The Cinderella Debutante (2 page)

His interest was mildly piqued. “How so?”

“As you know, Amelia Derricott is a very old friend of mine and she’s been in poor health lately. Since her husband died, she has retired from society and lives quietly, but she has continued to write to Lucy over the years since she had to leave London suddenly—”

“At the time of her father’s death?” he interjected.

“Exactly. Their contact with Sir Nicholas Sinclair was only through letters after he re-married some years following their daughter’s death. The present Lady Sinclair is an unprincipled, ill-bred woman. She was a widow with young daughter and she married Sinclair for his title. She was unwilling for him to have much contact with his first wife’s relatives. The daughter took the Sinclair name and the two girls have been raised as sisters. Nicholas Sinclair was a scholarly fellow, happy to spend the rest of his life among his books after Lucy’s mother died. He had little intention of marrying again, but he was manoeuvered into the match.”

“Obviously a marriage made in heaven,” said Alex sardonically.

Lady Gainsford nodded. “When it was time for Lucy’s entrance into society, Amelia and her husband offered to launch Lucy under their auspices which Sir Nicholas was happy to agree to. Unfortunately, his untimely death cut short Lucy’s stay. There has been little contact since. Amelia wants to find out more about Lucy’s predicament; the younger girl is a beauty by all accounts and has a large dowry. What is to happen to Lucy when she marries? Amelia places no store by the stepmother and asked for my help.”

“But surely if Miss Sinclair writes to her grandmother she comments on her circumstances?”

“Yes, but she is not the type to pour out her problems. Amelia thought this would be a way of finding out if the girl is happy or not, and also to invite Lucy to visit us while the family are in London.” She gave him a knowing look. “You might be interested to meet her; I mentioned before I believe you would suit.”

Alex shrugged. “I go merely to please you; I have no intention of marrying at present. How can I? I seem to have lost the ability to
feel
anything deeply,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Destruction, death, guilt and the gore of the battlefield have left me numb. I am in the world yet just I exist just outside of it. I enjoy life yet I find no joy in it. Something within me is missing. Even if I could find a lady I admired, I am hardly good husband material.”

Lady Gainsford regarded him intently, her gaze resting on his scarred cheek. “Your brother’s death hit you hard and your experiences on the Peninsula would have finished a lesser man, but now you should marry.”

“For love or duty?”

“For love of course,” she said with an impatient wave of her hand. “You don’t think so now, but falling in love will tear down the walls that surround your heart. You need a lover who is also a friend and companion. Someone who will share your hopes and fears, who is your equal in intelligence and strength of purpose and who will not be put off by your occasionally distant manner. While I should never presume to be as busy as your sister, I have your interests at heart. I want you to be happy and do not believe you are at present.”

“I’m not. The contents of my wine cellar are sadly diminished - Toby seems determined to sample most of its contents during his stay.”

She did not comment on his deft change of subject, saying instead, “He is a pleasant young man. Good to see him enjoying himself without getting into too much trouble.”

Alex stood and kissed her fingers. “He has decided to accompany me to Hampshire. I leave the day after tomorrow and will send word when I have delivered your invitation. I doubt I will give Miss Sinclair another thought afterwards though. She will be consigned to memory, along with the other women I’ve been introduced to with a view to marriage.”

Lady Gainsford watched him walk to the door. “Oh, Alexander,” she murmured, as she returned to her perusal of her letter.

He glanced over his shoulder.

Lady Gainsford did not look up but said enigmatically, “Watch out for Julius Sneyd. He is a most unpredictable man.”

An agreeable letter and an unwelcome visitor

Sinclair House was a large, comfortable property and a perfect example of Jacobean architecture. The grey stone buildings and the surrounding gardens blended together delightfully, exuding a warm welcome which had appealed to Sir Nicholas Sinclair and his first wife.

In contrast, the current Lady Sinclair viewed these attractions as disadvantages, considered the house too small for entertaining and the gardens inferior to a park. She would have preferred to have sold the house and moved to Bath or London but under the terms of her late husband’s will, its sale had been forbidden unless some financial crisis demanded it.

