Alex wasn’t certain he liked Lucia being referred to as “ripe for picking.” He could well imagine the conversation the young bucks had when she was the topic. He scowled, immediately regretting the show of emotion when Dewhurst’s grin broadened.
“Why the sudden interest, Selbourne?”
“I saw her home tonight. Dandridge was trying to have his wedding night early.”
“Dandridge dipping rather deep again, eh? Sad excuse for a man. From what I’ve seen of Miss Dashing’s spirit, she’ll have a rough time of it. He’s a sapskull and his mother is”—he shuddered— “frightening. Miss Dashing will have to toe the line.”
Alex nodded and poured them both another. If Alex wanted information, Dewhurst could supply it. Freddie knew everyone and went everywhere. The ladies of the ton practically fell over themselves to offer him invitations to their balls and soirees.
A small group of ardent gamblers behind them erupted into an argument, and Alex had to raise his voice, “Why is she with him?”
Dewhurst turned away from the excitement at the faro table. “Oh, the lovesick youth courted her as they always do, but you can’t expect her to marry some twenty-year-old fop. I believe she had another offer from a marquess—one of the swell of the first stare—but her father refused him.” He sat back, looking uncharacteristically contemplative.
“He wants her to marry into a family with ties to the Parliament. Looking to get ahead. Their fathers have been planning this wedding since the two were infants. Surprised you didn’t know.”
“Never paid much attention before, but it makes sense. Dandridge is allied with Pitt, and despite all of Fox’s attempts, Pitt still holds the reins in Parliament.”
“Precisely.” Dewhurst waved an arm, the lace at his sleeves fluttering. “She was brought to point non plus. A little coaxing from her father, all the bit about honor and duty, probably did the trick.”
“Hmm.”
Freddie scrutinized him for a moment and took a leisurely sip of his gin, finally inured to the taste. “Perhaps I was wrong after all. It is female trouble.”
Alex snorted. “Not likely. I’m in London on business.”
“Need help?”
“It’s a minor affair. I’ll be back in Hampshire by the end of the week.”
“Hampshire?” Freddie lowered his voice, the vapid expression on his face replaced by one approaching solemnity. “Is Paris becoming too dangerous? I haven’t heard anything.”
“Wentworth advised me to disappear for a few months.” Alex kept his voice low but his manner casual. “Old Boney’s up to something, but I’m stuck here because of a few sketchy rumors.”
“Perhaps you’ll find something to occupy you in London then.” Freddie waggled his brows.
“My talents are wasted in London,” Alex said, ignoring Freddie’s meaning. “Neither you nor Middleton needs me.” Alex glanced around the room, now crowded with peers and gentlemen of the ton dressed in their finest. “Where is Sebastian, anyway?”
Dewhurst was rarely seen without his cousin by his side, and Alex had known Sebastian almost as long as he’d known Freddie.
Freddie rolled his eyes and emitted a world-weary sigh. “He’s fallen in love again. Dash it, but that puppy makes a fool of himself over some woman once a month.”
Alex smiled at this unfortunate but accurate description. “Who is she this time?”
“He’s dangling after Lady Henrietta, wife of Lord Randall.”
“Randall? Not Edmund Randall?”
“The same.”
“The man is sixty if a day!”
“Yes, and his new wife obviously appreciates the merits of a younger man. But if Middleton isn’t more circumspect in this affair, he may find himself with another glove at his feet and an appointment at dawn.” Freddie’s hand went to his collar, loosening it. “Randall was in the navy. His aim is no doubt much better than the chap who challenged Sebastian last. What was his name? Blake?”
“I’ll talk to Middleton. It’s something to do besides spend my time with my brother’s in-laws.”
Alex swallowed his drink and rose. He’d taken three or four steps when Freddie called, “I have a new Italian phrasebook. Call on me if it becomes necessary!” His laughter echoed through the room, and a few of the other club members smiled wryly at the jest.
Alex raised his arm in an obscene gesture and kept walking.
The next morning the sun shone through the windows of Alex’s carriage, promising a pleasant day. He hoped his meeting with Lord Brigham was as pleasant. Was it too much to ask that Lady Brigham, whose love of all things Italian was superseded only by her horrendous pronunciation of the language, wouldn’t be at home today? And after the temptations of the previous evening, was it too much to hope that their youngest daughter be absent as well? Unlikely, but a man could dream, couldn’t he?
But by the time he’d arrived at the Brighams’ town house, Alex had convinced himself that even if Lucia was about, handling both her temper and his unwelcome attraction to her wouldn’t pose a problem. She was only a woman, he mused. Not any different from the rest of her species.
After all, how unmanageable could one female be?
Chapter Four
“Buongiorno!”
Lucia jumped out of the chair she’d just taken as her mother swept into the cheery breakfast room.
“Buongiorno, mia figlias!”
“Buongiorno, Mamma,” Lucia answered, trying to appear as though she’d meant to catapult to attention. Not fooled, Francesca gave her a questioning look before turning away from the sideboard to greet their mother. “Buongiorno, Mamma.”
Lady Brigham took both of Francesca’s hands in her own and kissed her elder daughter on both cheeks. Having arrived only moments before, Francesca still wore her gloves and hat.
“Mia dolce!” Lady Brigham cooed, smiling at Francesca.
Lucia watched and waited, familiar with her mother’s routine. Lady Brigham gave Francesca one more affectionate squeeze, then took her seat at the head of the cozy beech table. She artfully arranged her white frock of sprigged muslin so that the folds flattered her figure, and finally, with a flick of her lace-bedecked wrists, summoned the footman waiting near the sideboard to pour her morning chocolate.
Lucia took a breath and counted to ten. She’d just reached nine when her mother turned sharp blue eyes in her direction and began her daily inspection. Lucia squirmed, hoping the white muslin morning dress with small yellow flowers and her simple hair arrangement wouldn’t elicit comment. After everything she’d endured the night before, she simply couldn’t take one of her mother’s lectures today. Her mother’s gaze rested on her hair, and Lucia held her breath, clutching her hands in her lap.
Then her mother nodded, and Lucia slowly released the pent-up air. Lady Brigham’s eyes drifted back to Francesca, now handing her hat to another footman. But her sister waved the man away when he offered to take her spencer.
“You are not staying, cara?” Lady Brigham stirred her chocolate with a dainty silver spoon.
“I don’t know, Mamma.” Francesca took a seat across from Lucia but refused the footman’s offer of coffee or chocolate. “Ethan insisted we call this morning, but he still hasn’t told me why.”