‘Lady Chawton has invited us to her card party on Monday night,’ Lady Quidenham informed her, when their visitors had withdrawn.
‘How kind,’ murmured Lucia absently. She smoothed a crease from her skirts. ‘I thought I saw Sir Darius come in, Aunt Evadne.’
‘Yes, he looked in, but did not stop.’
A drum roll signalled that the farce was about to begin and the ladies turned their attention back to the stage, but for some reason Lucia could not summon up enthusiasm. She thought the farce insipid. It must be due to the lacklustre performances. It could have nothing to do with the fact that Sir Darius had not attempted to speak to her.
By the morning Lucy’s sunny nature had reasserted itself, aided by the prospect of fine weather for their trip to the Park to see the military review. Her aunt had decided she would attend, so Lucy dressed quickly and went downstairs to join her, and when Lady Winterstoke’s open carriage pulled up at the door they were both ready to step out.
Lady Quidenham sat beside her hostess on the forward-facing seat while Verity and Lucia occupied the other bench seat. The footman who had helped them into the carriage resumed his place at the rear and they set off into the park, parasols raised against the bright spring sunshine.
Lucia had never attended a military review, and she found much to interest her. At a distance the ranks of soldiers formed blocks of colour, bright red, or blue or a green so dark it was almost black. Cap badges and belt buckles had been polished until they sparkled in the sun, the horses’ coats gleamed, harnesses jingled and the shouted orders could be heard even above the noise and bustle. There were a number of carriages already in the park when they arrived, and the coachman was obliged to travel some distance to find an advantageous viewing spot.
They had only just manoeuvred into place when Verity gave a screech.
‘Look, there’s Darius in his phaeton! And he has Tommy Applecross with him. Darius, Darius!’
‘Verity do, I pray you, stop behaving like a hoyden.’
Lady Winterstoke’s pleas went unheeded. Verity stood up and waved frantically to her brother, who neatly turned his carriage and brought it to a stand in line with their own. He touched his hat to the ladies, then presented Lord Applecross to Lucia and her aunt.
‘Delighted, ma’am, Miss Luckington.’ Lord Applecross beamed at them, his rosy cheeks and twinkling blue eyes giving him a very genial appearance that could not but raise a smile.
When the introductions were over Verity called out again to her brother, this time with a pout.
‘How beastly of you to come in your high-perch phaeton, Darius, and never a word to me. The view from up there must be much better than here.’
‘It is,’ he said, grinning at his sister. ‘But it would be rude of me to favour you over your guests. There is room for you to sit between Grandmama and Lady Quidenham, but perhaps Miss Luckington would like to join me?’ He turned to his companion. ‘You won’t mind giving up your seat, will you, Tommy?’
‘What? Oh, no, old boy, not at all. I am off to take a walk. My brother is an officer in the tenth, Miss Luckington, and I said I would go and find him. Let me help you up. Dashed difficult, these high-perch phaetons, but if you put your foot there…now reach up and take Claversham’s hand, that’s it – he won’t let you fall – there.’
Without quite knowing how it happened, Lucia found herself sitting on the elevated leather seat of the phaeton next to Sir Darius. She thought it very likely that she had shown an inordinate amount of ankle in the scramble and her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. They burned even more when he spread a thick rug over her knees. It was as much as she could do not to jump when she felt his strong hands tucking it securely around her.
She glanced down into the barouche, expecting to see shocked and reproachful faces, but Lady Winterstoke was busy talking to Lord Applecross who was now standing beside the carriage, Verity was giggling at her, and even Aunt Evadne was nodding approvingly. There was nothing for it, then, but to look as if she had spent her life riding in such a scandalously high equipage.
‘I suppose I should consider this a rare treat,’ she remarked, trying to sound nonchalant.
‘You should indeed, Miss Luckington. I almost never take up females.’
‘And there was no need to do so today,’ she assured him. ‘I was perfectly happy in the barouche.’
‘But you will admit the view from here is superior.’
‘If one doesn’t faint off!’
He turned his head to look at her. ‘I do not think you are the sort to faint, Miss Luckington.’
‘And a good thing too,’ she retorted, rocked off balance by the disquieting glint in his blue eyes. ‘I should surely break my neck if I toppled from here.’
‘Oh, I should not let that happen. Perhaps you would like me to put my arm about you now, just to be sure – ‘
‘No!’ She almost yelped at the thought of it, then berated herself for rising to the bait of his teasing. She sat up very straight, fixing her eyes on the soldiers on parade before them. ‘I am perfectly secure now, I assure you.’
‘But not as comfortable as you were last night, talking to Edward Chawton.’
She blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You were almost sitting on his lap.’
Her cheeks heated again, but this time with anger.
‘Pray do not be absurd. I was merely sitting close to catch his words. There was a deal of noise in the auditorium.’
They fell silent, watching the manoeuvring troops, until the display ended with cannon fire, sending dirty grey smoke and fragments of burning wadding into the air.
‘He won’t marry you, you know,’ he said. ‘His elder brother married beneath him and Lady Chawton is determined Edward will do better.’
Lucy gave an indignant gasp. ‘Do you consider me so unsuitable a bride?’
