‘On the contrary,’ replied Morry, ‘Your cousin has been busy, advertising her wares.’ She added, with a hint of pride in her voice, ‘Very successfully, too.’
‘You will remember Mr Chawton offered to paint some of my designs,’ Grace explained, blushing slightly. ‘A few weeks ago, I had prints made from his artwork and sent them to the leading fabric warehouses, with my direction on the back.’ She looked up, her soft eyes shining. ‘You would be astonished at how many orders I have received, Lucy! I have taken on more girls, plus an extra milliner for the hats, but still we cannot keep up.’
‘We are also running out of space,’ put in Miss Morrison. ‘But I think there is a solution. The house next door has come available. It would provide more sewing rooms and extra space for storage.’ She reached out and put her hand on the ledger lying on the desk. ‘Grace and I have gone through the accounts very carefully. We believe we can afford to rent it, in addition to this property, and still be in a position to pay you ten pounds per month on your investment.’
‘Which is much more than I would have received if I had left the money in the four per cents,’ declared Lucy. ‘That is excellent news, ladies. Let us do it!’
*
Lucia left Morry and Grace to arrange the hire of the new premises and set off to walk back alone to Portman Square, warmed by a glow of satisfaction at the success of their plans. She was waiting to cross Seymour Street when a curricle came bowling up, pulled by a pair of glossy match-bays. She recognised the driver and felt a tiny kick of pleasure when he saw her and drew the equipage to a stand beside her.
‘Good day, Miss Luckington.’ He tipped his hat.
‘Sir Darius, have you sold your phaeton?’
‘No,’ His answer was distracted. He was frowning at her. ‘You are unattended?’
‘I am on my way back to Portman Square. It really is but a step.’ She laughed. ‘You can hardly offer to take me up when I am already in sight of Quidenham House!’
He relaxed and grinned.
‘You are right, but you might like to come for a short drive with me.’ He waved towards the horses. ‘This team is a new acquisition. I am just trying out their paces and would be glad of your opinion.’
The offer caught her off guard and she replied, flustered, ‘I am very flattered, of course, but…’
‘If you are concerned for propriety, surely my man’s presence is sufficient.’ He glanced at the groom, sitting beside him. ‘Hand up the lady, Lewis, if you please.’
Lucia thought she should refuse, but the sun was shining, her spirits were high and the temptation to ride behind such beautiful horses was too great to be resisted. She allowed the groom to help her up before he scrambled nimbly onto the back as the curricle began to move.
Lucia watched with appreciation as Sir Darius guided the spirited pair through the traffic. She kept silent, not wishing to distract him, but when they turned into the park, she was wracked with indecision. She wanted to compliment him on his driving, but was afraid he might think she was flattering him. Yet he had asked for her opinion and she felt she must say something. In the end she settled for remarking that the bays were very spirited.
‘Did you purchase them at Tattersalls, Sir Darius?’
‘No. I picked them up at Newmarket. I have been staying with friends there for the past three weeks.’
That answered the question she had been determined not to ask. He glanced down at her, a glinting smile in his eyes.
‘Did you miss me?’
‘Certainly not,’ she lied, fixing her gaze firmly on the road ahead. ‘I have been far too busy.’
‘You have not yet found yourself a husband.’
‘I am not looking for a husband!’ She retorted. ‘I have no need of one.’
‘Ah, of course. Your investment.’
‘Yes.’ It was very satisfying to say truthfully, ‘It is giving me a very good return.’
‘I am glad to hear it, but I am still intrigued to know where you have put your money.’
‘And I am still disinclined to divulge it.’
‘Are you afraid I might cut you out?’
She laughed at that. ‘Impossible! But I cannot tell anyone. It is not at all the thing for young ladies to be dabbling in business.’
‘Some might frown, perhaps, but if that is what you are doing, and doing it successfully, I am impressed.’
Lucia bit her lip. She was so proud of Orchard Gowns and she was bursting to tell someone about its success. Why not Sir Darius?
