It had been many years since Lucy could claim an intimate, personal connection with her stylish, high-flying older sister.Stuck in the schoolroom and hemmed about with governesses and chaperones, Lucy had been barred from tagging along after Gemma the way she had when she was small.
Even parents as wrapped up in each other as theirs tended to frown on the idea of a girl spending her first Season in the sort of gambling hells, salons, and routs favored by the dissolute aristocrats Gemma ran with.Lucy wasn’t even supposed to be aware of most of the places Gemma went, and no one would tell her anything about what Gemma got up to.
To this day, Lucy wasn’t at all sure their parents had even been aware of the smallest portion of what Gemma got up to.
Incurably curious, Lucy had taken to scouring the newspapers for coy items about her sister’s antics.She read every gossip column she could lay her hands upon—her favorite was the one in theLondon Observator.She perused the society pamphlets devoted to detailing the movements of the Ton.She studied the satirical prints displayed in the windows of the booksellers and print shops along the Strand.And through them, she became better acquainted with her sister.
“Is yet another broken engagement in the offing for theLiveliestof ladies?We are beginning to lose count, dear reader, but we would put this as the fifth!We begin to fear wedding bells will never ring for Lady G---…”
“The Countess of R---‘s rout last night was such a crush, poor Lady P--- swooned in the retiring room and had to be carried out to the terrace for fresh air.Lady G---, eldest daughter of the Duke of A---, cleared the way to the balcony doors by climbing atop the buffet table and proposing a toast to the hostess of the evening.Said toast involved a clever pun with the hostess’s name and a certain portion of a lady’s limb below the knee, which Lady G--- was kind enough to illustrate by lifting her skirts.Needless to say, the entire masculine half of the ballroom flocked to her side instantly, leaving a path across the ballroom floor for the lady recovering from her faint.One wonders if there exists any occasion solemn enough to prevent that Lively lady from exposing herself publicly.”
“Lady G--- L----, resplendent in a smart plum-coloured riding habit with matching plum velvet bonnet trimmed in gold brocade with two tassels, seen racing her bay mare against a laughing, enchanted Earl of W---.The lady won, to the consternation of a nearby group of disapproving matrons and the jeering friends of the earl, many of whom appeared to have lost large sums of money from the wagers they’d placed on the outcome of said race.Lady G--- graciously refused her winnings, to general rejoicing.”
Lucy wished they had some portion of those winnings back from Gemma’s admirers now.Maybe then they wouldn’t have had to leave London for this boring village where the biggest scandal she’d encountered on her walk was her own lack of chaperone.
Well, that wasn’t precisely true.Lucy’s heart fluttered as she remembered what the miller’s daughter had told her.Such an interesting rumor, and one that might actually help Gemma put Five Mile House on the map, if they were clever about it…
Not that anyone here cared what Lucy thought.Lucy glanced from her sister, absorbed in directing which pieces of furniture should go where, all the way up to the top floor of the inn, at the window where they’d left their mother sitting, wrapped in her grief.Henrietta hadn’t left her rooms all day, all her usual bubbly vivaciousness sadly deflated.
A pang of loneliness stabbed at Lucy’s chest.She missed chatting about the lateston-ditswith her friends.She missed her lady’s maid, Stephens, and her governess, Miss Lyons.She missed all the people who’d filled her life and kept her from noticing too much that her parents and sister never seemed to be at home.
The carriage ride from London to Little Kissington was the longest time she’d spent in the company of her mother and sister since Lucy could remember.It had been awkward, to say the least.But if she was honest with herself, it had also been just the tiniest bit…nice.Being all together like that.
The draft horse dropped its head to nudge Lucy’s shoulder with a soft bump, blowing out warm air that tickled Lucy’s neck and made her smile.At the back of the wagon, Gemma and Mr.Deveril were arguing over which items to remove first and where they should go in the inn.Lucy considered intervening, but it was honestly more interesting to observe them.
She’d never understood that hackneyed phrase about sparks flying between two people before.
Lucy had many opportunities of observing the spirited bickering between her sister and Mr.Deveril over the next few days.From the moment they hauled the first stick of furniture inside, it had been a ceaseless whirl of cleaning, tidying, and arranging.Lucy wished the gossip columnists could see Gemma now—they’d get the shock of their lives, witnessing “London’s Liveliest Lady” on her knees in a dingy corridor, wild curls bundled under a red scarf that wound around her nose and over her mouth to keep out the dust she was stirring up with her scrub brush.
Lucy, self-proclaimed expert on Lady Gemma Lively, never would’ve predicted this.
Not that Lucy herself had any current claims to elegance, she noted with a rueful glance down at her oldest, shortest dress.The blue dimity was now liberally splotched with the cloudy water full of grated potato she was sponging over the worst stains on the hearth rugs, a remedy Bess swore by but about which Lucy was experiencing some doubt.
Even Mama had been put to work polishing the silver pieces Gemma had pilfered from the big house on the hill.Mama hadn’t complained, though she paused after each candlestick and butter dish to sigh and stare out the window.
Lucy couldn’t help thinking her mother looked all the better for having some occupation for her hands other than wringing them sorrowfully.
And through it all, Hal Deveril was there, moving couches and bedsteads, hefting heavy rolled-up carpets onto carpet stands for beating, and watching Gemma with that intense focus that gave Lucy a shivery feeling in her middle.
She didn’t think she’d like it if a man looked at her like that.Or maybe she would—it was impossible to know.
In any case, Lucy reminded herself, it was unlikely to happen.Men tended not to notice the stick-skinny little sister when her glamorous older sister was around.Especially since Lucy had grown another inch or two since her last fitting at the modiste, and now all of her dresses were just slightly too short.Instead of being risqué, however, she knew the effect was much more of a gangly, awkward child.
She looked as if she ought to be wearing her hair in pigtails and playing knucklebones.
Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing to have Gemma’s curvaceous shadow to hide in, Lucy told herself as she blew a lock of dark hair out of her eyes and stretched her aching back.At least until their fortunes turned enough to buy her a new, grown-up gown.
In the meanwhile, maybe it was time to let these rugs dry while she went to ask if Bess needed any help in the kitchen.Breakfast felt so long ago, and perhaps she’d know something more about that little tidbit Lucy had heard in the village, which she couldn’t stop thinking about.It had only been a few days, but Bess had quickly established herself as an excellent source of local information.
Lucy really ought to tell Gemma what she’d heard from the miller’s daughter about the rumors of a gentleman highwayman terrorizing the Bath Road, she mused as her older sister rose to her feet and pulled the scarf down to her neck to drink from the glass of water Mr.Deveril handed her.Gemma was watching him over the rim of her glass, and he stared back as though he envied the cup against her lips.
They probably wouldn’t have noticed Lucy if she stripped naked and started dancing the tarantella in the middle of the hall.
Perhaps she’d keep her bit of gossip to herself for a bit longer, she decided.
* * *
“Five Mile House is beginning to take shape,” Gemma announced, standing back to survey the laundered and mended curtains she’d just hung over the windows flanking the front door into the taproom.
