“Perfect. And the olive green pelisse—it’s sunny now, but it’s bound to change. And if it’s still sunny this afternoon, take a parasol—that lovely skin of yours needs protecting. Or if there are clouds building, we’ll take umbrellas.”
***
Hyde Park was full of fashionable people sauntering along, dressed to the nines, seeing and being seen. The sunshine was in intermittent evidence, concealed by fluffy white clouds from time to time, so no parasol was necessary. Lucy’s straw hat tied with a gauze net scarf in bronze was deemed sufficient protection for her complexion.
She strolled along with Alice, feeling rather smart. Alice made a point of stopping to chat with anyone she had the slightest acquaintance with, warmly introducing Lucy each time as her goddaughter.
Alice was a truly generous soul but Lucy had mixedfeelings about it. On the one hand, it was what they’d agreed, but she was beginning to feel guilty about the trouble Alice was going to on her behalf. Not that Lucy could change anything.
How had Papa found anything to blackmail Alice with? She was the nearest thing to perfect that Lucy had ever met: kind, ladylike, moral, modest, careful with money but generous with her possessions—right now Lucy was wearing Alice’s hat, kid gloves and earrings, which went perfectly with her outfit.
And even when Alice was furious—and Lucy was well aware that she had driven Alice’s temper to the limit early on—she’d never yelled or anything. She’d just spoken firmly and made her position very clear.
Above all, she had never once blamed Lucy for what Papa had done. It would have been so easy for her to have taken her temper out on Lucy, but she hadn’t, and for that more than anything, Lucy was enormously grateful. All her life she’d received some blame, if not all, for her father’s actions. But not from Alice, not once.
Alice had even promised Lucy that she wouldn’t try to force her into marriage, that she wanted her to find a kind man she could love. Reading between the lines, Lucy guessed that Alice hadn’t married that sort of man. In fact, she never talked of her husband at all. Which made her concern for Lucy’s welfare and happiness all the more generous and touching.
She owed it to Alice to find a husband as quickly as possible and stop Papa’s blackmail from hanging over her. That Lord Thornton had decided to help her find one was surprising—more than surprising, really—but Alice had assured her most sincerely that he was trying to help.
Lucy was yet to be convinced.
“Here they are now,” Alice said as Lord Thornton and another young man drove up in a smart black-lacquered phaeton drawn by two high-stepping gray horses. Lucy wasimpressed. They stopped and Lord Thornton jumped lithely down.
After introductions and a brief conversational exchange, Lord Thornton helped Lucy climb into the phaeton, and she and Mr.Frinton drove off.
Mr.Cornelius Frinton was not a handsome fellow, with his ginger hair, a bony face, and a large, beaky nose. He made up for his lack of looks by dressing immaculately in the very latest fashions; in fact, his shirt points were so high that he had some difficulty turning his head.
At least that was what Lucy assumed at first, when, after several conversational openings, he had failed to look at her once. Nor had he responded with anything other than a choked kind of gurgle, or a murmur of assent and a convulsive twitch of his rather prominent Adam’s apple. And every time she spoke and he failed to respond, he blushed.
He wasn’t deaf. She briefly wondered if he had a speech disorder, but after he’d greeted several masculine acquaintances in perfectly clear English, she finally realized what the matter was: Cornelius Frinton was cripplingly shy with women.
Oh, but she’d like to strangle Lord Thornton.
She set out to put Mr.Frinton at his ease, chattering about his lovely horses, about the weather, about life in London. Noticing that he bowed or nodded or doffed his hat to quite a few people, she said, “You seem to know a lot of society people, Mr.Frinton. I know practically no one in London. Could you point me out some of the more well-known ones?”
That worked a treat, and from time to time he’d indicate someone and say a name, and even, once or twice, give a little more information. “Lady in blue hat. Silence, Lady Jersey. Almack’s patroness. Silence, because she never stops talking.” And then he blushed beetroot.
Lucy laughed. “Not your problem then.”
He turned his head and looked at her, and when he realized she wasn’t being critical, he gave her a shy smile.
They ended up circling the park twice, then drew up to where Alice and Lord Thornton were waiting. Lord Thornton helped her down. “Did you enjoy your drive?”
Lucy wanted to smack his smug face. “Yes, indeed,” she said blithely. “Mr.Frinton and I had a lovely chat, didn’t we Mr.Frinton?”
“Chat?” Lord Thornton looked quite disconcerted.
Mr.Frinton nodded, bowed to Lucy. His Adam’s apple bobbed frantically, and he said in a strangled voice, “Delighted. Take you up anytime, Miss Bamber.”
Lord Thornton gave her a narrow look. She bared her teeth at him in a bright smile. With a set jaw, he climbed back into the phaeton. As the carriage moved off, Lucy called, “Thank you for a delightful drive, Mr.Frinton. Goodbye, Lord Thornbottom.”
He didn’t even bother to correct her.
“How did it go?” Alice asked. “I must say, I’m a little surprised by Gerald’s choice. Mr.Frinton is hardly the most prepossessing of men.”
“Yes, not blessed by the looks fairy, and dreadfully shy, poor boy, but perfectly sweet all the same.” Alice might believe that Lord Thornton was trying to help Lucy find a husband. Lucy knew better.
As if she needed his help anyway.
