What Lucinda Learned (11 page)

Charles reddened. “I am sorry, Miss Neville. Pray forgive me. But I knew Belle was up to something from the way she was behaving this afternoon. She cannot deceive me. I should never have gone to that mill.”

Truth to tell, Lucinda rather wished he hadn’t also, but there was little point in bemoaning the past. “Never mind, Sir Charles, I’m sure Belle will be here in no time.”
If only Mr. Devereux is able to find her
; she added silently to herself.

Charles accepted her assurances with a good grace and asked her to dance. As they struggled across the floor in Charles’s usual style, Lucinda felt again some stirrings of sympathy for Belle’s interest in Miles Stratton.

Sir Charles was an abominable dancer; he plunged and swooped, accelerated rapidly, just as unaccountably slowed down and swung his hapless partner in unexpected turns. Lucinda hung on and hoped they would not careen into any of the more sedate couples.
Suddenly, Charles drew in his breath and intoned, “Aah!” It was a sound Lucinda felt would have done justice to Mr. Keane himself in Drury Lane. But she followed his gaze. To her amazement and relief, she beheld Lady Grantham and there, behind her, demurely clad in peach sarsenet and smiling sweetly, was Belle.

The music ceased and Sir Charles, muttering excuses, left her and began shouldering his way towards his mother and her charge.

“The prodigal returns,” drawled a voice behind her and Mr. Devereux was beside her at last.

“Mr. Devereux! How glad I am to see you!” Lucinda’s velvet eyes glowed in the candlelight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Hush, Miss Neville.” His own glance was just as warm. “Have you permission to waltz?” At her nod, he whirled her into his arms. For the first time that evening, Lucinda was conscious of a man’s arm about her waist and of her body responding to the music—and to him. For the first time, too, she began to understand why some people still considered the waltz a scandalous dance.

“And Lady Grantham is here, too,” she said. “However did you manage that?”

“It was none of my doing, but I collect her relative has recovered more quickly than was expected.”

“But what has happened? I have been so worried.”

His grip tightened and he looked down into her upturned face for a long moment. “I was right about the gold lace,” he said softly. “You are very beautiful, Lucinda. Did you know that there are gold flecks in your eyes?”

Lucinda’s breathing quickened. He had used her name! “But, but, about Belle...” Her throat was dry and she had trouble keeping her voice steady.

“You are right, as usual. This is not the time. Miss Ryland? I found her in Lucy’s, all right.”

Hideous memories of past scenes when Belle had been thwarted rose before her. “Was she very difficult?” she asked apprehensively.

“Not at all,” said the Beau coolly. “In fact, I flatter myself that she may even have been rather glad to see me.”

“Was it so very dreadful a place?”

“It wasn’t the place.”

Lucinda clutched at his coat. “Good heavens! Was it Mr. Stratton? Did he...?”

Gently, he removed her grip. “Miss Neville, I will do anything for you, except permit you to spoil my coat.” Lucinda chuckled as he regained her hand. “No, no, in his own way, Stratton is a gentleman. More important for us, however, he is a gambler. A crony of his challenged him to a most elaborate card game. I confess the rules of it baffled me, but it was of consuming interest to Stratton.”

Lucinda glanced up through her long lashes. “Can you mean,” she asked, a laugh trembling in her voice, “that Stratton was
ignoring
Belle?”

“Ignoring her?” Dev repeated reflectively. “No, I couldn’t say he was able to ignore her exactly. Miss Ryland had embarked upon a comprehensive denunciation of his actions, his character, his probable antecedents and his undoubted end. I will say this for Stratton, though—he didn’t let it interfere with his game.”

This time Lucinda did laugh. “Poor Belle!”

“So, as you may imagine, Miss Ryland was grateful to be rescued from her neglectful escort. Stratton did look up from his hand to bid her goodbye, but she did not appear to appreciate this concession. Fortunately, Lady Grantham arrived just as I delivered Miss Ryland home. She seemed perfectly to grasp the situation, so I left your friend in her capable hands.”

The music ended, but Mr. Devereux did not let go her hand. He drew her aside into one of the alcoves. He himself stood with his back to the dancing guests, but, as she stood a little to one side, Lucinda could see straight into the room. She saw Lady Chloris joining the waltz, in the arms of a clearly overawed young man. She flinched and edged away from Mr. Devereux.

“What is it, Lucinda?” Richard’s voice was caressing. “You came to me, my dear. I was touched, deeply honoured by your trust, for you must know—”

“No! No!” Lucinda shrank farther away, staring at him out of huge, tear-dimmed eyes.

“What is it? What has happened?”

