Love for Lucinda (12 page)

“My mistake, Ferdie. I do apologize,” said Lucinda, not at all convinced. It was her unalterable experience that her cousin had little enough to do with any member of her family unless he wanted something. Certainly he had never been above importuning them for monies, and why he should cavil at doing the same with her was beyond her. But she had no wish to set the stage for an unpleasant scene and so she smiled on him. “Have you a complaint, perhaps? I should not wish any one of my guests to feel slighted for any reason.”

“Oh, dear cousin,” he sighed. “My only complaint, the only slight that I feel, is that I have had so little opportunity to persuade you of my everlasting devotion. I discover in myself a yearning to bask in the light of your beauty. I am all eagerness to win your precious favor. In short, Lucinda, I am like a desert without the gentle rain of your smiles upon me. Dare I admit to it? Dare I open myself to the possibility of your rejection?”

Lucinda stared at her cousin in complete consternation. She had had no clue that he even harbored such sentiments. “Ferdie, I—”

Ferdie threw out his beringed hands in appeal. In throbbing accents, he said, “Dance with me, cousin!”

Lucinda was made speechless. Then as the point of his extravagant periods burst upon her, she started laughing. “Oh, Ferdie, you are such a cad! Why in heaven do I like you so well?” She gave her hand into his.

Ferdie drew her onto the floor, his handsome face lit by the boyish grin that he cultivated. “You like me because we two are so much alike, cousin.”

Lucinda drew back from him a little, her fine brows rising. With a straight look, she said, “That we are not! You are a desperate gamester and an opportunist of the worst son. Only see how you tricked me into believing, for a moment only, that you had become quite besotted with me! And all to throw me off guard and gain my hand for a set!”

Ferdie escorted her to her place in the set that was forming, turning to face her. He looked at her with a curiously sharp expression. “Am I not besotted with you, Lucinda?”

Lucinda shook her head, laughing. “Of course you are not! If you have persuaded yourself that it is so, then I suspect it is this—” She tossed an encompassing glance about the magnificent ballroom. “It is the glittering setting of Mays House that has turned your head, Ferdie, not me. Pray recall that I have no claim whatsoever on any of this magnificence, and you will swiftly come to realize that you are the victim of illusion.”

“Ah, you believe that you know me so well! You have named me a gamester and an opportunist, Lucinda, and so I am! I stake all—my person, my fortune, my pride—and lay it before you.” Ferdie’s eyes measured the effect of his words. His lovely cousin was staring at him in patent amazement and uncertainty.

Mr. Stassart’s smile widened slightly as he said in his soft voice, “But are you not cut from much the same cloth, Lucinda? You have staked yourself to this London season. You seize every opportunity granted you to cause the
ton
to take notice. The very society that shrugged its shoulders when you were thrust out of its scintillating center is now importuned to pay you court. It is your pretty revenge, is it not, Lucinda?”

The music dictating the set moved them away from one another, but not swiftly enough that Mr. Stassart missed the sparkle of anger in his cousin’s narrowed glance. He smiled to himself. But when the movement of the dance placed him opposite Lucinda again, he had schooled his handsome countenance to a contrite expression.

He said quickly, anxiously, “Forgive me, cousin. I spoke out of turn. I recognize it too late, but offer my abject apology. It is only my familiarity with your character and circumstances that have led me into indiscretion.”

“I do not think that I like you very well after all, Ferdie,” said Lucinda distantly.

“I am undone. I am utterly cast down. My hopes are completely dashed,” declared Ferdie.

Lucinda’s color rose as his dramatic utterances began to draw the attention of others in the set. She said quietly, urgently, “Pray do not, Ferdie! We are attracting stares.”

Ferdie’s voice rose a notch more. “I cannot contain myself, cousin! I have sunk myself beyond reproach with you. Ah, but for one tiny smile! One small word of encouragement! Would not my spirit revive? Would not hope once more raise its head in my breast?”

Mr. Stassart’s loud laments had captured the unriveted regard of everyone within earshot. Even those in other sets had turned around to stare. Lucinda’s face burned with embarrassment. “That you could do this, Ferdie!” she choked.

It was to her unutterable relief that the music concluded at that instant. She turned on her heel and swept quickly from the floor, her head held high.

She did not recognize the gentleman until he stepped deliberately into her path, interrupting her swift flight. He hailed her affably.

