Company Of Rogues: A Shocking Delight Part 20

Lucy's father had always been her rock, even when he'd failed to understand her ambitions. She'd always felt entirely sure of his love and support. If she were to elope with someone he disapproved of, he'd never cut her out of his life.

But he was cutting her out of his life in another way. He was turning toward his new wife and putting her first. Was it in the Bible or the wedding service that a man was commanded to forsake all others and cleave to his wife?

Whichever, Lucy had never expected to be forsaken.

She was alarmed to find herself crying, not in a burst, but in a miserable leak of eyes and runny nose and with a deep ache in her chest. Betty had always said she felt better after a good cry, but Lucy didn't find that it worked that way at all.

Chapter 16.

David didn't hear that Lucinda Potter had left her aunt's house until he arrived at Lady Galloway's ball. Lord Northcliff approached him.

"The lovely Aphrodite has left these environs, Wyvern. Not your doing, is it?"

David stared at the man. "What do you mean by that?"

Northcliff's jaw set. "You singled her out. Now she flees. d.a.m.ned sweet little thing."

The deuce, was he to end up tangled in a duel himself?

"First I knew about it," he said, "and I a.s.sure you I've done nothing to offend." Remembering his part, he added, "Quite the contrary, in fact. Miss Potter seemed to enjoy my company."

Northcliff took the hint. "Ah. I see. Apologies."

He stalked away and David crossed the room to his sister. "What's happened with Miss Potter?"

"Happened?" Susan asked. "Nothing."

"According to Northcliff, she's run off somewhere."

"What? What did you do?"

"Nothing! Nothing she didn't want, at least."

"David . . ."

"Nothing bad, either. Look, find out, please? If someone's hurt her . . ."

She touched his clenched fist. "Gently, dear. You can't thrash anyone yet. I'll see if the Caldrosses are here."

A minute later, Eleanor Delaney appeared at his side. "I'm sent on guard duty until Susan returns."

"What a wild man you must all think me."

"You're reasonably civilized, but you've had to learn to be less so at times. And love is not temperate."

"I don't have to love a woman to want to avenge any insult to her. One of her swarming suitors might have crossed the line. At Almack's she had no intention of leaving."

"Hard to imagine a means of insult between then and now unless she's given to wandering the night streets, or some wretch invaded her bedroom at dark of night."

David gave her a smile for that absurdity, but Lucy was given to visiting the park. He'd been there this morning and regretted that she had not. But had she been interrupted en route, a.s.saulted, even?

Then why not come to me?

Idiotic.

She'd run home to her father.

d.a.m.nation. Who was the offender? He'd tear him apart.

Susan returned, smiling. Was that a real smile or simulation?

"She's returned to the City, yes," she said, "but not in alarm."

Some of the tension eased. "In misery? Why?"

She shook her head. "Not that, either. I didn't find the Caldrosses, but they'd left a trail of gossip. One of Miss Potter's friends is to marry in days and she's returned to a.s.sist and attend."

"She'd have known about it. She'd have said."

He saw Susan and Eleanor share a look, but was beyond caring.

Susan said, "If you find one of the Caldrosses, I'm sure they'll share the details, but there seems to be no cause for alarm."

David wasn't satisfied. There were kisses to consider. She wouldn't lightly forego those. Or was she fleeing her debt? All his instincts said no, but perhaps he'd frightened her with that risky kiss at Almack's and she'd realized how easily she could be compromised. After all, she didn't want to marry.

He set off to find Clara Fytch and ask her to dance. She was silly but not stupid, and as they strolled toward the dance floor she said, "I'm delighted to be Lucinda's subst.i.tute, my lord. No, I don't mind! Not at all. This should focus the minds of the gentlemen I am interested in." She giggled. "That sounded very discourteous, but you know what I mean."

"Yes," David said, smiling back. If Lucinda was in trouble, then her cheerful cousin had all the sensitivity of a brick. "I gather Miss Potter has returned home for a wedding?"

"And a marvelously romantic one! At least, the bride and groom seem quite boring, but they've had to wait for her father's return from distant lands. He's home and they'll marry with all speed. Alas, I doubt my father would ever travel far."

"Then if you want romance, why not travel yourself?" When she looked blankly at him, he teased, "An elopement, perhaps?"

Her eyes went wide. "Lord Wyvern!"

The deuce. Had she thought he'd proposed that they elope?

"Scotland is so far," she said, and he had no idea what she was thinking. "Oh, look, Stevenhope is leading out Lady Iphigenia. The king's daughter is beyond your reach." She accompanied those words with a teasing smile, which was as bewildering as anything before.

David gave thanks for the beginning of the dance. Lord save him from such a tangled knot of a mind. How wonderful that Lucinda Potter's mind was straight and clear, and that her reason for returning to the City was without alarm.

He hoped she was already missing his attentions and their kisses. Come to think of it, by the time she returned she could have run up quite a debt of them.

