The Cinderella Debutante (7 page)

There was no answer; Belinda and Lady Sinclair had already moved away.

“Hurry up, girls. The dancing is about to commence,” urged Lady Barchester.

Lucy’s favourable first impressions of Sophie and Olivia Barchester had quickly formed into friendship, particularly with the more outspoken Sophie. Both were popular and soon found themselves surrounded by prospective dance partners. A short distance away, a crowd of gentlemen encircled Belinda. They included many who had previously called in Mount Street; Mr. Brindley-Soames, young Arthur Baillie, and Sir Jocelyn Garner, an elderly roué eager to acquire a young wife.

To her astonishment, Lucy found herself almost as popular. Lord Ashe and his two friends, whom he had introduced as Gil and George, were among several who asked her to dance.

Lady Barchester, a shrewd woman of good sense, observed this with interest. She had the measure of Lady Sinclair and Belinda at once, but Lucy was different.

“The elder Miss Sinclair is an elegant and intelligent young woman,” she remarked to Mrs Pottingham, standing nearby.

“Yes,” agreed that lady, a trifle loftily. “My son is showing a marked interest in her and any lady who can arouse Algernon’s admiration is worthy of note.”

The sets began to assemble and as Lucy took her place with Lord Ashe, she saw Lord Sneyd leading Belinda onto the floor. He had been at the heart of the crowd surrounding her sister and had emerged the victor, his prize Belinda’s company for the first dance. As the music commenced, Lucy acknowledged ruefully they made a handsome pair. He danced very well and that, along with his fashionable dress, excellent manners and charm, would further impress Belinda.

Her attention returned to her dance partner. Toby, after complimenting her appearance, was expounding the merits of his friends.

“Bang-up set of fellows. Even Dev says that they are a good sort - not likely to get into any havey-cavey business.”

“You obviously value Lord Devlyn’s opinion,” replied Lucy, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“I’ll say,” agreed Toby. “No man I’d rather turn to in a fix. He came back from Cuidad Rodrigo in a bad way after his brother’s death, but he still managed to visit the families of the men in his regiment who had died and ensure their well-being. That’s the sort of man he is - short on words, reserved even, but always there when needed. He’s never been keen on spending time at evenings like this before though - says they are deadly dull. Dev’s usually more at home in the country, but he seems different recently, even happy to look in here later this evening. It’s rather odd.”

She digested this in silence; Lord Devlyn’s interest in Belinda must be significant if he was prepared to attend events he would normally avoid just to see her. Perhaps one day Belinda would prove deserving of his attention.

Toby was watching Belinda and Lord Sneyd. “Your sister is looking very beautiful this evening, although her partner must have spent a lot of time on
his
appearance.”

“Lord Sneyd considers himself one of the pinks of fashion.”

“He’s no good for anything else,” he replied, raking Sneyd with a scornful look. “It’s my opinion, and Devlyn’s, that the fellow is a charlatan and a rogue, begging your pardon, Miss Sinclair.”

“Don’t apologise. I am a little aware of his reputation.” She hesitated for a moment before asking, “Does Lord Devlyn have any more personal reasons for his hostility toward Lord Sneyd?”

“There is some current ill-feeling between them, but I am not certain of the cause,” said Toby, acutely aware that one did not discuss gaming debts with ladies.

Lucy replied only with a nod and they chatted easily until the music stopped. Later, during a break for refreshments, Lucy sat next to her stepmother and Belinda. Lady Sinclair looked very happy, smiling as Lord Sneyd flattered Belinda outrageously. She made no attempt to curb Belinda’s behaviour and when Belinda gave Lord Sneyd an arch look and tapped his arm with her fan, Lucy whispered,

“Mama, please speak to Belinda! She has already danced with Lord Sneyd twice this evening, and now her behaviour passes what is respectable.”

“You take too much upon yourself! I see nothing remiss,” Lady Sinclair looked uncomfortable for a moment before adding in a more moderate tone, “Belinda is in good spirits and why should she not be, given her success this evening? Still, it would be a pity if anything overshadowed her dazzling debut. No one must think we do not understand the rules of high society. I will mention it.”

Thankful that for once her mother was prepared to correct Belinda, Lucy slipped away, only to be confronted by Mr Pottingham.

