Love for Lucinda (6 page)

“Tibby, this is Lord Wilfred Mays. You will recall my relating to you his kindness in letting me use this house for the Season. Lord Mays, my companion, Miss Blythe,” said Lucinda.

Miss Blythe went forward with a smile, her hand outstretched. “My lord, it is indeed a pleasure. I am certain that Lady Mays has already expressed her gratitude to you, but pray allow me to add my own. We are enjoying London.”

Lord Mays shook hands with Miss Blythe. He cleared his throat self-consciously. The companion was just the sort of lean, grim-faced female that he was made most nervous around. Despite her pleasant words, this Miss Blythe reminded him forcibly of a rather strict nanny that he had had as a young boy. “Not at all, ma’am! The pleasure is mine entirely. As I was just telling Lady Mays a moment ago, the house is hers as long as she wants it.”

“You are indeed kind,” said Miss Blythe, her expression mellowing yet further.

Lord Mays looked faintly alarmed at being the object of such patent approval by the starched-up companion. It would have made more sense to him if she had displayed a stiff politeness that bordered on coldness and had sent him on his way. He had been found sitting alone with Lady Mays, after all.

Lucinda understood with some amusement the source of Lord Mays’s obvious discomfort. She set out to rescue him.

“I am giving a supper and ball in about a fortnight. Shall you honor me with your presence, my lord?” asked Lucinda.

“Of a certainty, Lady Mays. I will be delighted,” said Lord Mays. He saw by the mantle clock that a quarter hour had already passed. Reluctantly, he adhered to the convention that dictated the correct length of a visit. “I should be going. I shall be looking forward to receiving an invitation, my lady.”

Lucinda rose, giving her hand into his. “Good! I trust that it will not disappoint you. I hope for a wonderful success.”

Lord Mays smiled at her. “Oh, I am certain of that! I am sure you are a rare hostess.”

He glanced once more around the drawing room, but without admiration. He grimaced slightly. “I recall the affairs that you hostessed while married to my cousin. There was never anything more grand. But that was my cousin all over, wasn’t it? Grand. Abbeys, yet!”

“Quite,” agreed Lucinda dryly. “I hope that my entertainments will not be stigmatized as ‘grand.’ I would rather hear them raved about as insufferable squeezes!”

“That’s the ticket! I shall be certain to tell everyone I know that you mean to throw a bang-up affair,” said Lord Mays, grinning. He bowed over her fingers, nodded politely to Miss Blythe, and then took himself off.

Miss Blythe looked after the departing peer with interest. She turned a speculative gaze on Lucinda. “That was an exceedingly presentable young buck, I thought. And you stand on such excellent terms with him. It is quite obvious that he admires you. Is he already married?”

Astonished, Lucinda looked quickly at her companion. Miss Blythe’s expression reflected only a mild curiosity, but her former pupil knew her far too well to believe that it had been an idle question.

Lucinda shook her head, laughing. “Do not even think it, Tibby! Wilfred and I have become friends. Neither of us is the least attracted to the other, nor do either of us wish to become riveted. Indeed, I suspect that Wilfred would be horrified at the very notion of wedding anyone just yet. He is enjoying all the advantages of his new position. It would be too much to expect him to take up the responsibilities of a wife and the inevitable growing nursery!”

“A pity, indeed,” said Miss Blythe. She sat down in the wing chair that she favored, which was situated in front of the warm fire. She drew her embroidery out of the basket that had been left close to hand. Serenely she began plying her needle. “I should so like to see you settled and happy, Lucinda. The regard of a worthy gentleman goes far in guaranteeing a female’s content.”

“I do not necessarily need to enter wedlock to acquire contentment in my life, Tibby,” said Lucinda, amused.

“No, my dear, I suppose not,” said Miss Blythe. Her voice held a faintly dubious note.

“I can be very happy by myself. The Season is before me, and I shall dissipate myself until I am utterly worn away by diversions,” said Lucinda, mildly stung by her companion’s obvious lack of conviction.

“What shall you do then?” asked Miss Blythe mildly.

“What?” Lucinda was taken aback. “How do you mean?”

“What shall you do when the Season’s amusements come to an end?” asked Miss Blythe.