‘Not in birth, perhaps, but without a fortune…’ He spread his hands, leaving her to interpret his meaning.
Lucia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who is to say I won’t have one?’
‘So you admit that is your aim, to cut me out?’
‘No! Ooh, you are quite abominable. I have told you, I have no wish nor need for Lady Quidenham’s fortune.’
‘You have other funds, perhaps, that no one knows of?’
‘I have the money I inherited from my father.’ Her chin went up. ‘If you must know, I have invested it.’
‘Have you indeed? Wisely, I hope. In these uncertain times, and the war in Europe far from over, investments can be precarious.’
‘You need not concern yourself, Sir Darius. My money is quite safe, I assure you. It is already making a return.’
The review was over, the crowds were beginning to drift away, but neither of them noticed. He was watching her and Lucia felt at last she had the upper hand. It gave her the self-assurance needed to return look for look. To enjoy the frisson of excitement that shivered through her. She thought idly that his eyes were the most vivid blue, the colour of a clear summer sky at evening. Calm, reassuring. Inviting confidence. Suddenly there was nothing she would like more than to confide in him, to share her hopes and dreams.
Even as she stared into his eyes they changed, becoming more searching, as if he could reach into her very soul. Lucy quickly looked away, afraid he might indeed be able to read her mind. She must pull herself together, she had no time for such fancies. They had no place in her grand plan. Now, what had they been speaking of? Ah yes, her investment.
‘I shall tell you nothing more about it,’ she told him. ‘At least not yet, but I am confident nothing can go wrong.’
‘I hope for your sake that is so, Miss Luckington.’ His hand reached out and she froze. For one panicking moment she thought he was going to pull her into his arms, but instead he merely lifted the rug away from her. ‘Lady Quidenham is trying to attract your attention. I think they are about to depart.’ He signalled to one of Lady Winterstoke’s men to take the horses’ heads
. ‘Sit still while I jump down, then I will help you alight.’
Lucia realised she had no choice but to wait for him. The flimsy carriage rocked alarmingly as Sir Darius climbed down. He walked around to her side of the phaeton and reached up for her, instructing her where to step. Then his hands were around her waist and he was lifting her down. For one exhilarating, heart-stopping moment she was suspended, at his mercy and when at last her feet did touch the floor, she clung to him, afraid that her knees were going to buckle. So much for her new-found confidence!
‘There,’ he murmured, grinning at her, his hands still around her waist. ‘You are safe now.’
A deep breath and she felt strong enough to release her grip on him.
‘Thank you,’ she said, with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘I am perfectly able to stand.’
She turned away, glad that one of Lady Winterstoke’s footmen was standing beside the door of the barouche, waiting to help her up, and she did not have to take Sir Darius’s hand again. She concentrated on making herself comfortable on the seat beside Verity while the other ladies chatted to Sir Darius. She heard Lady Quidenham thanking him for his kindness and felt the heat burning her cheeks again. Kindness! Was she the only one aware of the odious way he had teased her?
You did not think him odious when he lifted you down, as if you weighed no more than a feather.
Lucia quickly stifled that thought. He was suspicious of her, and she certainly did not like him. Schooling her face into a look of cold politeness she bade him good day, but it was a mistake to allow herself to meet his eyes, for they were twinkling with wicked amusement. But there was understanding there, too and she was sorely tempted to smile back. Which was even more disconcerting.
Sir Darius touched his hat to her and climbed swiftly back into the phaeton. As he gathered up the reins again, he turned to address his sister.
‘I almost forgot, Verity. Your mare has arrived from Claversham, so you may arrange your ride with the Garwoods as soon as you wish.’
‘Thank you, I will. We shall go out on the next fine day that suits us all!’
With a flourish of his whip, Sir Darius drove off. Lucia watched him, reluctantly impressed by his skill in manoeuvring the phaeton. She had yet to see him on horseback, but she did not doubt he was equally at home in the saddle.
As the barouche pulled away, Verity was chattering happily to her grandmother, discussing suitable dates for the proposed riding party and Lucia was glad to be able to sit quietly and recover her composure. Sir Darius’s disapproval was disconcerting, but his teasing disturbed her far more. She was very much afraid she was in danger of succumbing to his undoubted charm.
Lady Winterstoke’s carriage joined the procession leaving the park, but the crowds were such that they could only move at a snail’s pace. Lucia glanced across at her aunt, hoping she had enjoyed the review. She was certainly looking quite content, gazing at the colourful mass of soldiers who were marching away now, back to their barracks. Then the dowager’s gaze became fixed on something closer to the carriage.
Lucia followed her glance and spotted an elderly gentleman with a cane standing amongst the crowd at the side of the road, staring at their carriage. His height and upright bearing commanded attention and, observing his tanned countenance, she wondered if he was perhaps an ex-soldier, since he had the look of a man who had spent a great deal of time out of doors. Turning back, Lucia observed that her aunt was now staring straight ahead.
‘Verity,’ she murmured, ‘who is that old gentleman, the one over there, in the grey coat?’
As they watched, he raised his hat and gave a little bow.
‘I have no idea. Grandmama, do you know him? He appears to know us.’
