“Don’t worry about Almeria,” Alice told her. “The more people she tells that kind of thing to, the more sympathy you’re getting. It’s extremely bad form of her to be so obviously antagonistic toward her son’s choice—particularly when he seems so happy. Besides, anybody who knows Gerald knows he’s not the kind of man to be entrapped by anyone.”
But whatever slander Almeria was spreading about Lucy didn’t bother her. It was, after all, a false betrothal. Almeria would get her victory in the end, much as it would vex Lucy to have to grant it to her.
“What’s not working?” Gerald asked.
“It’s been two days now since the betrothal was posted in the newspapers, and there has been no word from Papa.”
“I know,” Gerald said.
Lucy frowned up at him. “How do you know?”
“I’ve had men watching the house ever since dawn that first morning.”
Men watching the house? Lucy wasn’t sure what she thought about that. Lying in wait for Papa as if he were a criminal.
But he was a criminal. He’d blackmailed Alice. He’d also failed to give her the money he’d promised her. Lucy knew full well that Alice was now paying for all Lucy’s needs out of her own pocket—a pocket that was lean at best.
And she knew he owed many people money. And that some of his schemes had resulted in serious losses for his investors, though not Papa, never for Papa. So, yes, he was a cheat and a blackmailer—a criminal. She couldn’t deny it.
But he was still her father. And though he hadn’t ever been much of a parent, he had done his best for her, according to his own peculiar and haphazard standards. He had put her in the finest schools—even if she was later expelled for his failure to pay the bills. And he had intended she would benefit from her time with Frau Steiner and the comtesse—and she had learned from them, even if most of the time they’d used her as a maidservant.
Papa always come up with schemes that sounded good. He just wasn’t very good at carrying them out. Or was it that he simply didn’t care about the people he involved in his schemes, as long as he benefited in the end?
Oh, Papa . . . Had he always been like this? Even with Mama? She couldn’t tell; she’d been too young. But probably he was just the same. They’d moved so often, and she was sure that wasn’t Mama’s choice.
“How long do you think we should give it?” she asked Gerald.
“How long for what?”
“Our betrothal. If it doesn’t bring Papa and the letters to us, there’s not much point in going on, is there?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of time yet,” he said easily.
“I suppose.” She glanced across to where Almeria was leaning in close to one of her cronies, whispering furiously in her ear, all the while sending dagger looks at Lucy.
Brightening, Lucy sent the woman a wide smile and twinkled her fingers at Almeria in a gleeful wave. Almeria stiffened in outrage and resumed the vehement whispering.
Lucy laughed. Yes, indeed, there was still plenty of time to enjoy the fruits of her betrothal.
* * *
* * *
Do you have any engagements for Thursday next?” James said as he escorted Alice in to supper. Lord and Lady Falconer were known for the quality of their suppers. James was hoping for crab or lobster patties.
She turned her head sharply. “Thursday next? You mean the day after tomorrow? Is that when—we, er, you plan to, um . . . ?”
“Yes, I’m hoping for ‘um’ on Thursday, if that suits you.”
She glanced furtively around. “And you’re asking me here? In this company?”
His eyes danced but he said solemnly, “It is perfectly proper to inquire about a lady’s social arrangements, whether in company or not.” And then he added, for he could see his question had seriously discomposed her, “I simply wish to invite you to take a turn in my new carriage, Lady Charlton.”
“Your carriage?”
“Yes, my carriage.”
“Oh, your carriage,” she said, finally understanding. She added in a clear voice, sufficient to be heard a good ten feet in any direction, “I would be delighted to take a ride in your carriage, Lord Tarrant.” And then she realized the possible interpretations of that statement and blushed rosily.
James hid a smile. His beloved was not built for deception. Duplicity of any kind was simply not in her nature.
“Good,” he murmured, “my horses are raring to go.”
Her blush deepened.
“In that case, I will call for you at nine.” He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “Pack a bag. We will stay overnight.”
“Overn—?” she squeaked and tried to turn it into a cough.
“Possibly longer.”
Her eyes widened, but she said nothing as they took their places. James was delighted to see that there were both crab and lobster patties, and plenty of both. Alice just picked at her food. She was nervous, but he could do nothing about that. Not until Thursday.
“What about Lucy?” she asked in a low voice.
He served her a slice of lemon curd cake. Her favorite. “What about her?”
“I can’t just go off and leave her.”
“Why not? Much as I like your goddaughter, she’s not coming with us.”
She spluttered over a mouthful of wine. “No, but it would be most improper to leave her on her own in my house.”
He wanted to laugh. But he saw her point. “What if Nanny McCubbin and my daughters came to stay? That would be adequate chaperonage, would it not.”
“Y-es. Or perhaps I could ask Lady Peplowe to invite her to stay a few days. Lucy and Penny Peplowe get on very well together. I’ll give it some thought.”
* * *
* * *
To James’s amusement, Alice raised it with Lucy going home in the carriage that evening, telling her that she’d heard this evening that an old friend of hers was ailing and Alice had decided to visit her.
No, Lucy couldn’t accompany her because . . . because her friend was quite poor and lived in a very small cottage. There was no room.
Who was this friend? An . . . an old school friend.
Her name? Mary—yes, that was it. Mary.
James leaned back against the carriage squabs, enjoying the tangled story Alice was attempting to weave in order to have an excuse to get away for a couple of days. He had no doubt the darkness inside the carriage hid a positive battalion of blushes.