Lucinda stared at her companion, not at all certain how to respond. She had not thought beyond the Season. For several months she had thought of nothing but her plans for her own enjoyment. It had never once occurred to her that she would find herself at loose ends when the Season drew to a close. Of course, Carbarry waited for her, but it seemed somehow tame to simply leave London and return to her quiet life.

Lucinda airily waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, there will be any number of things to do. Perhaps I shall travel. I should like that, I think. The war is over, and it will be possible now to see all the sights.”

“The sights always appear at their best when they are shared with someone else,” suggested Miss Blythe. “And I do not refer to the company of a paid traveling companion, my dear!” She looked pointedly at her former pupil over the rims of her spectacles.

“You are an incorrigible romantic,” accused Lucinda.

Miss Blythe considered the matter for a moment, then nodded. “I do believe that I am,” she agreed. “It was through my offices, really, that your sister Letty was finally able to attract dear Reverend Birchfield’s attention. It was a very pretty wedding and vastly touching. I believe that I had to resort to my handkerchief up to a dozen different times.”

Lucinda groaned. “Pray do not attempt to play the matchmaker for me this Season, Tibby, I beg of you! I do not wish to attract particular attentions from any gentleman.”

“How odd of you, to be sure. I had quite made up my mind that that was what you truly hoped to gain from the Season,” said Miss Blythe.

“I did not come up to London to find myself a second husband,” said Lucinda, throwing up her hands. “Why everyone must instantly leap to that conclusion, I fail to understand!”

“Oh, has someone else besides Lady Sefton mentioned the possibility?” asked Miss Blythe interestedly.

“My father,” admitted Lucinda. “He was so gothic as to warn me against
competing
with the misses who are making their debuts. I would not show to advantage because I am too long in the tooth, if you please!”

“Quite sound advice,” observed Miss Blythe. “I have always known Sir Thomas to be a gentleman of considerable native intelligence. Most definitely you should not compete with the fresh-faced ingénues. You must exercise a unique style of your own. It is fortunate that you are so lovely and are now a young woman of substance. My advice would be to—”

“Enough, ma’am!” exclaimed Lucinda. She wagged her finger at her companion. “I warn you, Tibby, if I catch you scheming on my behalf, I shall at once quit London and carry us both off to Carbarry!”

“Very well, my dear, since you are so set against it,” said Miss Blythe. “I shall let you go your own obstinate way.”

“I am not obstinate.”

Miss Blythe sternly overrode the affronted rejoinder. “However, I do feel strongly that I must point out that the duty of any conscientious chaperone is to put her charge in the way of every eligible gentleman possible. It will be a struggle to reconcile the violation of my duty with my conscience.”

Lucinda would have retorted with some spirit, but she checked herself as the door opened. She turned her head. “Yes, Church?”

The butler bowed. “Mr. Stassart, my lady.”

Lucinda made an exclamation of mingled dismay and resignation. “Oh, bother!”

“Precisely,” remarked Miss Blythe. Her voice had turned markedly acid.

Chapter Six

Mr. Ferdie Stassart came into the drawing room with the confident air of one who knows himself to be welcome. He was a rather willowy gentleman who sported dandified tastes. Lucinda was taken aback at sight of him, for his attire was even more exaggerated than she recalled.

His coat was padded through the shoulders and cut so tightly to his thin form that it was obvious that he had to be wrestled into it by his valet. The starched shirtpoints that brushed his pale cheekbones were so obstructive that it was impossible for him to turn his head without moving his entire body. His smallclothes were exquisitely worked, and his waistcoat, from which dangled various fobs and an ornate eyeglass, was of a sharp yellow shade that made the ladies stare. His pantaloons fit without a crease into shining tasseled top-boots.

Mr. Stassart met Lucinda’s startled gaze and preened himself, taking her look to be one of admiration. A raffish smile lit his boyishly handsome countenance, and he greeted her in warm accents. “Cousin!”

As he started toward her, he espied Miss Blythe, and he checked in midstride. His countenance altered ludicrously, for he had anticipated finding his fair cousin alone. He had inquired of the butler whether Lady Mays was entertaining any other callers, but he had not thought to ask about the possible existence of a chaperone.

“Why, Miss Blythe! This is something of an astonishment, ma’am. I never expected to see you here. It has been quite some time, I believe, since we last met,” he said.

“Mr. Stassart,” acknowledged Miss Blythe coolly. “I am pleased that you recall me. I, too, remember you. Quite well.”

