by Ella Quinn
When they approached Rothwell and Louisa, her brother looked at Lord Elliott, raised a brow, and said, “Two?”
“I knew how it would be with Lady Serena here. I did not wish Lady Lucinda to have to sit out a dance when I could stand up with her.”
What did that mean? That he only danced twice with her because he did not want her to be embarrassed or feel slighted. Not that he had wanted to stand up with her twice? She glanced at Louisa, who gave an imperceptible shake of her head.
“Let us go down to supper, such as it is.” Lord Elliott held his arm out to Lucinda.
“It’s a shame we can’t leave now.” Her brother took his wife’s arm.
“Never fear.” Louisa grinned up at Rothwell. “I left orders for a small repast to be served when we arrive home. My brother was always hungry after returning from Almack’s.”
The supper conversation consisted of the problems the weather was causing with spring planting, and the possibility that the landowners would have to delve into their reserves to get themselves and their dependents through the next year, which unfortunately did nothing to answer Lucinda’s questions about how Lord Elliott might feel about her. Still, she did learn that he had four other estates in addition to Bittlesbrough, and that he had invested in ventures that would not be harmed by this year’s harvest. It did not matter to her how wealthy he was, but it was nice to know he was intelligent about not having all his funds in one place, and that he knew how to manage them. That should reassure her mother.
CHAPTER TEN
Gerald escorted Lady Lucinda to Almack’s entrance hall, where she and her family waited for their carriage. She danced so well, he could have happily danced another set with her. He had never had a partner so light and responsive in his arms that he did not even need to think about the dance. None of the other ladies with whom he’d stood up came close to her skill and grace. He tried not to think about how well she fitted him. As it was, he was lucky Rothwell had not made a fuss about the second set. Gerald wondered what the hell he’d been thinking to do such a thing at Almack’s.
He would have liked to have departed when she had, but it would have appeared singular, especially after two dances, and he was still looking for a wife.
Lady Jersey caught Gerald’s eye and raised a brow when he re-entered the ballroom. He had known her much of his life. It would behoove him to explain that he was not in love with Lady Lucinda, nor she with him.
Yet where was her mystery gentleman?
None of the other gentlemen appeared to have met her before. He hadn’t caught any of them gazing at her as she danced. Was it possible the man could not gain entrance to Almack’s? Not everyone could. If so, what did that say about the man?
“Elliott.” Lady Jersey’s curious voice intruded on his thoughts. “Two dances? And on the opening night of the Season. What were you thinking?”
Hell and damnation! “Lady Evesham’s cousin is gathering so much attention, I did not wish Lady Lucinda’s feelings to be hurt.”
This time Lady Jersey raised both brows. What was wrong with his reason? “Indeed?”
“Yes, of course. I promised Rothwell I would help look after her.” His collar was suddenly tight. That had been happening a great deal lately. He’d have to speak to his valet.
She gazed at Gerald for several seconds, then heaved a breath. “I shall do my best to scotch any rumors. Do not let it happen again, unless you are serious about the young lady.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He would have to be more careful. He did not want to raise Lady Lucinda’s expectations. “Are there any ladies to whom you would like to introduce me?”
“Yes. One young lady has not been able to waltz yet.”
He followed her to a young woman who stammered through the introduction. Featherton would have been a better person to put the lady at her ease, but Gerald did his best. Fortunately, after the waltz, he saw Featherton making his way toward them.
He danced the next set with a Miss Martindale, who only appeared to be interested in where his estates were located, and the final set with Lady Alice, whose calm, gray eyes could not erase the image of sparkling green ones.
By the time the evening ended, he was no closer to finding the right woman than he had been yesterday. In fact, the only lady to remain in his thoughts was Lady Lucinda.
The next several weeks saw him attending almost every entertainment for which he had received a card. Many times he was in the company of Rothwell, his duchess, and sister. Gerald still had not figured out who Lady Louisa’s gentleman could be, but the more time he spent with her, each time he danced with her, and every conversation they had, the more he liked her.
She was not only beautiful and intelligent, but kind as well. He’d lost count of how many times she’d asked him to dance with a young lady who had no partner. Not only that, but Rothwell told Gerald she’d decided to join the charity his duchess, her sister, and her friend had formed.
What unsettled him even more was that he had started to compare every other woman he’d met to Lucinda. Could she be the lady he wanted? How would he know?
The next morning, he once again met Lucinda riding. He had grown used to speaking with her each day, and he would miss their meetings once the Season ended. “Good morning, my lady.”
“Good morning.” She smiled cheerfully. “Did you enjoy Lady Rutherford’s ball last night?”
What he’d enjoyed was dancing with Lucinda. “I did indeed.”
“It certainly showed that there is life after one’s baby is older. I know my sister-in-law and brother will be happy to have more sleep and not be at an infant’s beck and call.”
Gerald choked. He didn’t know whether to be appalled or laugh. He rarely met a young lady so direct. It must come from spending time with her sister-in-law. He couldn’t think her mother would approve. “I suppose they might. Would you like to go riding with me this afternoon?”
Tilting her head, she gave him a slightly sly smile. “Yes, I would.”
