He pecked a kiss on her cheek and smiled, then preceded her out of the dining room.
Lucy stood alone for a moment thinking about where she might wish to travel if she had the freedom to do so. Then the piano music reached a crescendo and pulled her out of her woolgathering.
She stopped in the hallway to check with a passing maid that there were no problems in the kitchen, then beelined for the large drawing room where guests were gathered.
Miranda spied her the moment she entered, and Lucy offered her a smile.
“All is well,” she mouthed to her friend, and Miranda pressed a hand to her heart in reply.
There, one good deed done for the evening. Normally, that gave Lucy great satisfaction, but the conversation with her brother had sparked a longing she’d repressed for too long. He was three years her junior, and yet was allowed far more liberty than she was. Of course, she understood the difference in how young men were treated versus young women, but she didn’t have to like it. In her opinion, her parents didn’t have to carry on such outdated notions.
She had half a mind to tell Papa as much and lifted onto her toes to look past the shoulders of one of her father’s cronies, hoping to catch him for a moment. He held court at gatherings like this.
Just when she’d decided to try for a conversationlater and go find Miranda, Mama sailed into her line of vision.
“Lucy, thank goodness.” Her mother was trying for a calm, serene manner but her voice had taken on a high-pitched tone that meant something was amiss. “Lady Braithwaite,” she whispered. “The poor thing fell asleep in an armchair in the corner, and I’ve had Jenkins escort her to my sitting room. Would you check on her and make certain all is well? I suspect she’s merely fatigued, but if we need to call for Dr. Whitaker, we shall.”
“Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll look in on her now.”
“Thank you, my girl. Betina Braithwaite is not prideful, but I can’t imagine she’d like the whisperers to make sport of her because she’s fatigued or had a bit too much cordial.”
Lucy had little trouble slipping from the drawing room unnoticed. Her father had begun making a toast to the ambassador, drawing the attention of most guests.
When she reached her mother’s sitting room, she found Lady Braithwaite on the settee, struggling to keep her eyes open. Her niece who’d accompanied her, Alice, stood in front of her worriedly, and offered a nervous smile when Lucy entered the room.
Once Lucy had reached her side, Alice confided, “I don’t know if I can get her to the dining room on my own. She’s rather stubborn.”
Lucy had known Lady Braithwaite since childhood and rather liked her headstrong, outspoken manner. Termagants needed to stick together after all.
“I’m happy to sit with her and can arrange for a tray if she doesn’t wish for the noise of the dining room. Let me see to her, Alice, and please go and enjoy the party.”
The girl nibbled at her lip a moment, and then relented. “Thank you, my lady. I did have a request for a dance after dinner.”
“Well, then you must go.” Lucy offered her a genuine smile. If she’d been asked to dance, she wouldn’t want to miss it either—depending on the partner, of course. The lecherous, elderly viscount who’d extended the only proposal of marriage she’d received during three Seasons was definitely on the To Be Avoided list of prospective dance partners.
Once the girl had gone, Lucy lowered herself to the far edge of the settee gingerly, careful not to disturb the Countess of Braithwaite.
Lucy let herself sink into the cushions. This room had always felt calming and peaceful. It was small enough to be cozy. Her mother had decorated it in soft pastels and the air held both the scent of fresh flowers and her mother’s jonquil perfume.
All in all, she was happy to escape the crowded drawing room, but her thoughts still rushed with notions of traveling to some faraway land.
A moment later, the countess roused and noticed her.
“Lady Lucy, have you been conscripted to be my nursemaid, poor girl?”
“Not at all, my lady,” Lucy said quietly, “I volunteered to escape with you, and now we can both have a quiet moment.”
“I find myself appreciating those more and more. I have been sleeping ill of late and find that these late nights don’t agree with me. Age, you see. It catches all of us.” She let out a rich, deep-throated chuckle. “But you’re young and must return to the party.”
She reached for Lucy’s arm and gave it a gentle pat.
“I’m quite distracted tonight myself, so I would appreciate some quiet too.” Lucy retrieved a soft cashmere throw from her mother’s chair by the fire and draped it over the countess’s lap.
“Are you indeed? Tell me what’s on that busy mind of yours, my dear.”
“The constraints of being an unmarried lady,” she said bluntly, almost absentmindedly, as she perused her mother’s bookshelf for something she could read to the countess to pass the time.
“Remind me of your age.”
