The Cinderella Debutante (4 page)

“That would be kind, but what about my groom?”

“Jem will remain here until your groom arrives and give any help necessary,” said Devlyn, indicating the lad standing at the heads of his greys.

“Very well then.”

Once seated in his carriage, Lucy admired the expert way he turned the curricle around. By reputation he was a notable whipster, but his deft manoeuvring of the skittish thoroughbreds and lightly sprung carriage in a narrow country lane demonstrated astonishing skill.

They set off, Lucy’s fingers clutching the bonnet in her lap. She was conscious of her dirty gown and untidy hair, which bounced around her face as the curricle bowled along. Why couldn’t they have met when she was looking her best? He must think her a country bumpkin. She stole a furtive look at his profile and jumped when he glanced down at her, a concerned look in his eyes.

“You are silent at present, Miss Sinclair. Are you sure you are unhurt? Perhaps the accident has distressed you more than you realized?”

“I’m not injured,” Lucy assured him. “A little shaken perhaps, but I am not such a poor creature to be upset for a month by the incident.”

“I didn’t imagine you would be. Many women would have already have had hysterics after being thrown into a ditch. My godmother speaks highly of you and is anxious to meet again when you are in London.”

She blushed faintly. “Lady Gainsford was kind to me. I hope she is well?”

“Her rheumatism plagues her but it does not stop her from ruling over her household with inexorable zeal.” He spoke with obvious affection in his voice and Lucy smiled at this description of her grandmother’s friend; Lady Gainsford sounded as strong-willed and exuberant as ever.

She glanced up to find him watching her.

“How is your grandmother?” he asked.

“She lives quietly since the death of my grandfather, but we correspond regularly. She is in delicate health now and I am determined to visit her during our stay. We have taken a furnished house in Mount Street. Only an address in the best part of town would do for my stepmother; she was appalled to discover that Mr. Ledbury, my father’s old attorney, had tried to procure a house in Upper Wimpole Street.”

“Certainly an undistinguished part of town. Mount Street is in a very respectable neighbourhood though.”

“Yes,” agreed Lucy, “but Mama still had to be convinced that it was not populated by shabby genteels and tradesmen.”

He gave a sudden shout of laughter, making Lucy jump. Her brows draw together in a frown. “I hope I have not offended you?” She gasped when a sudden thought occurred to her. “Pray do not tell me you
know
anyone who lives in Mount Street?”

“Only my sister, Lady Fanthom, and her family, who would be a little surprised to hear themselves described as shabby-genteel!”

“Oh! Please accept my apologies,” muttered Lucy, mortified. “I meant no insult to your family; it was simply that my stepmother…” She paused, searching for the right words. Eventually she sighed and said, “I’m sorry. I speak too freely sometimes.”

“I find your candour refreshing. I am not offended. In truth my sister is such a high-stickler that even I am beneath her touch.”

“Now you are teasing me!” Lucy laughed too, relieved he seemed neither pompous nor insufferably proud.

Still chuckling, he added, “I hope I will have the pleasure of introducing you to Lady Fanthom – and persuade her to obtain Almacks vouchers for you all if you wish.”

“H-how generous of you,” she stammered, “My stepmother and sister will be delighted; Belinda has always wanted to attend.”

“She may be disappointed. They are rather poor affairs in terms of refreshments and entertainment.”

Lucy was astonished that he should trouble to procure vouchers for her family after such a short acquaintance. Surely only a desire to please Belinda could have prompted his offer.

They had already driven along the gravel drive of Sinclair House and Devlyn bought his horses to a halt in front of the entrance. He helped her to alight and as his hand touched hers, she felt a frisson of pleasure. She looked up to find him staring at her once more, a strange expression in his eyes.

She felt almost overpowered by his nearness. She was finding it hard to breathe and yet she was reluctant to leave.

“Thank you for your help,” she managed to murmur.

He shook his head and smiled. “My pleasure. I look forward to meeting you and your family again soon.”

He climbed back into the carriage and, with a crack of his whip and a wave of his hand, he sprang his horses forward.

Lucy watched him drive away. In the end, it did not matter how bedraggled she looked. Lord Devlyn had been amusing, courteous and polite, but he was unlikely to pay her further attention after meeting Belinda.

