The Cinderella Debutante (12 page)

In which Lady Fanthom speaks her mind

Recent rumours that had reached Lady Fanthom about her brother had not allayed her fears.

She had not been concerned when he had posted down to Hampshire and danced attendance on a country miss. A girl like that could have nothing to tempt him, despite her reputed beauty. It was inconceivable when he had shown no interest in any debutantes of recent seasons. His dalliances had been confined to high quality ladybirds who knew the rules. Any who had grown too demanding had found themselves quickly, but discreetly, removed from his favours. Lady Fanthom had no quibble with these affairs and saw no reason to interfere.

She took a very different view regarding his marriage.

It was her duty to throw eligible young women in his way in the hope that one would arouse his interest. Her matchmaking, she argued, had been undertaken out of sisterly concern, and at considerable personal inconvenience. That none of them so far had tempted him rankled, but she had not given up hope of a match that would ensure the continued precedence of the House of Devlyn, both financially and socially.

She took every opportunity to impress on her brother the need to marry, and even his blunt rejoinder that she need not be so busy on his behalf had done little to dampen her enthusiasm. Complaining one day to her husband that her brother showed no gratitude for her efforts, she wondered why he continued to delay setting up his nursery. Her spouse, when he could be raised to attend to what his wife had been saying, had not been encouraging.

“Best let him deal with his own affairs, my dear,” he advised. “He is thirty after all and capable of deciding for himself.”

This drew a withering look of disapproval. “Nonsense, Frederick! Alexander must realise what his responsibilities are and I shall not hesitate to remind him.”

Lady Fanthom had continued to do just that, and remained impervious to her husband’s attempts to advise waspishly that her brother was more likely to come up to scratch with a suitable filly if she ceased her meddling.

Her ladyship had been confident that her brother would not make an offer to an unknown girl barely out of the schoolroom. A
carte blanche
, possibly; marriage, certainly not. It was unusual that he had requested Almack’s vouchers for the family, but she assumed he had done it on a whim.

But his visits to Mount Street had continued and he had shown enough interest for the gossips to suggest he was, at last, about to marry. Even Lady Fanthom acknowledged his interest had waxed rather than waned. She shifted between rejecting this fantastic notion outright and allowing the prospect to feed her indignation.

The final straw had come when Lord Fanthom had returned from White’s, the worse for a bottle of claret, and informed his wife that speculation was rife. Devlyn was now favourite in the clubs to offer for the heiress, the girl having apparently gone cold on Lord Sneyd.

The effect of this news on Lady Fanthom was cataclysmic. Her husband endured a full half-hour of her angry outpourings, before complaining that his head ached and stalking off to bed.

The next day her anger had not abated. Over breakfast she declared it was her duty to demand of her brother if these rumours were correct. Lord Fanthom, his constitution delicate, merely winced, but his wife required no response and her shrill tones continued unchecked.

“—For I have little doubt that it will turn out to be false. The girl has little breeding and no consequence, and I daresay it is being circulated by her dreadful mother for her own ends!”

Lady Fanthom then called for her carriage and presented herself at her brother’s town house.

Alex, returning from his meeting with the moneylender, went upstairs to change his boots and coat only to be told by his butler that Lady Fanthom had been awaiting his return for twenty minutes. Entering the morning room soon after, he found his sister waiting for him, a mulish look around her mouth.

“Good morning, Lavinia. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“Now Alexander,” she retorted, “must there always be a reason?”

“There usually is in your case,” he observed. “But you are here alone, so that is promising; one of your offspring usually accompanies you, hopeful of receiving some money from their uncle.”

“Your indifference to your nieces’ and nephews’ fortunes is unnatural,” snapped her ladyship.

He sat down at his writing desk, flicking though the pile of invitation cards. “You do me a disservice. Their affairs are of interest to me, provided they are not accompanied by requests for money - a regrettably frequent occurrence.”

