Selina leaned forward on the flowered chaise. “Because Rudyard has been spending so much time with you. I believe Lord Ashley did not want you to—misinterpret his intentions.”
“Think Rudyard has designs on me, you mean.”
“Oh, he has designs,” Annis said in a hard voice, pouring Lucasta another cup of tea. “The angling cad.”
Minnie hesitated. “Normally I wouldn’t put the least value on anything Ashley has to say. But for once in his thoughtless existence, I believe he feels concerned that you might be hurt.”
“Mr. Plimpton doesn’t believe Rudyard attends you out of spite,” Selina hurried to say. “He thinks it is because he—Rudyard, that is—wants you to be seen in his shop.”
Lucasta slumped in her chair as if she’d gone boneless. Jem had taken her to meet his sister, introduced her to his half-siblings. He’d persuaded the governors of the Foundling Hospital to put her in charge of the benefit concert.
He had, indeed, brought her to his shop. In fact he’d been dressing her in his fabrics for weeks.
Her throat closed against the words. “So all this time—his attentions—because he wants to make fun of me, or he wants to make an example of me.”
Because he knew, if she stood in line for an inheritance, she would suddenly be the focus of attention. He was drawn to her for the same reasons as everyone else.
Not for herself alone.
Why should she be surprised? He’d told her his one aim was to bring thebeau mondeto his shop. Clara Bellwether, a baronet’s relict, had made him Smart Jeremy. What might a poor orphan connected to barons and viscounts do?
“We don’t know that, darling.” Annis reached over and took her hand. “But Ashley warned us that you should not put too much stock in Rudyard’s attentions. He’s not sincere.”
Heat rushed over the face Lucasta had thought frozen. That kiss, that molten, shattering, world-spinning kiss. What had it been for, then? It was the kind of kiss that plucked at a girl’s soul, whether she wished it or not.
The fire in the hearth felt hot on her face, and her back ice-cold.
“I am sure Lord Rudyard must see how wonderful you are,” Selina said. “He may have begun with those intentions, but what if his feelings have changed?”
His own sister had thought he was besotted, and Bertie too. Could he be playing her so deftly? But what did he stand to gain by toying with her heart?
Revenge, perhaps, for calling him Smart Jeremy. For thinking him as prejudiced as the rest of his class.
And to demonstrate that he could. That he had that power.
“Can you ask him about it?” Annis inquired. “Would he give you an honest answer?”
“I don’t know.” Lucasta picked up Minnie’s costume spear and hefted it in her hands. Of a sudden she could understand the blind, aching rage that might make a goddess punish a poor mortal for a slight. “The masquerade is three days away, isn’t it? Perhaps I’ll speak to him then.”
“And find out Ashley is just playing a cruel trick, which is just like him,” Minnie said. “I’ll box his ears if that’s so.”
“Why do you suppose Hera always tormented the helpless women that her husband pursued?” Lucasta mused. “Why did she never punishhim?”
“Because she knew if she fought him directly, she’d lose,” Minnie said soberly. “Even goddesses are subject to the will of the gods.”
Impossible to think that kiss that had shattered her world could have been calculated. His face, when they’d parted, looked as pole-axed as she’d felt.
But he was more experienced, far more jaded than she was. It was entirely impossible it was all an act.
Lucasta’s chest ached. The shaft of love had already gone deep into her chest. She couldn’t deny it. And it was going to hurt terribly when she yanked it out.
The dayof the masquerade was as dry as the rest of the spring had been, and the evening promised to be clear and bright. The family dined early, as the doors at Ranelagh would open at seven and entertainments began at eight. The relative earliness of the proceedings, and the assurance of well-lit gardens and walks, were the reasons Lady Pevensey allowed the girls to attend events at Ranelagh when she absolutely forbade them Vauxhall. Ranelagh was appropriate for the well-behaved and staid, and kept out the riffraff with its higher entrance fee. Vauxhall was for mischief, which milady could not condone.
“Cici! What have you done to yourself?”
Lucasta entered her cousin’s room to find the lady’s maid scooping clouds of white linen onto Cici’s tiny form. Over this she fitted a thick silk robe embroidered with gold and tiny red flowers. Cici giggled as the maid draped a tippet with equally lavish embroidery around her narrow shoulders.
“Can’t you guess? I’m Pope Joan.” She gestured at the papal miter unfolded on her dressing table and the stave with an elaborate carved cross leaning against the wall.
