and the dressmaker were engaged in discussing fabric samples and looking through the portfolio of drawings that Mrs Sutton had brought with her. She was shaken by her encounter with Lord Adversane, and a little chastened, too. He was, after all, her employer, and quite within his rights to dictate what she should wear. A little spirit flared to argue that it would have been better if he had explained all this at the outset, but it was a very tiny spark and soon died.
She gave herself up to the task of looking at the various designs and samples of fabrics. She soon discovered—as she had known all along, if only she had thought about it—that she did indeed have a degree of freedom in the choice of ribbons and trimmings to be added to each gown. By the end of the session her head was spinning with all the talk of closed robes, morning and day dresses, walking dresses and evening gowns, as well as the pelisses, cloaks and shawls required to go with them. Also—a last-minute addition that Lord Adversane had ordered in a note, delivered hotfoot to the dressmaker yesterday evening—a riding habit.
* * *
Although she knew she had no real choice, Lucy nodded and approved all the samples and sketches put before her. They were without exception elegant creations, not overly burdened with frills and ribbons, which suited her very well. As the dressmaker and her assistant began packing away the drifts of muslin, samples of fine wool, worsted and sarcenet, Lucy spotted a large square of red silk. She picked it up.
‘What is this?’
Mrs Sutton looked around and gave a little tut of exasperation.
‘Heavens, miss, as if I should forget that!’ She pulled out the sheaf of loose papers again and selected a coloured drawing, which she handed to Lucy. ‘Lord Adversane was most insistent that you should have this gown.’
Lucy gazed at the impossibly slender figure in the painting. She was swathed in red silk, the high waistline and low neck leaving little to the imagination.
‘It is shown exactly as his lordship directed,’ said Mrs Sutton, waiting anxiously for Lucy’s reaction. ‘Even to the diamond set of earrings, necklace and bracelet.’
‘Scarlet and diamonds.’ Lucy pictured herself in such a gown, the jewels sparkling in the candlelight, her skirts floating about her as she danced around the ballroom. ‘Very striking but...it is not suitable for an unmarried lady. What say you, Ariadne?’ She handed the picture to Mrs Dean, who stared at it in silence. ‘Ariadne?’
The widow gave a little start.
‘Oh, I do not...’ She tailed off again, her troubled glance fixed upon the drawing.
‘It is far too grand for me to wear,’ Lucy continued. ‘If we were in London, perhaps, but here in the country, what use can I have for such a creation?’
‘Unless Adversane means to invite the neighbourhood,’ murmured Ariadne.
Lucy frowned. ‘Why should he do that?’
Ariadne made a visible effort to pull herself together, saying robustly, ‘I suppose he thought you must have it. Who knows what invitations you might receive? And everyone wears such colours these days. You will not always want to be wearing those pale muslins, now will you? And I recognise the diamonds. They are a family heirloom. As Ralph’s fiancée I have no doubt he will wish you to wear them.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Lucy dismissed her doubts, relieved by Mrs Dean’s approval of the scarlet gown. To appear in public so beautifully apparelled was every girl’s dream. And what did it matter that it was all a sham, a charade? It would be a wonderful memory for her to take away with her.
* * *
When the dressmaker had departed Ariadne carried Lucy off to the shrubbery, declaring that one needed to clear one’s head after being bombarded with so much detail.
‘I must confess,’ she added, as they strolled arm in arm along the gravelled paths, ‘when you went off so angrily I thought I should be sending Mrs Sutton away and ordering the carriage to take you back to London forthwith.’
Lucy’s free hand fluttered.
‘It was foolish of me to allow such a little thing to make me angry. I assure you, I never had any intention of leaving over such a matter.’
‘Oh, no, my dear, I was not thinking of your intentions. I thought Ralph might order you to go. I thought he would call a halt to this whole business—not that that would be a bad thing.’ She muttered these last words almost to herself and when she found Lucy’s considering gaze upon her she coloured and said, as if in apology, ‘My cousin is not used to having his will crossed.’
‘I am well aware of that. Autocratic to the point of tyranny!’
‘But he is not a bad man, Lucy. It is just that... You should understand, my dear, that he was the only surviving male child, and much loved. Although he was brought up on strict principles he was allowed to go his own way from an early age. I suppose you might say he was too much indulged—’
‘I should,’ put in Lucy emphatically.
‘But he was not rebellious, you see, so his sainted parents never needed to curb him. They had him late in life, too, which I think made them a little more inclined to spoil him, and then, of course, they were carried off within weeks of each other by a vicious bout of influenza, and he inherited the title soon after he was one-and-twenty. From being a carefree young man he suddenly found himself with half a dozen estates and hundreds of people dependent upon him. And things were not so comfortable as they are now. The old lord had spent so much on improvements to Adversane that the finances were severely stretched when Ralph took over. He has had to struggle to rebuild the family fortunes. He needed a steady nerve and a firm hand on the reins to bring it back to prosperity. He demanded that everything should be done his way and it has worked. The fortune is restored.’
‘But he rules his household with a will of iron,’ objected Lucy.
‘All the Cottinghams are strong-willed, my dear, and as the heir and only son, Ralph’s will has never been opposed. Is it any wonder that he has grown used to his own way? That was why his marriage to Helene was so fortuitous. She was all compliance and perfectly suited to his temperament.’
‘Perfectly suited to make him even more despotic,’ declared Lucy. ‘The poor lady must have been wholly downtrodden.’
Ariadne quickly disclaimed.
‘He never bullied her, I am quite certain of it. But then, Helene was so very sweet-natured, I doubt she ever gave him cause to be angry.’
‘Well,’ said Lucy, thinking of the small sum she had sewn into the hem of her travelling cloak, ‘Lord Adversane may be as autocratic and demanding as he wishes, but I shall not allow him to bully me, and so I shall tell him!’
* * *
However, Lucy had no opportunity to tell Lord Adversane anything that evening, for when she joined Mrs Dean in the drawing room before dinner she learned that their host had gone off to visit friends and would not be back for two days. The news left her feeling a little disconsolate and she gave a little huff of exasperation.
‘And how am I supposed to learn everything I need to know if he is not here?’
‘My dear, no one will expect you to know everything about Ralph,’ replied
