“I shall look for you at Hyde Park on Sunday,” Lady Sarah said. “Shall we say, eleven o’clock, before the rush?”
“Yes. I hope to be there.”
“You must come to tea afterward. I’m sure Mama would like to meet you.”
They parted company as Lucy puzzled over her invitation. Surely, the dowager countess wouldn’t have been interested inmeeting her? Probably Lady Sarah was merely being polite. But Lucy liked her natural, friendly manner, which was a contrast to that of many of the standoffish debutantes. She hoped Aunt Mary would approve of her riding without an escort. She didn’t want to take her aunt’s grumpy groom with her. Surely, Lady Sarah’s groom would suffice for both of them. Fortunately, the seamstress had altered her cousin Anabel’s discarded blue riding habit, which included a smart, military-styled jacket piped with gold braid. It was flattering, and this was Lucy’s chance to wear it.
She hoped to hear more about Lord Dorchester, whose Christian name was Hugh, she’d learned, from Lady Sarah. What had he been like as a boy? Had he gotten into scrapes? Had he always been so even-tempered? He exuded confidence and would probably act quickly and forcefully if someone dared slight him. She thirsted for all those details about him. Anyone would be curious about such a man, she reasoned, as she and Mr. Greenvale joined the dancers on the floor. She gazed over the crowded ballroom for a sign of him.
“You are contemplative tonight, Miss Kershaw,” Mr. Greenvale said, his smile wooden.
Lucy gathered her wits. She was being rude, so she smiled broadly, causing him to stroke a hand over his hair. “A little weary, sir, but never too tired to dance.”
As the dance came to a close, Lucy couldn’t resist one last lingering look at the earl. When she spied him laughing at something some gentleman had said, her heart beat faster, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the energetic dance, or the earl.
*
On Sunday, afterthey’d returned from church, Aunt Mary ferreted out a dashing black riding hat with a feather for Lucy towear. “Do you know how to choose a suitable hack?” she asked, suddenly concerned. “I shall have my groom advise you.”
“I’m sure Lady Sarah’s groom will accompany her,” Lucy said. “He can help me.”
“Mm. I suppose that is in order. Spencer will drive you to the park and make sure her ladyship’s groom is there before he leaves you. My, that hat does suit you.” She gave the brim a tug. “Come to the mirror and look for yourself.”
After looking at the mirror, Lucy agreed. The graceful hat was very stylish. Excitement tightened her chest. Would this be the first occasion where she could enjoy herself and not have to worry about the possible consequences of her lie?
*
Sarah paused inbuttering her toast to level a glance at Hugh seated across the breakfast table from her. “I heard you danced with Miss Kershaw a week or two ago.”
“It’s my duty to dance with a debutante. I believe you asked me to invite your friend Miss Ely to dance the quadrille.”
“But I didn’t ask you to dance with Miss Kershaw, did I?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Who is also a debutante. So?”
“So…” She grinned. “You selected the prettiest one at the ball.”
“Was she? I recognized her from Bath. That’s why I chose her.”
“Ha!”
He rubbed his neck. “Tell me, did you enjoy your first ball?”
“It was as I expected,” Sarah said. “Noisy, smoky, and everyone watching everyone else and talking behind their backs.”
“That’s a cynical view to have. What is the reason?”
She shrugged her thin shoulders.
He glanced at her breakfast, which consisted of one slice of toast. Sarah had lost weight. Dash it all, he’d swear Lord Cardew was the reason. “Did you have a partner for every dance?”
“I am an earl’s daughter. Of course men pursue me.”
“You aren’t fair to yourself. You’re a pretty girl.”
“Oh, Hugh. I am not.”
“You are too thin. You eat little more than a bird,” he said, giving in to the desire to advise her, although he feared it would not be welcome.