“And how, pray, will you find Bamber?” His assumption that it was all so easily fixed was irritating.
He looked at her in surprise. “Don’t you know where he lives?”
“No, of course not. Otherwise I would have acted sooner.”
“I’ll ferret him out,” Gerald said confidently.
“I wish you would try. But be warned, even Lucy has no idea how to contact her father.”
“Her! She’d lie her way out of anything.”
“I believe her, Gerald. I admit, I disliked and resented her at first, but I’ve come to know her better, and I believe she’s almost as much a victim in this as I am.”
He gave a scornful snort. “You’re too softhearted for your own good, Aunt Alice.”
“Lucy has no desire to enter society, no desire to marry a lord.”
“Hah! So she claims.”
“You must admit she’s been at pains not to attract you. Perhaps that’s the reason why you—”
He frowned. “Why I what?”
Alice shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” Gerald had taken an unusual amount of interest in Lucy—the two seemed to strike sparks off each other whenever they met, and Alice didn’t think it was just about a race and a goose.
With almost every young unmarried miss in London falling over herself to please and flatter Gerald, the one girl who showed no interest in him whatsoever was bound to stand out.
She continued, “The point is, Lucy had as little say in the situation as I did. I like the girl, Gerald, and I want to help her as best I can. But I will need your assistance.”
“My assistance? Aunt Alice, this is ridiculous. I have no intention of helping—”
“Me?” Alice interjected. “You won’t help me out of this situation, Gerald?” She waited.
He looked uncomfortable. “It’s not that, I just—”
“Just what?”
“Dash it, Aunt Alice, I don’t want her getting away with it.”
“Getting away with what? She’s as stuck as I am. If this gets out, we’ll both be disgraced. It won’t matter as much to me,” she lied. Other people’s good opinion had always been important to her. “My situation will remain unchanged, though it will be embarrassing and uncomfortable for a time. But imagine the repercussions for Lucy, a girl with no fortune, no home and no family—unless you count her scoundrel of a father, which I don’t. From all I can make out, he has a history of dumping her with strangers and leaving her to sink or swim.”
Gerald looked slightly perturbed. Good, he was finally considering Lucy’s situation.
Alice rammed home her argument. “That girl is effectively all alone in the world. And for a single woman without support, that means poverty and destitution—or worse. Would you really wish such a fate on that bright, funny girl?”
There was a short silence, then Gerald said, “Very well, Aunt Alice, you’ve made your point. I don’t have to like it—and I don’t have to like her—but I suppose I’ll have to help. Apart from tracking down her father, what do you want me to do?”
“Help me find Lucy a husband.”
Gerald’s jaw dropped. “What the h— What on earth do you imagine I can do?”
“I don’t know many young bachelors. You do. Most of your friends are eligible, in fact. You’re in an excellent position to bring them to meet Lucy.”
He stared at her. “Dash it, Aunt Alice, I can’t go around dragging my friends into parson’s mousetrap. I’d soon have no friends at all.”
“Nonsense! Nobody’s saying they have to marry Lucy, just that she needs to meet a number of suitable young men, and hopefully find one who will suit.” She added in a steely voice, “A man who values her for who she is, not for her bloodline or what fortune she can bring. A kind man who can make her happy.” Lucy would have what Alice had not, she was determined on it.
He scowled. “How would I know what would make a chit like that happy?”
“Don’t be difficult, Gerald. Just bring around some nice young men, and Lucy—and the young man, of course—will do the rest.”
“I suppose I could try,” he said morosely.
“Excellent. But don’t bother bringing any of your titled friends.”
“Why? What’s wrong with them?” he said stiffly.
“Lucy isn’t interested in anyone with a title.”
“The devil she’s not!”
Alice shrugged. “The girl is entitled to her opinion, and you will respect it, if you please.”
“And if I don’t please?” he muttered.
Alice looked at him. “You know, Gerald, you’ve complained that your parents treat you like a schoolboy instead of a former army officer. I’m beginning to see their point.”
He made a face. “I’m sorry, Aunt Alice. It’s just that I’m no blasted matchmaker. I’d much rather go after that scoundrel Bamber, wring his neck and wrest those letters from him.”
“You’re welcome to do what you can about the letters,” Alice told him. “And if you do manage to retrieve them, I’ll be most grateful. In the meantime, please bring your friends around to meet Lucy.”
* * *
* * *
Have you thought about what we’re going to wear to Lady Peplowe’s masquerade ball?” Lucy said to Alice later that day.
Alice gave her a blank look. “I hadn’t given it a thought.” She frowned. She didn’t want to spend money on a fanciful costume that would only be worn once—the money Bamber had given her for Lucy’s expenses was dwindling rapidly. It was not nearly what he’d promised her, and there was no sign of any more forthcoming.
Another reason for Gerald to track him down.
“I think we’re going to have to wear dominos.”
Lucy’s face fell. “Oh no, we can’t. Dominos are so dreary. The only people who wear them are those who are too staid and dull to dress up.”
“We can’t afford a proper costume, Lucy.”
“Isn’t there something we can improvise with?”
Alice thought about it. It had been years since she’d attended a costume ball. Thaddeus didn’t like them. But she did recall at least one occasion . . .
“I suppose we could. I’m fairly sure some of my old costumes are in a trunk in the attic. But goodness knows what condition they’ll be in. Some of granny’s old clothes are stored up there, too, I think.”