Lady Brigham took both of Francesca’s hands in her own and kissed her elder daughter on both cheeks. Having arrived only moments before, Francesca still wore her gloves and hat.
“Mia dolce!” Lady Brigham cooed, smiling at Francesca.
Lucia watched and waited, familiar with her mother’s routine. Lady Brigham gave Francesca one more affectionate squeeze, then took her seat at the head of the cozy beech table. She artfully arranged her white frock of sprigged muslin so that the folds flattered her figure, and finally, with a flick of her lace-bedecked wrists, summoned the footman waiting near the sideboard to pour her morning chocolate.
Lucia took a breath and counted to ten. She’d just reached nine when her mother turned sharp blue eyes in her direction and began her daily inspection. Lucia squirmed, hoping the white muslin morning dress with small yellow flowers and her simple hair arrangement wouldn’t elicit comment. After everything she’d endured the night before, she simply couldn’t take one of her mother’s lectures today. Her mother’s gaze rested on her hair, and Lucia held her breath, clutching her hands in her lap.
Then her mother nodded, and Lucia slowly released the pent-up air. Lady Brigham’s eyes drifted back to Francesca, now handing her hat to another footman. But her sister waved the man away when he offered to take her spencer.
“You are not staying, cara?” Lady Brigham stirred her chocolate with a dainty silver spoon.
“I don’t know, Mamma.” Francesca took a seat across from Lucia but refused the footman’s offer of coffee or chocolate. “Ethan insisted we call this morning, but he still hasn’t told me why.”
Lucia’s hand froze above her silver fork. Aha! So Ethan was here. Now she’d find out what Selbourne had been hinting at last night. What he’d meant when he’d said her family needed assistance.
“And how are the little bambinos?” Lady Brigham’s face flooded with joy. “My nipotes dolces?”
The same as they were when you saw them yesterday, Lucia thought. But with her mother’s attention diverted, Lucia relaxed, rolling her shoulders to ease the kinks in her neck and back. Slipping her shoes off and wiggling her toes, she took full advantage of the momentary reprieve from her mother’s fastidious attentions and allowed her thoughts to roam. She adored this small parlor her family used as the breakfast room and often lingered after everyone else had gone. The large window offered a perfect prospect of Berkeley Square, and she loved to pull her knees to her chest, rest her back against the cushion of her chair, and stare at the passing carriages and pedestrians through the parted voile netting.
There was something a little wicked about slouching in the snug yellow and white papered room, hidden from view and watching the rest of the world go by. Sometimes she even made up stories in her mind, speculating as to a particular lady or gentleman’s errands for the day.
Not that she had any particular gentleman in mind today. She didn’t care what plans Selbourne had made for the day, didn’t care what he was doing, where, or with whom. Though he had said he’d call this morning. And, she noted with a flash of annoyance, the morning was slipping away.
Lucia glanced at her mother again. Lady Brigham’s attention was still on Francesca, so Lucia took a chance and slumped another fraction of an inch, her shoulders grazing the cushion of the chair. She wasn’t going to think about him anymore, she decided. Thinking about him had already kept her up half the night, and she wasn’t about to allow dreams of him to dominate her waking hours as well.
Searching for a distraction, Lucia watched Francesca. Although she was already perfect, Lucia could tell her sister had taken some care with her appearance this morning. Her beige dress with its train and matching spencer were the height of fashionable elegance, and Lucia knew she would be begging Francesca to loan her the slouch straw hat before the week was done.
Francesca was still talking of her children—Colin and Sarah—and she glowed with the beauty of a doting mother. Though her own beauty was considered more conventional, Lucia had always thought Francesca prettier. Her sister was petite and well-rounded with gleaming chestnut curls, wide chocolate brown eyes, and a contagious smile. As a little girl, Lucia had sought that smile and the accompanying approval at every opportunity. Watching Francesca now, she realized not much had changed.
“Do sit up straight, Lucia!” Her mother’s sharp tone startled Lucia from her reverie. “Slouching is not dignified.” Lady Brigham shook her finger at her daughter, causing a flurry of movement from the lace at her wrist.
“Sorry, Mamma.” Lucia stiffened her spine.
Lady Brigham huffed and turned back to Francesca. “We will have to discuss the bambinos in more detail later, cara. I am due at young Lady Castlereagh’s in . . . oh, dear three-fourths of an hour!” She shot up, rattling the dishes on the table. “Dove´ mia caro sposo? I must take my leave at once!”
“He’s in his study, Mamma,” Lucia answered, reaching out to steady her trembling teacup.
“Grazie! Grazie!” Leaving the scent of roses in her wake, Lady Brigham rushed from the room, the footman in tow.
Left alone, Lucia grinned at Francesca, wondering if her sister felt as much tension ebb out of her own straight shoulders as their mother sailed away.
“I love her, but I may have to kill her,” Francesca said, sitting back in her chair.
“At least you can please her. I don’t have two children to thrust before her when she’s unhappy with me.”
Francesca laughed. “You’ve discovered my secret. But it won’t be long before you have little ones of your own.”
Lucia nodded and smiled, but her stomach tightened, and she pushed her untouched plate of food away. “How is my brother-in-law this morning?” Lucia asked, hoping her sister knew something about Selbourne’s cryptic comments.
“Arrogant. Stubborn. Perfect.” She grinned.
Perfect, just like his wife, Lucia thought. The Marchioness of Winterbourne for the last five years, Francesca was still blissfully happy with her husband and children, and she shone with the radiance of one in love. But Lucia had never once begrudged her sister her happiness, though Francesca had always been her parents’ favorite. Francesca was so lovely, so sweet natured, she deserved all her happiness and more.
“You’ll never guess who I saw at the Pools’ last night,” Lucia said
“Lord Selbourne,” Francesca replied, sitting back. Lucia blinked. “Yes! How did you know?”
“He called at Grosvenor Square before he left for the Pools’. I didn’t remember that you and Lord Dandridge would also attend until it was too late. I hope he wasn’t . . . unpleasant. He was in a bad mood when I saw him.”