What the devil was she up to? She had not mentioned her mystery gentleman in a while. Was she attempting to make the man jealous?
Later that afternoon, in his high-perched phaeton they came upon Lady Evesham, accompanied by Lady Serena in the former’s famous high-perched phaeton. Gerald doffed his hat. “Good afternoon.”
The ladies greeted them. “We had to take advantage of one of the few nice days we’ve had.”
“It has been a trifle rainy,” Lucinda commented. “I must compliment you on your carriage, my lady. It is my dearest wish to be able to drive one.”
“You see, Serena?” Lady Evesham laughed. “I am not the only lady who likes the high-perched phaetons.” She turned back to Lucinda. “You should ask Elliott if you can drive his. Then he can convince your brother that you should have one of your own.”
Gerald didn’t even want to hear Rothwell’s response to that suggestion. Still, it was a shame that Lucinda did not have her own carriage.
She turned to him. “May I please drive your phaeton? I do know how. My father taught me.”
He was not proof against her bright, pleading eyes. “Yes. Do you think you can handle the pair now, or would you rather take the ribbons when there is not so much traffic?”
“Now will do.” She threw a look at Lady Evesham. “Thank you for the suggestion, my lady.”
“My pleasure.” Her ladyship grinned. “Please give my best to your brother and sister-in-law.”
The ladies drove off, and Gerald handed the reins to Lucinda. “Here you are.”
“Thank you.” She expertly threaded the ribbons through her fingers and gave the pair their office.
For the first several moments he kept himself ready to grab the reins, but it soon became clear that she was an excellent whip. He settled back to enjoy the novelty of a female handling his cattle.
It was
too bad her brother couldn’t afford to buy her a carriage and pair. Lucinda would have to marry a gentleman wealthy enough to give her the things she deserved.
I could afford to set up her stable.
Where in perdition had that thought come from?
As they neared the gate, she glanced at him. “May I drive them to Rothwell House?”
“If you wish.” Her broad smile made him want to puff out his chest. The question was why was she the only woman who affected him that way?
A few minutes later, she expertly feathered the corner into Grosvenor Square, pulled up in front of her house, and handed him back the ribbons. “Thank you. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you trusted me with your carriage and pair.”
“You drive extremely well.” Gerald jumped down, went around the phaeton, and handed her down. “Shall I see you this evening at Miss Martindale’s come out ball?”
“Yes, you will.” Lucinda met his gaze directly. “Shall I save you a waltz?”
That was a pleasure not to be missed. “If you please.”
The door opened, and the butler stood waiting. “I shall see you later.”
“Until then.” Gerald climbed back into his carriage and drove to the stable.
After he handed his pair to a groom, he headed toward Piccadilly. He should have been considering his meeting tomorrow with his solicitor, but his thoughts kept coming back to Lucinda.
“Elliott, you’d better move off to the side.” Carver grabbed Gerald’s shoulder. “Stopping in the middle of the street could get you killed.”
Blinking, Gerald looked around. Damn, he’d done it again. He was on Jermyn Street, but didn’t even remember crossing Piccadilly Street. At this rate, he was going to get himself run over.
“You don’t look to be in your altitudes.” His friend peered at him. “Are you ill?”
“No. Not at all.” In fact, if Lucinda was the lady he’d been looking for, then…“On the contrary. Things are going along nicely.”
The only problem was how to find out if she was the one without unfairly raising her expectations if he discovered she was not meant for him?
* * * *
The next day, Lucinda hoped Lord Elliott would invite her to drive with him again. Yet when the invitation did not appear, she agreed to go walking during the fashionable hour with Arabella Marlow. Not that she wasn’t a good companion—Lucinda would just rather be with Lord Elliott.
“Have you heard the news?” Arabella nodded to a lady in a curricle.
“Which news?” The ton was rife with gossip.
She leaned close to Lucinda, keeping her voice low. “Lady Alice has accepted a proposal of marriage from the Marquis of Harwich.”
“When did that happen?” Not that it was unexpected. The two had been spending a great deal of time in each other’s company. “And how did you find out?”
“My aunt is a good friend of the dowager Lady Harwich.” Arabella smiled.
“I am happy for her. She was so sure she would not have a good time this Season.” Lucinda thought back to the night she first met Alice.
“I said then that she was being silly.” Arabella’s head swiveled in the direction of the carriageway. “There is Lady Quorndon.”
Unlike his mother, Lord Quorndon was seldom to be found during the Grand Strut. The one or two times he had gone out he was in his landau, accompanied by Arabella and her aunt. “Speaking of his lordship,”—Lucinda wasn’t quite sure how to ask the question—“are there any developments?”
Her friend sighed deeply. “We have become much closer.” Arabella angled her parasol so that she did not have to see Lady Quorndon. “But there is a problem with his mother. She wishes him to wed another lady. He has asked me to be patient for a little while longer.”
Lucinda knew the other marriage was not going to happen. “I think you should both follow your hearts.” When her friend did not answer, she continued, “I realize that one’s family is an important consideration, but it is not as if you are not perfectly eligible. I,” she said in a firm tone, “would tell him he must make a decision. After all, you do not wish to waste time on him if he cannot bring himself to be his own man.”