Lady Winterstoke glanced across. ‘That is Linus Theale. I wonder what brings him to Town? I thought he was fixed at Harrogate.’
Lucia looked at her aunt’s pale, set face and then back at the gentleman, her thoughts racing. He was still standing at the side of the road, staring after them. Could this be the mysterious Mr T mentioned in her grandmother’s letters?
*
Darius was driving along Piccadilly before he remembered that he was supposed to collect Tommy at the Cumberland Gate and he was obliged to turn back. Confound it, the Luckington chit was proving far too much of a distraction. He had invited her to sit up beside him in the phaeton because he genuinely thought she might enjoy it, but the memory of seeing her at the theatre, sitting closer to Edward Chawton than was seemly, had rudely intruded upon him. He should not have mentioned it. It was no business of his what she did, save that he did not want her to break her heart over Chawton, who must marry a fortune.
And of course that had brought them back to the matter of the Quidenham inheritance. Heaven knew he did not need it. He had never expected the old lady to make him her heir and for his part she might change her will again with his blessing, although no one believed that. But the idea that Lucia had schemed and connived her way into Lady Quidenham’s affections purely for financial gain disturbed him. He did not want to believe it, but Lucia was clearly hiding something. He just wished she would confide in him.
He recalled how light she had felt when he lifted her down from the phaeton, the way she had blushed so adorably as he held her while she regained her balance. He had been aware of the attraction between them, and it was clear she felt it too.
Very well,’ he muttered, expertly cutting through the traffic to reach Lord Applecross, who was standing at the park gates and waving frantically to him, ‘we shall see if we can charm her into a confession!’
CHAPTER SEVEN
The spring weather continued to be fickle and when a spell of torrential storms showed no signs of easing, it was decided to postpone the proposed riding party until the following week.
‘But we refuse to be moped tomorrow,’ declared Verity, when she carried the news to Lucia at Lady Chawton’s card party. ‘You know Grandmama has already invited Lady Quidenham to join her while we were out riding, with one or two more of their acquaintances, and then we were all to dine together afterwards. Well, now everyone is invited to spend the day at Grafton Street. The Garwoods have already agreed to it. We shall be as merry as grigs!’
Lucia was disappointed but when she awoke to find the rain battering against her bedroom window, she knew they had been wise to delay the ride. She rose and put on her embroidered cream muslin, ready to accompany her great-aunt to Grafton Street. They were admitted to the house just as Lady Winterstoke was crossing the hall. She came forward to greet them, smiling.
‘I am so pleased that you have come, and in such horrid weather.’
‘You cannot help the weather, ma’am,’ replied the dowager, although she did not sound too sure about it. ‘But it is such an inconvenience.’
Lucia was removing her pelisse and bonnet but when she heard her aunt’s response she laughed and shook her head at her.
‘What nonsense, Aunt. Your carriage brought us to the door, and my lady’s footman was waiting with an umbrella to escort us inside, so we hardly felt a drop of rain.’ She turned her smile towards her hostess. ‘So you see, ma’am we have not been inconvenienced in the least!’
Lady Winterstoke patted her hand then turned to Lady Quidenham, saying cheerfully, ‘Nothing daunts these young people, does it, ma’am? But pray come up, there are any number of acquaintances who have braved the weather and are gathered in the drawing room.’
Knowing her temper and reclusive ways, Lucia was a little apprehensive that her aunt might change her mind and go away again immediately. However, she appeared to be resigned to her fate. She accompanied her hostess up the stairs and into the drawing room, where she allowed herself to be seated in the most comfortable chair beside the cheerful fire.
Verity hurried up to Lucia and kissed her cheek, saying, ‘I am so pleased you have come!’
‘So, too, am I,’ replied Lucia, returning her hug. ‘I thought perhaps my aunt might cry off.’
There were over a dozen people gathered in the drawing room, which was humming gently with conversation. Several older couples were gathered in a corner not too far from the fire, all of them known to Lucia, but Verity carried her over to the window, where Mr and Miss Garwood were sitting with a group of younger guests. Lucia scanned them eagerly, recognising some, including Edward Chawton, but one person was missing. Not that she minded, Lucia told herself. It was better if she did not meet Sir Darius, since he seemed determined to tease her. It was nothing to her if he was not here. She would not ask about him. She did not wish to know.
‘Do come and sit by me.’ Miss Garwood waved and patted the sofa beside her. ‘Mr Chawton is sketching us in turn. Look, he has already completed this one of Verity and now he is going to sketch me.’
‘Only if you keep still, Mary,’ put in her brother.
Mary begged pardon and composed herself, leaving Lucia free to study the drawing Mr Chawton had already completed.
‘It is very good, sir,’ she remarked. ‘I do like the way you have caught the shadows on the folds of her gown.’
‘Thank you.’ He glanced up briefly from his work. ‘I have no formal training, of course. That would not be seemly for a gentleman.’
Lucia detected a note of bitterness in his voice and imagined that he might have had aspirations to become an artist. She recalled Aunt Evadne telling her that his older brother had been a disappointment and that now the hopes of the family rested upon Edward’s shoulders.
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