“Lady Charlton is upstairs,” she said helpfully. “I don’t know anyone called Almeria.”
“My aunt is the dowager Lady Charlton. Almeria, Lady Charlton, is my mother.” He sounded annoyed. Good.
Lucy smiled vaguely. “Really? How nice for you. Now, I must be going. Nice to meet you, Lord . . . er.”
The furrow between his brows deepened. “Thornton,” he grated. “We were introduced last night. You danced with me.”
“Of course,” she said in an unconvinced manner. “So we did.” Footsteps on the stairs above indicated his aunt was on her way. “Goodbye, Lord Thornfield. So nice to meet you.” Hiding a smile, Lucy hurried away.
Behind her, she heard Lord Thornton say, “Thornton.” Lucy grinned. She waited out of sight and listened as Alice greeted her nephew.
“That so-called goddaughter of yours, has she got rats in her attic?” Lord Thornton said bluntly. Lucy bristled at the “so-called.” The rest of the question made her smile.
Alice responded. “What on earth do you mean, Gerald?”
“I just saw her in the hall. She had no recollection of meeting me last night.”
“Oh, well, she probably forgot you. She came down with the headache, and we had to leave early.”
“Really?” He sounded quite skeptical.
“Yes. Also there were a great many people at the party. Many more than your mother had suggested to me beforehand. I expect poor Lucy was just overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed?” He snorted. “If that girl was overwhelmed, I’m a Dutchman.”
“She wasn’t? Oh, I’m so pleased. It’s quite difficult when you’re a young girl meeting so many people for the first time, having to be on your best behavior at your first ton party.”
“She danced with me,” Lord Thornton reminded her.
“Yes, I saw. Very prettily, too, I thought. I was worried she hadn’t been adequately instructed, but her performance was all that anyone could wish for.”
“Her conversation, on the other hand, left a great deal to be desired. Like getting blood out of a stone.”
“Really? And yet Sir Edward Platt told me my ward was charming, and Lord Anthony Pellew sent us each a posy this morning.” Listening from behind the stairs, Lucy was touched to realize that Alice was defending her. Again.
“I’m talking about the way she spoke to me.”
“Perhaps you intimidated her. You military fellows can be quite intimidating, you know. That tall friend of yours, for instance.”
“I did not intimidate her!” Lord Thornton snapped. “I doubt anyone could intimidate that chit.” Lucy smothered a giggle.
“You’re not suggesting she was rude to you, Gerald, are you?” Alice sounded shocked.
“No, not exactly rude, just . . . uncooperative.”
“I expect she was minding her steps,” Alice said in a soothing voice.
The grinding of Lord Thornton’s teeth was almost audible.
“Was there some reason you called this early?” Alice asked Gerald.
He gave her a blank stare, then re-collected himself. “I intended to invite you and Miss Bamber to drive out with me this afternoon.”
“I’m so sorry,” Alice said, “but we are both engaged this afternoon. But thank you for the thought.”
“Perhaps another time?”
“Perhaps,” she said vaguely. “Though if you’re just being polite, Gerald, and only showing hospitality toward Lucy because she is my goddaughter—and because I suppose your mother has warned you off her—there is no need to bother. Sir Edward Platt and Lord Anthony Pellew have both offered to show Lucy some of the sights of London.”
“Those old roués!” he exploded. “Each one is old enough to be her father—Sir Edward could even be her grandfather!”
“Which doesn’t mean they can’t be perfectly charming hosts,” Alice said in mild reproof. “It’s a tour of city sights we’re talking about, not marriage.”
Lord Thornton gave a cynical snort. “Anyway, she said she wasn’t interested in seeing the sights.”
“And yet she accepted both invitations,” Alice said gently.
Lucy could almost hear the brooding silence coming from the drawing room. Laughing softly, she took the big iron key and let herself out into the garden.
She found herself a quiet, sunny corner, opened her bag and set out her paints.
* * *
* * *
The following day, James, temporarily fed up with the demands of roofers, plasterers, painters, plumbers and chimney sweeps, headed out in the afternoon on horseback for some fresh air, exercise and peace. As he approached the park, he heard his name called. “Tarrant, I say. Colonel Tarrant!”
Turning his head, he saw Chichester, a young military gentleman of his acquaintance, also on horseback, approaching and waving as he threaded through pedestrians and carts and hawkers.
“Heading for the park?” Chichester asked, and suggested they proceed together. “Ride there most days. Devilish pleasant.”
James fell in with him, and as they talked and caught up on news and mutual acquaintances, he took little notice of their route. It had been an age since he’d ridden in London, and he assumed Chichester would know the best places.
The moment they entered the park, however, he realized that not only had he chosen his time poorly, he’d also chosen the wrong companion—and the wrong park entrance.
It was obviously the fashionable hour in Hyde Park. Throngs of fashionably dressed people jammed the pathways, strolling and talking. Smart carriages moved along Rotten Row at a crawl, as did plenty of riders on horseback.
“Splendid sight, what?” Chichester said, beaming. “All those pretty ladies.”
James nodded. Curse it, he’d forgotten Chichester’s penchant for flirtation. They wove slowly between barouches and phaetons, and men and ladies on horseback, and pedestrians impeding their progress. Carriages stopped without warning to take up or put down passengers or hail acquaintances on foot. Some people seemed to think nothing of holding up the traffic while they chatted to friends in other carriages, blocking the road entirely. James resigned himself to slow progress and silently plotted his escape route.
Then he noticed a particular pair of ladies strolling along, one tall and slender, dressed in a claret-colored pelisse and wearing a straw bonnet tied with a simple claret-colored ribbon. The other was younger and curvier and wore a green pelisse and a hat adorned with daisies.