Chapter 13
Thirteen
The morning after the dinner party, Lucy and Miss Sedgewick were preparing to leave the house when two gentlemen callers of Miss Sedgewick’s acquaintance arrived.
Lucy, happening to glance at Miss Sedgewick when their names were announced, caught a flash of surprise, but Miss Sedgewick welcomed the young men with her usual bright and laughing manners, inviting them to sit down in the parlour.
“We met young Cotton last night in the Cocoa Tree,” one of them teased, settling into an armchair.
He’d been announced as Lord Kiethly. “And he said he’d just dined with you.
I exchanged a look with Warde here, and of course we both had the very same question: where was our invitation, Miss Sedgewick?
What have we possibly done to deserve your neglect? ”
“Oh, this is very unjust,” Miss Sedgewick replied with a laugh, “when I’m the only victim of neglect here. You’ve not forgotten that you promised to attend my last card party, only to then find the lure of Newmarket more tempting?”
“Yes, but Newmarket,” Lord Kiethly defended himself, laughing. “And I came away a winner. Which I dare say I wouldn’t if I’d sat down to a rubber with you.”
Miss Sedgewick only smiled. The man turned his attention to where the other man’s was already to be found—on Lucy, where she sat quietly at Miss Sedgewick’s side on the small settee.
Almost since entering the room, Mr Warde had been staring at her in a quite disconcerting way.
She’d met him once before, at Almack’s, where he hadn’t looked at her twice.
“And this time the case isn’t at all the same,” Mr Warde said.
“This time you have a lure beyond the call of both cards and horses. A new, and very charming, acquaintance.” He’d addressed the first part of that to Miss Sedgewick, but on the last words, he returned his gaze to Lucy, along with a gleaming smile.
If Miss Sedgewick’s own smile flickered, it was only for a moment, and Lucy supposed she was the only one who saw it. Both men were now smiling at her in that disconcerting way, and she glanced at her friend the way a hunted hare dashes for the culvert.
Why did they stare? Was London really so desperate for novelty that her offensive freckles now drew men to Miss Sedgewick’s door?
They ought to charge admittance like they did for that strange African creature by the Tower.
She nearly laughed aloud at the idea and hid her smile in an examination of her gloves—both she and Miss Sedgewick were already dressed for their walk.
“But you see,” Miss Sedgewick said, “I’ve only lured Miss Fanshaw here myself through the promise of artists. That is why Mr Cotton was here last night, and Mr Thornton, Mrs Moller, and Miss Villars. You would’ve spoken of nothing but turf and sport and driven my friend away.”
Both men laughed, and Mr Warde said, “Ah, but this excellent information. Now we know how we must approach you, Miss Fanshaw. Come,” he said, gesturing at his friend to rise.
“We cannot stay, for it’s clear you ladies were about to step out of the door, and we now know where to direct our next steps.
To the museum,” he turned to his friend, a smile in his voice.
“To dust off our knowledge of old masters and perspective.”
With a few moments more of similar raillery and a promise to get a party together for a visit to the exhibition at Somerset House, they, at last, took their leave.
Miss Sedgewick made no comment on their visitors until later, when the ladies themselves departed the house. Reaching the street, she took Lucy’s arm and tucked it under hers. “I promised to make you a sensation, did I not? It seems we meet with early success.”
For once, Caroline’s humour seemed somewhat forced. Remembering the strangely intense study the men had made of her face, Lucy replied quite honestly, “I preferred Mr Thornton and Mr Cotton.”
“Oh no, that will not do. Mr Thornton is a confirmed bachelor, and Mr Cotton might be talented, but he’s half mad and can only love himself.”
“I meant I preferred their company! Their conversation. It was…very interesting.” Still desperate to know more about the studio classes Mrs Moller had mentioned, she added, as naturally as she could manage, “Will we see them again soon, do you think? I very much enjoyed talking to them.”
“Then yes! I’ll arrange it as soon as may be.”
Lucy had to be content with that and spent a pleasant enough hour walking in the park, though they were frequently greeted by people Miss Sedgewick knew, all of whom seemed very eager to meet her new friend.
She began to think her new host was even more popular than she’d first guessed; a jewel at society’s very centre.
Peers and people of fashion greeted her every few yards, gentlemen lifting their hats, ladies lifting an elegant hand.
