The bishop smiled, well pleased as she departed the salon. She had always been a minx, his younger sister, but her summer had obviously done her good. He had felt a touch of guilt putting her in the hands of The Master, but obviously it had done her no real harm. While she might still be a bit headstrong, she appeared to be far more reasonable in her attitude.
Her plans for her wedding might be a bit eccentric, but she was right when she said any man she wanted to wed would wed her given the first opportunity. Besides, Lucinda had obviously planned this event most carefully. It was best not to argue with her in this instance. All of the most important people would be there tomorrow night. It would be quite entertaining. And, once she was married, there was no going back. Lucinda would be her husband's problem.
The next day the household was very busy preparing for the ball. The ladies' gowns were checked for any last-minute problems. The skirts ironed perfectly, and the dresses hung carefully. The baths were brought after tea, and the ladies began to prepare for the evening's entertainment. The ball wouldn't begin until nine, and to be precisely on time would be unthinkable, for the hostess and her private party might not be finished dining. The guests would be arriving closer to ten.
Lucinda bathed, and then lay down to rest. Polly would, awaken her at half after eight. Lucinda's gown was, she thought, a triumph. She had insisted her modiste come to Traleigh Square and work on it so no one else would see it before the ball. The silvery pink quilted underskirt was hand-painted with delicate wild flowers. The silver overgown was embroidered with the same flowers. The neckline was low-cut and square. The bodice, finely tucked, had three silver bows decorating it. The engageants, attached to the tightly fitted sleeves, were of pale pink lace and decorated with one silver bow each. The skirts came just to her ankle, revealing her pink silk dancing shoes with their silver buckles. Her jewelry was simple. Pink diamonds in her ears and a small pearl and diamond cross about her neck.
"Ohh, m'lady," Polly said admiringly, "'tis a beautiful gown."
"It is, isn't it?" Lucinda agreed. Then she patted her hair. "I like what you have done," she told her maid.
"Jessie, her that is replacing me, showed me how, m'lady. She is very clever with hair. She calls this style a Pompadour Hairdress."
"It suits me," Lucinda decided aloud, turning her head this way and that. It was really a simple style for all it had been named after the French king's latest mistress. Her rich, dark chestnut hair was combed back from her forehead, and a few curls were then displayed on the side of her head, seemingly pinned with a pink diamond fan.
A knock sounded at the door, and George Worth's head popped into the room. "Are you ready, Luci? It's quarter to ten o'clock."
Polly wrapped a rose velvet pelisse trimmed with dark fur along its hood about her mistress and then handed her a large matching fur muff. "Yer painted fan is in it, and a lawn handkerchief, m'lady."
"Make certain the bed is remade with lavender-scented linens, and the wine tray on the table," Lucinda told her maid softly.
"John and I will have it just right, m'lady," Polly said with a wink.
Lucinda's town coach pulled into the long line of carriages waiting to enter the Whitley mansion. Finally they arrived at the door and were handed out of the vehicle by footmen in black-and-gold livery.
"You have the license?" Lucinda asked her brother for the tenth time.
He pulled it from his pocket and waved it beneath her nose. "Are you ready to tell me yet who is the fortunate gentleman, Luci?"
"Not yet," Lucinda said as they entered the house. She and Caroline, who looked quite lovely in several shades of blue, had their cloaks taken by a little maid. They then rejoined George and waited to be announced into the ballroom.
"The most honorable George Worth, Bishop of Wellington, and Mistress Worth. Lady Lucinda Harrington," the major-domo intoned.
Every eye in the great ballroom swung in their direction, and for a brief moment there was utter silence.
"My dears," the Countess of Whitley welcomed them, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. "I ordered extra flowers, Lucinda darling."
George bowed. His two companions curtsied. Lucinda murmured a soft thank-you. Her heart was pounding wildly. As she passed into the ballroom, she looked about her anxiously. Where was he? She couldn't see him anywhere. Dear heaven! Had he decided at the last moment not to come? She saw the Duke of Rexford trying to catch her eye. Lucinda turned away and sought the necessary behind the screen in a corner of the room. She didn't need it; she just wanted to escape her suitors. She allowed herself a few minutes, and then emerged.
"Lord Derek Bowen. Lord Lucian Phillips, Earl of Stanton," the major domo called out.
Relieved, she saw them enter the ballroom. She began to make her way across the ballroom only to be blocked by her three suitors. "My lords," she said in a tight voice.
"It is time for you tell us, Lucinda," the Duke of Rexford said. "You have played this game and held us at bay for long enough."
"Not yet!" she snapped at them and, pushing past the three, once again sought the Earl of Stanton. Reaching him at last, she put her arm through his and looking up at him said, "The flowers were beautiful."
"I thought they suited you," he replied.
"I told you I would find you," she responded. God, he was so handsome.
"And indeed you have, Lucinda. Now what?" His green eyes were gazing deeply into her blue ones.
"We will be married," Lucinda told him frankly.
"I am not certain I should wed such a lively lass as yourself, Lucinda. After all, I never could master you," he teased her with a grin.
"You are the only man who has even the faintest chance of mastering me, Lucian Charles Phillips. Do you not love me?"
"Oh, yes, Lucinda, I love you desperately," he admitted. "But do you love me, my pet?"
"So much that I was ill when I arrived and you were not here," she told him. "So much that my brother carries a special license in his pocket tonight so he may wed us here and now. Then we shall leave this ball and spend the next few hours in a glorious bout of fucking, my darling master."
"I have missed you," he told her, and bending brushed her lips with his. "Your scheme has great merit, my pet. I agree to it. I think, perhaps, it is time I met the worthy bishop."
"What is going on?" Lord Bowen asked of them.
"Come along, Derek, and you will see," the earl invited.
As they made their way across the ballroom to find George, they were accosted by Lucinda's three suitors, angrily demanding explanations.
Lucinda stopped. "You will get nothing more from me, my Lords," she told them in a hard, cold voice. "I said tonight my brother would announce my betrothal, and so he shall. To the Earl of Stanton. The gentleman I fell in love with this summer past when in Ireland at my sister Julia's. We will be wed tonight, here and now! If any of you dares to object, I shall expose the Devil's Disciples and your part in that shameless band of lustful men."
"What of your part, Lucinda?" Lord Bertram said.
"I would remind you three that you still need wives to carry on your family name. How do you think the guardians of next season's crop of dewy-eyed debutantes will feel about your wicked activities? How do you think they will react to the knowledge that you kidnapped a gentlewoman, forcing her into carnal bondage, in order to make her choose one of you for a husband? You would be wise, I believe, to hold your tongues and accept my decision … or suffer the consequences. "
Lord Bertram bowed. "I retire from the field defeated, Lady Lucinda," he said graciously.
Lucinda nodded as graciously, then said to the Marquess of Hargrave, "The Earl of Felton's daughter, Louisa, has a tendré for you, Hamlet. You might have noticed her last season but that I came on the horizon. She is here tonight. I believe she would welcome your addresses. A lady likes nothing more than to comfort a worthy loser."