Lady Quorndon waved at Lucinda, and she returned the greeting. After the carriage passed, Arabella nodded. “That is exactly what I shall do. Have you made any progress with Lord Elliott?”
“I wish I knew.” Other than Louisa, and possibly Rothwell, only Arabella knew that Louisa had fallen in love with Elliott. “We go on together so well, yet I have the feeling that he thinks of me as his friend’s little sister. I can assure you it is extremely lowering not to be seen as a woman by the gentleman one wishes to wed.”
Arabella harrumphed. “I do not know which is more frustrating: knowing a gentleman loves you but does not want to face his mother, or not knowing if he loves you at all.”
“I think that if Lady Quorndon knew her son loved you, she would wish him to wed you. Lord Elliott wanting to marry me is only half my battle. My mother does not like that his title is so new.” There was no way Lucinda would tell her friend that the match Quorndon’s mother wanted was with her.
“Obviously it is no use at all waiting for our gentlemen to act.” Arabella’s normally soft chin firmed. “We shall have to come up with a plan.”
They could come up with all the schemes they liked, but would they be able to put them forward? On the other hand, nothing ventured, nothing gained. “What do you suggest?”
“I shall tell Quorndon that he will either inform his mother he wishes to marry me, or I will have to look for another husband.” She glanced at Lucinda. “Naturally, I will not be that straightforward. My mother always said it is better to allow a gentleman to think your suggestion is his idea.”
She wished her mother had given her advice. “That still leaves Elliott.”
“You will have to tell him how you feel.” Lucinda stopped walking and opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her friend shrugged. “It may be that he simply does not realize you are interested in him.”
“What if he does not love me?” Lucinda didn’t know why she asked the question when she was quite sure she did not wish to hear the answer.
“In that case, you have lost nothing but a fanciful dream.” Arabella started to stroll again.
It took a moment for Lucinda to convince her feet to move. “I am not sure I have the courage to ask him.
“I do not think I can help you with that. If you do decide to act boldly, we will have to figure out when to execute our plans.”
They left the Park. When they reached the corner of Grosvenor Square and South Audley Street, said their farewells.
Lucinda had a great deal of thinking to do about Elliott—she liked calling him that. Was she daring enough to actually confront him about his feelings? Was she a mouse, or a lioness like her sister-in-law?
She handed her bonnet to Fredricks. “I shall be in the library.”
“My lady, her grace, your mother wishes to see you in her parlor.”
Mama’s parlor was now attached to her bedchamber. Lucinda held out her hand for her bonnet. “I may as well take that to Greene myself.”
“As you wish, my lady.” Fredricks bowed and gave her back the hat.
A short time later, she knocked on her mother’s door and was given leave to enter. Tea and biscuits were on the low table in front of the sofa Mama liked. Somehow, she had managed to avoid most of the events Lucinda had attended, ergo, it had been two days since she had last seen her mother.
Lucinda sat on the chair across from her mother. “You wished to speak with me?”
“Yes, dear.” Her mother poured the tea and handed her a cup. “I understand from Rothwell that your Season is going well.”
“It is.” She sipped her tea. Strange. Mama did not normally like blend bergamot, but it was Lu
cinda’s favorite afternoon beverage. “I am having a great deal of fun. Although I can see how it could become tiring if one did too much.” Some ladies were made to attend up to three events an evening. She was glad she only had to attend one.
“That is excellent. Lady Quorndon and I have decided that a ball would be the perfect occasion to announce your betrothal to Quorndon.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Thank the heavens Lucinda had not just taken a sip of tea. She would have spit it out. “What?”
“I agreed that you would have a Season.” A frown appeared on her mother’s face. “It has been over a month. I should think that would be time enough.”
It would never be time to wed Quorndon. “I thought you were enjoying seeing your old friends again.”
“That has nothing to do with it,” Mama said, her tone tight. Taking a sip of tea, her mother made a face. “I want to see you settled.”
Someone must have said or done something to make her mother want the betrothal to take place so soon. Anger warred with the sense of dread that she would be stuck in a horrible marriage. She had to do something. Lucinda set her cup down and rose. “I have no desire to wed Lord Quorndon. In fact, I cannot think of a worse match for either of us.”
Her mother’s eyes widened before she assumed a cold mask through which Lucinda could see nothing. The only sign of Mama’s anger was the sound of the fine bone china cup clinking as her mother put it down.
“You have one week before I make the betrothal public.”
“Good day, Mother.” Lucinda curtseyed and strode toward the door.
“Lucinda,”—her mother’s voice stopped her—“I will not have you driving with Lord Elliott. He is not for you. In the future, I shall expect you to accompany Lord and Lady Quorndon if you wish for a carriage ride.”
There it was. The catalyst Lucinda needed.
She would not lie to her mother, and therefore chose not to respond.
Straightening her shoulders, she left the parlor and headed straight to the desk in her bedchamber. Pulling out a sheet of fine pressed paper, she made sure her pen was sharpened, dipped it into the standish, and began to write.