Chapter Five
P
Arabella sat in the drawing room, a little apart from the ladies, wishing she knew if she would be welcome among them.
She wanted to be. She wanted to join them and be part of the gathering.
But she was a companion, a poor neighbor far beneath these exalted guests. She was meant to be helpful, not equal.
An elegant and graceful lady entered the room, another Lancaster if the golden curls and green eyes were any indication. Was the duchess the only one of her siblings not in possession of that striking combination?
The duchess rose and greeted her sister with a fond embrace. Miss Lancaster did the same. The newest arrival offered a curtsey to Mater and received one in return.
“I am so pleased you could be with us, Mrs. Windover,” Mater said. “I trust your journey was an uneventful one.”
“Blessedly,” Mrs. Windover said, sitting beside the others. “Any journey undertaken without our children is destined to be far less eventful than those we undertake with them.”
Mater grinned in amused acknowledgment. The duchess offered a vocal, “Indeed.”
Mrs. Windover met her older sister’s eye once more. “Your little Oliver is no doubt here. His father never can bear to be separated from him.”
“Or he from his father,” the duchess replied. “I fully expect them both to descend into an irreversible decline when Oliver begins his schooling.”
Were all fathers so tenderly attached to their children? Her earl had certainly been. She had so little experience with fathers that she wasn’t entirely certain which was the rule and which was the exception.
How she wished she were in a position to ask. But these ladies were far enough above her touch to be utterly intimidating.
“I seem to remember you fell apart when the boys left home,” Mrs. Windover said to the duchess. “You can hardly fault Adam for feeling the same way.”
“Our brothers were not simply going to school,” the duchess said. “They were going to war. The two are hardly comparable.”
“From what Harry has told me of Adam’s experience at school, he very much viewed it as a battle.”
The duchess sighed. “For Oliver’s sake, I hope his experience is a better one.”
Mrs. Windover faced her younger sister. “And what mischief do you have planned to keep yourself entertained during this house party?”
Miss Lancaster rose in palpable dignity, clearly offended by the implication. “Why would you assume I mean to make trouble?”
“Perhaps because you always do,” Mrs. Windover replied.
“You shall see. I will be a pattern card of respectability.”
Whatever response the youngest sister had been expecting, Arabella would wager it wasn’t the laughter she received. All offended sensibility, Miss Lancaster sat once more.
“While Artemis decides what dire revenge she means to enact upon us,” Mrs. Windover said, “I have a matter of family business I find far more pressing.”
The duchess appeared intrigued. “This sounds urgent.”
“Quite.” Mrs. Windover looked to her youngest sister, then once more back to her elder. “We simply must find Linus a wife.”
Linus? Who was Linus?
All three sisters turned eager eyes on Mater.
Their hostess was not even the tiniest bit confused.
“A number of eligible young ladies will be joining us for various entertainments over the course of this party. I can’t imagine your brother wouldn’t find at least one of them interesting enough to wish to know better. ”
“Perfect.” Mrs. Windover seemed the most excited, though all three sisters clearly meant to participate.
Linus was their brother, the gentleman from the entryway. Her heart fluttered at the memory of him. Those beautiful curls. His handsome features. Linus Lancaster. She would certainly see him again. Would he speak to her? Offer a greeting?
He was brother to a duchess, a member of a fine family. He had likely already forgotten her.
“Does your brother know he is destined to make a match at this party?” Mater asked.
“He does not need to know,” Mrs. Windover said. “He has three sisters here who will make absolutely certain he finds himself in the perfect situation for falling desperately in love.”
Though they spoke with obvious mischievousness, tenderness filled their words. Arabella would have liked to have had sisters who cared about her that way.
“Once we have decided on the most likely candidates,” Miss Lancaster said, “perhaps I could take turns about the room or the grounds with them and make certain to cross Linus’s path whenever possible. I could ‘accidentally’ bump into the lady I’m walking with, sending her falling into his arms.”
Mrs. Windover laughed openly. “If we find ourselves in need of dramatic intervention, we will make certain to employ your services.”
Their laughter filled the room, the joyful sound of family.
It pricked at Arabella’s heart. She was grateful that Mater’s party was going well and hoped she would have ample opportunity to prove herself useful, but she also felt .
. . alone. She ought to have been accustomed to the feeling, yet at times, it settled as a weight in her chest.
