Lady Lucy's Lover by M.C. Beaton

when her parents were announced.
    Mr. and Mrs. Hyde-Benton were disappointed to find the Marquess from home, but were determined that Lucy should make up for his absence by describing all the Notables she had met so that they might join the ranks of the aristocracy by proxy, as it were.
    Mr. Hyde-Benton was tall and sallow with a long lugubrious face. Mrs. Hyde-Benton was fair and faded, showing some traces of earlier beauty lurking in a weak, rather silly face.
    Lucy obliged them as best she could, but somehow could not bring herself to describe her day at Blackheath. Her parents, she knew, would immediately demand an exhausting and exhaustive description of everything the Duke had said and done.
    Instead Lucy found herself asking, “Do you know of a Mr. Barrington who is a bill broker, Papa?”
    â€œI have no dealings with him, but I have heard of him. Why?”
    â€œSomeone was talking about him. He has an office somewhere in the City, I believe?”
    â€œSix Fetter Lane,” said her father promptly. “But bill brokers are not fashionable. Have you seen the Prince Regent this Season?”
    â€œI saw him briefly at the Courtlands’ ball,” said Lucy. Suddenly an idea of how to win back her husband’s love came to her in a blinding flash. “I think we are going to a reception at the Queen’s House.”
    â€œOooh!” exclaimed Mrs. Hyde-Benton. “’Tis montrous exciting. You will need a court dress and a hoop and…”
    â€œExactly,” said Lucy firmly. “I do not wish to ask Guy for the money because men do not understand the excessive cost of these things.”
    â€œDo not worry, my love,” said her mother. “Papa will gladly fund you. And… and… you must have your portrait painted. The Queen’s House. Oh, dear! I shall die of excitement.”
    â€œHow much?” asked Mr. Hyde-Benton.
    Lucy took a deep breath. “Fifty thousand pounds,” she said.
    â€œFifty thou—” gasped Mr. Hyde-Benton. He had thought that nothing more in the way of inflationary Regency prices could shock him. But this!
    â€œLady Londonderry paid a deal more,” said Lucy, her heart thumping against her ribs. “You see, Papa, one’s gown must be embroidered in precious stones and it is the thing to have the heels of one’s shoes encrusted with diamonds. But it
is
excessive. I am flying too high.”
    Mr. Hyde-Benton took a deep breath. He could well afford even this vast sum of money. His daughter’s social success meant everything to him.
    Lucy watched him anxiously. She had no fear of her parents arriving on the supposed night of the royal reception in order to see her finery. The Hyde-Bentons were so obsessed with social climbing that they thought very little of their own status and were always careful to call on their daughter when they were sure she would not be entertaining any of her grand friends. Lucy’s success was enough for them. Every time her name appeared in the court circular, they cut it out and carefully pasted it into a gold-embossed book.
    â€œVery well,” said her father. “I will give you a draft on my bank. Perhaps I should give it to Lord Standish.…”
    â€œOh, but he wouldn’t understand,” said Lucy quickly. “And he would be shocked at the extravagance. Confess, Papa. You are shocked yourself.”
    â€œVery well,” said Mr. Hyde-Benton again. “Now, Lucy, did the Prince Regent speak to you? What was he wearing? And is it true that…?”
    To Lucy, with the draft on her father’s bank firmly in her hand, it seemed only fair to please her indulgent parents as best she could, and so, with only a little twinge of guilt, she invented a long and fictitious conversation with the Prince Regent, and, after some time, her parents left, feeling quite dizzy and exalted at the thought of their little Lucy sitting talking to His Royal