Thus far it had not and although this situation irked Lady Sinclair, there was nothing she could do about it. Instead, her energy had been diverted into planning her daughter’s launch into society.

On the same day as Viscount Devlyn was visiting Lady Gainsford, Lucy Sinclair sat in the morning room at Sinclair House, only half-listening to the letter her stepmother was reading aloud.

“….And so my godson will call to convey my best wishes and to extend an invitation for Lucy to visit me when you are settled in London.” Lady Sinclair paused for breath and turned in triumph to her daughter. “There, Belinda! You will have an opportunity to meet one of the leaders of the
ton
before your season even begins. He must want to see you for himself before you reach London.”

Lucy glanced up from the book she was reading. “Mama, we must not read too much into his calling here. It is only a courtesy visit.”

“Nonsense,” declared Lady Sinclair roundly. “Word has reached him of Belinda’s beauty and he wishes to see her; this letter is to observe the proprieties.”

Seeing that her mother’s mind was made up, Lucy forbore for the moment to argue, or ask to view the letter. Her sister showed no such restraint. She hurried across the room to snatch the sheet from her mother’s hand.

“Belinda, pray do not be so hasty—”
“Mama, you are too slow; let me see the letter!”

At seventeen, Belinda Sinclair was acknowledged to be the most beautiful girl in the county, in face and figure, if not in character. There was no denying by even the harshest critics that her large blue eyes were framed in the most perfectly proportioned face, and her other exquisite features were complimented by a profusion of silky blonde hair. Her figure was voluptuous, lacking the awkwardness of other young ladies of her age. If Belinda was a spoilt and rather foolish girl, her admirers were willing to forgive these flaws because of her dazzling beauty and allure.

Her lovely face wore an expression of annoyance as she read the letter. “She does not write if he visits his property alone or with a party. How vexing! I am always more animated when surrounded by a large number of people.” Belinda thrust the letter under Lucy’s nose. “Look, Lucy! As Mama says,
I
am the real reason Lord Devlyn will be calling on us.”

Lucy, amused at the way in which her stepmother and now her sister had interpreted the letter, remarked with only a slight quiver in her voice, “Then he will only have to look upon you to be struck dumb by your beauty.”

“Oh yes,” replied Belinda, blithely unaware of her lack of modesty. “Everyone always is.”

“If Viscount Devlyn arrives within the next few days, there is no time to lose. Arrangements need to be made,” said Lady Sinclair.

“What arrangements?”

“Belinda must be dressed to take his breath away and we must decide which of her gowns she is to wear. Really, Lucy, why do you not show a little more enthusiasm for his visit?” Lady Sinclair fixed Lucy with a glare of annoyance, her face wearing the petulant expression that Belinda had inherited.

Lucy’s recognized the warning signs of her stepmother’s rising temper. “Of course I am interested,” she replied calmly. “We have so few visitors here that any new acquaintance must be welcome, but we must remember he is calling at his Godmother’s request. You cannot really believe he has another reason?”

“I believe I know more than you about the ways of society!”

Although normally languid and indolent, Lady Sinclair’s anger was quickly aroused at any criticism of herself or Belinda. Lucy thought it doubtful Lord Devlyn was visiting because of Belinda. It was rumoured he could have his choice of women. It therefore seemed unlikely he would take the time or the trouble to travel into the country to cast his eye over Belinda, but then perhaps a pretty face coupled with a fortune could tempt him, as they had countless others before.

Years ago, in London, Lucy had glimpsed Lord Devlyn when she had been out walking alone early one morning. A handsome man, he had looked imposing riding his black thoroughbred through Hyde Park, but he had not noticed Lucy and she had not known then who he was. She discovered his identity by careful questioning of her grandmother, who informed her that it was an unfashionable hour to be in the park. The idea of staying in bed on a beautiful spring day was incomprehensible to Lucy and she could not agree to forgo her morning excursions.