Mrs. Windover held her hand out to her younger sister. “I have been dying to see your new yellow gown ever since you told me of it. Let us go have a look.” The two of them left, deeply discussing fashion.
“Do you mean to tell your brother that his sisters are plotting his future?” Mater asked the duchess.
Her gentle smile grew to an unrepentant grin. “Where would be the fun in that?”
“I will enjoy watching this,” Mater said.
Arabella would enjoy it as well. People could be endlessly diverting, and she suspected the Lancaster siblings’ antics would prove vastly entertaining.
And just as she had all those years ago when the earl was alive and his boys were making mischief of their own, she would watch this loving family and imagine what it would be like to be part of one at last.
q
Linus reached the drawing room to await the promenade into dinner that evening and was immediately accosted by his sister Athena. He had not seen her in a few weeks.
“I have yet to grow accustomed to seeing you out of your naval uniform,” she said after a lingering embrace.
He was not entirely accustomed to his change in clothing either. “Is my civilian attire an improvement or a disappointment?”
“There is no need to dig for compliments, Lieutenant Lancaster.” She swatted at him playfully. “You have always been handsome.”
“With all these curls?” He motioned at his hair. He’d not had it cut recently, and the result was a touch riotous.
“Tread carefully, brother. I have those same curls.”
“Something applauded in a lady but not particularly praised in a gentleman.”
She patted his cheek, something she and Persephone had done regularly when he was a very young boy. “You give yourself too little credit.”
Harry approached in the next instant, slipping his arm through Athena’s. “Did Adam behave himself in the brief time before our arrival?”
“He made very abrupt introductions, eyed Lord Lampton with unconcealed annoyance, and, no doubt, sent a tremor of terror through all the staff.”
Harry grinned. “There may be bloodshed before day’s end.”
“You seem excited at the possibility,” Linus said.
“I missed the Battle Against Lord Techney the two of you undertook during Daphne’s Season. I’m owed a bit of bloodshed.”
“Persephone assisted with that effort; she has forbidden this one.”
Harry turned to his wife once more. “You’d protect me from your sister, wouldn’t you?”
“No,” she said flatly. She slipped her arm free of Harry’s and through Linus’s instead. “There is someone to whom I simply must introduce you.”
With a degree of force that would have quailed many a hardy seaman, Athena led him directly to a small grouping of people. Linus surveyed them quickly. None was his mystery lady.
“Linus,” Athena said, “this is the Earl of Marsden.” She indicated a rotund man with a narrow circle of silver hair.
“His wife, the Countess of Marsden.” Her hair was the same shade as her husband’s, but that was where the resemblance ended.
“And this”—something in Athena’s tone grew more pointed, though subtly so—“is Lady Belinda Hudnall.” After a moment’s pause, Athena addressed the group.
“This is my brother, Linus Lancaster, late a lieutenant in the Royal Navy.”
The expected bows and curtsies were exchanged. As conversation became general once more, Lady Belinda kept her gaze on him, assessing him with no effort to hide her perusal. He wasn’t overly concerned with her evaluation.
After a moment, her studying gaze lost some of its pointed edge, replaced instead by the casual disinterest a young lady was expected to show to the world. Her unreadable smile gave no hint as to her final assessment of him.
Athena jumped in. “Lady Belinda, I believe your family has an estate in Shropshire.”
“Yes, though not the principal one.” Her voice was far higher than Linus would have expected. It was not unpleasant, simply a little startling. “I do like Shropshire. It is a fine county.”
“Though not one of the principal ones,” Linus said.
Lady Belinda’s brow creased. “There are no principal counties.” She had not, it seemed, recognized the reply as a teasing one, a bit of word play.
He offered an apology as he knew was expected. “An ill-executed attempt at humor, Lady Belinda.”
“Ah.” Her slight laugh was clearly obligatory.
An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Linus searched around for something to say. A remark on the weather, perhaps. A general observation. Anything.
Then he saw her. The lady he’d been watching for. All thoughts of forcing a friendly conversation with Lady Belinda fled. The same pull he’d felt earlier for this stranger returned.
Again, she was a bit apart from everyone else, watching. Perhaps if he found Charlie, they could be introduced. Why did the thought cause him such immediate nervousness? He’d been introduced to countless people during the past Season alone. He’d not been nervous then.