“I didn’t think he’d come,” Lucy remarked. Her voice was cold and tight, and she was staring past Arthur over at the wooden bench, where Lord Vincent was now standing in front of Mrs. Thornhill and Miss Thornhill, telling them some amusing story or another. Miss Thornhill did not look pleased, but her mother seemed entirely charmed by the man. Wonderful.
“Miss Thornhill will have a good portion on her marriage, won’t she?” Arthur asked. “Well, there you have it. He’s got his sights set on her. For a wealthy man, he’s certainly determined to marry an heiress. Assuming he is still wealthy, after all that gambling.”
“She’ll soon set him right,” Lucy said confidently. “I shouldn’t worry. Felicity always could stand up for herself.”
Biting his lip, Arthur watched the scene across the terrace for a moment. Miss Thornhill was pointedly looking away while Lord Vincent spoke. Her mother, who was entirely enraptured with the man, cast her a quick, angry, sideways look, and elbowed her in the ribs.
A strange look passed between mother and daughter, and Miss Thornhill swallowed. She shifted to turn her attention back to Lord Vincent and pasted an unconvincing smile on her face.
Mrs. Thornhill clearly had control of her daughter’s behaviour. Arthur’s heart sank. Lucy might be convinced that her friend could stand up for herself and would soon send Lord Vincent packing, but Arthur wasn’t quite so sure.
Chapter Eight
Felicity would have loved to have got up and stalked away from Lord Vincent, just like Lord Lanwood had, but of course that wasn’t possible.
Gentlemen did, after all, have a great deal more freedom than ladies. And in Felicity’s case – all but getting blackmailed by her own mother – she was even less free to make her own choice.
It was clear that her mother was entirely enthralled by Lord Vincent. The man was clear-eyed and bright, not smelling of spilled alcohol as he had last night, not wobbly and slurred. He looked clean and cool, a well-dressed, excessively handsome gentleman. More than that, he seemed interested in Felicity.
Her ribs still stung from her mother’s elbow, and Felicity didn’t dare glance away or act disinterested. She was forced to smile up at Lord Vincent and listen to his chatter.
“I overheard Lady Lucy mentioning a little walk, after luncheon,” Lord Vincent was now saying. “I’m sure I’d enjoy a chance to stretch my legs.”
Mrs. Thornhill glanced expectantly at Felicity.
“Well, I’m sure Lucy would be glad to have you come along with us,” Felicity said, as there was really not much else shecouldsay.
She wished Lord Lanwood were here. He’d hurried off as soon as he saw Lord Vincent coming, which was entirely understandable. But somehow, if he were here, Felicity thought she might feel a little better. She knew that he disliked Lord Vincent, and that the feeling was mutual. And, on top of that, Lord Lanwood was the host here, the one who all this belonged to. He had authority here that Lord Vincent simply couldn’t compete with.
Perhaps if he were here, Mrs. Thornhill would stop pinching and nudging Felicity and making motions with her eyes, signalling for her to be friendlier towards Lord Vincent.
He grinned down at her. It was the same wolfish smile that had made her heart flutter before, but now it only made her feel queasy.
“How excellent. You and I can have a good, long conversation, Miss Thornhill. I look forward to it. Will you be coming along, Mrs. Thornhill? Mr. Thornhill?”
“Not me, I think,” Mrs. Thornhill fluttered. “I’m far too old for such nonsense.”
“Too old? Surely not, Mrs. Thornhill. At first glance, I was quite sure that you were Miss Thornhill’s older sister.”
That was a ludicrous piece of flattery, of course, but Mrs. Thornhill giggled like a schoolgirl and even flushed a little.
What a wonderful luncheon this is going to be,Felicity thought wearily.
Then, at last, it was time to actually sit down for their luncheon. Mrs. Langley had set out the places, and Felicity was relieved to see that Lord Vincent was going to be sitting away from her.
I can do it,she thought.I can get through today.
“I thought we could walk around the old rose-gardens,” Lucy said, “then through the little wilderness at the back.”
“The late earl kept the wilderness neatly pruned,” said one of the guests, with more than a hint of disapproval in her voice. “It was all neatly raked gravel and well-trimmed hedges.”
Lucy smiled faintly. “I’m sure it looked very pretty, but Lord Lanwood prefers to let nature have its way in the garden.”
“But look at all the weeds! So ugly.”
“I don’t think they’re ugly,” Felicity spoke up. “Look at all the herbs. And there, there’s some wild garlic, how lovely! Who’s to say whether a flower is a weed or not, in any case?”
The lady gave her a bewildered stare. “Flowers are flowers, weeds are weeds. Roses are flowers. These odd little purple flowers areweeds.”
