so set against it,” said Miss Blythe. “I shall let you go your own obstinate way.”
“I am not obstinate.”
Miss Blythe sternly overrode the affronted rejoinder. “However, I do feel strongly that I must point out that the duty of any conscientious chaperone is to put her charge in the way of every eligible gentleman possible. It will be a struggle to reconcile the violation of my duty with my conscience.”
Lucinda would have retorted with some spirit, but she checked herself as the door opened. She turned her head. “Yes, Church?”
The butler bowed. “Mr. Stassart, my lady.”
Lucinda made an exclamation of mingled dismay and resignation. “Oh, bother!”
“Precisely,” remarked Miss Blythe. Her voice had turned markedly acid.
Chapter Six
Mr. Ferdie Stassart came into the drawing room with the confident air of one who knows himself to be welcome. He was a rather willowy gentleman who sported dandified tastes. Lucinda was taken aback at sight of him, for his attire was even more exaggerated than she recalled.
His coat was padded through the shoulders and cut so tightly to his thin form that it was obvious that he had to be wrestled into it by his valet. The starched shirtpoints that brushed his pale cheekbones were so obstructive that it was impossible for him to turn his head without moving his entire body. His smallclothes were exquisitely worked, and his waistcoat, from which dangled various fobs and an ornate eyeglass, was of a sharp yellow shade that made the ladies stare. His pantaloons fit without a crease into shining tasseled top-boots.
Mr. Stassart met Lucinda’s startled gaze and preened himself, taking her look to be one of admiration. A raffish smile lit his boyishly handsome countenance, and he greeted her in warm accents. “Cousin!”
As he started toward her, he espied Miss Blythe, and he checked in midstride. His countenance altered ludicrously, for he had anticipated finding his fair cousin alone. He had inquired of the butler whether Lady Mays was entertaining any other callers, but he had not thought to ask about the possible existence of a chaperone.
“Why, Miss Blythe! This is something of an astonishment, ma’am. I never expected to see you here. It has been quite some time, I believe, since we last met,” he said.
“Mr. Stassart,” acknowledged Miss Blythe coolly. “I am pleased that you recall me. I, too, remember you. Quite well.”
Mr. Stassart regarded the former governess for a thoughtful moment before he regained his smile. “I could never forget one who figured so closely with my uncle’s household.”
He turned his attention back to Lucinda. “I see that you have retained the services of a formidable chaperone, cousin. However, I do not think that our Miss Blythe need put herself out over such a close member of the family!”
Lucinda held out her hand to him, a polite smile upon her face. “Hello, Ferdie.”
Mr. Stassart shook his head. There was a glint of amusement in his rather hard blue eyes. “Come, cousin! I shall not stand on ceremony with you. Why, we have known one another since our cradles!” He had taken hold of her hand and now, holding her captive, bent forward to place a kiss.
Lucinda turned her head so that his salute fell upon her cheek rather than her lips. She freed her hand and retreated to sit down in a wing chair rather than returning to her former place on the settee, to which she gestured. “Won’t you sit down, Ferdie? I should have known that you would come to see me.”
“So you should,” he agreed easily, taking his seat. “When I heard that my fair cousin Lady Mays had returned to London, I set out at once to wait upon you. I have always held you in the highest regard, Lucinda, as you well know.”
“Do I, indeed,” said Lucinda on a dry note. “I thought it was my father whom you held in high regard. At least, you have said so whenever you have required someone to bail you out of your latest
“I am not obstinate.”
Miss Blythe sternly overrode the affronted rejoinder. “However, I do feel strongly that I must point out that the duty of any conscientious chaperone is to put her charge in the way of every eligible gentleman possible. It will be a struggle to reconcile the violation of my duty with my conscience.”
Lucinda would have retorted with some spirit, but she checked herself as the door opened. She turned her head. “Yes, Church?”
The butler bowed. “Mr. Stassart, my lady.”
Lucinda made an exclamation of mingled dismay and resignation. “Oh, bother!”
“Precisely,” remarked Miss Blythe. Her voice had turned markedly acid.
Chapter Six
Mr. Ferdie Stassart came into the drawing room with the confident air of one who knows himself to be welcome. He was a rather willowy gentleman who sported dandified tastes. Lucinda was taken aback at sight of him, for his attire was even more exaggerated than she recalled.
His coat was padded through the shoulders and cut so tightly to his thin form that it was obvious that he had to be wrestled into it by his valet. The starched shirtpoints that brushed his pale cheekbones were so obstructive that it was impossible for him to turn his head without moving his entire body. His smallclothes were exquisitely worked, and his waistcoat, from which dangled various fobs and an ornate eyeglass, was of a sharp yellow shade that made the ladies stare. His pantaloons fit without a crease into shining tasseled top-boots.
Mr. Stassart met Lucinda’s startled gaze and preened himself, taking her look to be one of admiration. A raffish smile lit his boyishly handsome countenance, and he greeted her in warm accents. “Cousin!”
As he started toward her, he espied Miss Blythe, and he checked in midstride. His countenance altered ludicrously, for he had anticipated finding his fair cousin alone. He had inquired of the butler whether Lady Mays was entertaining any other callers, but he had not thought to ask about the possible existence of a chaperone.
“Why, Miss Blythe! This is something of an astonishment, ma’am. I never expected to see you here. It has been quite some time, I believe, since we last met,” he said.
“Mr. Stassart,” acknowledged Miss Blythe coolly. “I am pleased that you recall me. I, too, remember you. Quite well.”
Mr. Stassart regarded the former governess for a thoughtful moment before he regained his smile. “I could never forget one who figured so closely with my uncle’s household.”
He turned his attention back to Lucinda. “I see that you have retained the services of a formidable chaperone, cousin. However, I do not think that our Miss Blythe need put herself out over such a close member of the family!”
Lucinda held out her hand to him, a polite smile upon her face. “Hello, Ferdie.”
Mr. Stassart shook his head. There was a glint of amusement in his rather hard blue eyes. “Come, cousin! I shall not stand on ceremony with you. Why, we have known one another since our cradles!” He had taken hold of her hand and now, holding her captive, bent forward to place a kiss.
Lucinda turned her head so that his salute fell upon her cheek rather than her lips. She freed her hand and retreated to sit down in a wing chair rather than returning to her former place on the settee, to which she gestured. “Won’t you sit down, Ferdie? I should have known that you would come to see me.”
“So you should,” he agreed easily, taking his seat. “When I heard that my fair cousin Lady Mays had returned to London, I set out at once to wait upon you. I have always held you in the highest regard, Lucinda, as you well know.”
“Do I, indeed,” said Lucinda on a dry note. “I thought it was my father whom you held in high regard. At least, you have said so whenever you have required someone to bail you out of your latest
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