Page 30

‘Oh, Freddie. He’s just such a prime friend to us both. You know he tried to get Val to go back to his father’s house after the party, the Duke has one of those mansions in Grosvenor Square, rather than heading out to this new gentlemen’s club that Freddie thinks is beyond the pale.’ Lucie’s voice trailed off. She then continued quietly, ‘Val fobbed him off with a wicked smile, saying over his shoulder as he left that he liked supping with the devil. Freddie shouted down the street after him, “Dear friend, then take care you use a very long spoon!” What do you think Val meant, Bella? High-stakes gambling, I suppose? Or opera dancers and other lady-birds?’

‘Freddie may be concerned about more dangerous behaviour than that.’ Sybella was troubled. ‘But really, Lucie! Gentlemen’s wilder tastes should not be discussed by you.’

‘How can I not when it’s all around, if one only has eyes to see? And when Lord Rockliffe brings Mrs Markham so brazenly to our party?’

‘I don’t think you could ever call Mrs Markham an opera dancer or a lady-bird!’

‘No, Freddie had an even ruder word. He thought it recklessly provocative of Lord Rockliffe to parade her at the party last night. And did you see that ring? Freddie doesn’t like the lady. But apparently his guardian does. Freddie says she’s Mr Brabazon’s one weak spot and he’s been spending the plate on her for years. But I suppose he’s rich enough, so it doesn’t count.’

‘Lucie, please! We both of us have to mind our language. The cant of the stable and the young blades you mix with is just not appropriate coming from the mouths of young women. Be careful!’ They both laughed at the punctilios of the world they had just entered.

Lucie was thoughtful again. ‘What’s interesting about Freddie is he’s not as wild and rebel-hearted as he pretends. I think he just wants to vex his guardian for some kind of reaction. But he complains Mr Brabazon is so difficult to fathom. He calls him a cool fox with steel for a backbone.’

Sybella remembered last night with a slight tremor of shame. ‘The old Duke described him as a panther and now Lord Lynwood says he’s cool and crafty as a fox. I fear he’s just an arrogant and forbidding man who has been used to getting his own way. Perhaps your friend Freddie is the first to defy him?’

‘I hope he defies him over Lady Cleome,’ Lucie said unexpectedly and her lively face was veiled suddenly with a look of foreboding that made Sybella wonder if her attachment to Lord Lynwood was merely, as she claimed, that of a friend.

At this moment, James came tumbling through the door and clambered onto the bed. ‘Mama! Lucie. Dreamin’ of Dasher ridin’ to the moon.’

‘Oh, darling, was it a happy dream?’

‘Didn’t want to wake up. Nurse said I was cross.’ His blonde curls were tousled with sleep and he rubbed his eyes. Then a thought arrested him. ‘Can I see Mr B’s greys?’

‘Why do you want to see the greys?’ Lucie took his hand to encourage him not to jump on their legs.

‘Papa’s Cato was a grey, wasn’t he, Mama?’

‘He was. But you never saw him, sadly.’

‘But I can see Mr B’s?’

‘Well, I’m going for a drive in Mr Brabazon’s curricle this afternoon and if he’s harnessed his greys, would you like to come?’

‘Please, Mama! Go an’ tell Nurse.’ He slipped off the bed and scampered out of the room.

‘What are you doing going driving with Brabazon, when you dislike him so much?’

‘He asked me as he was leaving and I was too tired to think of a good excuse.’

‘Really, Bella? You could still send a note round to Grosvenor Square and say you’re indisposed.’

‘I can’t now that James is involved. It’ll be too disappointing for him.’

‘Hmm,’ was all Lucie would say, giving her sister a knowing look.

‘Go away, you provoking girl! It’s time we were up. Your godmama will be longing to discuss your party.’

Lady Godley came down late to breakfast and was in the highest spirits. She felt the party had been far more successful than she could have hoped. Already cards of thanks and salutation had been delivered along with invitations to future parties and routs. Samson was unable to slope off to the kitchens for a fortifying tankard of ale and instead was kept busy opening the door to flower deliveries and a series of liveried grooms carrying notes from master or mistress. He could barely leave his post and complained to Mrs Rogers, the cook, ‘I’m right betwattled. So many come a-knockin’ the front door’s swingin’ like a barn door. No time to even rest me legs.’ She took pity on him and brought him a glass of ale he could secrete behind the big chiming clock on the hall table. Lady Godley’s servants had not had so much excitement for years.

The successful hostess most enjoyed describing the highlights of the evening and Lucie was just as happy to engage in this reiteration. Her godmother was keen to claim the triumph of the night for Lucie’s musical offering, helped significantly, she allowed, by Lord Ravenell. But she pointed out with some satisfaction that Lady Cleome made the mistake of playing more to show off her skills than to entertain her audience. Lucie disagreed. She thought the Field sonata was played beautifully and Lady Cleome conducted herself with grace. Her godmother then settled down to gossip about the provoking Lord Rockliffe appearing with Mrs Markham on his arm. Sybella had to leave them purring over their coffee and the few sweet pastries left from the party to go and attend to her estate business and answer a letter from George about the dry-stone wall round the park that was in need of repair.

The afternoon’s promised jaunt in the Park could not come quickly enough for her son. James stood on a chair by the front window of the morning room, watching the passing traffic of horses, delivery carts, pedestrians and carriages and giving a running commentary under his breath. ‘Two bays, one blue collicle, yellow phaeton, aah, bootiful steppers, chestnut, oh no! That bone setter! Where’s Mr B’s greys?’

Sybella chose her fur-trimmed pelisse of sailor-blue French cambric and a handsome straw bonnet with broad navy organza ribbons. She knew this pelisse was particularly flattering in its close cut and charming colour and had barely time to check her appearance as it was already four and she heard the front door being opened by Samson. Before she had descended the stairs to greet Mr Brabazon, James had run straight out to his groom, John, crying, ‘The greys, the greys.’

Mr Brabazon looked unperturbed at the child’s excited exit. He stood in the doorway, seeming even taller in his great driving coat with its many capes adding width and bulk to his already broad shoulders. Sybella was reluctant to admire him but indeed he cut a strikingly manly figure from his boots with their immaculate white tops to his curly-brimmed hat and the long-looped whip he held in one gloved hand. Reserved in her greeting, she gave him her hand.

For the London groom of a leading Corinthian, known for his skill in every kind of horsemanship, Mr Brabazon’s John had the rare quality of finding young James’s enthusiastic chatter about horseflesh diverting. Sybella emerged from Lady Godley’s house to find her son in earnest conversation, while helping to hold the reins. ‘Is that scamp coming with us?’ Mr Brabazon cocked a questioning eyebrow.