No man ever did.

***

Business was brisk at the gaming house in St. James’s where the two men sat deep in conversation. The room was dingy and the sound of drunken laughter mingled with the low hum of voices. Occasional curses emanated from the adjacent room where Hazard and Faro were being played for high stakes.

The corpulent occupant of one chair leaned towards his companion and declared in a rather high-pitched voice, “I tell you it is true, Julius! Gil Fernihough was discussing the visit with young Armytage at White’s yesterday. They are both friends with Lord Ashe, who Devlyn has taken under his wing, so they must have the truth of it.”

Sir Oswald Henlow mopped the perspiration from his face with a handkerchief. He then drank deeply from a glass of wine, fatigued with the effort of remembering all the details he had overhead the previous night. Despite being the worse for drink, he had judged that the man opposite would be very interested in what he had recounted. Sir Oswald was anxious to remain in his companion’s favour. Lord Sneyd was aware of details from his personal life which would lead to Sir Oswald’s ruin, and worse, if they became common knowledge. And the ruthless creature opposite would have no compunction in revealing these secrets should the need arise.

After listening to what Sir Oswald had recounted, Lord Sneyd’s eyes glittered with feral excitement. “If this
is
true, I shall be able to discharge two problems at once.”

Sir Oswald blinked owlishly. “How’s that? I know that you’re looking for a rich girl to marry, but what other problem have you got?”

“I have a score to settle with Devlyn and you may have just presented me with an opportunity to do so, Hen.”

Sneyd’s lips drew back in the smile which reminded Sir Oswald of a fox about to pounce on his prey.

“Thought you’d be interested to hear about it. Devlyn’s a cool customer, though. Wouldn’t wish to tackle him myself.” Sir Oswald shook his head slowly, considering the matter. “He’s an excellent shot. Was at Cuidad Rodrigo with Wellington and I hear he displays his fists well at Jackson’s Saloon.”

Lord Sneyd shrugged. “I have nothing to lose. And there is no need for an outright confrontation between Devlyn and myself; I just need to persuade the girl to marry me quickly. If I can ruin Devlyn’s marriage plans at the same time, so much the better.”

“Shouldn’t be too many problems securing the girl. You’ve always had good address with the ladies and she’s only the daughter of a baronet – should be keen to gain a title,” observed Sir Oswald. “A beauty as well, by all accounts.”

“Why ever would that interest you?” said Lord Sneyd with a sneer. “Your tastes run in quite another direction.”

Sir Oswald’s face drained of colour at this veiled reference to his predilection for molly houses. He shuffled in his chair but stayed silent, hatred for the man opposite cutting briefly through his drink-induced mellow mood.

On the other side of the table, Lord Sneyd reflected on the improvement in his fortunes this information would bring. To discover that a wealthy young heiress was due in London was exactly the news he had been waiting for, but to also learn that Devlyn had posted into Hampshire to inspect the girl for marriage was an agreeable extra.

If he could marry the girl quickly, not only would his finances be rescued and his score with Devlyn settled, but he could pay off his debt to Sylvester and relieve the terror which crept over him whenever he thought of that black-coated vulture.

Fear was a new sensation for Lord Sneyd; he had always managed by luck and arrogance to stay one step ahead of his creditors, but his situation with the moneylender was different. It gave a desperate edge to his plans and time was short. His attention returned to Sir Oswald’s brooding, sullen expression and he said in a more congenial tone, “Now, Hen, your secrets are safe with me so do not concern yourself. Tell me, do you know when Miss Sinclair will arrive?”

“In a fortnight, I believe. They have taken a house in Mount Street.”

“Excellent. I shall be one of the first to call. Let us spend the rest of the evening celebrating, at my expense, my forthcoming betrothal.”

Sir Oswald, brightening at the thought of an evening of pleasure without having to dip into his pockets, raised his glass in salute while inwardly acknowledging a spark of compassion for the unknown Miss Sinclair when she found herself at the mercy of Julius Sneyd.

Lord Sneyd stalks his prey

The arrival of Lady Sinclair and her daughters caused a stir among the
ton
. News of Lord Devlyn’s visit had travelled quickly and a steady stream of callers had already visited Mount Street.

