Tarrant sipped his brandy. He was going to refuse, Gerald knew it. And why wouldn’t he? An insipid family party with a room full of marriage-minded chits was hardly likely to appeal to a man of Tarrant’s sophistication, especially having come straight from the drawing rooms and diplomatic circles of Europe.
“Please? It would mean a great deal to me.”
“Very well, if you don’t think I’ll be intruding, I’d be delighted.”
“Excellent!” Gerald sat back, pleased. He knew Tarrant was only being polite, but he didn’t care. “I’ll get Mama to send you an invitation.”
* * *
* * *
Alice met Lucy coming down the stairs just as the final reverberations of Tweed’s dinner gong were dying away. “Oh, Lucy, how did your aftern—” She broke off in surprise. Lucy looked quite different. Her hair was no longer a mass of careful, elaborately lacquered curls but was pulled up into a loose, simple knot that suited her much better. And she’d changed her dress, the same overbright pink of the day before, but looking more elegant, less fussy.
“I like your hair like that.” She stepped closer, eying Lucy’s dress. “Is that the same dress you were wearing the other day, because if it is—”
Lucy bristled. “I unpicked all the frills. And I don’t care if you think I ruined it. I hate frills and—”
“You haven’t ruined it at all,” Alice interrupted her firmly. “In fact, it looks much better on you now than it did.” She wasn’t being tactful, either. Without the frills, Lucy looked less . . . less bunchy and more graceful. Good dressmaking would make quite a difference.
“Oh.” Lucy paused, still prepared for combat. “I hate the color, too.”
Alice nodded. “It is rather a garish shade. Something in a softer pink would suit you better. We shall see. I’ve arranged a private consultation with my dressmaker for tomorrow morning. Shall we go in?” She gestured toward the dining room. She was looking forward to a glass of wine with her dinner.
The calls she’d made after Almeria had gone from bad to worse. Everyone seemed to assume she was resuming her place in society in order to find a husband—apparently Almeria had spread the word. Everyone had suggestions—elderly widowers for the most part. And when she said she was not planning to marry again, it was greeted with polite laughter, as if she couldn’t possibly be serious. So then she’d mentioned Lucy.
Your goddaughter? The questions flowed thick and fast. Who was this goddaughter? From where had she sprung? Who were her people? Where was her mother? Who was her mother? Why had Alice never mentioned this goddaughter before?
“I was hard-pressed to come up with acceptable answers,” she told Lucy over the first course. “Until people asked, I hadn’t realized quite how little I know about you and your background.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Lucy spooned up her soup. “Make something up.”
“It does matter,” Alice said, exasperated.
“Only to you,” Lucy said. “I don’t care what you say. Just tell me, and I’ll say it, too.” She buttered another slice of bread.
The depth of the girl’s indifference was frustrating. Did she think that lords—even husbands, for that matter—were so easily come by? That she needn’t even bother to try?
Tweed entered with the next course, a raised chicken pie with vegetables.
Alice said, “Mary tells me you got caught in the rain this afternoon.”
Lucy gave her a wary look. “I tried to shelter in that pretty little building, but it was locked.”
“The summerhouse? Sorry, I didn’t think to tell you. It’s always kept locked, ever since the residents of one of the other houses on the garden square had houseguests, a group of unruly young men who got frightfully drunk one night and left the place in an absolute shambles. Because of that, the key is only made available to residents who have proved themselves to be completely trustworthy.”
“Oh.”
“Did you notice the small stone Japanese lantern on the flags by the summerhouse doorway?”
Lucy thought for a moment. “Do you mean the thing that looks a bit like a stone birdhouse, except it’s sitting on the ground?”
Alice nodded. “Inside it you’ll find the key. Just remember to lock up when you’re finished and return the key to the same place.”
Lucy eyed her doubtfully, as if she didn’t quite believe that Alice would trust her with the key, but all she said was, “I’ve never seen anything like—what did you call it? A summerhouse?”
“Summerhouse, folly, temple—people call it different things.”
“I’d call it a fairy palace,” Lucy said softly, then seeing Alice’s expression, added dismissively, “or I would if I were a child.”
“I’m sorry you got drenched,” Alice said.
Lucy touched her hair. “I had to wash my hair.”
Alice didn’t think that was the only reason. It was becoming clear that Lucy preferred a simple, unfussy style in all things, but Alice didn’t want to make the girl any more self-conscious than she already was, so she simply nodded and said, “Mary told me your other dress is ruined.”
“Good.”
“Good? Didn’t you like it?”
“I hated it. It was badly cut and ridiculously fussy, and the color made me look like a—like a sick canary.”
Lucy smiled. “I think you might enjoy meeting my dressmaker. She’s also a woman of robust opinions, particularly when it comes to matters of fashion.”
Chapter Four
The cab turned into Piccadilly and pulled up in front of an elegant shop with a large picture window. With green velvet curtains draped behind the window and a single long white-satin glove and a length of silk draped over an elegant black wrought iron stand, it looked quite classy, Lucy thought. The name Chance was lettered in elegant gold script with a simple white-and-gold daisy painted on the glass.
Chance meant luck in French. Lucy hoped Lady Charlton was right about the dressmaker listening to her opinions. It would be the first time ever, she thought sourly. But then Papa—and his latest mistress—weren’t in charge here.
Inside, the shop was modern and elegant. Lucy looked around approvingly. A short, fashionably dressed woman came limping toward them, a wide smile on her face. Some kind of assistant, Lucy assumed.
“Lady Charlton, delighted to see you again. It’s been a while.”
“It has, Miss Chance,” Lady Charlton said warmly.