Chapter Six
Lanora winced as Grace tugged at her laces and muttered to herself.
“No one can understand you, you realize?” Lanora snapped.
“I said, I cannot believe you were so late.” Grace’s hands stilled. She looked up to meet Lanora’s eyes in the mirror. “You know how long it takes to get the powder out of your hair. It’ll take all evening to clean up this room, while you flitter the night away dancing. If you hadn’t brought me such a marvelous story and Lord Lefthook’s card, I should never forgive you.”
“You know I’d have you with me tonight if I could.” Lanora pulled a face. “Thetonand their snobbery. They’re ridiculous. Simply because you weren’t born into a certain family, you cannot attend their dances?”
Grace’s expression softened. “This isn’t your father’s estate in the country, Lanora, where you can set the rules. I know you would let us all dance if you could, though Cook would be terrible at it.” She giggled.
“It’s their loss. You, at least, would provide interesting conversation. The young women I’ll spend my evening surrounded by care only for hemlines and the weather.”
“And Lord Lefthook.” Grace smiled. “You could tell them your new story. You’d be a hit.”
“I most certainly cannot tell them that.” Lanora shook her head. The gems arranged in her black hair glinted in the mirror. “Not before it’s in the paper. I don’t want to be associated with the man.”
“Well, I can’t go to the paper until tomorrow.” Grace let out a contented sigh. “In two days, this new feat of Lord Lefthook’s will be all the talk, but I knew about it first.”
Lanora pointed out that at least five people, likely more, knew before Grace. “Perhaps we should invent a title for you, or simply a gentrified papa. If I introduce you around town as my distant cousin and special friend, no one will question you. I’m the daughter of a duke. They must take my word if I say you’re a gentlewoman.”
Grace returned to her lacing. “Don’t you dare. We have enough trouble with Mrs. Smith. I am not becoming someone else, as well. I’m quite happy to be your maid.”
“And friend,” Lanora said firmly.
Grace nodded. “Certainly, we’re friends. My mama raised you with me, in that giant fortress your papa calls a house. Why he never got you a proper nanny after your grandfather died, or even before, I’ll never know.”
“I daresay he simply forgot.” Lanora’s tone was wistful. “Who would remind him? I don’t believe he even read my letters when I was a child, he missed Mama so much. Not that I could write very well, or had anything to say.” Not that he seemed to read most of them now, though she wrote almost weekly.
Lanora could see Grace’s pursed lips in the mirror. She knew her friend was trying to contain one of her most worn rants. For all Grace claimed they were practically sisters, she still saw a difference in their station. She resented Lanora being raised more as a member of the staff than as a duke’s daughter. In Grace’s view, it simply wasn’t right.
Lanora didn’t resent it one bit. What need had she for needlepoint or water colors? She could play and sing to brighten their days and evenings. She’d learned from her father’s books, as well. She could read and write in Latin, Greek, French and Italian, though she didn’t speak any of the four. She knew her figures well enough to get by. Her knowledge of geography, history and politics was excellent.
She’d also learned to ride, shoot and pick locks. She’d attempted Egyptian, but fell short. In her younger mind, she’d believed her father would appreciate her efforts and send for her. She wanted to be the perfect addition to his archeological team. Then, he would keep her by his side and they would be a family.
Lanora suppressed a sigh. She knew now he would never send for her, no matter how much she learned. So here she was, not possessing all the skills she should to be a lady, though she’d never admit as much to the world. No one would ever know, of course, that she couldn’t paint, stitch prettily or draw, so the skills mattered little.
Dancing was a greater difficulty. Lanora was accomplished at the country reels she and the staff enjoyed. London dances were more complex, though. Most, she could pick up from watching, for they were adaptations on what she knew. The new dance, the waltz, was confounding. Fortunately, one frosty glance and an easily spread rumor of her disdain for the scandalous activity kept any gentleman from daring to waltz with her.
“Arms out,” Grace said.
Lanora complied, and Grace fitted another layer over her. “It really would be nice to have you with me to talk to.”
“You’ll have your aunt.”
Lanora groaned. “Aunt Edith will only talk about one thing.”
“You love her terriers.”
“I do, but there’s the carriage ride over, the whole evening, and the ride back. How many hours would you want to speak about who treed a squirrel, or the upcoming litter, or the arguments for and opposed to letting their hair grow down over their eyes, based on breed, of course?”
“I thought dogs had fur, not hair, and why would you allow it to grow down over their eyes?”
Lanora closed hers. “No. I am not permitting the discussion of terriers to commence already.”
“You began it.”
She popped her eyes open and narrowed them at Grace.
