She would not allow that to happen. She would learn the rules and learn them well. And she would turn the tables on anyone attempting to use them against her. A wild colt, indeed! They would all learn just how hard she could kick.
Chapter Eleven
For Lucy, the ensuing days continued as before in intensity and frustration. Endless drilling. Interminable practice. Hour after hour and day after day of what to say or not to say, what to do or not to do, what to think and what thoughts to shun. However, gone was the mild playfulness that had crept into the banter between Henry and her. Gone was the belief that she did not care about the experiment’s outcome or what Henry thought of her. To worsen matters, she could not dismiss Henry’s prediction of what would happen if anyone learned of her involvement in the robbery of Lord Colvin. The duchess noticed her turn toward melancholy.
“You will need a dress, Lucy. One that stuns everyone you greet.”
“There is no time for that. A dressmaker would need to work around the clock to finish in time.”
The duchess flicked her hand dismissively. “Nonsense. The clock falls silent and sleep becomes mere annoyance when a duchess makes a request. There is always time when high station calls.”
Lucy heaved a sigh. “Then let us give our business to the Archambeau brothers. They performed a minor miracle last time. Perhaps they will again.”
Within the hour, Lucy and the duchess stood in the shop of the very surprised Archambeaus. No person of rank had haunted their shop in years, and never had a duchess darkened their doors. Phillipe and Jacques fell over each other to please the visitors. Though happy for their windfall, Lucy’s spirits failed to lift. After all, a dress was simply a dress. Still, she patiently submitted to extensive measuring and lengthy conversations regarding fabric and color. Ultimately, she placed all faith in the good tastes of the duchess and the Archambeaus, a necessity now that she was so keenly aware of her shortcomings.
As they rode away from the shop in the coach, the duchess calmly considered her from the opposite bench. “I see by your countenance that you did not find the experience as enjoyable as I had hoped.”
She tried to smile. “I enjoyed it more than my disposition might indicate. I am happy to spend time with you. I am happy to bring such opportunity to Phillipe and Jacques.”
“And the dress? Does that please you?”
She tilted her head indecisively. “A dress is only that, and no more. What is it compared to meaningful matters, such as friendship or a future?”
“I quite agree, my dear. A dress is naught but cloth and thread and no substitute for character or grace. However, a dress is also a doorway. If you catch the appropriate eye, then friendship and a future may follow.”
“I hope you are right on that matter. I must trust your word on it.”
Even as the duchess smiled with satisfaction, Lucy continued battling doubts. As the carriage rocked through the streets of London, its walls closed in on her, caging her like an exotic bird.
Upon arriving back at the house, they were surprised to find an unexpected caller waiting in the parlor. Henry sat in silence near an unfamiliar young woman. When the duchess saw the visitor, she let slip a quiet groan overheard by only Lucy. That, and the visitor’s general demeanor, lifted Lucy’s hackles. The young woman turned to consider them, allowed a cool smile to cross her lovely features, and rose with a fluid motion. She dropped an elegant curtsy so graceful swans might have sighed.
“Your Grace.” Her greeting ignored Lucy’s presence. The duchess exhaled a pent breath.
“Lady Isabella Sedgewick. How nice to see you.” Lucy had not known the duchess long but guessed she was lying through her teeth. Henry stood and motioned to them.
“Will you join us? Isabella called some half an hour ago, and we were merely biding time in hopes of your return.”
“Why not,” the duchess replied flatly. Lucy followed her to the sofa opposite the chairs occupied by Henry and his visitor, oddly stung that he had called the woman by her Christian name. She studied Henry, but he remained a closed book, other than his seeming regard for the visitor. She immediately saw the appeal. Lady Isabella’s honey hair formed a luscious pile atop her head, drawing attention to delicate cheekbones, a proud nose, and full lips. Faced with such fragile beauty, Lucy became painfully aware of her less than delicate appearance. After a numbing silence, the duchess spoke.
“Lady Isabella,” she said with forced cheer. “What brings you to call? You have not visited in some time. Not since last your grandmother forced you.”
Lady Isabella dipped her head and responded in that fluidly nasal manner of those accustomed to speaking down the nose to others. “Yes, Your Grace, and I apologize profusely. However, I only just learned of our shared acquaintance in Mr. Beaumont. I asked why I should not call on two old friends with a single visit and found no reason to stay away.”
The duchess’s regard shifted toward Henry, who did not rebut the claim, before returning to Isabella. “Mr. Beaumont is an old friend, you say? How did you come to know him?”
“Oh, our relationship extends far into the past. My father was a friend of his brother-in-law, and thus we visited his sister’s estate many times. While Father hunted pheasant, Henry and I found different diversions to occupy us.”
Lucy furrowed her brow. She wondered about the nature of the diversions and if he’d ever showed Isabella his secret room. Isabella continued to speak over those thoughts, commanding attention with dramatic descriptions of her nearness to Henry, all the while failing to spare even a glance toward Lucy.
“We last saw each other when Henry was fifteen and just entering manhood. However, as fate would have it, we reacquainted in Town during my first Season and shared many dances over that time. Until yesterday, I remained unaware of his return to London after the war. You might imagine my surprise when I learned he had joined the Robin Redbreasts.”
“Bow Street Horse Patrol,” Henry corrected. “The other is a nickname given us by criminals. It should not cross a lady’s lips.”
Lucy shot a hot glare at him. Not once in a week had he given her the same advice. The slight reinforced her suspicion that he would never consider her free from the taint of thieves. However, he did not appear to notice her upset. He seemed too focused on Isabella.
“And I rather think,” he added, “you are far more disappointed than surprised by my joining of the patrol.”
She dipped her chin and batted long eyelashes. “Oh, Henry, silly man. You could never disappoint me.”
He smiled in a warm, relaxed manner that Lucy had not yet seen from him. She found it immensely appealing, but also galling that the smile’s target was this haughty woman.
“Isabella, I will strive never to damage your good opinion of me.”