Lady Fanthom bridled at this criticism of her large and hopeful brood. “It was churlish of you not to lend James the funds he needed. You know the boy has no inclination for the entering the clergy, and Frederick and I thought it would be a capital scheme—”

“—provided I was prepared to finance it,” interjected Alex, glancing up. “James has never expressed any interest in horse breeding so why would his addlebrained scheme have been successful? It is usually sensible to have at least an interest in the business one wishes to enter into, and James shows little inclination to abandon his sybaritic lifestyle. When I see evidence he is prepared to exert himself, I’ll reconsider but not before.”

After this unpromising start, Lady Fanthom tried a more emollient tone. Smiling thinly, she said, “You offered to pay for Caroline’s come-out next year without me soliciting your assistance. It was generous of you.”

“Ah, yes,” agreed Alex, “although I recall the matter differently. I believe you suggested it would be recompense for procuring Almack’s vouchers for Lady Sinclair and her daughters.”

Lady Fanthom adopted a wounded expression. “A small price to pay for the efforts I went to! Since you mention that family, I am bound to discuss some disturbing rumours that have reached me.”

He groaned. “Pray do not feel such compunction. It is unnecessary, and, in my experience, more beneficial if one’s family never offers advice.”

“Whatever you think, I shall have my say,” she insisted.

“I thought you might.” Alex folded his arms and sighed. “Very well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She pursed her lips. “It is said you are about to offer for the Sinclair heiress. Of course, I did not believe it for a moment.”

“Didn’t you?”

“No, I assume it is a mistake or silly jest. I have discussed the matter with Frederick and we are agreed - you would never consider such a thing without consulting your family.”

“I hate to disappoint, but even you will admit it is normal to ask the lady in question before discussing the matter with anyone else,” said Alex in a sardonic voice. “And I doubt Frederick has encouraged you to make this visit; one of your husband’s most admirable qualities is his unwillingness to interfere in my affairs.”

Ignoring this sally, Lady Fanthom sailed on. “But you cannot truly be thinking of this match. The family is disagreeably provincial; they have no connections and no polish.”

“I would remind you,” he replied sharply, “that the elder Miss Sinclair is related to Lady Derricott, and Sir Nicholas Sinclair was a distinguished scholar and a gentleman. Their connections, while not of the first stare, are agreeable to the majority of the
ton
.”

“So you
are
considering it!”

He lifted his brows. “Go to the devil, sister dear. I don’t need to explain myself.”

“You are my brother and head of the family. I’m entitled to know—”

“No, you are not! You are thoroughly at fault. This visit is as needless as it is meddlesome. You are not entitled to choose my bride, Lavinia. Nor are you entitled to slander a family who has done nothing to earn your disgust.

Lady Fanthom sniffed. “The elder girl has, I grant you, a little more style,” she conceded, “but the mother and the younger girl…” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “The mother is a vulgar, designing harpy. I know her type well. The heiress is beautiful but a sulky little minx and definitely not
comme il faut
. Get rid of her! Do it anyway you choose, but get rid of her before you make a fool of yourself and the rest of us. If I had the means, I would buy her off myself.”

He surveyed her critically. “Upon my word, that’s rich coming from you! You are not easily parted from your money. You must be desperate. ”

“Indeed I am! You
cannot
marry a girl like that. I could not contemplate any of them having connections to our family, whatever their fortune.”

“Then do not trouble to contemplate it,” he retorted. “I leave such decisions to my conscience and my feelings.”

A spot of colour burned in both her cheeks. “But how could I ever hold up my head again—”

“Enough!” he interjected in an ominously quiet voice. “Take care, Lavinia. My patience is exhausted. I’ll hear no more of this nonsense. Cut line or I shall be obliged to have you flung out onto the street!”

“
What?
” Lady Fanthom bristled. “H-how dare you! Good God, you have run mad!”

Eyes dancing, he grinned and reached for the bell pull. “I’m saner than I’ve ever been. Is it to be an ignominious exit then?”

Before he could summon the butler, she shot to her feet and stormed out, her questions unanswered. Her temper was not improved by her husband’s avowal on hearing of this interview that she had far better left the matter alone.

