Late April, 1799
Hertford House, the home of the Marquess of Hertford
10:25pm
The art was the only reason that she came, for the Marquess was rumored to have a tantalizing collection of romantic oil paintings and Lucy was, admittedly, bored to tears.
London moved both fast and slow, teasing her throughout the Season. Up at ten, bathed and gowned by eleven, quickly ushered out for a promenade before she returned home to tidy the sweat from her brow and neck. Then to tea, and make haste, Lucy!, you’re quite late and the countess will notice, back again to dinner, where she scarcely made it in the front door before the guests did, and there was scarcely a minute to breathe before she was loaded into the carriage and pushed out into the London night. Holding a glass of something bubbly, she stood at the top of the staircase and remembered to breathe.
Her head hurt. Her heart hurt, though she would not admit that for some time, for Lucy’s heart was guarded even to her, and she was fast to drown her sorrows in a happy cup or a teasing conversation. It was far too early in the Season to feel so maligned, and she knew that she just needed one good dance, one clever conversation, one – something – to set her rights.
Lucy exhaled. She was only tired, that was all.
Glancing sideways, she caught sight of a man on the same level, his own countenance indecipherable. A smile teased the edge of her mouth, and though she looked quickly back to the revelers on the lower level, spying not one, but two trysts in the making, her gaze slid back to him after a moment.
“You’ll have a better view here,” Lucy offered, motioning to the space next to her. “Unless you’re hiding.”
There was at least one comfort to be found in being sent to London to accompany his cousin -- and that was that such a responsibility left one with a long list of things that needed to be done at all times. Anthony was never one to lay idle. He was a naturally early riser and appreciated having something to do to fill the day.
Maybe there were two upsides ( the latter much less of a comfort than the former ) but only because, as it turned out, the cousins were not as unalike as they’d first thought. They’d quickly built a rapport and found ways to make good of an otherwise less favourable situation.
An unquestionable disadvantage to the linking of recluse and social butterfly was the latter’s tendency to accept invitations on the other’s behalf. The invite to Hertford House was one such example and one Harriet had cleverly decided to dip out of, citing such exhaustion that she could not possibly consider attending. Oh, but of course Anthony must still go!
However begrudgingly, he did... and not for the first time since the start of the Season, instantly regretted it. Anthony sought consolation in a glass of deep red wine and in a wall to the side of the stairs. He considered the offer with a deep inhale when it came, sensing that ( as was always the case ) he had little choice in the matter.
“A better view of precisely what I have been trying to avoid?” he questioned, though with a slight smile. Peering down into the crowd until he reached the young lady’s side, the Baronet met her gaze fleetingly and he bowed his head in greeting. “No, not hiding.” A pause. “Not yet, at least. Might I ask why you have not yet joined everyone?”