Now, for instance, Lucy was just leaving the tent, smiling widely and reaching out to embrace her sister. She was radiant with happiness, and I thought it very likely Magda had spied her ring and spoken cannily to her of wedding trips and babies to come. She might have mentioned a house as well, and a trunkful of pretty frocks. Lucy was a simple creature, and Magda knew well how to take the measure of a person, for good or ill.
Emma went next, reluctantly, I fancied, but Portia was in an organising mood and firmly motioned her into the tent. Lucy linked arms with Portia and Mrs. King and began to chatter, doubtless relating every detail of Magda’s predictions.
I turned to Mr. Ludlow. “I wonder if you will think me very impertinent, but I should like to ask—will they be happy, do you think?”
Mr. Ludlow was a young man of sound common sense. He did not flinch or pretend to overly precious manners. The question was a serious one, and he regarded it as such.
“I believe they will, my lady. My cousin is a simple man, and from what I have been able to determine about Miss Lucy, she is a simple girl.”
“And that is a simple answer,” I teased.
He smiled again, a bit tiredly, I thought. “I meant only that most people get on well enough so long as their interests are compatible. He wants to live a luxurious, comfortable life and to have sons. She wants the same. I see no reason they should not be happy.”
I nodded. “Where does Sir Cedric live?”
“He keeps a house in London, but I have been commissioned by him to find a country house. Kent, he suggested. Someplace with good, fresh air and plenty of grounds for exercise.”
“For the children?” I hazarded.
“For the children.” He paused and looked toward the cluster of gentlemen ranged about Magda’s brother. They were examining a very fine hunter, chestnut brown with an elegant back. “He never thought to marry, you know. He shall not see fifty again. He will tell you quite freely he thought all that rubbish was behind him. And then he met Lucy and was, quite simply, bewitched.”
I looked to where Lucy was sitting on a piece of carpet, nibbling at the fingers of her gloves, her expression sweetly vacant. “I do not see it,” I said flatly.
Mr. Ludlow’s mouth twitched. “He does, my lady. And who are we to judge her charms? She is pretty and pleasant, and he is growing old.”
“I have been frightfully rude to ask such things, and it is very kind of you to pretend not to be shocked.”
His eyes widened, and I noticed they were a rather subtly spectacular colour, brown and green and flecked with gold, like a cool country stream in the dappled light of a summer’s afternoon.
“My lady, you have not asked anything that all of society has not asked. At least you asked directly instead of inviting me to supper to pretend an interest in my hobbies.”
“Really, how appalling!”
He shrugged. “It has only happened twice, and since I refused to speak of the matter, I am certain it will not happen again. Word has got round that I am unforgivably silent on the subject, and people do not think to invite me for any other reason.”
To express sympathy to him would have been insulting, even though I felt acutely sorry for him. He had clearly been raised a gentleman’s son, perhaps with expectations. It seemed apparent some financial ruin had befallen his family, and now he must depend upon the kindness of his better-heeled relation to employ him. A man would have to exercise all his skills of diplomacy, purge himself of pride, to accept such a position.
I nodded toward the horse. “What do you make of that creature? He seems sound enough from here.”
Ludlow did not hesitate. “He is too nervous. You can just see the white of his eye all round. Sir Cedric will tell you he is spirited, but Cedric knows steamships, not horses. That animal would throw you at the first gate and happily leave you to limp home. Why do you smile, my lady?”
“Because that was my brother Benedick’s horse. He sold him for precisely that reason. I do hope Father does not buy him again.”
“Again?”
I nodded. “Father has purchased him three times, and sold him on every time because he cannot be controlled. Then he forgets how awful the beast was and buys him back again. It’s really quite foolish of him.”
Ludlow and I shared a smile. It occurred to me then that some men demand a second glance, others require it. Ludlow was the latter, nondescript and calm as a millpond, but calmness has its own attractions. “May I dare to ask a further impertinence?”
He bowed gallantly from the neck. “Of course.”
“What will become of you now that Sir Cedric means to settle in the country?”
Ludlow stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle. “I shall remain in London, I daresay. His investments are diverse. It takes a man quite in the thick of things to handle the correspondence. Sir Cedric thinks he can manage very well spending most of his time in the country. I shall travel down to Kent as needed to receive instructions, and the London office will be under the supervision of his director. And, of course, he must be in London during the Season. He has many interests in Parliament, and must be in attendance when it is sitting.”
“He sounds quite the magnate,” I said lightly.
“That he is, and entirely self-made, although he does not much care for people to know it.”