by Ella Quinn
She had been absently looking at the books when she found herself in the exact place she wished to be. Unfortunately, the book she wanted was not within an easy reach. She stood on her toes and held on to one of the shelves, trying to be careful not to topple it over onto her.
As she stretched her arm up, another arm, this one covered in fine, Prussian blue Bath coating, reached from behind her. “Is it Emma you desire?”
Lord Elliott! How perceptive of him. Glancing back over her shoulder, she smiled at him. “Yes, please. It is just out of my reach. How did you know?”
He pulled out the volume. “I wondered if you would have had a chance to read it while you were in the country. My mother and sisters raved over it.”
“No, I have not had an opportunity, but I am quite fond of all the books I have read by this author.”
“I do not think you will be disappointed.” He grinned at her. “I liked it. She has a way of peeling back the layers of society, which I enjoy.”
“I agree.” She found her cheeks had grown warm. Why did he have this effect on her? “Do you come here often?”
“Whenever I get word of new books that might interest me.” His lordship placed the book in her hands.
“I am not so spoiled for choice. We do not have a bookstore near us at home. I have been indulging myself as often as I am able.”
“When I’m home, I have Hatchards send me a list of their new books. Then I order what I think I might like.”
“What a clever idea.” Lucinda wondered if she could do something like that when she returned to The Roses—if she returned at all. She might marry. In that case, she would have to wed a gentleman who was as fond of reading as she was. And who would not attempt to control what she read.
“Lucinda.” Mama came up to them. “What are you doing?”
“I was attempting to reach this book”—she pointed to the empty space—“but his lordship very kindly got it down for me. Was that not well done of him?”
“Yes. It was,” her mother replied. Then again, there really was not anything else she could say and remain polite.
“Thank you, my lord.” Lucinda slid a look at him, and the dimple was there. “I believe my mother wishes to return to Rothwell House.”
“My pleasure, my lady.” Lord Elliott bowed. “Your grace, very nice to see you again.”
“Thank you for assisting my daughter.” Mama inclined her head and took Lucinda by the arm. “We must be on our way.”
She glanced back briefly at his lordship, but he was looking at a book.
Once she and her mother were in the carriage on the way to Grosvenor Square, she considered saying something to Mama about her attitude toward Lord Elliott. Yet it would not do any good, and might cause another disagreement. Amazingly, he did not appear to care at all what Mama thought or how she behaved toward him. Was it simply that he had excellent manners, or did he simply not value her opinion? Either way, Lucinda admired his sangfroid.
Once again, she dressed carefully for tea. This time she wore a blue muslin gown embroidered with yellow flowers. As before, her mother was in the drawing room when she arrived. Yet the atmosphere was different. Tenser.
“Another lovely gown,” Mama said. “There is no reason for you to be nervous. You are beautiful, and I am certain Lord Quorndon will think so as well.”
Perhaps the problem was that Lucinda did not know if she wanted him to think she was beautiful. “Thank you, Mama.”
“They should be here at any moment.” She patted the sofa next to her. “Come, sit with me. You shall pour the tea, and I will hand out the cups.”
In other words, Lucinda was to show the marquis how graceful and accomplished she was. Would she be required to play the piano for him as well?
Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. Her mother might think it was for Lord Quordon to approve of her, yet Lucinda knew it was equally important that she approve of him. And his looks would have very little to do with her opinion.
A light knock came on the door before it opened. “Your grace. Lord and Lady Quorndon.”
Lady Quorndon floated into the room, followed by her son. Both had curling blond hair, blue eyes, and reminded Lucinda strongly of porcelain dolls. Where the lady was small and slight, the gentleman was larger, though not greatly so. He was slender, but not skinny. He definitely did not have Lord Elliott’s broad shoulders.
Her ladyship wore a Celestial blue silk gown, embroidered at the hem, and a spencer of the same color, with embroidery at the cuffs to match the hem.
