He had yet to return.
Now, elegantly clad in shimmering blue silk the colour of cornflowers, her dark hair artfully coiffed to fall in soft curls about her brow and temples, Lucinda stood on the edge of the ballroom floor and looked about her.
They were neither early nor late; the room was already well filled but not yet crowded. Elegant gentlemen conversed with fashionable matrons; dowagers and chaperons lined the walls. Their charges, mostly young girls making their come-out, were readily identified by the pale pastel hues of their gowns. They were everywhere, the bolder ones chatting with youthful swains, others, more bashful, clinging to each other’s company.
“Oh—look!” Heather clutched Lucinda’s gloved arm. “There’s Miss Morley and her sister.” Heather glanced up at Lucinda. “May I join them?”
Lucinda smiled across the room at the cheery Misses Morley. “Certainly. But look for us when you’ve done.”
Heather flashed her an excited smile.
Em snorted. “We’ll be over there.” Wielding a lorgnette, she pointed to a chaise by the wall.
With a bob, Heather slipped away, a vision in palest turquoise muslin, her golden curls dressed high.
“A most fetching gown—even if ’twas I who chose it,” Em declared. She led the way to the chaise.
Lucinda followed. She was about to copy Em’s descent onto the brocaded seat when young Mr Hollingsworth appeared by her elbow, an older, infinitely more elegant gentleman beside him.
“I say, Mrs Babbacombe—delighted to see you again.” Mr Hollingsworth all but jigged with excitement.
Lucinda murmured a polite greeting; they had met Mr Hollingsworth at Hatchard’s the day before.
“Beg you’ll allow me to present my cousin, Lord Ruthven.”
The elegant gentleman, dark-ha
ired and handsome, bowed gracefully. “I am indeed honoured to make your acquaintance, Mrs Babbacombe.”
Curtsying, Lucinda glanced up and met his eye; she suppressed a grimace as she recognised the speculative glint therein.
“A rose amongst so many peonies, my dear.” With a languid wave, Ruthven dismissed the youthful beauties about them.
“Indeed?” Lucinda raised her brows sceptically.
Lord Ruthven was undeterred. And, as she quickly discovered, his lordship was not the only gentleman desirous of more mature company. Others, largely of similar ilk, strolled up, unhesitatingly claiming Ruthven’s good offices to perform the introductions. His lordship, indolently amused, obliged. Remembering her duties, Lucinda tried to retreat, only to have Em snort—indulgently amused—and wave her away.
“I’ll keep an eye on Heather. You go and enjoy yourself—that’s what ton balls are for.”
Thus adjured, and reflecting that Em knew rather more about watching over young girls at ton balls than she did, Lucinda inwardly shrugged and smiled on her would-be court. In a very short time, she found herself surrounded—by a collection of gentlemen she mentally categorised as Harry Lester’s contemporaries. They were, one and all, ineffably charming; she could see no harm in enjoying their company.
Then the music started, lilting strains wafting over the bright heads.
“Dare I claim your first cotillion in the capital, my dear?”
Lucinda turned to find Lord Ruthven’s arm before her. “Indeed, sir. I would be delighted.”
A smile curved his lips. “No, my dear—it is I who am delighted. You will have to find another adjective.”
Lucinda met his eyes. She raised her brows. “My mind is a blank, sir. What would you suggest?”
His lordship was perfectly prepared to oblige. “Devastated with joy? In alt? Over the moon with happiness?”
Lucinda laughed. As they took their places in the set, she arched a brow at him. “How about—‘so impressed I am unable to find words to express it’?”
Lord Ruthven grimaced.
As the evening progressed, Lucinda found herself much in demand. As she was ranked among the matrons, she did not have a dance-card but was free to bestow her hand on whomever she chose from amongst her assiduous court. Indeed, their assiduousness triggered her innate caution; while Ruthven appeared too good-humoured and indolent to be dangerous, there were others whose eyes held a more intent gleam.