Loving Lucy Read Free Page A

wipe her fingers, trying not to become too agitated. The thought of the handsome Sir Geoffrey favouring her with a proposal gave her delicious shudders. It wouldn’t do to display them.
      “And what are your feelings regarding him?” Lady Royston asked carefully. “Would you be happy to accept him?”
    Lucy didn’t pause. “Yes. He is handsome, and with such good address. He inherited a good fortune from his father.” She didn’t mention the shivers that went through her when Sir Geoffrey kissed her hand.
    Lady Royston turned round slowly, and regarded her only child, her expression grave. “I’m glad you like him, but that, as you very well know, isn’t everything. He must have enough to take care of you; he must be of good ton. It’s the last I’m concerned about. Sir Geoffrey’s fortune seems based solidly enough in land, but I haven’t finished my enquiries about his family.”
    “He’s an orphan,” Lucy ventured.
    “So I believe.” Lady Royston swept the full skirts of her dressing gown aside and got to her feet. Her maid carefully withdrew the dressing gown and her ladyship waited for her maid to begin to dress her. “But that wasn’t what I meant, and you must be perfectly aware of that, Lucy my dear.”
    “Well I don’t give a fig for his family.” Lucy said defiantly.
    “You cannot say that, when our family has its little flaws. Your father’s cousin, married to a Cit - whatever possessed him I have no idea.”
    “Perhaps he loved her,” Lucy suggested mildly.
    Her mother cast a look of unmitigated scorn at her child. Field busied herself lacing her mistress’ stays. “Love? Pray what has that to do with the matter? Please don’t mention anything so vulgar to me again, my dear. That is none of our concern, liking is quite enough.” She could speak so more, but was forced to hold her breath when the laces were pulled tight.
    “Yes, Mama,” said her dutiful daughter. “I will do my best to make you happy.”   
    ***
    Later that afternoon, when Sir Geoffrey presented himself at Lady Royston’s door, Lucy had been well primed. She waited for him in the small parlour at the front of the house, while her mother and aunt fielded the other afternoon visitors upstairs in the drawing room.
    She got up and went across to look out of the window. What if he didn’t come? He might have forgotten, been distracted elsewhere, had some important business. Or maybe keep her waiting as a tactic? No, he said he would call, and if he didn’t, he would send word that he couldn’t come. At least she hoped so.
    People passed up and down the street, too genteel to notice Lucy looking out. Some were fashionable folk, of her own kind; others people who made their living out of them, from flower sellers to chimney sweeps, a tiny child skittering in his wake. Lucy had heard the sweeps kept the children deliberately undersized by starving them, the better to force them up chimneys, but although she might sign a petition or donate money to a fund, she was far from understanding their plight. She had no way in; she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be hungry and not be able to ask for food, to be cold and not to pull another blanket up over her.
    Then, all other thoughts skittered away when she saw him. He approached the house on foot, striding urgently up the street. Lest he should see her she moved back hastily, and by the time he had rung the bell and divested himself of his hat and gloves, she was once again sitting decorously in her chair by the fire.
    He entered the room, Lucy having already instructed the butler to let him in. She marvelled once more at his good looks. Tall, well muscled, handsome, Sir Geoffrey was the epitome of the Byronic hero. His smile turned her heart over, but she remained resolute. She would not allow him to captivate her completely; but she couldn’t deny she was looking forward to the next half hour. When she stood to greet him he took her hand, kissed it, and