Mr. Stassart regarded the former governess for a thoughtful moment before he regained his smile. “I could never forget one who figured so closely with my uncle’s household.”

He turned his attention back to Lucinda. “I see that you have retained the services of a formidable chaperone, cousin. However, I do not think that our Miss Blythe need put herself out over such a close member of the family!”

Lucinda held out her hand to him, a polite smile upon her face. “Hello, Ferdie.”

Mr. Stassart shook his head. There was a glint of amusement in his rather hard blue eyes. “Come, cousin! I shall not stand on ceremony with you. Why, we have known one another since our cradles!” He had taken hold of her hand and now, holding her captive, bent forward to place a kiss.

Lucinda turned her head so that his salute fell upon her cheek rather than her lips. She freed her hand and retreated to sit down in a wing chair rather than returning to her former place on the settee, to which she gestured. “Won’t you sit down, Ferdie? I should have known that you would come to see me.”

“So you should,” he agreed easily, taking his seat. “When I heard that my fair cousin Lady Mays had returned to London, I set out at once to wait upon you. I have always held you in the highest regard, Lucinda, as you well know.”

“Do I, indeed,” said Lucinda on a dry note. “I thought it was my father whom you held in high regard. At least, you have said so whenever you have required someone to bail you out of your latest indiscretions.”

Mr. Stassart pressed a well-groomed hand to his coat front in the vague vicinity of his heart. “You cut me to the quick, Lucinda. Am I truly perceived with such coldness, such unfairness, such ignorance? Alas, I can see that I am. I make bold to tell you, fair cousin, that such sentiments do not do you credit. No, indeed! In fact, I find myself to be insulted. I am not some man-milliner that you may use with impunity. I am the Honorable Ferdie Stassart, your estimable father’s heir and your own adoring cousin!”

“Oh, give over, Ferdie, do!” said Lucinda, smiling. “You have never cared one whit about me, nor I for you! Why, you were always shockingly rude to all of us. My sisters and I considered you to be the merest scrub of a boy.”

Mr. Stassart preferred to let pass the last part of her observation. “On the contrary! I care for you a great deal, Lucinda, very possibly more than you could know at this juncture. When I heard that you had wed Lord Mays and then that you had been banished to the country to live in virtual penury—! Why, my heart positively bled for you.” Ferdie shook his head disapprovingly. “It was a disgraceful piece of work that you were forced to wed a man so unsuited to you. I was never more revolted when I heard what was in the wind.”

“It is a pity, then, that you did not voice your feelings to Sir Thomas, Mr. Stassart. Perhaps he might have listened to his heir,” said Miss Blythe, embroidering for all she was worth.

Mr. Stassart cast a glance of dislike in the companion’s direction. He chose to ignore the lady’s interpolation. “My dear Lucinda, you must believe me. Truly I have never held you in anything but the utmost regard.”

“Why, Ferdie! I am overcome. But if these were your true feelings, whyever did you not visit me at Carbarry? Surely in my exile I must have welcomed such expressions of affection,” said Lucinda.

He grimaced. “You must understand, Lucinda. It would not have done to cross Lord Mays. He was a rather intolerant son of fellow. No, no! My hands were tied. I could do nothing for you.” Ferdie spread his fingers in an expression of abject regret.

“What you actually mean is that you feared to anger the one who had cancelled all of your debts and secured your inheritance for you,” said Lucinda with brutal frankness. She regarded her cousin’s stiffening countenance with a quizzical gaze. “I am rather curious, though. Tell me, Ferdie, did you try to put the touch to Lord Mays later? And were you successful? I would scarcely think so. His lordship was no pigeon for your clumsy plucking.”

“My dear Lucinda!” Mr. Stassart drew himself up, the very picture of dignity and outrage. “I shall not deign to descend to such levels as you seem to want to haunt. I had no notion that your unfortunate experiences had created such a poisonous tongue. And let me tell you, my girl, that it is vastly unbecoming! If you do not take care, you will become known as an archwife, and I do not think you would like that!”

“I really care little what society thinks of me, Ferdie. And despite your warning, I do not believe that I will be shunned. I am a widow of some substance and still of marriageable age, after all. I imagine that my credit will withstand a great deal of backbiting,” said Lucinda calmly.