Page 66

‘Mr Brabazon?’ Still holding her hand, he pulled her gently closer. Sybella’s face was lifted to his, her eyes questioning and expectant. There was a tension between them that was almost tangible. Then the moment passed and his grip relaxed.

‘I’ve promised James a ride in the curricle. I’ve got business to do tomorrow. Shall we meet the following afternoon, at three?’ He was once more his languid unruffled self.

Sybella stepped back a pace. ‘Of course. James will be pleased.’ He quickly bowed and walked away.

That night, Sybella asked Alice to make up a bed in her sister’s room as she feared there might be a delayed reaction to her injury. Sleep was slow to come. Too much had happened in the last few days and her mind would not rest, ranging over every alteration and puzzle of their lives. In the dark, she heard Lucie turn over and utter a deep sigh. She sprang up and was by her sister’s side in an instant. She found her gazing up at her with eyes that gleamed in the dim light. ‘Bella, I’m so happy.’

Sybella sighed herself, with relief. ‘I’m really glad, dearest.’ She bent to kiss her forehead.

‘I loved him from the moment I found him on the road. Fallen from our favourite tree. It feels like fate.’

‘I know. Now go to sleep.’ She tucked the blanket around her shoulders.

Back in her own bed, the tumult of her thoughts continued to assail her. She had been content, happy even, with her life as a widow, a mother and the owner of her family estate. She was proud of her competence and independence. But in these last few weeks, such a satisfactory life no longer seemed enough. Old desires, old memories, long-abandoned hopes, all were awakening. What had happened to make her so susceptible to feeling? How would she name this longing that made her restless and uneasy? If it was love, how could she ever feel that way again without betraying her own heroic husband? And why was she haunted by the need to know what Mr Brabazon had been about to say to her?

Plagued with these disordered thoughts, Sybella lay in fitful sleep until the morning and rose little refreshed, rather dreading the day. She had promised James they would go again to see the treasures in the Egyptian Hall, and she would have to say goodbye to Scipio as Gem rode him back to the Manor.

Lucie was up and out of bed as bright as a bird. Her face was radiant with joy and all she had to show for the previous day’s drama was a lump the size of a duck’s egg on the back of her head. When Sybella saw her, she could only wonder at the healing power of love. She whirled into the room where Lady Godley was expostulating over the London Gazette and drinking her second cup of coffee, and threw her arms round her neck. ‘Oh, dearest Godmama, Freddie has asked me to marry him.’

Lady Godley put down her cup and patted the slender back, feeling Lucie’s heart beating through the muslin. ‘Well, indeed! And what does your current betrothed have to say about that?’

‘Oh, Val’s so relieved. He never seriously wanted to marry me.’

‘That’s a rather unusual way of proceeding, to propose to someone you never wanted to marry in the first place.’

‘He didn’t really propose, I did. And he might have wanted to marry me for a short while but then he realised that we love each other too much.’ Seeing Lady Godley’s amused expression she continued, ‘As brother and sister, you see.’

It was not yet noon and yet Samson was once more on constant duty at the front door. The first to arrive were the exuberant lords, Lynwood and Ravenell. They had come to enquire about the invalid but were in a sparky mood that jarred Samson’s sense of propriety. They both looked somewhat unkempt and it was not clear if they had actually been up all night or had just affected the fashionable new look for blades about Town.

Lady Godley was passing through the hall as they bounded in. ‘Mes polissons!’ She clapped her hands together and greeted them with enthusiastic affection, leading them up the stairs.

‘How is Lucie?’ Lord Lynwood could not resist the main preoccupation on his mind. Lady Godley did not intend to conduct their conversation in hearing of the servants, so led them into the drawing room.

‘Well, my lords, such a to-do!’ she said and firmly closed the door. Noticing Lord Lynwood’s anxious face, she continued, ‘Oh don’t get in a pother, Freddie. Lucie’s quite recovered, it seems. She was as merry as a grig this morning. I’ve never seen her in better fettle.’

‘Can we see her?’ Lord Ravenell was propped elegantly against the window looking down on the street.

‘She’s on a short walk with Alice and should be back soon.’ Lady Godley turned to Lord Lynwood. ‘I hear from Lucie that you’ve offered for her hand, Freddie. What does your guardian have to say about that?’

‘He’s been as docile as a lamb. I must say I was ready for a fight. But I don’t know what’s come over him. I asked him if he was half-raddled. And he said perhaps he was and smiled in a peculiar way. Have you been getting at him, Lady Godley?’

‘Good heavens, no! No one’s ever been able to get Anthony to do anything that he doesn’t want to do, as you know yourself, young harum-scarum!’

‘Well, then, he’s in love.’ Lord Lynwood’s face lit up with laughter as he spoke and glanced across at his friend, who shared his secret joke.

‘I can see Loo crossing the street.’ Lord Ravenell pointed and waved an airy hand.

Lucie barely paused to remove her bonnet before running up the stairs and into the room. Both hands went out to the two young men and she flew into their arms. ‘Tut, tut, child. You’re not married yet!’ Lady Godley admonished her.

‘Oh, Godmama! Don’t be so fusty. Yesterday, I thought I was dying, instead I’m alive and grateful for it. In matters of life and death, should such proprieties matter?’

‘You’re a malapert miss,’ her godmother grumbled.

Lucie ignored her and looked from one handsome face to the other. ‘Val, has your father accepted our decision?’

‘Old Papa is disappointed. How could he not be? He greatly liked the idea of having you as a daughter, Loo, but I pointed out you’re still my sister, so nothing’s changed.’ He grasped her hand and brought it swiftly to his lips, his face for a fleeting moment tinged with melancholy. Then his natural effervescent humour returned and his friends were relieved to see laughter once more animate his expression.

Freddie Lynwood turned to Lucie. ‘Val and I hoped you might walk with us down to the mews at Grosvenor Square where the Duke stables some of his horses. Now that you’re not allowed to ride Scipio, we thought you should choose one of his. He’s got a great eye for prime bloodstock.’