“Lady Mays! It is a pleasure to thus come face-to-face with you. I had hoped to persuade you to join me in a glass of wine,” said Mr. Weatherby.

Lucinda forced a smile to her face. “Mr. Weatherby, how nice to see you again. I am sorry, sir, but I—”

He took a firm hold of her elbow and began to steer her away from the dance floor, where several people were still looking after her and whispering behind their hands. Mr. Weatherby smiled down into Lucinda’s startled face as she realized that she was being inexorably bent to the gentleman’s will. “I apologize for the rough and ready, my lady. But I felt it imperative to see you quickly away from that crowd. Good Lord! Doesn’t Stassart have any more sense than to throw a lady out of countenance in the middle of a crowded ballroom?”

He had guided her to the refreshment table. Releasing her arm, he lifted a decanter of wine. He proceeded to pour out a generous glass, saying, “Don’t run off again while I am thus engaged. It would be taking unfair advantage of me, you know, since I have but one hand.”

Heedless of Mr. Weatherby’s words, Lucinda pressed her hands against her heated cheeks. She gave a shaky laugh. “I have made a fool of myself, have I not?”

“Not altogether,” said Mr. Weatherby coolly. He offered the glass to her. “Here, drink this. It will give you time to compose yourself.”

Lucinda thanked him and took the wineglass. She sipped slowly at the champagne. She could feel her nerves settling. When she had had enough, she set down the wineglass.

Lucinda directed a wavering smile up at her waiting companion. “Thank you, Mr. Weatherby. I can scarcely express my gratitude enough for your timely intervention. I believe that I might have rushed heedlessly out of my own ballroom if it had not been for you. What an abominable stir that would have caused!”

“Quite. And over little more than that mincing puppy’s provocations,” said Mr. Weatherby, directing his firm chin in an offhand gesture in the gentleman’s direction. He offered his arm to her. “Will you do me the honor of strolling with me to the windows, Lady Mays? It has become tiresomely warm in here. I could do with a breath of cooler air.”

“And I, sir,” said Lucinda, placing her fingers on his elbow.

They walked slowly around the perimeter of the ballroom. Mr. Weatherby glanced down at his silent companion. “You may safely confide in me, Lady Mays. I promise that I shall not bray it from the rooftops, however titillating it may prove to be.”

Lucinda laughed. She shook her head. “It was all such nonsense, scarcely deserving to be repeated now.”

“Nevertheless it will be repeated, by everyone who was privileged to overhear what was said.”

“Yes, I know.
That
is what is particularly galling,” said Lucinda.

“You would do well to confide the whole to me, you know. I may be able to help you,” said Mr. Weatherby.

Lucinda lifted her eyes to his face. Her brows were slightly drawn. “Why should you wish to help me, Mr. Weatherby? We are the barest of acquaintances. I can mean nothing to you.”

“On the contrary. Your welfare is of the utmost importance in my scheme of things,” said Mr. Weatherby. At her startled expression, a flicker of a grin touched his mobile mouth. “I am not declaring myself to you, my lady.”

A blush of color stole into Lucinda’s face. “You have an unfair advantage of me, sir. You read my mind perfectly, while I find you to be a very dark horse indeed.”

He laughed. When he met her questioning glance, his own gray gaze was rueful. “I fear that I cannot satisfy your curiosity at this juncture, my lady. Suffice it to believe that I mean you no harm and that I shall do whatever it is in my power to do to see you come off safely. Now tell me what that fop of a cousin of yours has done to set you all on edge.”

Lucinda shrugged in capitulation. “Very well, then. If you would so have it. Mr. Stassart implied for all and sundry to overhear that he had offered his suit to me and that I had spurned him with a ruthless dispatch.”

Mr. Weatherby swore softly. “A sorry trick, in truth. I do not wonder at your reaction. Lady Mays.” He threw a sharp glance down at Lucinda’s profile. “Has your cousin ever had occasion to think himself encouraged in that direction, my lady?”

Lucinda raised her eyes, her expression indignant. “Of course not! Why, Ferdie has been riding roughshod over my family for years. I would have been more likely to laugh at any suggestion of a match between us than encourage it!”

“Your family, my lady? What have they to do with this contretemps?” asked Mr. Weatherby. They had paused before one of the half-opened windows. He thrust up the sash a little higher.