‘We have not been acquainted so very long,’ she said, more to convince herself than her companion.
‘Come, Miss Luckington, we are related, are we not?’ She glanced at him in surprise and he explained, ‘Through Lady Quidenham.’
‘There is that,’ she conceded.
‘I wish you would tell me.’ He added, as if reading her mind, ‘You need not worry about Lewis. He is very discreet.’
Her bubbling excitement won out over caution.
‘Very well. But you must promise not to speak of it to anyone.’
‘You have my word.’
She took a deep breath. ‘I have invested in my cousin’s business. She is an outstanding seamstress and I helped her to set up her own establishment in Orchard Street at the beginning of this season. It is proving highly successful.’
‘You wear her gowns?’
‘Gowns, cloaks, mantles, redingotes – she has made almost everything I have worn since coming to London.’
‘Orchard Gowns.’ He nodded. ‘My sister has mentioned it to me.’
‘It is doing very well. Much better than we could have hoped. No one knows Grace is my cousin and I pray you will not tell anyone.’ She flushed and went on hastily, ‘Not that I am ashamed of the connexion, but it might be frowned upon, in some circles.’
‘You are undoubtedly correct in thinking that!’ They drove on in silence for a while. Then he said, ‘And your purpose in coming to Town was to puff off your cousin’s business? Is Lady Quidenham aware of this? Does she approve?’
‘My aunt knows of it,’ Lucy temporized. ‘She was willing to sponsor me for this one Season.’
‘And what do you plan to do afterwards?’
Lucy was at a loss to answer that. She had been concentrating so hard on making Grace a success that she had left the future to look after itself, but the doubts and questions had been gathering within her for some time.
Her original hopes for the business had been modest, to earn enough to keep a roof over their collective heads. She had had some vague idea that she would retire from society and join Morry and Grace, living over the shop, but the growing success of Orchard Gowns had shown her that might not be wise. Some at least of Grace’s customers would be incensed if they discovered that Miss Lucia Luckington had spent the Season drumming up business for her cousin and was now living on the proceeds. Lucia had been aware for some time of the difficulties that lay ahead, but she had resolutely ignored them.
‘I am not sure,’ she said now, inexplicably cross with him for asking the question. ‘Not that it is anyone’s business but my own.’
‘I beg to differ, Miss Luckington. It must be of interest to Miss Bower and Miss Morrison.’
‘Well, yes, of course.’
She had no intention of cutting herself off from them, but now the business was doing so well, they no longer needed her to be in town. But if she could not live with them, where would she go? Her earlier sunny spirits were now clouded by doubt.
‘It must be of interest to Lady Quidenham, too,’ he remarked. ‘She is likely to face censure from the ton for foisting her niece upon them.’
The same thought had occurred to Lucy and it was not helped by the knowledge that she had forced the dowager’s hand. But guilt only made her feel more annoyed with Sir Darius for voicing it.
‘She did not foist me upon anyone!’ she replied hotly.
‘No?’
The look he gave her, the faint rai
sing of his brows as if in disbelief, made her grind her teeth in rage.
‘Oooh, I wish now I had not told you. It was only because you are so concerned that I might replace you as Lady Quidenham’s heir that I said anything at all!’
He gave a little hiss of impatience. ‘That has never been my concern. I was anxious for Lady Quidenham. She is old and lonely and I did not want her to become prey to some scheming hussy.’
Lucia gasped. ‘Is that what you think me?’
‘No! Not now I know you better.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied, sugar sweet and angry. ‘How magnanimous of you!’
He was silent as he negotiated two carriages that were moving at a snail’s pace and Lucy’s spurt of anger faded away. She was being unjust and should be commending his solicitude for her aunt, not mocking him. It showed he was not nearly as cold as she had first thought. What she had taken for arrogant reserve she realised now was more a defence against incursions into his privacy. He was not at all the care-for-nobody he liked people to think him. In fact…
He said suddenly, ‘Would it surprise you to learn that I would as soon not be her heir?’
