Page 68 of Everything a Lady is Not
She squared on him with a harsh whisper. “Why did you inviteher? 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.”
