Chapter Twenty-One

As the assembly transitioned from the dining hall to the ballroom, Henry pushed aside the crush of his guilt and strode to catch Lucy’s elbow, hopeful of offering encouragement. She flinched as he leaned near.

“You are doing well.”

She squared on him with a harsh whisper. “Why did you invite her? My worst enemy. I could stone you right now.”

He recoiled but understood immediately. “So you may defeat her.”

Her brow knotted. “I fail to understand.”

He guided her aside to the cusp of the library. “Lady Isabella and her cohorts are far beneath you, regardless of your rank, and yet they savaged you unjustly. If you are to survive this new life, you must conquer those who dare disrespect you. I extended the invitation so you might put them squarely in their places.”

He withheld the most important reason—that her ability to fully inhabit her station might provide the razor-thin margin between life and death, depending on what Sir Hugh reported and the Bow Street magistrate decided. Lucy blinked rapidly as her umbrage seemed to recede. “You believe I can do that?”

He beat back despair at his duplicity and gently took her hand. “My faith in you is matched only by my desire to see you triumph.”

She glanced at her hand in his and heaved a defeated sigh. With seeming agreement, they released each other’s grasp. She accepted his offered elbow and they resumed walking toward the ballroom.

“What can you tell me of the suitors?” she asked discreetly.

“We should speak later. Not now.”

No sooner had he spoken than Isabella and her friends carved a path between them.

“I do so love a secret,” Isabella whispered. “What plot do we hatch here?”

When Lucy said nothing, Henry filled the void. “I was simply commending Lady Margaret on a successful first impression with her suitors.”

Isabella brushed his shoulder softly and smiled. “Henry, dear, you are ever the encourager.” She turned her attention to Lucy. “You should do very well with these suitors. Your brown hair and dark eyes present a certain Persian effect. One of these men is certain to find it exotic enough to overlook what is less favored by Society at present.”

To underscore her point, she tossed her long blond tresses and fluttered her eyelashes above pale blue eyes. Lucy smiled intently. “Thank you, Lady Isabella, for your heartwarming support. I was beginning to harbor doubts, but you have lifted my spirits. When one of these men makes me his wife, I will return the favor by introducing you to his friends so you may finally have reasonable prospects.”

Isabella’s eyes flashed. Behind her, Miss Wharton drew a sharp intake of breath while Miss Braye coughed. Henry looked away to hide his amusement. The battle was joined! Lucy grabbed Isabella’s hand and began dragging the reluctant woman into the ballroom. “But come, now. The night is young. Discussion of your plight can wait for a more opportune time.”

Henry remained rooted as he watched the women walk toward the center of the room. His pride over Lucy’s handling of Isabella conflicted with his desire to warn her of the looming danger. James caught him musing.

“Pining after her will not save you, Henry.”

“Pardon?”

James leaned near and pinched Henry’s shoulder. “Lady Margaret is simultaneously above your station and the pathway to your destruction. I hope you will make a wise choice for both your sakes.”

With that, James moved to join Lucy. In his absence, Sir Hugh stepped next to Henry while watching James. “Don’t listen to whatever he said. There is no accounting for the behavior of a jealous man.”

Henry cast a startled glance at the knight. “Jealous of me?”

“Jealous that you have done more with your life than attend balls and take afternoon tea with shiftless callers. And jealous of your appeal to Lady Margaret.”

Henry tried to argue his point about Lucy, but Sir Hugh simply cocked an eyebrow and sauntered away. Regardless, he could not dismiss his brother’s warning. After all, James had known longer than anyone the true extent of Henry’s fallen nature.

…

Once inside the ballroom, Lucy watched the guests filter in and assume positions around the cavernous space, some sitting, others not. The pack of suitors soon clustered around her to form a cordon that locked out all others as they circled for the kill. Their aggressive proximity raised her anxiety. Once again, the men began to vie for her attention.

“Tell us of your childhood,” Rayleigh said.

“Or of your education,” suggested Lord Jeffrey.

Her brief panic appeared to draw Henry’s brother a step nearer. “Mundane and boring,” he said. “Let us hear instead of how you escaped the highwaymen who drove your coach into a river. That should make for a fascinating tale.”

Despite the directness, Lucy found with some surprise that she was more inclined to discuss that dark day with some element of truth than to lie about her unconventional upbringing. “Thank you, Lord Ravensheugh. I should like to do so.”

