented her cousin, wishing suddenly that he did not appear such a figure of fun. The major shook hands gravely and turned back to her with a twinkle in his eye.

“Is your brother here?” he inquired.

“Yes, but I do not know where he is. My mother is over there with my aunt, and there is Lord Denham with Jennifer, my cousin. Pray let us not go there. I fear we will be drawn into some tedious conversation.” Lucy impulsively pulled at his arm.

“I must make my bow to Lady Annabel,” he said calmly, ignoring her ill-judged outburst. He was a major at the early age of twenty-six because, while insisting on firm discipline and obedience to orders, he had been able to make allowances for the untutored waywardness of his native soldiers. He had ignored behaviour of which they, eager to please, were already ashamed, while expecting them to act correctly next time. His expectations had rarely been unfounded, his sepoys had worshiped him and happily risked their lives for him. Now, looking with well-hidden amusement at Lucy’s guilty face, he could almost imagine he had a sepoy on his arm. Not quite.

Lucy knew she had transgressed and was grateful for his forbearance. Richard would have reproached her, her mother would have chided, but this almost stranger seemed to understand that she was already repentant and did not need to be scolded. She found it hard to believe that she had met him only the previous day. She looked up to find him gazing at her with such serious intentness that she felt a little breathless.

She managed to smile and to ask with creditable composure, “Have you had many partners already, Major?”

“Partners? Oh, yes, I have danced once or twice. I was waiting for you.”

He said this in such a matter-of-fact tone that she hardly knew whether it was a compliment. Uncertain how to answer, she was silent until they reached her mother. Then she was busy introducing the major to her aunt, her cousin, Lord Denham. The latter shook his hand.

“Ah, yes, friend of Harry’s, ain’t you? Think we must have met before. You must tell me about General Frazer’s engagement at Delhi some time. Miss Lucy, the next dance after this is a waltz. I am off to find Lady Cowper, to ensure that you cannot break your promise.”

Major Bowen led her on to the floor for the cotillion.

“Will you waltz with me?” he asked when the dance brought them together.

“I cannot!” Lucy exclaimed. “We are engaged for the supper dance, and mama would never permit me to dance more than twice with the same gentleman.”

“I beg your pardon. I have been so long out of the country that I have quite forgot the rules.”

“Then I shall have to remind you so that you may observe the proprieties.” Lucy twinkled at him.

He laughed. “Touché! You will save me a waltz at the next ball?”

“Of course,” she said lightly.

Her waltz with Lord Denham passed in a dream. The dance was still considered slightly indecent in Yorkshire and Lady Annabel had not permitted her to take part at the York Assemblies. However, with Emily Cowper approving, there could be no objection now. Lucy had been looking forward to it for months. At first it felt strange to have a gentleman’s arm about her waist, then she reminded herself that after all she had known Lord Denham for years—he was almost a brother to her. She gave herself up to the music and the motion, and no one watching her could have guessed that she had learned the dance in three brief sessions, crammed between shopping and fittings.

Lord Denham was an excellent dancer when he decided to make the effort. He swung her round the room, intoxicated by her closeness. At the end of the dance, they found themselves beside the draped alcove of a window.

“I am so hot,” declared Lucy. “Let us open that window.”

“I would not dare. We should have all the old biddies crying ‘inflammation of the lungs!’”

“Well then, let us go closer and draw the curtains and no one will know.”

Lord Denham knew he should scotch the scheme, but he was too lazy to protest. He followed her into the bow and opened a pane while Lucy closed the curtains tightly. She stood by the open window, fanning herself.

“I enjoyed waltzing excessively, Lord Denham,” she said.

“Surely you could call me Tony, after we have known each other for so long,” he protested.