Chapter Six
A week went past in a blur of shopping and dress fittings.
Lord Anthony did not accompany them everywhere, but when he was able, he made sure he was there.
She had grown somewhat used to his teasing, though it was mostly directed at his sister.
She saw the duke only occasionally, usually at breakfast, but he did not speak much.
Not that he could have gotten a word in even if he tried.
Tony had been right about his mother; she really did like to talk.
It was the eve before her coming out and her presentation to the queen. They were a merry band at dinner and even the duke seemed in high spirits. In the parlor, Marianne pretended to be the queen so that Lucinda could practice her entry and departure.
On the tenth time, the dowager declared she was ready. Lucinda’s thoughts wandered to all the Should have beens in her life. She should be doing this with her mother. Her father should have been there to see it. Her parents should have thrown her a coming-out ball.
Instead, this family, that was not hers, had done all in their power to make sure she was ready for this next step in her life. Would she be the oldest debutante there? Would the other girls there mock her?
They practiced dancing next with her dancing with Lord Ashton, and Marianne dancing with the duke.
“You dance very well, Miss Sterling, when you are not trying to lead,” Lord Ashton teased.
She blushed. “I am sorry. As we were only women at the school, we had to play both parts when practicing. I admit it did come with challenges… and a lot of sore toes.”
“This school sounds fascinating.”
“It was the opposite, I assure you. We did look forward to dancing lessons though, as it was a rare opportunity to have a bit of fun.”
“I shall put it on my never-to-go-to list.” Lord Ashton linked arms with her as they did a round of a country dance. “Marianne said her governess made her walk with books on her head. Did you have to do this too and if so, did you ever have to balance them while dancing?”
She laughed at the ridiculous question. “Yes, we did and no, not while dancing. None of us were that talented.”
“Shame. I would have liked to see you and Marianne demonstrate such maneuvers.”
“Do you think you could do it?” Marianne asked as they turned about the room.
“Why not; it does not seem too hard.”
“Oh, my dear brother, then we must see this feat for ourselves,” Marianne said, stopping her own dancing to run over to a table to grab two books.
She placed them on her brother’s head, and he took up his stance, ready to dance again.
Lucinda shook her head but accepted her position and the dowager began to play.
His first few steps had the books hovering and wobbling atop his head, and Lucinda tried not to laugh.
He managed to steady himself and take a few more steps, but when it came to do a turn, the books toppled.
Not put off, he tried again, despite his siblings’ laughter.
Lord Anthony was grinning. Enjoying himself.
She liked this side of him. Soon even the dowager was laughing, and Lord Ashton finished the dance with a wobbly bow and a little jig for good measure.
“There!” he declared. “It can be done. Not well, granted, but it can be achieved.”
“You should wear books atop your head all the time, my lord. It is a good look on you,” Lucinda said.
“Oh, yes, it could become the next big thing in fashion,” the duke declared.
“But they can only be poetry books,” Marianne said.
“Byron, Barton, or Keats?” Lord Ashton asked, taking the books off his head. He looked at the title of the books. “Byron and Barton, it is.”
They all laughed and then the dowager declared that the girls must go to bed, for tomorrow was to be an especially important day.
The next morning, the sun peeked through Lucinda’s curtains and woke her. She had tossed and turned all night, and her stomach was tied in knots. May came in with tea and a crumpet.
“Something to settle your nerves, miss.”
She smiled at the maid. “How do you always know exactly what I need, May?”
“You flatter me, miss, but it is my job to know. I am glad I am doing well at it.”
“You are, and I thank you.”
“You are more than welcome. Now let us get you ready for your big day.” May began to undo her braids. “Fancy meeting the queen though. I have heard she can be cold like, but she is just being majestic, if you know what I mean. I guess when you are the queen, you can behave however you want.”
Lucinda nodded. “I imagine you are right about that.”
“In any case, you only have to walk down, curtsey, and back out. Cannot be that hard.”
“Fingers crossed you are right. I admit I did not sleep well last night. I hope I do not trip, or the dowager will kick me out onto the street.”
“I can tell you have not slept. Look at the state of your hair. You will not trip, miss. You can balance books on your head and so can Lord Ashton, apparently.”
Lucinda smiled at the memory. “Oh, you heard about that, did you?”
“To be honest, Lady Marianne told me about it last night as we were getting her ready for bed. She was giddy with laughter over it. Wish I had seen it for myself as I cannot imagine Lord Ashton doing such a thing.” May set about styling her hair.
“Well, he did, and it was funny. I have not laughed so hard in a long time.” It was true. If she survived today, maybe she could do this and do it well enough to survive the season and find a husband.
“That is grand, miss. About time you had something to laugh about.”
Had she really been such a sad sack since arriving here?
It was not so much that she had been sad, but that she was trying to come to terms with the vastly different life she was now living.
The expectations everyone had of her, not to mention the ones she had for herself.
She had held it all in, and she was determined to keep herself in check. There was no room for crying.
They laid out her dress, and both Marianne and the dowager came in to supervise. Everything had to be perfect. She believed she had her nerves under control, but when they placed the feather in her hair and informed her that the carriage was ready, she suddenly felt ill.
Lord Anthony arrived looking splendid in his suit of dark-navy superfine with a silver-and-red waistcoat and formal breeches. The duke arrived a moment later, looking dashing as well.
