Lessons in Love (The Regency Intrigue Series Book 3) by Beaton M. C

Author:Beaton, M. C. [Beaton, M. C.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780795319976
Publisher: RosettaBooks
Published: 2014-01-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

In the short time before her wedding, Lucinda felt as isolated from the world as she had done when her father had been alive.

As she went for correct drives with Sir Percival, as she received callers, she felt a busy, carefree London was going on somewhere out there oblivious of her very existence.

She had not seen the Marquess of Sunningburgh since Lord Barnstable’s fête. At first, she had rehearsed how she would behave should she see him again, at the opera, say, or in the park, but at neither places did she see even a glimpse of his dark head. Mr. Flanders was very much in evidence, mostly squiring a pretty little girl, but he did not go near Lucinda, so she didn’t know whether the marquess was still in town or had gone back to the country.

London continued to celebrate the victory over Napoleon. There were military parades on warm evenings. In Rotten Row or in Kensington Gardens at the fashionable hour, hundreds of beautiful horses passed and repassed, carrying behind them or on their backs a whole world of silk and lace, smart bonnets and curving top hats. Musical parties were all the rage, and it was a Season when the whole of the top ten thousand seemed to revolve to the strains of the waltz. Glittering jewels and smiling, evasive faces passed and repassed before Lucinda’s tired eyes as Sir Percival indefatigably squired her to rout and ball.

And then, all at once, it was her wedding morn. Lord Lemmington, her uncle, was to give her away. He was a thin, stooped man, ascetic and fastidious. It was incredible to think that Giles, Earl of Sotheran, had been his brother.

Lucinda was wearing a white satin gown trimmed with lace. Around the high waist of the gown was a belt of diamonds. She had insisted on wearing a veil, although her aunt, Lady Lemmington, had protested that it was a sadly antiquated fashion. Her veil was of the finest lace worked in a design of violets. Little silk violets made a coronet for her head, a real amethyst ornamenting the center of each flower. She had also refused to wear the heel-less slippers that were all the rage, choosing instead a pair of white satin shoes with louis heels. She felt that a little extra height might give her confidence.

It was another remorselessly sunny day. The old countess was resplendent in a panniered gown of pink watered silk, with pink and silver ribbons decorating her tall cane. A frivolous little straw hat, the kind the Macaronis used to wear, was perched saucily on her white wig.

The Dowager Countess of Lemmington no longer sat awake at nights brooding about murder. She found by dint of telling herself that Giles had fallen to his death because he had been drunk, that Gotobed had been a figment of her imagination, and that Alexander had never existed, she could contrive to enjoy Lucinda’s happiness. For the countess was sure her granddaughter was happy.

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