‘Yes, perhaps,’ Marianne agreed and smiled at her. ‘She does not mean to keep you a child, but perhaps because you were the last of her daughters she has tended to protect you too much. However, I know you will be much admired this evening, Lucy.’
‘If I am, it is because of all the lovely things you and Drew have given me—and Jo, of course.’ She touched her necklace. ‘This was so generous of Drew, because he has already given me so much.’
‘He wanted you to have it,’ Marianne said. ‘I already have far more than I need, and Drew likes to give presents. Now, are you ready to go down? I know Mama is already there with Drew.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Lucy said. She picked up a small posy of roses, which had been given her by her brother-in-law and were tied with yellow silk ribbons. ‘These are so pretty.’
Marianne nodded her approval. ‘After this evening, I am sure you will have many tributes sent to you, Lucy, but Drew wanted you to have something for your first evening.’
The two sisters went downstairs together. Marianne was dressed in green silk and carried a stole of silver spangles over her arm. She was wearing a magnificent necklace of emeralds and diamonds, and matching drops hung from her ears. She made a perfect foil for her sister’s ethereal looks, being a warm, vibrant woman who was universally admired in society.
Drew’s eyes lit up as he saw his wife and he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek before turning his gaze on Lucy. He nodded his head in approval. ‘She is a sprite, an angel…’ He took her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss the back. ‘You look heavenly, Lucy. As I stand in place of a father to you, I think I shall have my work cut out this evening, defending you from the wolves.’
‘Oh, Drew!’ Lucy’s laughter was warm and delightful. ‘You do say such foolish things sometimes! You are not old enough to be my papa.’
‘But since you have none, I shall stand your guardian,’ Drew told her, a sparkle in his eyes. ‘If anyone asks you to marry him, you must direct him to speak to me first. I shall make sure that you do not fall prey to a rake or worse.’
Lucy giggled, for she believed that he was teasing her. Surely he did not imagine that she would receive a proposal of marriage that evening!
The ballroom was crowded as Jack Harcourt entered that night. He was feeling pleased with himself, because he had discovered that Sir Frederick Collingwood was truly a cheat. He might have exposed him the previous evening had he chosen to do so, for the man was clumsy and careless, but he had allowed himself to be cheated of two thousand guineas—a small price to pay for what he had learned. At least the writer of the mystery letter had not lied about that, which meant that the rest of it was quite possibly true.
As the evening progressed, Collingwood had become careless and drunk more than he ought and, from a few unguarded comments, Jack had discovered that his information was correct. David Middleton had gone down heavily to Collingwood that last night—and he had said something about cheating. It was not very much, but it was enough to confirm Jack’s suspicions. He had no proof, but he was almost certain that he knew what had happened. However, he still had no idea what the underlying reason for the quarrel was about. He had asked, but received no answers, though the closed expressions on some of the gentlemen’s faces made him certain that it involved something more than merely gambling—or perhaps someone who had been dear to David?
He had now learned from other sources besides the letter that David had left the gambling club with Collingwood late that night, and that they had been arguing fiercely about something—but what? Collingwood might have become enraged. It was likely that he had produced a pistol and shot David, somehow managing to move his body to that lonely road by the Heath where it was eventually found. Had the author of that mystery letter not decided to write to him, Jack might well have still believed that his death had been at the hands of a highwayman.
Jack was sure in his own mind that the letter he had been sent was genuine, though proving the identity of David’s murderer was another thing entirely. However, he was working on a plan to draw Collingwood into a trap, and for the moment must put his personal concerns aside.
‘Good evening, Harcourt,’ a voice said from behind him. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you were in town or not.’
Jack turned to find himself facing Drew Marlbeck. ‘Yes, I have some business I must sort out before I go down to the country. I am sorry that I have not called on you and Marianne before this, but I have been busy.’
‘Come to dinner next week,’ Drew invited. ‘We are giving a small affair—nothing major. Marianne plans a rout for next month, I believe.’
‘Thank you, I shall,’ Jack said. His eyes travelled round the large room, coming to rest on a striking girl who was surrounded by gentlemen, all of them vying for her favours. He did not know her until she glanced his way, and even then he was not certain. ‘Good lord! Is that Miss Horne?’
‘Yes, she is rather stunning, isn’t she?’ Drew grinned. ‘Marianne and her dressmaker had a great deal to do with the transformation, because her mama still sees her as her little girl—but the beautiful butterfly was always there, waiting to come out of her chrysalis.’
‘She is beautiful,’ Jack said, feeling a catch at his throat as he saw the way Lucy was teasing her admirers. She was still a little shy but it made her all the more charming, and her laughter was intoxicating. ‘I can hardly believe the change.’
‘As I said, Marianne has taken her in hand these past few days. It was just lack of confidence and her clothes, which were too young for her. She is eighteen—a woman, and a very lovely one. The man who captures her heart will be fortunate. Lucy has the sweetest nature, though she can stick up for herself if need be.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ Jack said. He could hardly take his eyes from Lucy. He had thought her enchanting the last time they met, but now there was something more. Perhaps it was confidence or the clothes, but he certainly found it very appealing. ‘Thank you, Marlbeck. I shall be pleased to dine with you next week. I may even stay in town a little longer than I had planned.’
‘I shall tell Marianne to add you to her list for the rout,’ Drew said, hiding his grin. He had not missed his sister-in-law’s partiality for Harcourt, and he felt it would do very well. He knew of the rumours, of course, but considered it a minor thing. Even if his friend did have a bastard child somewhere, it had happened in the past, and it was often said that reformed rakes made the best husbands. Mrs Horne might not agree, but she could probably be persuaded.
As Drew moved off, Jack progressed slowly through the room. He was stopped several times by friends and acquaintances, because, despite the rumours, his credit was good enough to make him the target of the more ambitious mothers. He had a title and a fortune, and if he had transgressed in the past, that could be forgiven in the right circumstances.
Jack was a little disturbed to see that Sir Frederick Collingwood had joined the little group of admirers around Lucy. He frowned, because it angered him that the man was still at liberty to enter society at will. Collingwood was a cheat, a rake of the worst kind—and, in his mind, a murderer. He would not want Lucy Horne to be caught in his toils! However, he continued to be invited to many society affairs, and until Jack could prove what he suspected, Lucy and other young ladies would be exposed to his company. The sooner he found some way of exposing him, the better!
‘Miss Horne,’ he said, making his way to her side and cutting out several of the young bucks around her. ‘I believe this is our dance.’ He took her hand before Lucy could protest, sweeping her along until they reached the dance floor just as a waltz struck up.
Lucy looked up at him, her eyes wide as she said, ‘I had promised this to Mr Bates, sir. I think you must have made a mistake.’
‘Oh, no, I am quite sure it was promised to me,’ Jack said, his mouth quirking at the corners. ‘If I am wrong, I shall apologise, of course.’