‘No,’ she replied, a rueful smile touching her lips. ‘No, it would not surprise me at all.’
He looked across and held her glance, his own eyes unreadable. Then, as if he had come to a decision, he swung the curricle off the main drive onto a winding path that was barely wide enough for one vehicle. Lucia was about to ask him if they were going the right way when he drew up and ordered his groom to take the horses’ heads.
‘Will you walk a while with me, Miss Luckington?’
Intrigued, she allowed him to help her down. He drew her hand onto his sleeve and began to lead her away from the curricle. Since she was wearing half-boots suitable for walking, she had no qualms about stepping on to the grass in the dappled shade beneath the trees.
It was very quiet in this part of the park. There was no one driving or walking close by and the only sound was the trill of birdsong. After her busy morning and the bustle of the streets, Lucia found it soothing, but it could not dispel the lowering suspicion that there was some truth in what Sir Darius had said. There was no denying she had compelled Lady Quidenham to bring her to London and she had made use of her great-aunt’s social position while she had been here. It was little consolation to tell herself it was in a good cause.
Is that why had he invited her to walk here? Her conscience suggested he might wish to admonish her for her behaviour towards Aunt Evadne and did not want his groom to overhear. She prepared herself for a rebuke.
‘You said you did not miss me, while I was out of Town,’ he remarked at last. ‘I, on the other hand, thought about you a great deal.’ He stopped and turned towards her. ‘Miss Luckington – Lucia! Will you make me the happiest of men and consent to be my wife?’
The proposal was so abrupt, so unexpected, that for a full minute Lucia could only stare at him. She could not deny that Sir Darius was the embodiment of a dream, and she had indulged in the illicit fantasy of imagining how it would be to be loved by such a man. But it was just that, a dream.
He tried to pull her closer but she held him off.
‘You look shocked, madam.’
‘No – yes! You don’t even like me,’ she protested.
He gave a ragged laugh. ‘That is clearly not the case.’
‘We can never meet without ripping up at one another.’ She stepped back, turning away from him. ‘No, no, I cannot believe it. This is some cruel jest – ‘
‘A jest!’ He caught her arm, swinging her back to face him. ‘You think I would joke about such a matter!’
He was angry now, adding panic to the turmoil of her confused emotions. She took refuge in the only defence she could think of.
‘I see what it is. I have told you I do not want a husband, I do not need one, but you are conceited enough to think you have only to snap your fingers and I will fall into your arms.’ She laughed scornfully. ‘Is it not enough that every other woman in Town is sighing for you that you must needs add me to your list?’
He was staring at her, his face set, a muscle jerking angrily in his cheek.
‘You have a very poor opinion of me, madam.’
‘And why not?’ she flashed back. ‘You have suspected my motives from the moment I arrived in Town.’ Tears were very close but she fought them back. She would not cry. At least, not yet. ‘I would be obliged if you would leave me here, Sir Darius. I shall walk back.’
‘I cannot abandon you in the middle of the park.’
‘Nothing would persuade me to get back in that carriage with you.’
They glared at one another and for one heart-stopping moment she feared he might pick her up and carry her back to the curricle. The panic and outrage roused by that thought was nothing to the shock of her disappointment when he made no attempt to do so.
‘Very well,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘Lewis shall escort you home.’
‘There is no need – ‘
‘There is every need! You may think me a scoundrel, madam, but I took you up and I will make sure you are escorted safely to Portman Square.’
With that he turned on his heel and strode back to the curricle. Blinking to clear her vision, Lucia hurried off in the opposite direction. She wanted to get back to Quidenham House as soon as possible. She had not gone far when a deferential cough behind her made her stop and turn. Sir Darius’s groom had caught up with her.
‘I do not need you, Lewis. You can go back to your master.’
‘Ah, well now, ma’am, that’s just what I can’t do,’ he replied. ‘I have orders to see you safely home.’ Lucia gave him her frostiest look and he spread his hands. ‘Sir Darius would turn me off without blinking if I disobeyed him.’