He cast a challenging eye at the other men and then smiled sweetly at her. She nodded while biting back a dismal opinion of his attentions. “Of course. Now, where to begin? Oh, yes. The road from Runnymede along the Thames. That is where they fell upon us, but our horses were swift.”

She conveyed most of the story in graphic detail, while conveniently omitting parts that might lead to more probing questions about her subsequent childhood. She finished with her discovery by Steadman but twisted the tale slightly.

“A gentleman came upon me as the thieves emerged from the trees. He convinced them to leave and then saw to my safety.”

“How terrifying!” said Lord Canterfield. “I commend your courage, and at such a young age. It is no wonder the duchess speaks so highly of you.”

“Indeed,” added Warwick. He seemed to have completely forgotten his mistreatment of her before he learned of the immense dowry. “Why, I have seen grown men crumble under lesser threats. Well done.”

James gazed at her with eyes softer than before. “Yes, Lady Margaret. Very well done.”

With that, he offered her his arm. “Shall we attend to the other guests?”

She accepted the arm reluctantly, escaping the huddle of suitors for the first time in half an hour. Her eyes immediately found Henry locked in conversation with Isabella. Their unheard discourse seemed passionate and intense. A surge of jealousy nearly brought her to a halt. Isabella spied her and James and waved to them.

“Oh, there you are at last, my lady. Please beguile us with your skills on the pianoforte.”

Charlotte, who had slipped into the background all evening, immediately sprang to Lucy’s defense. “That will not be necessary. We should dance instead, and I will play the pianoforte.”

Lucy nearly sagged to the floor with relief.

“Thank you, Lady Sinclair. Despite my lack of ballroom experience, dancing would please me greatly as I have no skill whatsoever on the pianoforte.”

While she marveled at the turn of events that would have her preferring one public humiliation over another, she returned her attention to Henry. His face seemed clouded, distant.

“You have my sympathy,” said Isabella. “I am sorry your mentor failed to teach you pianoforte. Still, I truly believe you might learn to play passably despite your indelicate fingers.”

Lucy blinked but dipped her head in a show of gratitude. “Thank you again for your unending encouragement. However, I must admit I have found my indelicate fingers quite useful from time to time.”

“Oh? For what purpose?”

She pressed a pointer finger into each ear. “For example, plugging my ears against annoying sounds.”

“Lady Margaret,” said Isabella. “Surely you are not serious. Of what annoying sounds do you speak?”

Lucy smiled broadly. “See? It is working! I cannot hear a word you are saying.”

Henry raised his hand to hide a smirk. He motioned to her to remove her fingers from her ears. She did so.

“I apologize, Mr. Beaumont,” she said. “Did I embarrass you with my display?”

“No. I merely feared your fingers would become stuck and make dancing impossible. You do wish to dance, yes?”

She gulped. “As an alternative to a flogging, I suppose I do. Let us see if I might so damage the quadrille as to cause France to again declare war on Britain.”

Everyone chuckled over her comment. To her surprise, however, the mirth seemed amusement with her wit rather than ridicule for her shortcomings. Confidence surged within her, and she strode onto the dance floor with resolve.

…

Henry watched glumly from the hinterlands of the ballroom as Lucy and James joined a quadrille of four couples. When the music began, she danced earnestly and executed the steps with only a few minor slips, still clutching the unseen foil with her right hand. Her few mistakes, however, were not what concerned him. Rather, what bothered Henry was the way his brother smiled at her, and worse, how she appeared to return his attention. Her infectious laughter periodically punctuated the music as she gave herself to the flow of the dance. Regret dogged him for his actions in London over the previous days. One way or another, he was delivering her to a devil. Presently, Isabella came to stand beside him. She leaned in to his shoulder.

“You appear as a child lost in a dark wood.”

“I am observing my pupil for the purpose of later critique.”

Isabella shook her head and gazed up at him with batting eyelashes. “Oh, Henry. Do not torture yourself over her. Her attempts to gain your affections are ill spent.”

He furrowed his brow. “She is not vying for my affections.”

Isabella slapped his shoulder lightly. “Oh, she is, addle brain. Do you not see the way she watches you? The way she forms herself to your every word and action?”

“Not really. She rarely does anything I tell her to do.”

“That much is obvious, but she follows you like a helpless puppy, hoping for a word from you so she may disagree. Make no mistake. She desires your affections. I pity her that and pray she might find satisfaction with one of those lesser men surrounding her now.”

He forced a smile, if for no reason other than to end the discussion. “You are right, of course. I’ll not torture myself over her. Lady Margaret’s die is cast and there is precious little I can do to change that.”