***

Friday dawned fine and dry, meaning the weather was not to be an obstacle to the Richmond outing. Lucy’s emotions were chaotic. She could not avoid Lord Devlyn, but she would have to endure the spectacle of Belinda flirting with him. How would she bear it?

She was already finding it difficult to carry on as usual. She felt feverish, fatigued and had no appetite. Her usual cheerfulness had deserted her. Unrequited love was more like an illness than Lucy could ever have imagined but she didn’t want it to stop either. She was a love-sick fool. What was that line from Shakespeare? ‘
Reason and love keep little company.’
That was it. It summed up the madness of love perfectly.

Lucy had told her maid to set out her new riding habit. It was dark green, ornamented down the front and embroidered at the cuffs
à-la-militaire
. A green hat with black tassels and black feather, black half boots and York tan gloves completed the outfit.

After putting it on and studying her reflection dispassionately, Lucy’s spirits rose a little. She could never hold a candle to Belinda’s beauty but at least the outfit suited her. She had her pride and would get through the day somehow. She went downstairs to find her stepmother and sister already in the morning room awaiting Lord Devlyn’s arrival. They brimmed with confidence, believing the day ahead would lead to Devlyn proposing.

He duly arrived, accompanied by Toby, Lady Barchester and her daughters and was attentive as they took their places in the carriage or on horseback. Lady Barchester and Olivia were already in Devlyn’s landau, a luxurious carriage, comfortably sprung and decorated with the family coat of arms. These details were not lost on Belinda, who whispered to Lucy that it was just the sort of carriage she was always meant to ride in.

As they travelled along Park Lane, Lady Sinclair made sure she acknowledged every acquaintance they passed. These included Lord Sneyd and Sir Oswald traveling along Piccadilly in the opposite direction. As Belinda waved too and smiled provocatively, Lucy witnessed the venomous look he directed at Devlyn’s broad back and felt a shiver run down her spine.

They met Gil and George at the Roehampton gate, Devlyn having already obtained admission tickets and organized a private room for refreshments at the nearby Star Inn.

As they toured the park, Lucy noticed with surprise Belinda was finding it difficult to talk to Lord Devlyn; he rode too far away from the carriage to be drawn into conversation. And yet Belinda had never looked more beautiful. Her deep blue eyes peeped through long lashes and her cherry-red lips were curved into a smile.

But still Lord Devlyn kept his distance and even Sophie noticed Belinda’s increasing irritation.

“Your sister was in good spirits earlier,” she observed as she walked her horse beside Lucy’s, “although she is growing angrier by the minute now she realizes she cannot monopolize Devlyn. I hope she has no thoughts in
that
direction – he is not a man to be won over by coy looks.”

“As you see, Mama encourages her and they are convinced Lord Devlyn is about to make Belinda an offer,” admitted Lucy. “They may be right, but I find her behaviour embarrassing and surely he cannot like it either.”

“Devlyn offer for your spoilt, headstrong sister when he’s had the pick of London debutantes!” Sophie laughed and shook her head. “He might if her character matched her face, but it doesn’t.”

“Even so, there is something about Belinda that drives men wild. I have seen it happen many times.”

Sophie still looked sceptical. “I suppose there is always the chance he could be blinded by her outward charms, but I’d be surprised. Your mama should not encourage Lord Sneyd, you know. Most of the mothers with unmarried daughters discount him however desperate they are their offspring settled.”

“I have heard much the same advice elsewhere.”

Lord Ashe cantered up then and the discussion moved on to the new exhibition at Somerset House. Afterwards, Lucy enticed Gil to talk about his family in Shropshire and listened with a sympathetic ear to a dispirited George. His despondency was due to a letter from his father, demanding that he return home at once and explain his request for further funds.

“What’s a man to do, Miss Sinclair?” asked George gloomily. “The old fellow was always strait-laced and has no idea what it costs to cut a dash in London. I’d planned to visit Newmarket next month with Toby but haven’t the stomach for it now, what with so little blunt to my name.”

“Perhaps your father would be more amenable to opening his purse if you went home and discussed it? These things are always easier to sort out face to face.”