Lucy welcomed the wedding eve, because it was such a whirl that private thoughts were impossible. In the morning she was summoned for yet another last-minute shopping expedition. In the afternoon Betty's closest friends gathered for tea.

Taxed or untaxed, Lucy wondered, as Betty blended tea from different canisters in a beautiful inlaid tea box her father had given her as a wedding gift.

Lucy enjoyed the opportunity to catch up with everyone's news. There were two friends she hadn't seen for months because they'd married last year and had new responsibilities. One of them, Amanda York, had moved out of the City to Islington for greenery and cleaner air.

"I look toward London in the worst weather and shudder," she said. "A pall of smoke. It's no wonder the n.o.bility keep their children in the country."

"It's not so bad," defended Abigail Carpenter, who still lived in the City and had a baby son.

"Will you live in the City, Betty?" Amanda asked. "Or move out?"

Betty grimaced at being brought into the debate, but said, "Here to begin with, in James's father's house, of course. But I admit, in time I might prefer somewhere more rural. When there are children."

Lucy remembered her mother sometimes mentioning the advantages of a move out of the City. Her father had generally responded to her every desire, but he'd balked at that, saying he needed both his business and his family close-by.

"Tell us about your adventures, Lucy," Betty said, clearly wanting a change of subject.

So Lucy amused them with tales of tonnish oddities. Her account of Stevenhope at supper was much appreciated.

"It wasn't so amusing at the time," she protested.

"I'm sure it wasn't," said Abigail, "but definitely something to remember. After all, how many of us have poetry written about us?"

"aThus Aphrodite is a wilting bloom,'" Amanda recited, "ato flourish soon as G.o.ddess of my drawing room.'"

Everyone fell into laughter again.

Lucy struck an att.i.tude. "I wilt, I wilt!"

Betty pretended to wield a watering can. "Revive, Aphrodite!"

It was all wonderful fun, but it was beginning to seem more like a wake than a celebration. They were all in their early twenties, and some were already married and mothers. As such, they had new responsibilities and interests.

Perhaps in the coming years all her friends would marry and move to suburban villas, for it was the flow of progress, something she'd always supported. Now, she wished she could rebuild the walls of the City of London to hold her world together.

Some of her friends might never marry, but none by happy choice.

Jenny Bunyan's father had lost most of his money in the economic chaos after the war, and having also lost his wife to the influenza, he was intent on keeping Jenny at home to take care of him.

Rachel Islip had a walleye and something of an odd way to her, even though she was clever and good-natured.

Susannah Brown was plain, but had compounded her problems by trying to elope with a dashing officer. They'd been stopped and the man had turned out to be an unscrupulous fortune hunter who'd abandoned her entirely once the game was up. Now her reputation was tarnished.

Rachel and Susannah were reasonably well dowered and would probably find husbands, but would theirs be marriages of love or desperation? All three probably wondered why she was uncommitted, but Lucy wasn't prepared for Jenny's attack as they were leaving.

"No man to your taste, Lucy, not even in the west end?"

"Perhaps especially in the west end," Lucy said lightly, wondering at the tone.

"Or perhaps not anywhere."

Had Jenny guessed her secret ambition when so many others hadn't?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," whispered Jenny, "that you've never encouraged a suitor. Some women prefer not to marry."

"I suppose that's true."

"Or not to marry men."

"What? You think they want to marry boys?"

Jenny's lips pinched. "I mean some wish to live as if married with women."

Lucy had heard of such things, though she wasn't clear on what was involved. "You think I . . . ?"

Jenny sniffed, nose in air. "You best know what sins you harbor in your heart, Lucy Potter, but I'm glad to see Betty safe from you!"

Lucy watched her go, jaw-dropped.

"What did she say?" asked Amanda, pulling on gloves.

Lucy couldn't repeat the words.

"Pay her no heed. She's become vinegary, poor dear. Her father treats her as little better than a servant. Give thanks that your father is marrying again."

"My father's never treated me as a servant."

"Of course not, but you're free now to set up your own establishment."

Lucy was bemused by the idea that she'd not wed in order to take care of her father. They had an excellent housekeeper. But what really surprised her was that Amanda thought her setting up home by herself was a matter of no moment.

"You think I can?" she asked.

"Lucy! You can marry whenever you snap your fingers! What else did you think I meant?"

"I have considered a home of my own. . . ."

"Heavens, no. No one would know what to make of you. You've always been a little different, dear, but I'm sure you don't want to be an eccentric." Amanda hugged her. "Marry and be happy. You'll find it's delightful, all in all."

Lucy made her way slowly across the road, feeling stunned by two attacks, though Amanda's hadn't been meant as such. Jenny's ridiculous suspicion could be laughed off, but Amanda was a sensible, good-natured friend. In her eyes there was no pleasant future other than marriage, and Lucy had to admit that she couldn't think of a single example to set against that. Nor could she think of a young unmarried woman who engaged in trade. Those few who did were older, and generally widows.

She certainly didn't want to be an eccentric.