Alice had even promised Lucy that she wouldn’t try to force her into marriage, that she wanted her to find a kind man she could love. Reading between the lines, Lucy guessed that Alice hadn’t married that sort of man. In fact, she never talked of her husband at all. Which made her concern for Lucy’s welfare and happiness all the more generous and touching.
She owed it to Alice to find a husband as quickly as possible and stop Papa’s blackmail from hanging over her. That Lord Thornton had decided to help her find one was surprising—more than surprising, really—but Alice had assured her most sincerely that he was trying to help.
Lucy was yet to be convinced.
“Here they are now,” Alice said as Lord Thornton and another young man drove up in a smart black-lacquered phaeton drawn by two high-stepping gray horses. Lucy was impressed. They stopped and Lord Thornton jumped lithely down.
After introductions and a brief conversational exchange, Lord Thornton helped Lucy climb into the phaeton, and she and Mr. Frinton drove off.
Mr. Cornelius Frinton was not a handsome fellow, with his ginger hair, a bony face, and a large, beaky nose. He made up for his lack of looks by dressing immaculately in the very latest fashions; in fact, his shirt points were so high that he had some difficulty turning his head.
At least that was what Lucy assumed at first, when, after several conversational openings, he had failed to look at her once. Nor had he responded with anything other than a choked kind of gurgle, or a murmur of assent and a convulsive twitch of his rather prominent Adam’s apple. And every time she spoke and he failed to respond, he blushed.
He wasn’t deaf. She briefly wondered if he had a speech disorder, but after he’d greeted several masculine acquaintances in perfectly clear English, she finally realized what the matter was: Cornelius Frinton was cripplingly shy with women.
Oh, but she’d like to strangle Lord Thornton.
She set out to put Mr. Frinton at his ease, chattering about his lovely horses, about the weather, about life in London. Noticing that he bowed or nodded or doffed his hat to quite a few people, she said, “You seem to know a lot of society people, Mr. Frinton. I know practically no one in London. Could you point me out some of the more well-known ones?”
That worked a treat, and from time to time he’d indicate someone and say a name, and even, once or twice, give a little more information. “Lady in blue hat. Silence, Lady Jersey. Almack’s patroness. Silence, because she never stops talking.” And then he blushed beetroot.
Lucy laughed. “Not your problem then.”
He turned his head and looked at her, and when he realized she wasn’t being critical, he gave her a shy smile.
They ended up circling the park twice, then drew up to where Alice and Lord Thornton were waiting. Lord Thornton helped her down. “Did you enjoy your drive?”
Lucy wanted to smack his smug face. “Yes, indeed,” she said blithely. “Mr. Frinton and I had a lovely chat, didn’t we Mr. Frinton?”
“Chat?” Lord Thornton looked quite disconcerted.
Mr. Frinton nodded, bowed to Lucy. His Adam’s apple bobbed frantically, and he said in a strangled voice, “Delighted. Take you up anytime, Miss Bamber.”
Lord Thornton gave her a narrow look. She bared her teeth at him in a bright smile. With a set jaw, he climbed back into the phaeton. As the carriage moved off, Lucy called, “Thank you for a delightful drive, Mr. Frinton. Goodbye, Lord Thornbottom.”
He didn’t even bother to correct her.
“How did it go?” Alice asked. “I must say, I’m a little surprised by Gerald’s choice. Mr. Frinton is hardly the most prepossessing of men.”
“Yes, not blessed by the looks fairy, and dreadfully shy, poor boy, but perfectly sweet all the same.” Alice might believe that Lord Thornton was trying to help Lucy find a husband. Lucy knew better.
As if she needed his help anyway.
Chapter Eight
Twilight was fading into darkness as James rang the doorbell of his in-laws’ country home. He’d been traveling all day, only stopping to change his horses, and was glad to have reached his final destination. He couldn’t wait to see his daughters.
The butler opened the door and said in surprise, “Colonel—” He broke off. “I beg your pardon, it’s Lord Tarrant now, isn’t it? My condolences on the loss of your brother, my lord.”
James nodded brusquely. “Thank you, Sutton.”
“Welcome back to England, my lord. I didn’t realize we were expecting you.”
“You weren’t. Lord and Lady Fenwick are in, I presume? But it’s the girls I’ve come for.” He glanced up the stairs. “In the nursery, are they?”
James took several steps forward, but the butler stepped in his way, his expression troubled. “I will let Lady Fenwick know you have arrived. If you would care to wait in the drawing room, my lord, I will have refreshments brought in.” He gestured.
“I don’t need to wait, I just want to see—” But the butler had gone. Damned formality. He was half tempted to run up the stairs to the nursery anyway, but he supposed a few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t as if the girls were expecting him.
He ran his hand over his stubbled chin. He probably should have stopped at an inn and shaved and changed his clothes, but dammit, he wanted to see his daughters. They wouldn’t care if he was rumpled and unshaven. They’d seen him in worse condition than that. At least, Judy and Lina had.
Little Deborah. He wondered what she’d look like, whether she’d take after her mother or him.
“Tarrant.” His mother-in-law greeted him from the doorway. He rose and would have bowed over her hand, but she waved him back to his seat. His father-in-law followed her in and gave James a curt nod as a greeting. James nodded back.
“You didn’t tell us you were coming.” His mother-in-law wasn’t smiling, but some things never changed.
“I apologize for any inconvenience, Lady Fenwick.” He’d tried once, as a newly married man, to call her mama-in-law, but she’d frozen him out so severely that he’d never tried again.
His in-laws had never approved of him. They hadn’t wanted him—a younger son, and a soldier in time of war!—for their daughter, but Selina only gave the appearance of being gentle and biddable. She’d stood firm until her parents had no choice but to give in. And then she’d insisted on going to war with him, following the drum, sharing the discomfort and the difficulties and the danger. She’d loved every moment of it, and he’d loved having her with him.
She’d born him two healthy children under unimaginable conditions. The two little girls had relished army life as much as their mother did.