disappointed.”
The smile spread to a grin. “I already know your faults, Beau. What I was hoping for was a contradiction of mine. But then that would be expecting you to be gallant, which you are not. But I like you better than I did before.”
“Before what?”
“Before we came here. It is kind of you to help me and Papa. I appreciate it,”
“I shan’t accept praise under false pretenses. I only came along for a lark.”
She tossed her head in annoyance. “Don’t ruin my compliment! You came, and you are sticking by me. And you aren’t going to tell Aunt Nessie where I was this morning,” she added, with a glance that was part question, part command, and part pure flirtation.
“Now I learn why the butter boat has been tipped in my direction!”
But to judge by his smile, he had no aversion to butter.
----
Chapter 10
Lydia insisted on taking a hansom cab home, in case her aunt saw her alighting from Beaumont’s carriage. “For I told her I was visiting Irene Coltrane,” she explained. “Don’t say it, I know! More deceit, but we do not want Nessie looking too closely into what we are doing.”
Beaumont was concerned enough about her doings that he had his own carriage called and followed her to Grosvenor Square. He loitered around the corner for half an hour to make sure she didn’t go out again. He found Lydia’s behavior quite as mysterious as her father’s. He knew as much about Sir John’s affair with Prissie Shepherd as Lydia did, so what was she hiding from him? Why did she not want his help at the Pantheon? Had she discovered her father was involved in Prissie’s death? If that was the case, then she was not only a loyal daughter but a courageous one.
While he pondered this, Lydia was busy devising a scheme to get away from her aunt to attend the masquerade party that night. When Nessie returned from her meeting with Lady Melbourne, she had heard of Sir John’s promotion and was so excited, Lydia could have told her she was attending an orgy with Jack Ketch, and Nessie would hardly have noticed. Her brother’s elevation to the Cabinet put her in the very top rank of political hostesses. It would call for larger parties, which would in turn call for a finer toilette. It would indirectly put more political patronage at her disposal, and in short give her as much influence in the social sphere as her brother would now have in politics.
When Lydia said, “I shall be going out this evening, Nessie. I will be taking a hansom cab to Manchester Square. Beaumont is having a few friends in after dinner,” Nessie just smiled and nodded, and didn’t even ask why she wasn’t taking the family carriage.
“Beaumont will drive you home?” was her only question.
“Yes, of course.”
“Excellent! Don’t try to tell me there is not a romance brewing there!” This was more good news. She knew it was a match long hoped for at Trevelyn Hall. Nessie was in such a state of euphoria, she almost forgot to write to Sir John congratulating him. Of course, he would have been formally notified already, and would make plans to return to London, even if he had to come on a litter.
At nine-thirty, Lydia asked the butler to send a footman out to find a hansom for her. She drove directly to Maddox Street and admitted herself with the key she had taken that morning. It was eerie and frightening in the flat alone. Darkness had not fully settled in on this June evening, but the light was dim. Long shadows reached out at her from every corner. Strange, furtive sounds suggested someone lurking in their depths. She lit lamps in every room to lighten the gloom and looked around for any signs of intrusion. Everything was as she had left it.
She went into the bedchamber and searched the bulging clothespress for a domino. It was somewhat disconcerting to discover that Prissie’s domino was a brilliant red. It made her feel like a scarlet woman. The mask that accompanied it was of black feathers with bugle beading
The smile spread to a grin. “I already know your faults, Beau. What I was hoping for was a contradiction of mine. But then that would be expecting you to be gallant, which you are not. But I like you better than I did before.”
“Before what?”
“Before we came here. It is kind of you to help me and Papa. I appreciate it,”
“I shan’t accept praise under false pretenses. I only came along for a lark.”
She tossed her head in annoyance. “Don’t ruin my compliment! You came, and you are sticking by me. And you aren’t going to tell Aunt Nessie where I was this morning,” she added, with a glance that was part question, part command, and part pure flirtation.
“Now I learn why the butter boat has been tipped in my direction!”
But to judge by his smile, he had no aversion to butter.
----
Chapter 10
Lydia insisted on taking a hansom cab home, in case her aunt saw her alighting from Beaumont’s carriage. “For I told her I was visiting Irene Coltrane,” she explained. “Don’t say it, I know! More deceit, but we do not want Nessie looking too closely into what we are doing.”
Beaumont was concerned enough about her doings that he had his own carriage called and followed her to Grosvenor Square. He loitered around the corner for half an hour to make sure she didn’t go out again. He found Lydia’s behavior quite as mysterious as her father’s. He knew as much about Sir John’s affair with Prissie Shepherd as Lydia did, so what was she hiding from him? Why did she not want his help at the Pantheon? Had she discovered her father was involved in Prissie’s death? If that was the case, then she was not only a loyal daughter but a courageous one.
While he pondered this, Lydia was busy devising a scheme to get away from her aunt to attend the masquerade party that night. When Nessie returned from her meeting with Lady Melbourne, she had heard of Sir John’s promotion and was so excited, Lydia could have told her she was attending an orgy with Jack Ketch, and Nessie would hardly have noticed. Her brother’s elevation to the Cabinet put her in the very top rank of political hostesses. It would call for larger parties, which would in turn call for a finer toilette. It would indirectly put more political patronage at her disposal, and in short give her as much influence in the social sphere as her brother would now have in politics.
When Lydia said, “I shall be going out this evening, Nessie. I will be taking a hansom cab to Manchester Square. Beaumont is having a few friends in after dinner,” Nessie just smiled and nodded, and didn’t even ask why she wasn’t taking the family carriage.
“Beaumont will drive you home?” was her only question.
“Yes, of course.”
“Excellent! Don’t try to tell me there is not a romance brewing there!” This was more good news. She knew it was a match long hoped for at Trevelyn Hall. Nessie was in such a state of euphoria, she almost forgot to write to Sir John congratulating him. Of course, he would have been formally notified already, and would make plans to return to London, even if he had to come on a litter.
At nine-thirty, Lydia asked the butler to send a footman out to find a hansom for her. She drove directly to Maddox Street and admitted herself with the key she had taken that morning. It was eerie and frightening in the flat alone. Darkness had not fully settled in on this June evening, but the light was dim. Long shadows reached out at her from every corner. Strange, furtive sounds suggested someone lurking in their depths. She lit lamps in every room to lighten the gloom and looked around for any signs of intrusion. Everything was as she had left it.
She went into the bedchamber and searched the bulging clothespress for a domino. It was somewhat disconcerting to discover that Prissie’s domino was a brilliant red. It made her feel like a scarlet woman. The mask that accompanied it was of black feathers with bugle beading
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