Spring Muslins Page 7

  ‘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.’

  Verity glanced across to where Lady Quidenham was sitting and gave a little chuckle. ‘I told Grandmama you were anxious and she has it well in hand. She knows just what to do. Look, she is even now pressing Lady Quidenham to take a glass of madeira and one of the little fancy cakes.’ She tucked her arm through Lucia’s. ‘Come along, let us join the Garwoods.’

  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.

  ‘There.’ He tore the latest sketch from the pad and handed it to Mary.

  ‘It is quite delightful,’ she cried. ‘Look, Miss Luckington. It is quite a gift you have, Mr Chawton, to capture one in a few quick lines of your pencil.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Garwood. Now, who will be next? Miss Luckington?’

  ‘Oh, but I have only just arrived, I am sure there are others before me. Mr Garwood, for instance. Surely it should be the turn of a gentleman…’

  There was much laughter as Gerald Garwood took up a pose, raising his chin and turning what he declared to be his best side towards the room.

  ‘Very statesmanlike!’ Edward Chawton grinned and turned his chair. ‘Now keep still, Garwood, while I catch your likeness.’

  ‘My brother is missing a treat,’ said Verity, coming to sit beside Lucia.

  ‘Some business keeps him away, perhaps?’ Lucia scolded herself for asking.

  ‘He has gone to Bond Street.’ Verity wrinkled her nose. ‘Pugilism.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘He will be at the boxing academy, Miss Luckington,’ Gerald Garwood explained. ‘Claversham is one of the few whom Jackson will favour with a round or two. He is a noted Corinthian, you know.’

  Mr Chawton tutted impatiently. ‘Garwood will you stop talking and keep still!’

  So that was why he was absent, thought Lucy. He preferred fisticuffs to more civilized pursuits. Not that she cared.

  Not one jot.

  An errand for Lady Quidenham took Lucia to New Bond Street the following morning. It was the first dry day for a while and she decided to walk, alth
ough her maid insisted on carrying an umbrella.

  ‘Just in case, miss.’

  Having collected the purchases for her aunt, Lucia strolled on, making a mental note of the ladies’ fashions that caught her eye, together with anything new in the shop windows that might be of interest to Grace. She was so intent upon studying the contents of one particular window that she jumped when a voice at her shoulder wished her a good morning.

  ‘Sir Darius!’

  She dipped a curtsy to him, silently berating herself for the fact that his smile had left her foolishly tongue-tied.

  ‘Are you waiting for someone?’

  ‘No. I was looking at that bonnet and wondering who would wear such a creation.’ Her initial surprise had abated and she wanted to distract him from the blush she felt sure was mantling her cheeks.

  ‘Not you, I suspect.’ He had followed her glance towards the villager hat in the window. ‘It has such an abundance of fruit and flowers the wearer would have a headache within half an hour,’

  She giggled. ‘That was my opinion, too. It is over-decorated, I think.’

  ‘Unquestionably. Suitable for the lady who wishes to draw attention away from her countenance.’ Again, that glinting smile that caused her heart to thud uncomfortably against her ribs. ‘You have no need for such artifice.’

  Oh heavens, now he was flirting with her! Lucia looked away quickly.

  ‘I should be getting back.’

  ‘Allow me to escort you.’

  She was hesitating, framing the words of her refusal, when he spoke again.

  ‘I was thinking it was time I paid my respects to Lady Quidenham. As her heir, you know, I must keep in with her.’

  She laughed, her embarrassment forgotten. ‘Much you care for that!’

  ‘Quite.’ He grinned at her and held out his arm. ‘Shall we walk?’

  She placed her fingers on his sleeve, keeping her touch light, but even so she could feel the solid strength of muscle beneath the fine black wool. But of course, he was a Corinthian. A sportsman, who enjoyed such horrid pastimes as boxing. She cast a swift, surreptitious glance at his face. The wide brow, clean, smooth cheeks and strong jaw showed not the slightest scar or blemish.

  ‘Well, Miss Luckington, do I pass muster?’

  His amused voice made her flush but she answered him honestly.

  ‘I was looking for any sign of injury – I understand you were sparring at the famous boxing saloon in Bond Street yesterday.’

  ‘You are correct, I was there yesterday, and I did stand up for a few rounds with Gentleman Jackson himself, but as for injuries – I was fortunate, he spared me.’

  Lucy said nothing and a moment later he continued.

  ‘Do you like the sport, Miss Luckington? I understand some ladies enjoy it a great deal.’

  ‘I am not one of them. I think it quite horrid for two men to be coming to blows.’ She knew she sounded censorious and tried to explain. ‘There should be no need for it, in our civilized society.’

  ‘I agree, madam, but upon occasion it is very useful to be able to defend oneself. Or those one holds dear.’

  ‘I fear we shall never agree on that, Sir Darius.’

  ‘And I do not wish to quarrel, so let us talk of something else,’ he replied easily. ‘You make your first visit to Almack’s this evening, I believe?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Almack’s! Lucia had not dared to hope she might be allowed to enter the hallowed portals and had said as much to her great-aunt, soon after arriving in London.

  ‘And why not?’ Lady Quidenham had wanted to know. ‘You are my niece, and entitled to dance there, if you wish. Although I will warn you that the refreshments are very poor fare. I shall arrange it.’

  And she had done so. Lucy smiled at the memory.