Instead of the darker colors worn by her brother and Lord Elliott, Lord Quorndon wore a jacket of Aethereal blue and a heavily embroidered yellow waistcoat. The points of his collar were so high they almost touched his cheek bones.
“Judith.” Smiling, Mama rose, and Lucinda followed suit. “How delightful to see you again.”
“Madeline.” The lady held out her arms as they kissed the air next to each other’s cheeks. “I am thrilled to see you.” Lady Quorndon rapped her son’s arm with her fan. “Surely you remember Quorndon?”
“Of course, my lord.” Mama inclined her head.
“Your grace.” Lord Quorndon’s bow was the most elegant gesture Lucinda had ever seen a gentleman make. “It is a great pleasure to see you again. Although my memory is faint, I recall that we met several times when I was a scrubby brat.”
“I do not believe I—or anyone else, for that matter—ever called you ‘scrubby.’” Mama laughed lightly.
“Quite right. I do not suppose they did.” Lord Quorndon smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.
Nor could Lucinda imagine him as a grubby child. A point that was not in his lordship’s favor. From the tip of his perfectly arranged hair to his highly polished boots with gold tassels, the man looked as if he had never engaged in anything more strenuous than lifting a tea-cup. No wonder her sister-in-law had not been impressed.
She pasted a polite smile on her lips, strolled forward, and dipped a slight curtsey.
“And this must be Lady Lucinda!” the marchioness exclaimed. “The last time I saw you, you were in a cradle.”
“A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”
“I suppose you have guessed that this is Quorndon?” his mother said proudly.
“I did, indeed, make that assumption.” Lucinda held out her hand to his lordship. Fortunately, he did nothing more than bow and kiss the air above her fingers.
Fredericks cleared his throat, and Mama ushered Lucinda to the sofa. The Quorndons took seats on the opposite sofa. Soon afterward, the tea service and plates of small tarts and biscuits were set on the low table between the sofas.
“My lady,” Lucinda asked. “How do you prefer your tea?”
Once everyone had a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits—the Quorndons having eschewed tarts—the conversation turned to the upcoming Season. An hour later, two things were perfectly clear: Politics would not be discussed, and Lucinda had very little in common with Lord Quorndon.
Despite their apparent inability to find anything upon which to agree, she decided to take a more direct approach, one that her mother could not avoid noticing. “I have become very fond of early morning rides. Do you ride in Town, my lord?”
“At home I will take my hack out when necessary. But in Town I only ride if there has been a party got up to Richmond, or some such place, and the other gentlemen are riding. Generally, I prefer a carriage. I find the aroma of the horse, not matter how clean the beast is, lingers.”
She stifled a sigh and tried again. “I love picnics. We go on them quite a bit during the summer.” Before he became ill, her father used to take them in the spring and summer. She would always have fond memories of their picnics.
“Unfortunately, so do the ants.” Lucinda could have sworn his lordship shuddered. “I much prefer to take my meals at a table.”
No horses, no picnics. She wondered if he liked the same books she did. “Have you read the latest novel by the author A Lady?”
Lord Quorndon flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his jacket. “No, I much prefer Byron. I find him much superior to any female author.”
Lucinda clamped her mouth shut. How dare he? Not only did he deride an excellent lady author, but he preferred a male author whose excesses were scandalous. She, for one, could not bring herself to separate Byron’s life from his work. “What of Shakespeare? I do love his comedies.”
“I suppose one must at least pretend to be interested,” his lordship drawled.
Their mothers exchanged glances, and Lady Quorndon said, “I propose we attend the theater next week. I have been told there is an excellent comedy playing at the Theater Royal.”
Lucinda waited for his lordship to say he was not fond of comedy. Instead, he smiled at her. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. What think you, my lady? Do you have a taste for the theater?”
“I do, my lord. Or at least, I enjoy our Christmas pantomimes. I have not yet been to a real theater.”