Lucia gave a little huff and carried on, knowing Lewis would follow, but determined to ignore him. The sunshine had encouraged more people to venture out and as Lucia made her way towards Cumberland Gate the crowds increased. She hurried along, looking directly ahead of her and ignoring any curious glances from passers-by.
Much as she hated to admit it, there was a certain comfort in having Lewis walking behind her. He might not have the status of the bewigged and liveried footmen who accompanied ladies of rank when they went abroad alone, but he had a certain terrier-like quality and a pugnacious stare that deterred any gentleman who might otherwise be tempted to approach. It did not, however, prevent the groom himself from addressing her.
‘Not himself at present, the master,’ he remarked, walking close to her shoulder.
Lucia ignored him.
‘Never seem him so distracted as he’s been these past few weeks.’
Against her better judgement, Lucia replied.
‘That is no concern of mine.’
‘Now there, madam, if you’ll forgive my saying so, you are wrong. I think he’s sickening for something. I think he’s a man head over heels in love.’
Her step faltered. ‘What nonsense!’ After a moment she added. ‘And if that is so, then he should tell the lady.’
‘Ah well, now ma’am, that’s just it. I reckon maybe the lady don’t want to hear it.’
‘Hah! A singularly novel experience for the gentleman, no doubt!’
The old groom gave a chuckle. ‘There’s many caps been set at my master, and that’s a fact, but he’s never showed interest in any of ‘em. Not in the petticoat line, Sir Darius.’
Lucia gave a little snort of derision. He had never shown any aversion to ladies’ company at the balls and parties she had attended. She had seen the way the ladies watched him moving across the dance floor with that easy, animal grace. Or listening attentively while he talked in that deep, smooth voice that made one’s toes curl…
‘Which makes me think that this is something quite out of the ordinary.’
‘I am sure he will soon come about,’ retorted Lucia, adding bitterly, ‘and if not, I am sure he will soon find consolation elsewhere.’
‘Oh, aye, ma’am, I don’t doubt it. But it seems a pity, if he’s found a lady as would suit him.’
They had reached Quidenham House and Lucia wanted only to hurry inside and indulge in a hearty bout of tears, but the groom’s last words stopped her in her tracks.
‘Suit him? Are the lady’s preferences not to be taken into account at all?
‘Well yes, ma’am, but it’s to be hoped she is already agreeable to the match.’ He fixed her with a gaze that held a wealth of kindly understanding. ‘You see, ma’am, my master’s not one to fall in love lightly. If he’s lost his heart then he will be the kindest, most considerate, most faithful loving husband any woman could wish for. Only she’d have to give him a chance to prove it.’
And I have just rejected him.
The groom shifted his gaze upwards and nodded towards the footman who was holding open the door.
‘Well, we’ve brought you home safe, ma’am. Have you any message for me to take back to Sir Darius?’
One word, thought Lucia. That is all it would take. Just a hint for his master that all was not lost.
‘No.’ she said. ‘No, there is no message.’
*
After giving his orders to Lewis, Darius drove away at breakneck speed. He shot past a dawdling barouche as if the devil was on his heels, frightening the horses and incurring the wrath of their driver, who cursed him roundly.
Darius paid no heed. He was still berating himself for making such an abysmal mess of his proposal to Lucia. It had not been his intention to propose, but when she had looked up, smiling at him so warmly, he could not help himself. He had realised at that moment that he wanted her for his wife. He knew it more clearly than he had known anything in his life before.
He should have taken his time, done it properly, instead he had rushed out his offer with all the finesse of a charging bull.
He growled. ‘Console yourself with the fact that the answer would have been the same, however you posed the question. The rejection might just have been a little more politely expressed.’
Well, it was done. She had made her feelings for him perfectly plain. He could now forget Miss Lucia Luckington and get on with his life.
A Season of Romance Page 49