  ‘Lady Quidenham renewed her acquaintance with the patronesses for the specific purpose of gaining entry to the famous club,’ she told Sir Darius. ‘She invited the countesses Sefton and Cowper to Quidenham House, where she presented me to them and made it clear she expected them to provide vouchers for her great niece. I vow I almost quailed at her regal manner, for I have always understood that the patronesses of Almack’s are notoriously fickle, but neither lady appeared to take offence, and soon after their visit, the promised tickets duly arrived!’

  ‘I am impressed.’

  ‘As was I, my aunt constantly surprises me.’ Lucia laughed. ‘I was even more surprised when she decreed that she would accompany me to the Wednesday ball herself!’

  ‘Really?’ he murmured. ‘The dowager is becoming positively gregarious.’

  ‘Yes. She has even hired a house at Brighton for the summer, rather than her usual retreat to Ramsgate.’

  ‘Now that is a surprise!’

  ‘Yes, is it not? She will be mixing with all the most fashionable families!’ She chuckled, then grew serious again. ‘When she agreed to bring me to Town, I never expected her to put herself out quite so much for me.’

  ‘But what other motive could she have had, other than sponsoring you into society?’

  She looked up at him suspiciously. ‘She is not about to announce that I am her heir, if that is what you think!’

  ‘Certainly not,’ he agreed cheerfully. ‘And here we are in Portman Square, so let us go in and I shall be able to ascertain as much from the lady herself!’

  *

  ‘There, miss, that’s the last of the curls in place.’

  ‘Thank you, Fixby.’

  Lucia was aware of the great honour afforded her to have her aunt’s dresser arranging her hair and when she studied the result she had to admit that it looked very well. Her thick, curling locks had been brushed until they shone, confined by two bands of pink ribbon and arranged in loose curls to fall at the back of her head. She was dressed in a pink satin slip beneath a frock of silver-striped gauze and a fine silver shawl was draped across her arms. Pink kid slippers completed the ensemble and the result drew a nod of approval from Miss Fixby.

  ‘Very elegant, miss, if I may say so,’ said the dresser, a little grudgingly. ‘And very suitable for a young lady’s first appearance at Almack’s.’

  Lucy knew that Lady Quidenham had insisted Fixby should attend her, so she thanked her again before making her way downstairs to wait for the carriage.

  The dancing had already commenced by the time they arrived and Lucia spotted Verity going down the dance with Lord Applecross. She was looking very pretty in a gown of sky-blue satin that Lucy recognised as one of Grace’s designs. Tiny spangles sewn into the embroidery on the wide flounce caught the light as Verity moved, making her feet twinkle as she danced. Lucy chuckled to herself. Miss Claversham had got her way on that little detail!

  She followed her aunt to the side of the room where they sat down with Lady Winterstoke. She would have been content to remain there, quietly observing the proceedings, but it seemed that a young lady making her debut under the aegis of the Dowager Viscountess of Quidenham could not be merely a spectator. Lady Cowper herself presented Lucy with her first dance partner and it wasn’t until there was a short break in the dancing that she and Miss Claversham finally spoke. Verity came up, greeting her with unfeigned pleasure.

  ‘‘I am so pleased to see you here, Lucia! I was afraid I should not see any of my real friends this evening.’

  ‘I am flattered that you should think of me in that way! But I told you last night we should be here.’

  ‘I know, but after spending all day in Grafton Street with us yesterday I was very much afraid Lady Quidenham would have had enough of society!’

  Lucy allowed herself a little smile. ‘I know. I was more than a little worried she might cry off, but my aunt seems to have developed a taste for balls and parties. I was never more surprised! You appear to be enjoying yourself, Verity.’

  ‘Oh I am. Immensely, but then I love to dance, it doesn’t matter where!’

  ‘No,’ said a deep, amused voice behind them. ‘Your greatest difficulty
is keeping still!’

  ‘Darius!’ Verity gave a squeal of delight. ‘I never thought to see you here!’

  ‘I thought I had best look in and make sure you are behaving yourself.’ He bowed to Lucy. ‘Miss Luckington.’

  She dipped a curtsy, trying not to think how extremely handsome he looked in a dark evening coat and knee breeches that seemed moulded to his athletic form, and his light brown hair gleaming in the candlelight.

  Verity was giggling.

  ‘Of course I am behaving. Everyone must do so here. Even you! I must say, Brother, you are looking very fine, is this in my honour?’

  ‘No, brat, as you say, this is Almack’s. I should not have been allowed to enter wearing anything else.’

  ‘Well I hope you are going to ask me to stand up with you, because I shall take great pleasure in refusing. There are only two dances left and I am promised for both!’

  He grinned. ‘I am glad to hear it, because I came to ask Miss Luckington for the next.’ As if on cue, there was a movement of couples back to the dancefloor and Sir Darius proffered his arm, ‘You need not think you are committing some social solecism, Miss Luckington. I already have Lady Jersey’s approval to lead you out for this dance.’

  She was inclined to bridle at this, but when she glanced across the room to where the lady was standing, the haughty patroness gave a little nod and a smile. Lucy knew it would not do to offend her, so she put her fingers on his sleeve and allowed him to lead her out.

  The way Verity had greeted her brother suggested he was not a regular visitor at Almack’s and from the surprised and envious glances that followed their progress Lucy realised she was considered fortunate to have such a partner. That alone gave a fillip to her confidence. She was anxious not to make any false steps and was relieved that Sir Darius made no attempt to flirt with her. Gradually, as the dance progressed, she began to relax and enjoy herself, so much so that she agreed without hesitation to a second dance and she thanked him prettily, when at last he escorted her from the floor.

  ‘It was my pleasure, ma’am. I count myself fortunate that you were not already engaged.’