Sally and the earl continued to converse for the better part of an hour, laughing together like old friends, ignoring Lucy completely. Nothing more than a potted fern to them. Or a vase, perhaps.
Just as well. It was best if Lucy didn’t attempt to speak. Dufton’s presence made her far too anxious, which would haveher teeth and tongue at odds. Once, she’d had a governess, Miss Capwitch, who’d taught her, when the lisp became pronounced, to breathe. Compose herself. Focus on the position of her tongue. The feel of her teeth. Concentrate onwhatshe needed to say and not towhomshe was speaking.
The method worked.Sometimes.
Dufton swiveled in Lucy’s direction, studying her in bland appraisal.
Yes, I’m very much like a vase. And not a terribly expensive one.
“Mrs. Waterstone,” he drawled. “I find I need your assistance with a small matter.”
“Anything,” Sally simpered. She was sitting quite close to Dufton, practically in the earl’s lap, which was mildly alarming.
Better her than me.
“Miss Waterstone requires an entirely new wardrobe.” His gaze ran over Lucy’s sprigged muslin day dress, which was at least two years old.
Sally paled. Her lips pressed together. “My lord, given?—”
“At my expense, of course,” Dufton smoothly interrupted. “The dowager countess will be joining us at the Shaftoe ball specifically to make the acquaintance of Miss Waterstone. I do not want her disappointed, not when her approval is tantamount.”
How kind of him, to dress up the lamb for slaughter.
Sally nodded so furiously, Lucy thought her neck might snap. “As you wish, my lord. I’ll arrange for an appointment at the modiste immediately. Madame Lucien.”
“Madame Dupree,” Dufton inserted, once more cutting off Sally’s pretty speech. “Her gowns are the best in London, so I’m told, and the dowager countess favors her establishment. You will take her there to be properly outfitted, Mrs. Waterstone.”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Good.” Dufton came smoothly to his feet. “Then I will take my leave. It has been a most delightful morning.” He gave a short bow to Sally. “Mrs. Waterstone.”
Lucy kept her gaze fixed on her slippers as Dufton took her hand and scraped his teeth deliberately over her knuckles.
How subtle.
“Good day, my lord,” Lucy murmured, her features composed into a placid mask. But beneath her skin, anger simmered and howled.
“How generous of Lord Dufton,” Sally said after he’d departed. “You aren’t even wed, yet he wishes you to have a new wardrobe. I’m sure jewels will follow. How lucky you are.”
Maybe you should wed him.
“Once you are his wife, his countess, there is little he will deny you.”
Not even a room in a sanitarium. “I haven’t agreed to wed him,” Lucy whispered, defiance sparking inside her.
Sally’s lips parted in surprise. “You’ll be a countess. Wealthy. Respected. You will hardly receive a better offer. Mr. Waterstone and I have decided it is in your best interests to wed Lord Dufton.”
“But I have not,” Lucy murmured. “The choice to marry is mine. I don’t believe Lord Dufton and I are a good match.” She debated on how much to say to Sally. “He made threats?—”
“Threats? Nonsense. Dufton isn’t some thug on the street. He is a peer. An earl with a vast and prestigious family,” Sally trilled. “You aren’t even wed, and yet he’s gifting you with a new wardrobe from the most exclusive modiste in London. You can have the pick of anything you want at Madame Dupree’s.” Sally gave her a baleful look. “How selfish you are, Lucy. Considering only yourself and no one else. Did it ever occur to you that Mr. Waterstone and I might want our own family?”
Well, that was rather blunt.
“Do you expect to live here forever?”
“No. I?—”
“What will you do if you don’t wed Dufton? Become a governess?” Sally made a derisive sound. “Who on earth would employ you after hearing your speech? Oh, I suppose you could become a paid companion, but however would you secure such a position? You know no one in society.” Sally rolled her eyes. “How ridiculous you are. We’ve presented you with a most suitable match—a splendid one, truth be told.” A snort of derision followed her words. “Marriage, for a young lady of your dubious qualities, is all that is available. You certainly cannot live on your father’s largesse forever, especially if you refuse Dufton.”