A breath of fresh air eddied over Lucinda’s face, and she sighed in appreciation. “Oh, my cousin is my father’s heir and has always taken monstrous advantage of the position. Ferdie was forever importuning my father for funds to settle his gaming debts and the like,” she said. She summoned up a smile. “You must understand, sir, the Stassarts were never in particularly plump pocket. Therefore my cousin’s claims were always seen by my sisters and me as a threat to the very fabric of our existence.” Lucinda did not think it appropriate to reveal just how closely her own fate had been tied to the settlement of her cousin’s debts.

“As bad as that,” mused Mr. Weatherby. “I begin to understand the depth of your reaction to Mr. Stassart’s ruse, my lady.”

“His ruse? Whatever can you mean?” asked Lucinda, startled.

Mr. Weatherby smiled down at her, a rather grim light in his eyes. “I suspect that Mr. Stassart is desirous of forming just such a connection between you that you would most resist, my lady. Your cousin is a gamester with a history of being run off his legs. You are a widow amply endowed by your late lord. It is plain to me that your cousin is hanging out for a rich wife, and who better than the daughter of the gentleman whose heir he is? Everything is thus neatly tied up. Mr. Stassart has control of your assets and an easy avenue to your father’s pockets, for your father will not allow his daughter ever to be thrown into the gutter for the sake of a few pounds now and again.”

“No, indeed. However, there is a flaw in your logic, Mr. Weatherby. How could Ferdie ever entertain hopes of my accepting his suit, even supposing that was his game?” asked Lucinda. “He knows very well that my eyes are wide open to his gammon.”

“Oh, you would come round to accepting his suit, my lady,” said Mr. Weatherby coolly. “The weight of social opinion would eventually demand it of you. Or it would exact a heavy penalty for your refusal.”

At Lucinda’s startled stare, Mr. Weatherby arched a heavy brow. His expression exceedingly cynical, he said, “Think on it, my lady. This evening he has planted the seeds. You are a terrible flirt, my lady, one who plays fast and loose with her cousin’s affections. Just let that suggestion take hold, and you will have the whole of London sympathizing with poor Mr. Stassart. Next he proves himself devoted to you, protesting his undying affection. He is prostrated by your indifference, by your blowing hot and cold upon him. Ladies who once smiled on you would begin to whisper disparagingly behind your back, holding you up to their daughters as an example of appalling disregard. Gentlemen who once paid you flattering attention would treat you to the disrespect meted out to any highborn lady who was caught out in deliberate and cruel deception.”

“But it would be lies, all lies,” said Lucinda, staring blindly out the window. She was appalled at the vision that her companion had conjured up. She looked round quickly, shaking her head. “No, I cannot believe it, Mr. Weatherby. My cousin could not possibly serve me such a trick.”

The gentleman shrugged. “Have it your own way, my lady. But I shall lay this question before you. What possible motive could your cousin have to fly in the face of all the proprieties not a quarter hour past?”

Chapter Twelve

Mr. Weatherby regarded her frowning expression for a moment before he drove home his point. “Whatever else Mr. Stassart is, he is a gentleman born. He knows what is due to the family name. He has a vested interest, after all! Is he unhinged that such things are of no moment to him?”

“No, no, of course not! Ferdie is always all that is correct. He is proud of his reputation of being considered good
ton,”
said Lucinda.

She turned fully to her companion, having come to the decision to trust him. “Mr. Weatherby, though I cannot fully accept your analysis of my cousin’s possible motivation, nevertheless it is quite true that Ferdie has put me squarely into the hands of the gossips. It is not my wish to figure as the latest
on dit!
Therefore I am asking for your advice. What is the best way to go about scotching any ludicrous rumors regarding myself and my cousin?”

Mr. Weatherby offered his arm to her once more. She hesitantly accepted his escort, wondering that he did not reply at once.

“I am taking you to your chaperone, Miss Blythe. My suggestion is that you stick close to that lady as nearly as possible. Never give Mr. Stassart the opportunity to either interview you in private or to importune you in public.”

Lucinda cast a laughing glance up at him. “That is easier said than done, sir! I cannot avoid Ferdie entirely. He has been to call here at Mays House, and even though Miss Blythe sits with me,that will not be universally known. Nor does it end there. We are bound to run into one another at any number of functions.”