He had procured her a glass of lemonade and she was forced to take a seat in a nearby alcove beside him. Mr Pottingham’s disposition was serious, his conversation sober. His disdain of frivolous young women was legendary; he had shown no interest in any ladies during recent seasons but he had sought out Lucy often and made frequent visits to Mount Street on the flimsiest of pretexts.

Flattered as she was by his attention, Lucy could only marvel as to why he had singled her out. She enjoyed discussing weightier matters with him but more often than not, her sense of the fun bubbled to the surface. Mr Pottingham disapproved of this. His expression became troubled when she made some comical remark or observation. Lucy couldn’t imagine life with such a staid man, but the more she discouraged him, the greater his admiration grew and the more determined his pursuit. He seemed to have set his sights on her.

“Miss Sinclair! How delightful it is to enjoy a moment of peace,” he began. “One sees such shocking behaviour at these events. I couldn’t help noticing the Duchess of Forsyth flirting with the Earl of Quarle. I expect you saw it too. That must be distressing to a lady of your delicate sensibilities, I imagine?”

It took Lucy a moment to realise he was referring to her. “Not really. I’m not acquainted with either.”

“Ah. But you must have seen Lord Blountford ogling Mrs. Nelson?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Or Jane Stichcombe practically throwing herself at Rake Baverstock?”

“No.”

“Oh.” He gave a thin smile of understanding. “No doubt you averted your eyes. You are refreshingly dignified, a lady able to agree with my views on morality. Morality, along with newts, is a subject close to my heart. Did you know that I collect newts and have made a study of them? Excellent creatures! Far superior to frogs and toads. I have a pond on my estate devoted entirely to newts. Do you like newts?”

“N-newts?” stammered Lucy, bewildered. “I’ve never considered the matter before but—”

“I knew you would. I said to myself, ‘Algernon, Miss Sinclair is a woman of taste. She cannot fail to like newts, unlike those women of weak intellect who run away screaming when confronted with them. Miss Sinclair has stamina where newts are concerned.’” He clicked his tongue approvingly.

Lucy gaped at him. “Indeed, I—”

“But enough of newts! Let us discuss moral decline instead. Did you know I recently attended a lecture entitled
The Advancement of Morals in Polite Society
? I’ll tell you the details for I am sure you will find them riveting…”

Lucy endured several minutes of his monologue. She tried to change the subject but to no avail. Mr Pottingham was impervious to snubs. Short of being intolerably rude, she could see no way out until Sophie and Olivia came to her rescue by declaring Mr. Fernihough was searching for Lucy, his partner for the quadrille.

Mr Pottingham relented, but not before he had extracted a promise from Lucy to dance with him before the end of the evening. She reluctantly agreed before walking away.

“Thank you!” she said, heaving a grateful sigh. “He is difficult to interrupt.”

Sophie giggled. “We saw you needing rescuing from that sanctimonious bore.”

“Mama thought he had detained you long enough,” said Olivia. “Besides, Mr. Fernihough has been extremely patient and it’s not fair to disappoint him.”

Lucy smiled, and then, as she turned around, she felt the hairs on her nape prickle with awareness immediately before she found herself staring into Lord Devlyn’s silver bright eyes. He had just arrived and was standing near the ballroom entrance. She went still, transfixed by the way he seemed to be looking at her. The surrounding hum of conversation seemed to dim. Their gazes held and he flashed a smile of acknowledgement.

It took Lucy several seconds to remember how to breathe. Once again she felt that unmistakable pull of attraction. She wanted to run to him. A tremor ran through her and she tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart. She gave her head a shake. Dear Lord, what was happening to her? She glanced around a little wildly, fearing her thoughts and feelings were writ too plainly on her face, but no one seemed to notice the change in her.

“There is Lord Devlyn,” said Sophie. “So he has decided to attend after all! A few weeks ago he would not promise, despite all Mama’s protests.”

“He looks slightly dangerous somehow,” whispered her sister.

Lucy knew what she meant. His raw masculinity sat uneasily against all the noise and colour of a ballroom, although he wore his aura of power comfortably and without display. Formal evening wear looked good on most men but on Devlyn it was breathtaking. Light from the crystal chandeliers picked out threads in his dark hair that Lucy had never noticed before. He had the most remarkable face: lean and strong, with lines of humour at the corners of his eyes, and a hint of sensuality around his mouth.

