“Good evening, Mr. Beaufort,” Lady Sarah said warmly. “I trust luck is with you tonight?”
He bowed. “Now that I am in the presence of two lovely ladies, it will surely improve.”
“Miss Kershaw and I plan another ride in Rotten Row,” Lady Sarah said surprising Lucy. “Perhaps you might join us?”
He took a step closer to Sarah. “I should be delighted.” He gazed at her fondly. “Am I correct in assuming your brother is to be part of the invitation?”
“But of course.” Lady Sarah looked up at him, perhaps a little distracted by his closeness. “Upon his return from the country. He leaves tomorrow.”
Lucy hid her surprise, as the dowager countess was still in London. Perhaps Lord Dorchester would visit his betrothed while in Kent.
Mr. Rattray’s entrance prompted her to groan under her breath. He stood for a moment, casting his eye around the room. His thoughtful gaze rested on her, and he nodded before Aunt Mary approached him.
Mr. Beaufort had been called to a table, and Lady Sarah returned to join her, having obviously enjoyed talking to him, for her eyes sparkled.
They continued their stroll. “I don’t trust that gentleman,” Lucy said, needing to express her doubts to someone.
“Who?” Lady Sarah looked past her.
“Mr. Rattray. The gentleman with my aunt. Do you know him?”
Lady Sarah glanced casually in their direction. “No. I don’t. Perhaps Hugh does.” She took Lucy’s arm. “It’s hot and stuffy in here. Fresh air would be welcome. Shall we go out onto the terrace?”
Lucy eagerly agreed. The night seemed filled with complications.
They donned their wraps and stood by the rail, delighting in the sight of a sliver of moon amidst a cloudless sky adorned with stars. Rose bushes scented the air, and a faint breeze lifted the leaves in the trees. The scene was ripe for romance, and Lucy yearned to be alone with Lord Dorchester again. She silently scolded herself.
Lady Sarah turned to her. “Now, tell me why you don’t like Mr. Rattray.”
“I’m not sure. Doesn’t that make me sound mean? He has set his sights on pursuing my aunt. It’s possible that he wants to marry her. It’s an innate sense, but I feel something off about him, something… false… perhaps even sinister.” Lucy shrugged. “It’s possible that I am being fanciful.”
“Women are gifted with instinct,” Lady Sarah said. “You should trust it.”
Lucy had to agree. “It’s rarely failed me in the past.”
“Mr. Beaufort is handsome, isn’t he?” Lady Sarah said in a warm voice. “I had hoped… but he has shown little interest in me.”
Lucy put a hand on her friend’s arm. “I would give him time. I believe him to be a careful, very proper man. One who has suffered a terrible loss. And after all, your brother is his friend.”
Lady Sarah’s eyes widened. “Yes, he has been through a lot. You are right, as usual.”
A brown-haired gentleman, appearing young and slim in comparison with Mr. Beaufort, stepped through the terrace door.
“Here you are, Lady Sarah.”
“Lord Cardew, I wasn’t aware that you planned to come to London.” Lady Sarah crossed the terrace to him. He took her hands and gazed warmly down at her.
“It was on impulse. Mama wanted to visit a sick friend in Mayfair and wished for me to accompany her. A friend informedme he saw you riding in Hyde Park with a lady and two gentlemen. I went to your home and learned of your direction, so here I am.”
“Oh, please excuse my poor manners, Lord Cardew, may I introduce you to Miss Kershaw?” Lady Sarah sounded flustered. “Lord Cardew hails from Bath.” She turned back to him. “Miss Kershaw also lives there.”
Lucy bobbed. “How do you do?”
His hazel eyes roamed her face as if trying to place her. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said finally. “Strange, when Bath is such a small society.”
“No, my lord, we have not.”
“Wait,” Lord Cardew said, sounding a few degrees warmer. “I recall having heard your name mentioned, Miss Kershaw. The Marquess of Berwick is a family connection, is he not?”