She needed to stop dwelling on that moment when Jeremiah Falstead might have kissed her.
She needed to hold the Baron’s goodwill long enough to organize the benefit concert.
She needed to avoid being trapped into marriage with Trevor Pevensey. And she could achieve that by remaining no more than what she was: poor, plain Lucasta Lithwick.
But Lucasta had not reckoned on the consequence of being flattered by Smart Jeremy. Nor the effect of Mademoiselle Beaudoin’s gowns.
Lady Plimpton’srout was a crush when they arrived in Berkley Square. Sir Titus Plimpton was a nabob awarded his knighthood after he brought home a fortune from India and with it wooed the daughter of a shipping magnate who ran an empire in slaves, sugar, and rum. Lady Pevensey speculated that the Countess of Jersey, Horace Walpole, and the Prime Minister, Lord Shelburne, were all likely to make an appearance, given they lived in the neighborhood, and it was only too bad that the Devonshires had withdrawn to Bath for the summer, for the Duchess could not fail to make a pet of Cecilia, did she only meet her. Trevor gave noncommittal answers as his stepmother furnished a long list of ladies of birth and breeding who could be considered worthy of his attentions.
Lucasta looked for her friends, and as soon as she could make her excuses, she joined them before a study of classical sculptures clustered in the corner of one enormous drawing room.
“Queen Lucasta!” Annis cried. “Is this Mademoiselle Beaudoin’s doing? How clever she is.”
All three of them circled Lucasta, admiring her new gown. The seamstress had taken the patterned chintz Rudyard sent and turned it into a gorgeous open robe with just enough ruffles to make it seem the gown floated on its own, but not so many that Lucasta appeared drowning. For the front panel she had chosen a contrasting silk in blushing pink, the color of the inside of a grapefruit, and lined it with small flirtatious ribbons thatcascaded over the bodice and down the skirt. Instead of a cap, the seamstress had insisted on a gauzy veil that looped Lucasta’s head, showing off the color of her curls, and a slender collar of ribboned lace around her throat to make up for her lack of jewels. The effect was fresh, demure, sensual, and sensible all at once.
“It suits you exactly, my dear,” Minnie pronounced. “I hope my creation is as marvelous.”
Selina gave her a merry smile. “Have you forgiven Lord Rudyard at last?”
Lucasta squeezed her friend’s hands and refrained, with an effort, from looking about the room for him. “I am taking forgiveness under consideration.”
Aside from fancies here and there for various musicians known about Bath, and a short-lived period of pining for a concert-master’s son, Lucasta had never entertained attachments to a man. Her friends would be astonished, and possibly concerned, to hear she might be developing atendrefor Smart Jeremy.
No, not Smart Jeremy—that was a creation of the gossip sheets and the man himself. She was going soft in the head over Jeremiah Falstead, a man who was devoted to his family and who helped young dressmakers trying to make their way. A draper’s son with a discerning eye and a voice that made her weak in the knees.
“Did you get my letters from yesterday?” she began. “I?—”
“Miss Lithwick.” Ralph Plimpton, scion of the house, stalked toward them wearing a waistcoat of crushed silver with so much embroidery that the eye could look nowhere else. “If Mum asks, tell her I made you a leg, will you? She said I ought to do the pretty, though she also said I wouldn’t have a chance with all the other bucks likely to be sniffing around you.” He wheeled to glare at where the Pevenseys stood, chatting with their hostess.“Now tell me, who’s that chap drooling all over your cousin? He’s standing a good deal too close, if you ask me.”
“That is her brother,” Lucasta said. “Mr. Pevensey, just returned to town.”
“It can’t be.” Annis turned with an incredulous look. “Who swapped Trevor for that gorgeous specimen?”
“Gorgeous?” Lucasta blinked. “Are we looking at the same person?”
“My word, he’s turned delectable,” Minnie observed. “Can the Grand Tour do that to a man?”
“What was he before?” Selina stared as avidly as the rest. “Remember I did not know him.”
“He wasn’tthis.” Annis gave Lucasta a shrewd look. “Does it change anything? For instance, how we feel about the Baron’s wishes.”
Lucasta worried her little finger between her teeth. Marriage was the way a woman secured her position in the world. Marriage to a baron’s heir would grant her status security and protection. As an eventual baron’s wife, she would have access to musicians galore. She could be a patroness to many, and she could perform as much as she liked for private audiences. She’d never be a leading lady on the public stage, but she could build her own.
“Currently, I am letting the Baron dangle me, or rather my supposed inheritance from Aunt Cornelia in front of Trevor, in return for permission to put on the concert to benefit the Foundling Hospital. And if you think it too sly in me,” she added, glimpsing Selina’s wide eyes, “believe me, I am repenting the bargain. But if I tell Trevor he has no hopes of me, his lordship may send me packing straight back to Bath, and I won’t have the concert at all.”
Or her friends. Or Cici. Or more time with Jeremiah Falstead, whatever fragile accord seemed to be growing between them.
“What do we do?” Selina asked.
“Help me persuade milord Pevensey I am an unsuitable match for his son. Or persuade Trevor of it. I am plain, I lack accomplishments, I am of low birth, and I have no real expectations. I am the last person he ought to be paying address.”
“Him and every other unattached gentleman here tonight,” Minnie murmured.
Lucasta straightened with a nod. “I must be a Gorgon in truth. Reviled. Unapproachable. Let men shudder at my very name.”
Annis laughed. “A forfeit, girls, from the one of us who tonight who receives the most offers to stroll about and admire Lady Plimpton’s art? I suggest she must pay our way into Leicester House so we may see Sir Ashton Lewes’ collection of curiosities.”
“Cox’s Museum,” Minnie answered. “He’s a new silver swan among his automata I want to see.”