Gleaming, sporting equipages were stopped, horses reined in.
A viscount pressed Lucy’s fingers with great solicitude, and moments later, an ageing duke bent his head over that same hand.
It was dizzying to Lucy, used as she was to being mostly ignored, or, if not ignored, then ordered around. She was tired and overwhelmed by the time they directed their steps homeward. Miss Sedgewick, too, was oddly quiet.
Lucy hoped she might be permitted a short rest in her room, but that was denied her—not by her hostess, but by the presence of a very smart curricle drawn up outside Miss Sedgewick’s door, her solitary manservant standing nervously at the heads of two energetic, chestnut horses.
“Lord Orton?” Miss Sedgewick asked her man, apparently recognising the vehicle.
“Just stepped inside this very moment, ma’am.” He shot a look at one of the chestnuts as it jerked the reins. “Told me to walk ’em!”
She chuckled. “Have a care, William. They look fresh.”
“Fresh? Mad, more like it,” the grumbling servant muttered as he drew the horses forward, adding so quietly Lucy suspected only she heard, “just like their owner.”
The ladies entered the house and found Jack in the hall, just removing his caped driving coat. “Hullo,” he greeted them cheerfully. “Your man said you were due back any moment. Thought I’d risk waiting—and I’m rewarded!”
“You may stay five minutes,” Miss Sedgewick replied with a smile. “That’s as long as I’ll risk my man to your wild cattle.”
“Wild? A child could hold them!”
Just then, Captain Sedgewick appeared at the top of the stairs. “I could hear your voice from the parlour,” he told Jack. “Is that you, sister? I’ve been waiting half an hour.”
“Did we have an engagement?”
“Do I need one to visit my own house?”
He didn’t wait for her reply before fixing his smile on Lucy as he came down the stairs, looking very tall and manly in his red coat. “Miss Fanshaw! It was you I was hoping to see anyway.”
“Spare my feelings,” muttered Miss Sedgewick.
He paid her no heed but extended his hand to Lucy who took it cautiously, still reeling from her excursion and now further disturbed by the toothy smile the captain was directing at her.
Perhaps it was all a joke. Some prank the men had made among themselves to see if she’d believe any of the attention was real.
She might have suspected Jack was the cause—he’d always been fond of mischief—but such a trick would be far beyond even his taste for teasing.
She said hello, and the captain, still holding her fingers, said, “I know my sister often takes a turn in the park at this hour. Permit me to accompany you.”
“We’ve just come from the park,” said Miss Sedgewick.
“And I am here to take Miss Fanshaw for a drive,” said Jack. Lucy turned to him in surprise, and the captain finally let go her hand.
“A drive,” repeated the captain. “What a…ah…good idea. Permit me, Miss Fanshaw! I’d be delighted to drive you wherever your heart desires.”
“Very gallant of you,” observed Jack, “but somewhat difficult to put into practice without a vehicle.”
“Oh, and that was ungallant of you to say so!” tsked Miss Sedgewick, laughing.
“The truth often is,” Jack replied.
There was a faint flush on the captain’s cheeks, and though Lucy thought it was more from anger than embarrassment, she nevertheless felt a little sorry for him. “I would be very happy to drive with you, Captain Sedgewick, when…when circumstances permit.”
“Now that,” Miss Sedgewick observed, “is how to make a pretty speech.”
Jack merely turned to Lucy. “Shall we, Min?” He grinned, repeating Captain Sedgewick’s words, “Wherever your heart desires. Though I suspect that’ll be some fusty old art shop.”
She looked at him for a moment, feeling a strange urge to say no, not only because she was tired and overwhelmed, but purely to see what would happen, in the spirit of one of Miss Sedgewick’s ‘social experiments’.
But he was already shrugging back into his driving coat, tugging the heavy capes straight across his shoulders, and Miss Sedgewick was saying something about delaying the little luncheon they’d planned.
“At least you’re already dressed for it,” said Jack, taking Lucy’s elbow and steering her back out of the door, waving poor William towards him. “Wouldn’t do to keep the horses standing while you fussed. Not that you would. You never care what you look like.”
“That’s not quite true, Jack.”
He handed her into the carriage, then looked up at her, smiling. “No? Well. You always look the same to me, Min. So it doesn’t matter anyway.”