“Lucasta!” Annis cried. “She cannot deny you this. Not when you have dreamed of such a thing. And think of all the concerts you have organized at Miss Gregoire’s. There are no possible grounds upon which you could fail.”
“If the governors themselves have invited you, how can she say no?” Minnie demanded.
Selina laid a warm hand on Lucasta’s arm. “Oh, my dear.”
Lucasta sniffed and wiped her cheeks. “Suppose she is right? I have no standing in London, no knowledge of its musical scene. I cannot imagine why the governors should approach me with such a project. And how could I, with a complete lack of connections, possibly engage anyone of note, much less a figure like Signor Marchesi…” She blinked back burning tears. “I am sure it is for the best to decline. If it did go off poorly, it should reflect on the Pevenseys, and that is a sad way to repay their charity to me.”
“The governors settled on you because you’ve been visiting the hospital for weeks, and the girls adore you,” Annis said. “They could not have chosen a better person to ask.”
A sudden thought lifted the hairs on the back of Lucasta’s neck. Silas, the porter at the hospital, had greeted Rudyard as if he were there for a governor’s meeting. Was Rudyard somehow behind this invitation, as he was behind new gowns for the girls?
“Do they want the foundlings to perform as well?” Selina asked.
“I would adore having the girls perform a few pieces. They would enjoy it so much.” Lucasta lifted her shoulders. “And if I could arrange us to perform in the chapel of the Foundling Hospital, I am sure any number of people would agree to play. Georg Friderich Handel donated that organ, and hisMessiahis performed there every year. It would be an honor to prepare a concert there, and an honor to perform in it.”
Minnie frowned. “Then you cannot allow Aunt P to silence you. Where is our fearless Gorgon? Where is our Medusa?”
“Medusa was mortal, recall. The only sister who was. A handsome and arrogant Greek hero comes along with a sword, and that is the end of her.”
She feared therein lay a metaphor too close to home. Rudyard was no Greek hero, but the more time she spent with him, the more Lucasta risked falling under the spell of his attractions and forgetting what he had shown of his nature. She would lay herself open to his cruelty, and she would not recover from his cut as Selina had.
“You belong on a stage,” Annis said firmly. “Youbelongthere, Lucasta. Your aunt only fears that, if you gain recognition of your own, she will no longer have the power to command you.”
“It is kind of her to think about Miss Pevensey,” Selina said, “but really, how could a benefit concert for foundlings be a less than noble pursuit? The effort alone speaks well of all of you.”
“You must accept,” Annis decided. “I will have my father speak to her if necessary. Aunt Pevensey shall find herself overruled.”
Minnie nodded. “Tell her the Duke of Luneberg-Zuwecken adores charity benefits.”
Annis, as a Russian count’s daughter, was accustomed to overruling people, and Minnie’s father, the duke, simply ignored the mutterings about German ways. Lucasta, a vicar’s daughter, was not so protected.
If Aunt Pevensey turned her out for accepting, the prospect of a concert was ended, for Lucasta could not organize such an event from Bath. But if she made a hash of the event, as her aunt feared, the gossip would be scathing, and the ton might scorn Cici in rebuke. Lucasta pondered her options as she made her way through the dreamlike cloud of fog and smoke that wrapped the homes and commerce of busy London.
She found it increasingly difficult to submit to Aunt Pevensey’s capricious whims. Seeing Signor Marchesi had shown her what she was missing.
Somehow, so had Rudyard.
She found the Pevenseys in the parlor, regarding a dress box much like what the other girls had received.
“It cannot be meant for Lucasta,” Aunt Pevensey said. “I knew that girl must not be putting herself forward. What will be the end of it all?”
She whirled as Lucasta entered the room and pinned her with the glare of a hen regarding an insect. “Lucasta Lithwick. What is the meaning of this?”
Lucasta pushed back the folds of the box and caught her breath. The note was the same, but the fabric was not as showy as the others. It was a beautiful chintz the color of milky tea, as soft as silk to the touch. Delicate flowers hand-painted in brown and blue patterned the fabric, giving it movement and life. The colors flattered Lucasta’s complexion, burnishing the olive cast to her skin.
“Lucasta,” Cici breathed. “It suits you beautifully! You will be so elegant in this.”
“I have never heard of Mlle. Beaudoin,” Aunt Pevensey said. “We cannot be seen patronizing a new shop. It will look as though we cannot afford the best mantua-makers.”
The Baron spoke from behind Lucasta, making her heart thump in surprise. She had not realized he had wandered into the room.
“Dixon & Co. is Rudyard’s warehouse, isn’t it?”
Aunt Pevensey smoothed a hand over the blonde lace at her bosom. “If he means to pursue Cecilia, he must rise above trade. We cannot have the Pevensey name lowered by coarse associations.”
The Baron raked Lucasta with a narrow-eyed stare, the gaze of a man who assessed people by their utility to him. Rudyard’s scorn seemed practically gentle in comparison.
“First he persuades the governors of the Foundling Hospital to engage you in some public scheme. Now he wants to dressyou. He’s heard Lady Evers plan to make you her heir, and he’s trying to cozen you, the greedy pup.”