But when her grandmother had taken her to the park in her carriage the following afternoon, Lucy had been amazed by the crowds of people promenading. Her gaze had searched for Devlyn’s tall figure, only to feel disappointment at his absence. She had not analyzed why too closely but had continued to look for him at the various events she had attended.

The shock of her father’s sudden death and her subsequent hasty return home were still vivid in her memory. The anticipation with which she had left for London had been replaced by a deep sense of loss and loneliness. Her father had spent the last years of his life escaping into his study, and although he never admitted to regretting his second marriage, his frustration at his wife and step-daughter’s selfishness and their interest only in the ephemera of life had been apparent to everyone except those it was directed towards.

At first he had attempted to instill some appreciation of wider interests into his new wife. Gradually, as time passed, he had discovered it was easier to allow Lady Sinclair and Belinda to spend their time and pin money on whatever they wished. On one matter, however, he had remained resolute; despite numerous requests from Lady Sinclair to visit London, he had steadfastly refused.

Lucy’s relationship with her father had been close. She had enjoyed wide-ranging discussions with him and in turn he valued her opinions. She understood every nuance of his expressions and moods. His sense of humour was so similar to hers that neither needed to explain a particular joke to the other: it had already been noted and appreciated. He was not just her father; he was also her confidante and her intellectual sparring partner. After his death, she had missed him terribly and looked forward with little pleasure to a future with her stepmother and step-sister.

As Belinda grew more beautiful, Lady Sinclair grew consumed by how to achieve the most advantageous marriage for her daughter. None of the local young men were suitable – Belinda’s beauty and fortune must attract more than the mere baronet she had snared.

Now, as they discussed how to dress Belinda’s hair to impress their visitor, Lucy mused on what she knew of Lord Devlyn.

Lady Gainsford had talked fondly of her godson and Lucy had gleaned that although he was the younger son, he was still considered an eligible catch. Then, in the year following her return from London, Lucy heard Devlyn had been seriously wounded at Cuidad Rodrigo and his older brother had been killed there.

He returned to England carrying the mental and physical scars of war. According to her grandmother’s letters, his character had grown more serious, although his popularity in the marriage stakes was greater than ever because of his accession to the title and a large fortune—

Lady Sinclair’s shrill tones intervened on her thoughts.

“Are you attending, Lucy? I asked you a question. Really, you are becoming quite a blue-stocking! Always reading, just like your father,” she chided.

With practice borne of many occasions, Lucy gritted her teeth and closed her book. “I’m sorry Mama, did you require an answer?”

The gently ironic tone brought a sharp look from her stepmother. “We were discussing Lord Devlyn. You saw him when you were in London, did you not? I understand his sister, Lady Fanthom, is extremely well-connected and that he is handsome as well as being wealthy?”

Belinda tittered. “I hope so – a handsome man is more entertaining than an ugly one, and a handsome
and
rich man superior to any other.”

Unwilling to enlighten them further, Lucy said simply, “Handsome enough, although I only observed him from a distance.”

“He would not have noticed you.”

Lucy answered Belinda’s barb pragmatically. “He did not notice me at all. I saw him one morning while he was riding in the park; we were not introduced.”

“Well, I shall make sure he notices me!” declared her step-sister.

***

At his lodgings, Lord Sneyd winced as his valet helped him none too gently into his coat. “Careful, you dolt! My head aches like the devil this morning.”

Watton sniffed and mumbled a half-hearted apology. He had little sympathy for his lordship who was suffering from the excesses of the previous night and was a severe and unfeeling employer.

The valet offered his next comment with caution, unsure of the reaction it would provoke. “A gentleman is waiting for you in the study. I told him you were not at home to visitors, but he refused to leave - he said he would wait until he could see you, whatever time of the day you chose to be at home.”

Lord Sneyd’s long, thin fingers stilled in their task of arranging his cravat. He swung around from the mirror. “His name, Watton?” he asked curtly.

“Mr Sylvester, my lord,” said Watton, observing with a fascinated eye the way his master paled at the name he delivered.

“Very well. Tell him I will be down shortly.”