She groped blindly in her reticule. “You cannot. You mustn’t.” Her fingers closed on what she was searching for. She forced herself to say the words she must. “I am promised to another.” She choked as she pushed the brooch into his hands. “As are you.” And Lucinda turned her back and fled from him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Blinking back hot tears,
Lucinda sought sanctuary in the chaperons’ corner. There Mrs. Cleeson was enjoying another comfortable cose with Ivor Devereux. Their tiny gilt chairs were pulled close together and their voices low. However, when Lucinda appeared, Ethelreda looked up with a start.

“Ah, Lucinda,” she said, hastily stowing away a pencil and yet another list. “Did you see that Belle has finally arrived? And Amelia? What a mercy that is. I have just been telling Ivor that Belle needs at least three chaperons to keep rein on her.”

Ivor laughed. “All pretty gels keep their duennas hopping, eh, Miss Neville?”

Lucinda laughed dutifully. She had hoped to persuade her cousin to leave right away, but it was clear Mrs. Cleeson was going to be fully occupied for some time to come. Nervously she looked about. But surely Mr. Devereux would not come after her? She jumped when she felt a touch on her arm.

“Here you are at last,” said Belle. “I’ve been looking for you. I’ve so much to tell you.” If Belle was the prodigal daughter, she didn’t look in the least repentant. Her eyes sparkled and she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. “What a perfectly gorgeous gown that is, Lucinda. Gold lace! And your hair! I must get Monsieur Amaud to try that style for me. You take the shine out of us all tonight.”

“Don’t be absurd, Belle,” Lucinda responded brusquely and Belle blinked at her. “I’m sorry,” she said, passing a hand over her forehead. “It’s just that I was so worried and it is so hot in here. I must be getting the headache.”

“It is terribly hot,” Belle agreed. “And I want to talk to you in quiet, anyway.” She leaned over to speak to Ethelreda. “Mrs. Cleeson, Lucinda and I are going to one of the withdrawing rooms. We are rather overheated.”

“Yes, my dears, do.” Mrs. Cleeson was engrossed in Ivor’s story. “Almack’s can be very stuffy.”

The girls skirted the ballroom and, passing the refreshment room, came out into a narrow corridor.

“It’s much cooler here already,” said Belle. “I believe there is a ladies’ room just down here.” She wrinkled her nose as she looked about. “I cannot think why Almack’s must be so shoddy. Look, the paint is positively peeling. One must hope there will be chairs in the withdrawing room.”

Lucinda fanned her flaming cheeks. “All I hope is that it may have a window we can open.”

“Oh, no!” Belle had stopped and was examining the bottom of her gown.

“What is it?”

“It’s my hem. It’s come down.” Belle giggled. “I’m not surprised, really. I was dancing with Charles and he trod on it twice. He is a wretched dancer.” She giggled again.

“I haven’t any pins with me, do you?”

“No, but Lady Grantham or Mrs. Cleeson will. I shall just run back and ask them. Do you go and sit down, Lucinda, for I vow you look quite flushed.”

Lucinda watched as Belle hitched her skirts up in a manner that Lady Grantham would surely deplore and ran off. Feeling that she herself would be glad to sit down and gather her thoughts, she opened the nearest door.

It was not a ladies’ room. In fact, it looked as though it had been set aside for the use of the musicians. There were instrument cases strewn about, and trays of half-eaten food and wine.

But Lucinda saw none of these. In the middle of the room, with his back to her, stood a tall man with bright red hair. She had never seen him before. But he clasped in his arms and ardently kissed a lady whom Lucinda did recognize. There could be no mistaking that spun-gold hair or those diamonds. She would have known Chloris dePoer anywhere.

Transfixed, she stared at them. The lovers paid no attention to her. She doubted they had heard the door open. Lucinda swayed dizzily and the blood roared in her ears.

She pulled the door closed and stumbled along the hall. She almost fell through the first open door and sank into the nearest chair. “C and R” the brooch had said, but that man was not Richard Devereux. The Ice Queen, they called Chloris, but there had been nothing icy in the way she was responding to those caresses.

And Richard ... Lucinda’s heart ached for him. He had taken such care over that love-token. How he must have anticipated Chloris’s delight. And she—she had cared so little for it and for him that she had dropped it carelessly to the ground—and now she had slipped away from the dancing to meet the red-haired stranger in the other room.

Of course Lucinda knew what went on in Society. She had heard, even if she had not quite believed, all the scandals. But somehow it was different when one knew the people involved and could see who was going to be hurt.

What would I think,
Lucinda asked herself,
if I found Will kissing someone else?
She tried to summon up the requisite sense of outrage and betrayal, but she was unmoved by the picture she conjured up. It was really Richard her sympathy went out to. It was his feelings she could most vividly feel, his hurt she most desperately wanted to assuage. She sat staring ahead, her hands working feverishly in her lap.

