Ohhh. Of course. These girls and their mothers were here for Gerald.
Feeling like a sparrow watched by a circle of cats, Alice introduced Lucy to her nephew, and he introduced her to his former colonel, Lord Tarrant. But it was clear that Gerald had eyes only for Lucy.
“Have you been in London long, Miss Bamber?” he asked.
“Not long.” Lucy plied her fan and gazed across the room, apparently uninterested.
“Have you seen many of the city sights yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Perhaps I could show you some of them—with Aunt Alice, of course, or some suitable companion.” Alice was surprised by his offer. Gerald never squired young ladies around. He couldn’t possibly be interested in Lucy, could he?
“Perhaps,” Lucy said vaguely. Her gaze wandered over the crowd.
“Are you interested in art? I’m told the Elgin Marbles are very popular.” Then, when Lucy didn’t respond, he added, “Or perhaps you prefer flowers. Kew Gardens has some remarkable specimens from all over the world.
“Mmm? Flowers? My godmother has flowers in her garden,” she said in a seen-one-flower-seen-them-all kind of voice.
Alice didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. On the one hand, she was relieved that Lucy was showing no interest in Gerald. But oh, she was being so naughty.
Gerald persisted. “Perhaps Astley’s Amphitheatre would be more to your taste. They put on some quite spectacular shows.”
Lucy gazed at something over to the right and didn’t answer.
“Miss Bamber? Did you hear me?” Gerald sounded annoyed. He was not used to young ladies ignoring him. Quite the contrary. “I asked you about Astley’s Amphitheatre.”
For a moment Lucy didn’t respond at all, then said in an awed voice, “That woman over there is wearing the largest turban I’ve ever seen in my life. I wonder how she makes it stay on.” All eyes except Gerald’s swiveled toward the lady with the enormous turban.
Gerald’s gaze didn’t shift from Lucy’s face. “You know, I have the oddest feeling that we’ve met before.”
Lucy sighed. “So many gentlemen use that line. It’s not very original.”
“No, I’m serious. I’m sure I’ve seen—”
“Have you met these ladies, Lord Thornbury?” Lucy turned and beckoned her erstwhile companions forward. They closed the gap in seconds, shoving and elbowing one another with genteel, ladylike determination.
“Thornton, it’s Lord Thornton,” Gerald began but quickly found himself surrounded by fluttering, chattering, bashful and flirtatious young ladies. Lucy slipped to the edge of the circle, looking pleased with herself, and began talking again to the two elderly gentlemen who’d been abandoned.
By sharing Gerald with her new friends, she’d made a good impression on them—and their mothers, Alice observed. It seems Lucy really wasn’t interested in lords. Not in Gerald, at least. That would please Almeria.
Only what on earth had got into her that she would behave in such an impudent and mischievous manner toward Gerald—who was, after all, the guest of honor? It verged on the insolent.
Over the bobbing heads of the eager debutantes, Gerald gave Alice and the tall colonel a hunted look.
Lord Tarrant laughed softly. “Ah, the perils of being young and eligible. Another lemonade, my lady? Or perhaps an ice?”
“Thank you, no.” Alice suddenly realized that she was more or less alone with this big, looming colonel. Former colonel. Lord Tarrant. He presented his arm and said, “Shall we take a turn around the room?”
She looked around for an excuse to escape, someone needing to be talked to, but there was nobody, not a single person looking in her direction. Even Lucy seemed happily occupied, chatting to the two elderly gentlemen and observing her new friends parading their charms to a harassed-looking Gerald.
Trapped, Alice glanced back up at her tall companion.
He looked amused. “No urgent appointment? Nobody needing your exclusive attention? Then, shall we?”
“Thank you,” she muttered and took his arm.
They strolled around the room.
“I understand you are a widow.”
She tensed. “Yes.”
“My condolences.”
Alice inclined her head in acknowledgement. She could hardly admit she was glad to be free of her husband, and it felt hypocritical to be accepting condolences.
They strolled on. “I knew your late husband slightly,” he said after a few minutes.
“Indeed?”
“Yes, at school.”
“Mmm.” She made a vague, polite, indifferent noise.
Another few minutes passed, then he said, “We were not contemporaries, of course. He was in his final year, and I was a small boy in my first year.”
“Mmm.”
“I was not an admirer.”
She had no intention of discussing her husband with anyone, let alone this big, unsettling stranger. If he wanted to fish for information, he would be disappointed. “The weather has been very pleasant lately,” she said. “It augurs well for the harvest.”
“Indeed. Are you interested in agricultural matters, Lady Charlton?”
“Not in the least.”
The smoky gray eyes glinted with amusement. “You grew up in the country, I understand. Whereabouts?”
“Worcestershire.”
“A pretty part of the country. I myself am from just outside Kenilworth in Warwickshire. Do you know it?”
“No.” She pressed her lips together. She was being horridly uncivil, she knew. Normally she was quite good at keeping a conversation bubbling along. With any other man, she would be asking questions—men always liked to talk about themselves—and encouraging him to talk about his home or the harvest or his military career or his horses or whatever he was interested in, but she didn’t want to offer this man any encouragement.
What was it about him? Apart from the way he had initially accosted her, his manners had been unexceptional. She’d been prepared for an improper suggestion, or at least a hint. Instead he’d been all consideration.
But he unsettled her. The way he looked at her. And the way he refused to take a hint, apparently indifferent to her patent lack of interest in him or his conversation. And that look of . . . of amused understanding in his eyes, as if he knew what she was thinking. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Some men were so wrapped up in their own importance that they didn’t notice when a woman was bored or uninterested or even—she thought of Thaddeus—quietly furious. They just talked on, confident of their intrinsic fascination.