Page 59 of Give Him a Chance

Chapter Eleven

May 30, 1841

Lucy did herbest not to giggle as her brother tugged awkwardly at his cravat, but it was amusing.

And delightful, honestly, to watch her brother suffer.

“I just don’t understand why we all have to go,” huffed Percy, wriggling his shoulders as though his shirt were too tight. “I understand whyyou twohave to go—”

“Oh, yes, well, condemn me to ten years’ hard labor!” jested the Earl of Lindow with a wink for his son, before a look of instant remorse overtook him. “No offense meant you understand, Dixon.”

Lucy stifled a smile as Bernard snickered.

“None taken,” said their guest. “Here, Lord Percy, let me help you with—yes, it’s twisted. Give me a moment.”

They had been attempting to be ready for at least twenty minutes, but as far as Lucy could see, they were no closer to leaving to attend the Keystones’ ball than they had been an hour ago. Her father couldn’t decide what cravat to wear, his valet hovering around him attempting to just tie one, any one around his neck; her brother had somehow managed to get his suspenders twisted with his cravat, which, as far as Lucy could tell, was a minor miracle; and her mother hadn’t come down yet.

“Dodo!” yelled the earl.

“Coming!”

“You said that twenty minutes ago!”

“I’m still technically correct!”

The earl muttered something under his breath that Lucy did not catch, but she did spot the soft smile on her father’s face.

Perhaps it was unusual, to have two parents who so evidently cared for each other. It was all Lucy had known, and it was exactly what she and Evelyn had both said they would want from their husbands.

If she married at all, that was.

Evelyn had, and Viscount Sempill treated her as though she could walk on water. And Bernard…

Lucy flushed as her thoughts meandered to the man who absolutely could not be her husband. He was laughing with Percy, who was jesting back, a natural ease between the two men that felt warm and yet not overstepping any boundaries.

Not that Lucy was particularly sure what the boundaries were supposed to be now.

The five of them had fallen into an easy rhythm that made Lucy wonder how they had ever lived without Bernard Dixon. The man was charming, easy to converse with, and a terrible charades player. He also had an exquisite taste in poetry.

Every day provided new opportunities to know him better…and to like him better.

Which was precisely the problem.

“Thank you, Dixon,” Percy was saying just as their father’s valet finally managed to get a cravat on him. “Ah, and here’s Mama!”

Lucy beamed at her mother. “You look lovely.”

She did. Her mother’s beauty had not faded with years, just deepened. Her hair was silvering at the temples and there were lines around her eyes—laughter lines, the countess always said, evidence of all the joy her family gave her—but she was stillrecognizable as the woman who had caught the Earl of Lindow’s eye and never let him go.

“So do you, dear,” her mother returned, pulling on her gloves distractedly. “So do—goodness. You really have put in an effort.” She had made the final remark as she looked up and took Lucy in properly, which only made her daughter flush all the more.

So what if she had put it in a little more time with Beachem? It was only natural, after all. There were few balls in Brighton to which the Chances were not invited, but very few her parents could be persuaded to attend, and so it was worth the time, wasn’t it?

The fact that Mr. Bernard Dixon would be accompanying her?

Oh, that was neither here nor there.

Lucy had not yet managed to persuade herself of that particular truth, and she had a feeling her mother might be just as inconvincible. Not that the countess would seriously encourage a match between her daughter and acriminal.