“Lucinda, whatever is the matter? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” It was Belle, back with a small etui in her hand.

Lucinda pulled herself together. “Shall I pin the hem for you? You may stand on this footstool.”

Belle looked closely at her friend as she handed over the needle-case. But Lucinda kept her head bent as she worked. She made herself concentrate on the simple manual task and gradually her breathing slowed and her colour grew more normal. By the time the hem was finished, she had achieved tolerable control over her face and feelings.

“Thank you,” Belle said as she jumped down and slid her feet back into her Denmark satin slippers. “Though, if I dance with Charles again I daresay it will all be for naught.”

“Really, Belle, you are lucky that anyone at all will dance with you. Consider what would have happened if anyone had seen you at that dreadful place.”

“Pooh! No one even looked at me—except, of course, Mr. Devereux and he won’t tell.”

“And what do you think Sir Charles would say if he knew?”

“Charles? I can manage Charles. Naturally he would fly into the most terrible rage and make the most monstrous scene, too, I shouldn’t wonder. He does look so handsome when he’s angry, don’t you think? But he’d forgive me. He always will.”

“What odious self-satisfaction, Belle. It gives me quite a disgust of you, to hear you say such things. You are very lucky you came out of such a disgraceful escapade so easily.”

Belle threw her arms around Lucinda. “Pray don’t be angry with me, there’s a dear. Lady Grantham has already raked me down most severely and Mr. Devereux gave me the most tremendous scold on the way home.”

“None of it seems to have done the least good.”

“Oh, it has, it has. And you must know, Cinda, that I had already been punished most thoroughly. For despite what I thought, and what Mr. Stratton said, it was the most boring place. All anyone did was sit and play cards! No one paid the slightest heed to me at all. And nothing scandalous was going on. Why, Mama might have accompanied me and not been shocked. The whole thing was just a take-in!”

Lucinda laughed at her friend’s air of righteous indignation. It was impossible to remain angry with Belle. “And Mr. Stratton was not an attentive companion?”

“What! Has Mr. Devereux been tattling on me?”

“He merely mentioned Mr. Stratton’s interest in cards.”

“Interest? Passion, more likely! And,” Belle went on in the same injured tone, “I had thought it would be so exotic, for gentlemen go there all the time and one would think it was something quite out of the usual. But it wasn’t. Not a sign of an opera-dancer anywhere. It was dull and even rather sordid. I think,” she concluded profoundly, “that gentlemen have the oddest tastes.”

“Yes,” Lucinda agreed sadly. She was thinking that at least two men seemed to find Chloris dePoer irresistible, and even if she were a lady, Chloris was behaving more like one of Belle’s opera-dancers.

“But, Lucinda, it was so clever of you to send Mr. Devereux. It was the greatest thing. He brought his phaeton, too, and we had such a ride. How came you to think of him of all people?”

“I was at my wits’ end,” Lucinda confessed. “You are aware that Lady Grantham was away and Will and Sir Charles were at their sport. And I hope,” she added astringently, “that you don’t think I should have told my cousin and sent her to fetch you back?”

Belle giggled. “Can you imagine Mrs. Cleeson at Lucy Caldeane’s?” But she won no answering smile from her friend. “Are you quite sure you’re well, Cinda? You are so pale now and you seem distraught. Shall I send Will or Mrs. Cleeson to you?”

“Will? No, no thank you. I shall be better directly.”

Covertly, Belle studied her friend. She had been pleased to see Mr. Devereux earlier that evening, but surprised, too. She understood that Will, Lady Grantham and Charles were away. She utterly agreed that Mrs. Cleeson could not have been involved. But why, out of all their acquaintance, had Lucinda called on Beau Devereux?

In fact, now she came to consider, the impropriety of upsetting Miss Neville had figured largely in Mr. Devereux’s lecture.
I wonder,
Miss Ryland said to herself,
I very much wonder.
“I had no idea,” she said aloud in elaborately casual tones, “that you I and Beau Devereux were such friends.”

Lucinda flushed painfully. “We are not, indeed. How can you think so? I have already explained how I came to call upon him.”

“Yes, yes,” Belle said soothingly, hiding her satisfaction. “I see exactly how you were placed.”

“I should hope so,” Lucinda declared hotly. “Mr. Devereux was most obliging. He is the kindest person and I hope you do not mean to cast aspersions on so good-hearted a response.”

“Oh, I shall not, Lucinda, I assure you. I know exactly how to interpret his actions.”

“Good.” Lucinda stood up. “And now I think we had better return to the others.”

“Yes,” agreed Belle rather absently. She followed Lucinda but fell behind a little, an unaccustomed furrow in her smooth forehead. Into her huge blue eyes there crept a look, a look her friends and family had learned to mistrust: Belle Ryland was thinking.