“Perfect. My mother shall arrange it.” He leaned back against the cushions, appearing very proud of himself.
Was it usual for a gentleman to leave arrangements like that to his mother? If she married Quorndon, what part would his mother play in their lives? These were questions to which she needed answers. “I look forward to the evening, my lord, my lady.”
“Well, then.” Lord Quorndon rose. “I believe it is time for us to depart.” He assisted his mother to rise, then bowed to her and her mother. “Your grace, my lady. It has been a pleasure.”
“Yes, indeed,” Mama said, relieving Lucinda of crafting a response. She could merely smile and curtsey. “Judith, I look forward to hearing from you about the theater.”
“I shall ensure it does not interfere with any of the important entertainments.” Lady Quorndon gave Mama a significant look. “We cannot have Lady Lucinda miss any essential events.”
Lucinda’s smile almost faltered. If her ladyship wanted Quorndon to marry her, why, then, would Lady Quorndon encourage her to attend events? This was all very confusing, and she daren’t ask her mother.
They accompanied Lord and Lady Quorndon to the front door, bid them farewell, then strolled back to the morning room. Mama took the same seat she had before and picked up a cream tart. “I think that went well. Do you not agree?”
Lucinda’s jaw dropped, but she quickly snapped it shut. She could either agree with her mother, or tell her the truth: that Quorndon and she were unlikely to make a match.
“Naturally, today was a little stilted. It is difficult to meet the person your parent has decided you should wed.” A little stilted? Could Mama not see that a match would be close to impossible? “I think he is a perfect gentleman, and very much like he was as a child.”
The conversation between her mother and sister-in-law came rushing back to Lucinda.
Quorndon was never dirty, as I recall.
Now, that does not surprise me at all.
Lucinda had not understood it at the time, but she did now. How could anyone imagine Lord Quorndon being anything other than a perfect porcelain figure? His mother as well. The thought that Lady Quorndon could live with them if he and Lucinda married was not to be thought of.
His mother wanted this match as much as her mother did. The question was why was it so important, and what could she do to stop her mother from pursuing this match?
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning, Lucinda awoke to the sound of a bird singing in the lilac tree next to her window. Unfortunately, it would be another month before she could enjoy the tree. If she hurried, she could be out of the house before anyone who could stop her was awake.
Reaching out, she tugged the bell-pull, and a half an hour later her groom, Kerr, helped her mount Nan, her gray mare.
Kerr swung onto his hack. “Where are we going, my lady?”
Prancing beneath her, Nan was fresh, and clearly wanted some exercise. There was only one place in Mayfair Lucinda knew she could ride at good pace without causing talk. “The Park. I understand that my sister-in-law was allowed to ride there with a groom.” Kerr closed one eye and drew up the edge of his mouth, giving her a skeptical look. “Follow me, I know where it is.”
Soon they were trotting out of Grosvenor Square, headed toward Rotten Row. The air was fresh for London, and puffy clouds dotted the sky. Now if only the weather would become warmer. Seeing only one rider in the distance, she urged Nan into an easy gallop, giving the horse an opportunity to run.
“Well met, my lady,” Lord Elliott said as he rode up and doffed his hat. His eyes sparkled, giving him a slightly roguish appearance. His mussed hair made her want to run her fingers through it, putting it in order again. He seemed more handsome this morning than he had before. “I didn’t know you enjoyed early morning rides.”
His large roan stallion eyed Nan, who playfully tossed her head. Not only was Lord Elliott handsome, but it seemed they both liked morning rides. That was more than she could say for Lord Quorndon. “It is my first opportunity since arriving in Town. It is peaceful here at this time of day.”
“Much more so than during the Grand Strut. Have you experienced the ton at its afternoon finest?”
No, but she had heard it was the place to be seen in the afternoon. Would his lordship ask her to accompany him? “I have not yet had that pleasure.”
