Part 17 (1/2)
As was usual now, she settled to her ”poetry” while Clara and her aunt went over future invitations. For the first time, however, she found it difficult to write. The thoughts and emotions that jostled in her head were too powerful to be put into mere words, and some too wicked by far.
She recorded the superficial events of the St. Raven ball and a few foibles of the ton-but then she saw a way to meet in the afternoon. She still wanted to visit the exhibition of household inventions at Beech's Tavern.
She rang the bell, praying Hannah would come. She did. Probably the maids knew that Clara was with her mother.
”Hannah, can you get a letter to Lord Wyvern for me?”
Hannah looked alarmed. ”You don't want to be doing that, miss.”
”Doing what? I simply want him to escort me somewhere.”
”You'd be better avoiding him, miss. They say his father was raving mad.”
Lucy had forgotten that, and his behavior last night came to mind. Not insane, however, except with the particular insanity of love. She wondered if the previous earl might have been driven mad by his beloved fleeing into the arms of another.
”There, see,” Hannah said, seeing her hesitation.
”Nonsense. There's nothing deranged about the present earl, and you must do as I say.”
”If you insist, miss. And if his place isn't too far.”
With frustration, Lucy realized she had no idea of Wyvern's direction. He was staying with Lord and Lady Amleigh, but where was their house? She thought it had been mentioned when her aunt had read about his arrival, but at that time she'd not thought such a detail important. She could ask, but her instincts demanded secrecy, especially from her aunt and cousin, who had no discretion at all.
”Never mind, Hannah. I've thought better of it.”
”Thank the Lord for that, miss!” Hannah lowered her voice. ”They say belowstairs, miss, that he's a smuggler.”
”What nonsense! His mother took up with a smuggler after she left her husband, the earl.”
”Such goings-on. I never heard the like back home.”
”True enough. Don't gossip about what we've just discussed or I'll send you back there.”
”Not sure I'd mind, miss. Things are different here. But you can trust me.”
When Hannah had left, Lucy considered those words. Things certainly were different here, and she was out of her place. Could she live her life inside the fairy circle, even for love?
But he's not part of Mayfair or the ton.
He was David, the simple country gentleman who flew a kite, who bought books about agricultural improvement, who spoke with her as an equal.
Yet Lord Wyvern existed.
Who is the real man?
Her journal sometimes helped her clarify her thoughts, so she sharpened her pencil and sat to write.
The Peasant Earl?
He's not a peasant.
The estate manager turned earl?
That's the truth, but it Doesn't feel like truth.
Could the estate manager cow A lord and a well-born gentleman So effectively?
Born a scandalous b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Employed as a servant.
How can he be the man he is?
He is a mystery.
Too mysterious to be safe.
Lucy looked at the words, knowing they were true, knowing she should break the contract and keep her distance. Her behavior last night had been so foolhardy! It had been exciting, but precisely because it had been dangerous. Because he was dangerous. To her sanity, but in other, poorly understood ways.
When Clara came in to say they must change for their morning calls it was a relief. The mindless social round was just what she needed to quiet her wildly spinning mind.
When she didn't encounter him anywhere she made herself be glad, and when they set off for Drury Lane that evening she hoped he wouldn't be there. When her hopes were fulfilled, she sank into gloom, but no one would notice. The whole evening was devoted to an epic poem based on the story of Job.
She'd have much rather endured more Sebastian Rossiter, though love poetry wouldn't suit her mood, either. All very well for her to intend to avoid the Earl of Wyvern and all his mysteries and danger, but the wretched man had no right to avoid her!
Tomorrow, Wednesday, would be Almack's, and she finally had admittance to the select ball. He'd better be there to do his duty.
She entered Almack's fretting. Would the patronesses have raised the portcullis for him? He was an earl, but with a tainted background from both parents. She needed Wyvern to be here, not least so she could tell him what she thought of him for breaking their contract.
She needed to berate him, but she also needed his attention. Their two dances at the d.u.c.h.ess of St. Raven's ball hadn't entirely turned the trick, especially with no further evidence of commitment. She was still being pestered by Outram, Launceston, and a few others. She excused herself to speak to Lady Vandeimen.
Maria had Miss Florence at her side, who was cheerfully dealing with a number of suitors of her own.
”I hope you're enjoying Almack's, Lucy,” Maria said.
There was no point to pretense here, for Maria knew her well. ”I've enjoyed other a.s.semblies more.”
Maria's lips twitched. ”It's a marvel, isn't it, how something can be made desirable simply by limiting access? As you say, it's nothing out of the ordinary, and one meets the same people as at other events.”
”Minus the cads and wretches.”
”A t.i.tle can cover a host of sins.”
”Is the Earl of Wyvern admitted?”
It slipped out. She hadn't meant to show her interest.
”He's not a cad or wretch.”
”No, of course not,” Lucy said, mortified. ”Only t.i.tled and something of a scandal. Not himself, of course . . .”