Elyse's blue eyes darkened. "No," she answered simply. "I'm certain that he's wanted to, he said as much. There never seemed to be the right moment, or the right place," she made the excuse.
"The right moment?" Lucy watched her thoughtfully. "My dear, when you're head over heels in love with a man, there's no need for the right place or moment. Somehow every place, every moment is the right one. I speak from experience in that regard." She arched a brow knowingly.
Elyse's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, every place and every moment?"
Lucy casually crossed the room, a smug expression at her face.
"There was the time in the stables," she casually said. "Of course, I was picking hay out of my clothes for days. And then there was the time in the coach during an afternoon ride through Kensington Gardens. I would caution you against coaches. There's never enough room, and your legs get all tangled up. But where there's a will... "
"I don't believe for a moment that any of this ever happened," Elyse replied.
"And then there was my cousin Charlotte's country party," Lucy continued. "Andrew and I couldn't bear to be away from each other for an entire week. He disguised himself as my driver.
"The entire week was wonderful. I pretended to have a cold so that I could be excused from the family activities. Then when everyone was out of the house, I'd meet Andrew. Do you remember that little gazebo in the gardens at Charlotte's?" She turned inquisitive eyes on Elyse.
"You made love in a gazebo? The stables and a coach? Lucy, whatever possessed you?"
Lucy smiled. "Surely, you've felt it."
She turned away, not wanting her friend to see the uncertainty she felt.
"Yes," she admitted, "I've felt it... "Once, a long time ago...
"What did you say, dear?" Lucy crossed the room, picking up stray garments strewn across the floor.
Elyse smiled sadly. "Nothing," she said, then suggested, "Shall we eat at Winslow House? Grandmother is dining with Uncle Ceddy this evening. We'll have the entire house to ourselves."
Lucy looked at her, wondering why she had changed the subject but said nothing more.
"Yes, of course. Then we can play with the makeup you purchased. I want to get my disguise just right."
"My dear." Again, Elyse lowered her voice dramatically. "By the time I'm through, no one will recognize you." She laughed, some of her good humor returned.
"Have you ever smoked a cigarette?" Elyse asked her.
* * *
The night was cool and held an air of expectancy after the warmth of the late spring day. Open carriages passed an occasional closed coach. Drivers called to their teams of horses. The faint clip-clopping of hooves grew louder as a carriage approached, then gradually faded like the faint ticking of a clock.
White's was known to every gentleman of breeding and wealth in London society. The membership was exclusive, catering to a specific clientele. There was no gold-lettered name plate beside the door, not even a street number with the exact address.
Though no plaque restricted members and their guests, there was no need of one. Anyone who was anyone about London, from the lowliest hack driver to the most impeccably liveried coachman, knew the hand-carved mahogany doors on the tree-lined street just one block over from the theater.
The rented black coach pulled to a stop at the curb. Immediately a liveried doorman emerged from one of those impressive doors and greeted the most recent arrivals.
"Good evening," the raspy voice greeted the doorman.
"Good evening, sir." There was a faint questioning note in George's voice.
The first gentleman to alight from the carriage nodded a brief greeting while waiting for his companion. A second gentleman of approximately the same slight stature emerged and stepped down. His face was concealed in the shadow of his silk hat.
"We're joining Sir Jerrold Barrington this evening," the first gentleman announced. "Has he arrived yet?"
"He and another guest arrived a short while ago."
"Ah yes, that would be Sir William St. James." The young man smoothed his lapel with a gloved hand. "A splendid fellow and quite interesting with that eye-patch."
The doorman nodded, satisfied that these two young gentlemen were indeed well acquainted with Sir Jerrold and his guest.