Stanton, the aged butler whose services Mr. Ledbury had engaged, climbed the stairs to the saloon numerous times each day to present Lady Sinclair with calling cards and gilt-edged invitations. He grumbled to the footman about the rackety ways of society. In his youth no one would have thought it proper to call upon ladies before two o’clock in the afternoon at the earliest.

Lady Sinclair’s concern that the lack of a formal ball for Belinda could affect her acceptance into the
ton
had proved unfounded. She was pleased that with the least amount of expense and effort, her dearest wish had been achieved.

An objective observer might have noted that the majority of callers were young gentlemen, hopeful of meeting the beautiful and wealthy Miss Belinda Sinclair. Lucy’s comment that some of these might not be desirable acquaintances had met with a curt response from her stepmother: it was unbecoming in Lucy to be jealous of her sister’s success. Lucy had resolved to say no more for the time being. Any fortune-hunters would soon understand Belinda would never marry a man of a lower social status than she considered her due.

A number of respectable members of London society had also visited Mount Street and invited Lady Sinclair and her daughters to their various balls, soirees and card parties.

Lady Barchester and her twin daughters had called yesterday to deliver an invitation to their ball on Saturday and Mrs Pottingham, whose sombre son seemed more disposed towards Lucy than Belinda, had invited them to her card party. Even Lady Fanthom had condescended to travel by carriage from the other end of the street.

Sitting alone in the morning room a week after their arrival, Lucy smiled as she recalled her mother’s shock that Lady Fanthom had called on them, and the subsequent interview. Lady Fanthom, inspecting the furnishings with a look of disdain, had responded to most of Lady Sinclair’s conversation with an imperious nod. Her remarks were limited to Belinda’s beauty and enquiring if Lucy had recovered from the incident with the gig. She had presented Almack’s vouchers with great ceremony, pointing out their procurement was due solely to her efforts.

Afterwards, her stepmother had gushed about their visitor’s elegance and generosity, although Lucy believed Lord Devlyn must have brought pressure to bear – it was blindingly obvious Lady Fanthom saw them as provincial nobodies.

It appeared Lord Devlyn had helped Belinda achieve a successful debut in another way. As a nonpareil and eligible bachelor, everyone was curious about the lady he had singled out for attention. The
ton
had followed his lead and Lady Sinclair’s assertion that Belinda was real reason behind Devlyn’s visit to Hampshire did not now appear so outrageous to Lucy.

Studying the stack of calling cards on the table, Lucy’s gaze fell upon a particularly modish one. Her brow furrowed as she recalled the gentleman who had presented it. Lord Sneyd had already called twice. His manners and dress were as flawless as his artful flattery. Lady Sinclair declared Lord Sneyd to be a cultured man, handsome, charming and much taken with Belinda. With her step-sister in agreement, only Lucy felt uncomfortable in his presence.

Two short meetings had provided no obvious reasons for her dislike, but Lucy felt something unpleasant lay beneath his stylish exterior. His pale eyes had studied her as if sensing she found him disagreeable. Resolving to ask her grandmother or Lady Gainsford about Lord Sneyd, Lucy returned the card to its place just as her stepmother and sister came in.

“You keep early hours, Lucy! In London it is not fashionable to have breakfasted and finished one’s toilette before eleven o’clock,” observed Lady Sinclair.

“Lucy does not care for fashion,” said Belinda, looking very beautiful in sprigged muslin. “I hope she does not put us all to the blush by talking of books and poetry, the ancient Greeks, or some such tedious subject.”

Lucy smiled. “I will ask for your help if I send anyone to sleep by talking about the ancient Greeks.”

“Well, I’m not
bookish
,
but I understand what gentlemen find interesting. Lord Sneyd would be bored to death if you talked about those things to him.”

“For once I agree with you, Belinda - Lord Sneyd’s conversation is designed to keep most ladies enthralled. He makes love very elegantly,” Lucy said dryly.

“And what’s wrong with that? I like my cavaliers to be stylish and deliver the pretty compliments I deserve.”

“Lord Sneyd is charming,” snapped Lady Sinclair. “I cannot see any objection to his manners or his character, whatever you say, Lucy! He finds Belinda entrancing and has begged permission to drive with her in the park.”