Finn had insisted there was a great deal more to her than anyone suspected, but Lachlan had shrugged this off as the ramblings of a fond brother-in-law. She was a sweet lass, and she’d been kind to his sister, but Lachlan had been relieved when she’d refused Finn’s offer to continue with her season. Hyacinth Somerset was no match for the Englishton. The sooner Lady Chase took her off to Brighton, the better.
Or so he’d thought, until this afternoon.
Even getting access to Lady Bagshot had been a devil of a thing, but it was nothing compared to Miss Somerset’s performance once they’d gained the drawing room. She’d doled out the gossip to Lady Bagshot the way a nun deals out bowls of gruel to her orphan charges. Stingily, careful to stretch every meagre spoonful to feed as many gaping mouths as possible.
To make it count.
Lady Bagshot had swallowed every drop, and the old lady would no doubt cast it back up again, right into theton’s ears, just as Miss Somerset meant her to.
Damned if he saw any sign of the “delicate nerves” he kept hearing about.
That lie she’d told, about his fight with Ciaran? If he’d known she intended to lie he’d have put a stop to it, but he’d never imagined she’d put her own neck on the block to protect a rough devil like him—
“Lachlan! For goodness’ sakes, why are you sitting alone in the carriage, talking to yourself?” Isla was peering at him through the carriage window. “Come inside. Lord Huntington has called us all in.”
Once again, they found the party assembled in the drawing room.
“Well?” Lachlan asked Ciaran, as he settled beside him on the settee. “Did you get the invitation from Lady Hayhurst?”
Ciaran rolled his eyes, as if it were a foolish question. “Of course. You forget how charming I can be, Lach. Lady Hayhurst was quite taken with me.”
Lachlan suspected their success had more to do with Lady Huntington than Ciaran, but he didn’t bother to argue the point. They’d gotten both the invitations they needed, and with it a chance at a successful London season for Isla. That was all that mattered. Lachlan glanced at his sister’s glowing face, and for the first time since they’d left Scotland, a glimmer of hope rose in his chest.
She might yet get all she ever wanted—all she deserved.
Now if he could only find a way to help Ciaran. He didn’t have much hope his brother would fall in love again—not after his bitter disappointment with Isobel Campbell—but there were many pretty girls in London. Maybe one of them would catch Ciaran’s eye this season—
“Lord and Lady Dare are occupied with a messenger from Ashdown Park at the moment,” Finn said, hurrying into the room. “But they’ve assured me the Worthingtons have agreed to throw their support behind the Ramseys. How did you do with Lady Atherton, Lady Chase?”
“Well, I won’t pretend Lady Atherton wasn’t shocked by the rumors she’d heard, but we’ve been friends for years now, and she wouldn’t dream of denying any request ofmine. She assures me she’ll be pleased to make the Ramseys acquaintance.”
Finn looked relieved. “That’s very good, my lady. What of Lady Bagshot, Hyacinth?”
“Yes, tell us how you managed the old dragon.” Ciaran grinned at Miss Somerset. “Isla says you prodded and squeezed until she finally spat out an invitation.”
“Mr. Ciaran Ramsey, your manners leave a great deal to be desired.” Lady Chase attempted to turn her most severe frown on Ciaran, but she couldn’t quite hide her glee at hearing her nemesis maligned.
Ciaran’s grin widened. “Beg pardon, my lady.”
“Humph. Still, Lady Bagshotisour greatest concern. How did she behave, Hyacinth? I daresay she refused to receive you.”
“No.” Hyacinth shook her head. “She received us, and she was…quite gracious.”
Lachlan’s head snapped up at this brazen lie. Lady Bagshothadrefused their call, and when she’d admitted them at last, she’d been about as gracious as a Seven Dials cutpurse.
Lachlan scowled at Hyacinth, but she avoided his gaze.
Lady Chase, however, was as skeptical of this story as Lachlan, and she didn’t hesitate to say so. “Gracious? Why, that woman’s never been gracious about anything in her life. I don’t believe a word of it.”
“Well, perhaps I should say she was as gracious as Lady Bagshot ever is. She’ll spend the next week spreading gossip about us all over London, of course, but that was to be expected, and at least now, she’ll repeat our preferred version of events. More or less.”
“Oh, yes!” Isla beamed at Miss Somerset. “Hyacinth was ever so clever about it all. She had Lady Bagshot right on the edge of her chair. At one point I thought her ladyship was going to have an apoplexy from the suspense.”
Lady Huntington laughed. “Hyacinth’s very good at managing Lady Bagshot. I don’t know how you do it, Hyacinth. She’s an awful old thing, but somehow you always contrive to get around her.”
Lady Chase gave her skirts a sharp tug. “Why you can’t contrive to give her arealapoplexy, Hyacinth, I’ll never know. I assure you all of London would thank you for it.”
Lachlan said nothing, but he watched Miss Somerset, curious to see what she’d do as they all sang her praises. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked increasingly nervous with every compliment, until at last she interrupted them in a high, thin voice.