It was not an everyday face, the subtle weathering, faintly cynical expression and that deep scar made it intimidating in many ways, but she would never tire of it. Somehow he made every other man fade into the background.

Another flush crept over her, but she pulled herself up sharply. He wanted Belinda and would spend as much time as possible with her this evening. Inevitably, he would encounter Lord Sneyd. Her sister must be the cause of the animosity between the two men. Trusting Devlyn not to be discourteous in public, Lucy hoped Lord Sneyd would do likewise and deny Belinda the spectacle of two admirers vying for her attention.

As she danced with Gil Fernihough, who was surprisingly tongue-tied, Lucy caught sight of Lord Devlyn again. He wasn’t staring at her now. He wasn’t even looking at her. He was smiling and talking to her mother while his eyes followed Belinda.

Lucy felt another stab of anger at Belinda’s superficial nature and wished her character matched her beauty.

Lord Devlyn deserved so much more.

***

His lips curved in a glinting smile, Alex pretended to be attending to Lady Sinclair’s incessant chatter about her daughter. In reality, he was studying Lucy as she laughed and danced with Gil Fernihough. He tried not to stare as she whirled around the floor in front of him.

Dear heaven, he found her incredibly attractive, in every way a woman could be yet she seemed unaware of her appeal. White-hot need shot through him. Jealousy gnawed into his soul like a slow death. He found did not want Lucy Sinclair to share her glorious smile with anyone else. By some magic, Lucy’s smile seemed to pale his ghosts of memory, to lift the melancholy from the recesses of his soul.

But it was more than that…he swore he could
feel
her, sense her presence. Some elemental force flowed from her body to his. He could pick her out of a room blindfolded. Having never before felt deeply about any woman, Alex found it ironic that his famous cool-headedness and reserve dissipated every time he saw Lucy. The thought made him smile. For the first time in years, he felt restless in a good way and full of wanting. His heartbeat had lodged somewhere in his throat, his breath was fractured. He stifled the urge to push his way through the crowd, pull her into his arms and stake his claim with a kiss. But this was hardly the time or the place. He’d waited his entire life to find her but he had to curb his impatience and tread softly. It was important he didn’t bring undue attention down on her head.

So he was careful to dance first with Belinda, then Sophie and Olivia. The evening was well advanced before he approached Lucy as she left the dance floor with Mr Pottingham.

“Miss Sinclair. How charming you look this evening.” He bowed briefly towards her companion. “My compliments, Pottingham.”

A look of annoyance flitted across that gentleman’s face at the interruption, but he managed a civil greeting before saying to Lucy, “I must leave you to obtain some refreshments for my mother. However I shall return directly and then—”

“Please, take your time,” urged Alex. “I will entertain Miss Sinclair in your absence, although I shall probably not succeed as well as you.”

“I quite understand, Mr Pottingham,” said Lucy. “Your mother must be in need of refreshment in this heat.”

“Just so. But I look forward to continuing our discussion later and will certainly call in Mount Street tomorrow.”

With a final, glowering glance at Lord Devlyn, he bowed stiffly and left.

“Oh dear, he looks a little vexed by my arrival,” said Alex, his mouth quirking into an unrepentant grin. “My apologies for interrupting his interesting discourse.”

Lucy laughed. “As you must be aware, Mr Pottingham’s lectures are lengthy but very little is interesting!”

“Easy to see why he is annoyed though. You look very beautiful this evening. You outshine your sister.”

Lucy rejected this without rancour. “Now there you are certainly teasing me once more. As you see, Belinda is surrounded by crowd of admirers.”

“Ah, yes,” he murmured, studying Belinda and her entourage, “but then beauty is in the eye of the beholder, is it not? Let us hope that those gentlemen are aware of your sister’s true worth beneath her exquisite countenance.” When she looked up quickly, he asked, “Would you do me the honour, Miss Sinclair? I believe this dance was promised to Toby, but I persuaded him that he has been exerting himself too much and I should take his place.”

*

Watching him, Lucy’s breathing quickened. He had asked her to dance out of courtesy, but she couldn’t be annoyed. She wanted this heady feeling of excitement to continue. What harm could there be in it? It was only one dance and he would be married to Belinda for a lifetime. Sighing faintly, Lucy accepted and gave herself up to the pleasure of dancing with Lord Devlyn.