Lord Elliott grinned. “In that case, please allow me to take you for a carriage ride today.”
“I would be delighted.” Lucinda returned his smile. She would have to convince Louisa to support the outing in the event Mama objected.
“Excellent. I shall come for you at five.” His grin widened, the dimple making a showing.
“I look forward to it, my lord.”
“As will I.” He bowed and trotted off in the direction he had been headed before he’d stopped to speak with her.
Lucinda didn’t even bother to hide her sigh. The man could certainly sit a horse. She hoped he was similarly skillful with the ribbons. That must be on her list of requirements for a husband. Books as well. Which made the marquis quite ineligible for the position.
She nudged Nan forward. Lucinda could not imagine being wed to Lord Quorndon. Yet if he were to find a lady that would capture his interest—she was positive that he had not—perhaps she would be allowed to marry where she wished. Well, there was no time like the present. If such a lady existed, she would most likely be at Lady Bellamny’s soirée this evening.
Even if Lucinda failed to find a husband for herself this Season, perhaps she could find a wife for Lord Quorndon. Even her mother could not possibility expect Lucinda to wed a gentleman who was in love with another woman.
When she came down for breakfast after washing and dressing, Lucinda was pleased to find only her brother and sister-in-law in the breakfast room. Rothwell was seated at the end of the table, with Louisa on his right side. Both of them were reading newssheets. Athena, their eight-month-old Great Dane, lay between them, her head on her paws. She glanced up, then resumed her position.
Lucinda smiled brightly. “Good morning.”
Rothwell raised his head slightly and nodded, but Louisa lowered her paper. “Good morning to you. Have you been out riding?”
“Yes.” When she approached the covered dishes on the sideboard, Athena ambled over to greet Lucinda and be stroked. “Are you not normally in the nursery?”
“She is,” Louisa said. “But Nurse took exception to her attempting to save Alexandria from a bath.”
Ever since the baby had been born, Athena had appointed herself guardian of the child. “It amazes me how afraid she is of water.”
“If it cannot be consumed, the Danes have no use for it.” Louisa took a sip of tea. “Join us.
Would you like a section of the newssheet?”
“Please. I’ll read what you have finished.” Mama did not approve of reading at the table, but Rothwell and Louisa insisted on being current. After one of the footmen placed fresh toast on the table, her sister-in-law motioned for another pot of tea. “I saw Lord Elliott this morning.” Lucinda strove to speak casually as she made her selection, a baked egg and ham. “He invited me for a carriage ride this afternoon.”
“Excellent.” Her brother looked up. “He will be able to tell you who everyone is.”
“Indeed.” Louisa handed the part of the newspaper she was reading to a footman, who placed it next to Lucinda’s place setting. “I received the vouchers for Almack’s.”
She had heard about Almack’s but did not know much about it, other than not everyone was allowed and birth was more of a recommendation than wealth. “That is good.”
“It’s a dead bore,” her brother growled. “But don’t repeat me.”
“It is not that bad.” Louisa patted Rothwell’s hand. “The worst part will be waiting for approval to dance the waltz.”
“If Quorndon is there, that will be a problem,” Rothwell grumbled before going back to his reading.
Lucinda set her plate on the table and looked over at her brother. “Why are you so out of sorts this morning?”
Folding his newssheet, he put it aside. “I received news that it is too wet to start planting. If this weather doesn’t improve soon, we will have problems getting a full season in.”
No wonder he was in such a foul mood. “We do seem to be having more rain than usual.”
“We do, indeed.” He grimaced before swallowing the rest of his tea. “I’m sure Elliott will be at Almack’s. Featherton as well. I shall ask one of them to receive permission to waltz with you.”
That would solve the embarrassment of having to wait. Before Lucinda could answer, her sister-in-law said, “You cannot smother her with your friends.”
“Of course I can.” Her brother’s eyes widened. “What’s the point in having them if I can’t make use of them?”