Page 34 of The Scoundrel's Daughter
“Sing?”
“No.” Only for her own enjoyment. Never for performance. What was it Frau Steiner had told her?Your technique is execrable, your instrument barely mediocre—Lucy’s “instrument” being her voice. Opera singers. What did they know? Singing was for joy, not just for performance.
She glanced over to where Alice was dancing with her tall admirer. If she knew how Lucy was treating her nephew at his own birthday party, she’d probably be appalled. Lucy was a bit appalled herself, but she had to ensure Lord Thornton wanted nothing to do with her in future.
And to give nothing away.
But Lord Thornton seemed unaffected by her haughty behavior. Perhaps he was used to this kind of conversation. He probably knew lots of much haughtier ladies—the haughtiest lady Lucy had met here tonight was his mother, which made sense. The other girls she’d met had been quite friendly—especially after she’d called them over to talk with Lord Thornton.
The dance continued. He circled around her, regarding her thoughtfully.
“You know, I have the strongest feeling we’ve met before.”
Curse the man. Couldn’t he take a hint? Lucy sighed ostentatiously. “That line didn’t work the first time, and to repeat it is really rather... sad.” How long would this wretched dance go on for? Any minute he was going to work out where he’d seen her before, and then it wouldn’t just be embarrassing for her; it would be awful for Alice.
“I mean it,” he continued. “Your face is oddly familiar to me. I just can’t place it.”
“Nonsense, I have a very ordinary face. There are girls like me everywhere.”
He seemed to take that as an invitation to look at her in quite a personal manner. “I don’t find you ordinary at all.”
Lucy felt her cheeks warming, and it was with relief thatshe launched into the next stage of the dance, “stripping the willow,” in which she had to twirl around all the other men in the set, and conversation was impossible.
But the minute conversation became possible again, Lord Persistent said, “Perhaps I’ve met some of your relatives, and what I’m noticing is a family resemblance.”
It wasn’t easy to shrug while dancing, but Lucy managed it. “Perhaps.”
“Would I have met any of your relatives?”
“I’ve no idea.” She gave him a wide-eyed, limpid look. “Would you?”
His eyes narrowed, and at that point Lucy decided to give up on the Lady Languid imitation. It wasn’t putting him off in the least. Time to change the subject.
“I understand you were at Waterloo, Lord Thornbroke. What was that like?”
“Thornton,” he corrected her. “Lord Thornton. War is not a pleasant subject for ladies. The best I can say of it is that it put an end once and for all to the depredations of Napoleon.”
“You’re not worried he will escape again?”
“No, his rule is well and truly broken. His time is over.”
“And so you’ve sold your commission and returned to civilian life. How are you finding that?”
“Tolerable.” His expression made it clear he’d chosen the word deliberately and was indicating that what was sauce for the g—no, she wasn’t even going tothinkabout geese.
“And so today is your birthday?”
“Yes.”
Was he being deliberately difficult? She tried a different subject. “So, tell me, Lord Thorncliffe, are you a sporting man?”
“Thornton, it’s Lord Thornton,” he said grimly. “I played cricket at school, of course, but if by ‘sporting’ you mean riding to hounds, no. I don’t hunt. I’ll shoot game, as long as it’s for the pot, and I enjoy fishing when I get the chance.”
“And where do you like to go fishing?”
He glanced at her. “Are you really interested in my fishing habits?”
She smiled sweetly. “Not at all, but one must make conversation, mustn’t one?”
