LITMIR.BIZ

      Lucy looked about her eagerly as the carriage bowled briskly through the streets of London. It was early in the morning and they were not yet crowded with the traffic of the day. She could see a milkmaid crying her wares, her pails suspended from a wooden pole she wore across her shoulders. A coster was selling fresh mussels and oysters from a barrow he wheeled through the streets, and a brewery wagon was trotting proudly along the road, its horses dressed in shining brasses that jingled.

      They had stayed at an inn just outside London the previous evening and come on early this morning. Lucy craned excitedly to see as the carriage came to a halt outside the Marquis of Marlbeck’s London home. Although Drew and Marianne were to follow in a few days’ time, they had insisted that Lucy and Mrs Horne go ahead so as to begin the task of gathering Lucy’s new wardrobe before she was introduced into society.

      Lucy was glad that her elder sister would be in town during their stay, for she knew that Marianne had many friends, and she would be sure to introduce her sister to them. As she got down from the carriage, she saw a man walking down the street and thought that she recognised his tall figure, though, as she could not see his face, she could not be certain. She wondered if Lord Harcourt was returning to his home after a night out, or if he had risen early—and then scolded herself for speculating. It was none of her business if he had spent the night gambling or…with his mistress. A little flush stained her cheeks, for she imagined he must have a mistress. It was what Jo had meant by an arrangement—and what Miss Tremaine had implied by saying that he was a rake, of course.

      A butler dressed in formal black, his manner stately and slightly intimidating, had opened the door. He looked at her in what Lucy thought of as a stern manner as he welcomed them to the house, but as she entered behind her mama, a young footman winked at her. Lucy smiled at him, feeling better immediately.

      The housekeeper bustled forward, introducing herself as Mrs Williams and apologising to Mrs Horne for not being there sooner to welcome them.

      ‘Your rooms are ready, ma’am,’ she said. ‘If you will follow me upstairs, the footmen will see to your luggage, and if you care for some refreshment in the morning parlour, a maid will unpack for you.’

      ‘We have only brought a small amount of baggage with us,’ Mrs Horne told her. ‘It is my intention to buy my daughter a fashionable wardrobe in town.’

      ‘Very wise, if I might say so,’ the housekeeper said, looking at Lucy. ‘Would you like me to send and have the seamstress of your choice wait on you here?’

      ‘That is an excellent suggestion,’ Mrs Horne replied. ‘Lady Marlbeck has given me the address of the seamstresses she uses and I shall write a note, asking them to call tomorrow if it is convenient.’

      ‘I am sure it will be,’ Mrs Williams replied. ‘The Marchioness is a very elegant and beautiful lady, and her custom is eagerly sought. A recommendation from her would be attended immediately.’

      ‘Yes, I dare say,’ Mrs Horne said, looking at Lucy thoughtfully. In her opinion Lucy was as lovely as either of her elder sisters, but there was no denying that she was fortunate to have the Marchioness of Marlbeck as her sister. It would be sure to bring her to the notice of gentlemen and ladies alike, though Lucy’s portion was not large. However, her two brothers-in-law had both promised her a dowry, which meant that she would not go empty-handed to her husband. All in all, Mrs Horne believed that her youngest daughter ought to make a worthy match, though she had no intention of pushing her towards marriage. She was young yet and it would be Lucy’s choice—providing, of course, that she chose sensibly.

      Lucy looked about the house with interest as her mama continued to chat with the housekeeper. It was larger than it had appeared from the outside, for it was in a terrace of houses built at the end of the previous century. However, first appearances were deceptive and Lucy realised that it had considerable depth and width, and there were four storeys—the top being the servants’ bedchambers—and the kitchens and servants’ hall were in the basement. The staircase was wide and impressive, carpeted in a rich blue Persian design, as were the landings on the first floor.

      There were beautiful paintings in gilt frames on the walls, also gilt pier tables interspersed with small gilt chairs along the landing of the first floor, which was where some of the main reception rooms were situated. They had to go up a second short flight of stairs to the guest bedrooms.

      Lucy was taken to her room first. Her mama told her to simply tidy herself and go down, because they had not stopped for breakfast at the inn and would take some refreshment in fifteen minutes. As she stepped inside her bedchamber, Lucy gasped with surprise for it was very different to the furnishings at Marlbeck Place, which was all rather grand and formal—though Marianne had begun to change some of the rooms. Here, the furniture was far more modern and fashioned of a pale wood that gave the room lightness and style, blending well with the soft rose curtains about the bed and the windows. Rose and cream with a hint of crimson here and there was a pretty combination that pleased Lucy very well.

      She believed that she would be very much at home here and crossed over to the window to look at the pretty writing desk that stood there, taking off her bonnet and shaking out her long hair. The desk had a leather writing slope and drawers that contained paper, pens, ink and sealing wax. She was examining some other pretty items that had been placed there for her use and it was a while before she sensed that she was being watched. She glanced out of the window and saw that a young man was standing in the road below, looking up at her window. When he saw her, he doffed his hat, sweeping her an extravagant bow, a grin on his handsome face.

      Lucy felt her cheeks grow warm. The look he gave her had been too intimate…almost insolent, and it made her shiver. She drew back from the window, retreating to the far side of the room. It had not occurred to her that she could be seen from the street for she was used to country houses, and no one would have been rude enough to stare at her aunt’s house. She realised that her time in London would open her eyes to many new experiences.

      She had taken off her bonnet and now she removed her travelling cloak. Her dress was a little creased from the journey, but she smoothed it down, knowing that she did not have time to change before she joined her mama in the breakfast parlour.

      She went over to the dressing table, which was to one side of the room, and sat down on the stool. She dragged a comb through her hair, which had begun to tangle about her face, as it often did, because it was so fine. Some of the gentlemen staying with Marianne in the country had told her that her hair was like spun silk and the colour of moonlight.

      Lucy pulled a face. She supposed that she had nice hair, but she had always envied her sister Jo her red locks, which curled into ringlets if allowed to blow freely in the wind. Jo usually brushed her hair back, but sometimes she simply tied it with a ribbon, because it was the way Harry liked to see it.

      Lucy’s hair was usually held by ribbons, because it was too fine to put up in elaborate styles, though Mama had told her she would be employing a hairdresser in London to dress her hair and style it in a more fashionable look. She made a face at herself in the mirror and sighed. She would do anything if it helped her to look a bit older!