Page 24 of To Break the Rules

Chapter 7

Oh, Harriet, do stop being such a stick in the mud. So what if the garden party is hosted by St Clair? It will be a lovely day and I want you to come! I’m sure you can avoid him with the number of people going, though why you’d want to is beyond me. I think he’s dreamy.

―Excerpt of a letter from Miss Kitty Connolly to Mrs Harriet Stanhope.

7th July 1814. South Audley Street, London.

By the time Lucia got home, Matilda was up and about. Deciding she’d head off questions about her whereabouts this morning, Lucia went on the attack.

“Well, Miss Hunt. Explain yourself,” she said with mock seriousness, folding her arms and endeavouring to look stern. “What were you thinking last night? You’ve got the ton all in a twitter, I can tell you that. Tongues were wagging before you’d even left the dance floor.”

Lucia laughed as Matilda groaned and put her head in her hands. She was sitting at the breakfast table, nursing a cup of hot chocolate and looking pale and rather tired. It was no exaggeration, however. The marquess rarely danced, and to see him single out Matilda of all people….

That Matilda had agreed to it puzzled Lucia. Though she was all for spitting in the eye of those who would set one down, surely what Matilda had done was only giving them ammunition?

“I don’t know what came over me,” Matilda confessed, peeking at Lucia through her fingers. “But the wretched man all but dared me and—”

“Oh!” Lucia said with a sad shake of her head. “That old trick. I must confess, a dare is hard to refuse when there’s some smug fellow goading you into it. However, I would have thought—”

“Oh, don’t say it,” Matilda retorted, holding out a hand to stop her. “I knew what he was doing, of course I did, but… it’s worse than that.”

Lucia’s eyes grew round, and she settled herself in the chair at Matilda’s side, perfectly happy to wallow in someone else’s troubles for a change.

“Worse how?”

Matilda closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she was about to unburden herself of her darkest secret. “Don’t judge me,” she pleaded, as Lucia gave a little bark of laughter.

“As if I would,” she said, appalled at the idea.

Matilda opened her eyes and bit her lip. “I… I wanted to dance with him and… I enjoyed it.”

The poor young woman looked so mortified that Lucia almost laughed, but realised in time that this was perhaps not appropriate.

“That is… awkward,” she said carefully.

Matilda pinched the bridge of her nose and grimaced. “Oh, believe me, awkward doesn’t begin to describe it,” she wailed. “I think I shall have a megrim.”

Lucia did laugh now. “Yes, and a fit of the vapours while you’re about it,” she teased. “Come, Matilda, you’re made of sterner stuff than that.”

“I know, but he knew, Lucia and… and he didn’t even gloat.”

Matilda sounded anxious and perplexed, and it was clear she wanted advice and reassurance, but Lucia was the last person to give it to her. All she knew of men was to avoid them at all costs. Life was a deal simpler, and safer, that way.

“He wants you, Matilda,” she said eventually. It was the simple truth. “He’s decided to woo you rather than trying to bully you into his bed.”

To her surprise, Matilda frowned. “He never tried to bully me,” she said, sounding a little defensive. “He was rude, obnoxious, insulting, and unbelievably arrogant, but he never bullied me.”

Lucia raised an eyebrow, and Matilda let out a sigh.

“No, it doesn’t make the slightest difference. He’s just trying to persuade me to be his mistress.”

“It’s a position half the women of the ton would murder their best friend for,” Lucia said, pulling a face at the idea, though it was true enough. “You’d have wealth beyond imagining, power… notoriety of a kind that would open doors rather than close them.”

“I know.” Matilda’s face was resigned. “None of which I care a fig for.”

Lucia let out a breath and smiled. “Well, there you are then. Crisis averted.”

Matilda laughed, and Lucia was pleased to see her looking more her old self.