“I feel like an overripe peach,” she said.
“Nonsense,” the duke replied. “You are as pretty as a picture, Miss Sterling. Do you not agree, brother?”
Lord Anthony had been staring with a stunned expression on his face as she descended the stairs. Was it because she actually looked ridiculous?
“I do.” Tony took her hand and kissed it. “You look very beautiful, Miss Sterling.”
“I remember feeling the same, Lucinda. Court dresses really are the most bizarre with the empire bust but the wide skirt and the train. It is most awkward, but we managed to get you the new hoop for your skirt so that you can at least sit down in the carriage,” Marianne said.
“I had to lean awkwardly at a slant as the hoop did not allow one to sit at all.”
“I think the feather becomes you, Miss Sterling,” Tony said with a wink as he put her hand on his arm and escorted her out to the carriage.
“It is awful, and you know it. What if it makes me sneeze? The queen will banish me from court forever.”
“You will not sneeze. In fact, you will likely forget about the thing all together. You will be too busy giggling with the other girls and concentrating on your steps to be worried about a feather. Trust me, it will be over before you know it. We will all be there supporting you.”
He made it sound like it might actually be fun, but having never seen a presentation before, she really had no idea what it would be like. She had to trust that Marianne and the dowager had prepared her well.
They alighted from the carriage at St James’s Palace and were ushered into a waiting area before the drawing room where the queen would receive them.
It felt like an age and a second until it was time.
In truth she had been standing for hours, and her feet were aching.
What use was this new hoop if there were no chairs for sitting?
The dowager explained that one did not sit when around the queen unless directed.
She straightened Lucinda’s feather and gave her the once over.
“You are ready.”
“Then why do I not feel ready?”
“It is just nerves, my dear. Look straight ahead and remember one foot in front of the other, curtsey, and wait for her to nod. Then back out and it is all done.”
Lucinda clenched her fists and held them at her sides. “I can do it.”
“Of course you can, dear.” With one last pat of her hand, they began to line up.
The doors opened, and a few went before them. Then they were announced by the Lord Chamberlain, “The Dowager Duchess Warrington and Miss Lucinda Sterling.”
They walked down the aisle without incident, and she made her curtsey. When she lifted her head, the queen was leaning forward in her chair, looking at her curiously.
“Who is your family, Miss Sterling?” she asked.
“My father was Viscount Foxton, Your Majesty.”
“I remember the name. Is he not here?”
“He is dead. The dowager duchess has kindly taken me on.”
The dowager simply smiled, and the queen nodded and sat back in her seat.
They backed out of the room and as she passed the Ashtons, she heard Lord Ashton say, “Well done, Lucinda.” It was all she needed to hear and when the doors finally closed behind them, the dowager hugged her tight.
A hug! A rush of warmth spread through her, and she felt tears well in her eyes.
Physical affection was not something she was used to.
How long had it been since she had been hugged?
“You were splendid, my dear. I admit I was worried when she began questioning you, but I should not have worried.”
“I thought I might cast up my accounts but then I remembered what you said. Talk simply and honestly. Thank you for your help. I could not have done it without you and Marianne.”
The dowager held both her shoulders in a reassuring manner.
“This is just the beginning. We have your first ball tonight where I am sure you will be quite the hit. I really think we should stir up the gossips and tell them you were waylaid on your trip to London by highwaymen. It will make you seem more interesting than that you have been stagnating at a finishing school in Sussex of all places.”
“Shouldn’t I just stick to your advice and just speak simply and honestly?”
“Of course, but there is nothing wrong with exaggerating some of the facts. For affect, you understand.”
“I am not good at making up stories and I will likely forget and get myself into a jumble.”
“Do not worry. I will manage everything.”
That was what worried Lucinda the most. She did not want to lie to the ton. Or exaggerate. She just wanted to be herself. How could she earn the trust and admiration of her true love if she lied to him at their very first meeting?
The carriage ride back to Warrington House was filled with laughter and she had not felt so happy in a long time.
They celebrated with a fine feast and then a well-earned nap before having to get ready for the ball.
Lucinda hoped that she might find friends of her father or mother tonight.
She had so many questions, but would it seem odd that she would be asking them about her own parents?
Perhaps if she waited until she had been to a few balls first and was more comfortable, then she would know who she could approach and from whom she should stay away.
Lord Ashton would help her; of that, she was sure.
If Tony were not her guardian, he would stay far away from Miss Lucinda Sterling.
The more he knew her, the more he wanted to know.
The more he was in her presence, the more he needed to be near her.
She had even looked lovely in that ridiculous court dress.
He could not be thinking like this. It was insanity.
He was a bloody idiot and worse; he knew it. With each passing day, she filled his senses, and it was not unlike torture. To smell her hair as she passed, to feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, beneath his lips, when he kissed her hand. To be the recipient of her smile.
This was an insane folly. It had only been a week or so and already he could feel her soaking into his very skin.
He could not do this to himself. He must remember who she was.
His ward, and nothing more. But… Last night he had even dreamed of her, and he knew it was wrong.
It was natural that his body would react to her; she was a beautiful woman, and he was just a man, but…
no! He must treat her like a sister only.
Yes, that could work. Sister, sister, sister… shit.