nudge his friend to attention. After a second's paralysis, Lord Tuttlehope remembered what his limbs were expected to do.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't know—oh dear," Alicia stammered.
"Don't be silly, love," her cousin replied as she rose from her seat to lead the hesitating girl into the room. "You've finished your shopping early, I see."
"Yes. Oh dear. I did not mean..." She glanced quickly at the gentlemen and blushed again.
Since Lady Belcomb simply sat there gazing at the girl with disapproval, Isabella made the introductions. Basil pronounced himself charmed, Lord Tuttlehope stammered something incomprehensible, and Isabella, with polite apologies, excused herself, and took her cousin away.
Had Basil not been quite so irritated at Isabella's casual leave-taking and a little stunned by her cousin's good looks, he might have noticed his friend's condition sooner. As it was, the viscountess made several attempts to return to discussion of the greys, and several times elicited only stuttering and confused replies from Freddie, before Basil noted anything amiss. He then calmly took over the conversation, brought it to a graceful close, and took his friend and himself away.
"It really is too bad of you, I must say," Basil remarked as they made their way to their club.
"Eh?" Lord Tuttlehope awoke from his stupor with a start.
"I said, it really is too bad of you."
"What is? Were you speaking, Trev?" Freddie shook his head. "Must have been woolgathering. Too bad— what?"
Basil clapped his friend on the shoulder and laughed. Freddie endured this for a moment, then responded, with some annoyance, "I say, Trev, fellow deserves to know what the joke is."
"Ah, my friend, I fear the joke is on me. I had new hopes. For a vision entered my life, complete with fortune, but younger, prettier, and, I think, far more susceptible than the icy Miss Latham. But what do you think? I look over and see that my bosom bow is struck on the spot, instantly besotted. Did you ever hear of worse luck?"
***
"Oh, Bella, what lovely gentlemen. I've never seen such cravats. Are they in love with you?"
"The gentlemen or the cravats?" Isabella asked, laughing.
Alicia's wardrobe for the Season covered every stick of furniture in her room: walking dresses, pelisses, gowns, slippers, shawls. All had been inspected, tried on, exclaimed over, and the two women now sat on the bed, resting from their exertions.
"But are they? They're so handsome." Alicia sighed. "And so beautifully dressed."
"Yes, they're impeccable," replied her cousin. "And not, you goose, in love with me. Why, I'm quite an elderly lady. Your ancient companion, remember."
"Fah." The blonde curls shook a negative. "The only reason you're not married is that you've been buried in the country all this time taking care of us and helping Papa. I knew the minute you came to London you'd have dozens of beaux. Even Papa said so—when Mama was not about. Polly said at least a dozen came today. Even the Earl of Hartleigh." She pronounced this last with some awe.
Isabella's heart gave a little flutter, but she took a deep breath and told her cousin, "That is only etiquette, my dear."
This was not sufficient explanation, for her cousin must hear all the particulars of the Duchess of Chilworth's ball.
"And the dark-haired one, who looked so shy?" Alicia asked, shyly enough herself, when her cousin had finished detailing the previous evening.
"Where Mr. Trevelyan goes, there goes Lord Tuttlehope. I assure you he hasn't the remotest interest in me."
"Oh." Alicia became thoughtful. If Lord Tuttlehope could have seen the tiny wrinkle between her brows or the charming way she chewed delicately on her lower lip, his fate would have been sealed.
But fortunately for that bewildered lord, there was only Isabella to see. She was curious about this interest in Basil's loyal companion, but had no opportunity to question her cousin, for Veronica entered then, demanding to see all the new finery. The
"I'm so sorry. I didn't know—oh dear," Alicia stammered.
"Don't be silly, love," her cousin replied as she rose from her seat to lead the hesitating girl into the room. "You've finished your shopping early, I see."
"Yes. Oh dear. I did not mean..." She glanced quickly at the gentlemen and blushed again.
Since Lady Belcomb simply sat there gazing at the girl with disapproval, Isabella made the introductions. Basil pronounced himself charmed, Lord Tuttlehope stammered something incomprehensible, and Isabella, with polite apologies, excused herself, and took her cousin away.
Had Basil not been quite so irritated at Isabella's casual leave-taking and a little stunned by her cousin's good looks, he might have noticed his friend's condition sooner. As it was, the viscountess made several attempts to return to discussion of the greys, and several times elicited only stuttering and confused replies from Freddie, before Basil noted anything amiss. He then calmly took over the conversation, brought it to a graceful close, and took his friend and himself away.
"It really is too bad of you, I must say," Basil remarked as they made their way to their club.
"Eh?" Lord Tuttlehope awoke from his stupor with a start.
"I said, it really is too bad of you."
"What is? Were you speaking, Trev?" Freddie shook his head. "Must have been woolgathering. Too bad— what?"
Basil clapped his friend on the shoulder and laughed. Freddie endured this for a moment, then responded, with some annoyance, "I say, Trev, fellow deserves to know what the joke is."
"Ah, my friend, I fear the joke is on me. I had new hopes. For a vision entered my life, complete with fortune, but younger, prettier, and, I think, far more susceptible than the icy Miss Latham. But what do you think? I look over and see that my bosom bow is struck on the spot, instantly besotted. Did you ever hear of worse luck?"
***
"Oh, Bella, what lovely gentlemen. I've never seen such cravats. Are they in love with you?"
"The gentlemen or the cravats?" Isabella asked, laughing.
Alicia's wardrobe for the Season covered every stick of furniture in her room: walking dresses, pelisses, gowns, slippers, shawls. All had been inspected, tried on, exclaimed over, and the two women now sat on the bed, resting from their exertions.
"But are they? They're so handsome." Alicia sighed. "And so beautifully dressed."
"Yes, they're impeccable," replied her cousin. "And not, you goose, in love with me. Why, I'm quite an elderly lady. Your ancient companion, remember."
"Fah." The blonde curls shook a negative. "The only reason you're not married is that you've been buried in the country all this time taking care of us and helping Papa. I knew the minute you came to London you'd have dozens of beaux. Even Papa said so—when Mama was not about. Polly said at least a dozen came today. Even the Earl of Hartleigh." She pronounced this last with some awe.
Isabella's heart gave a little flutter, but she took a deep breath and told her cousin, "That is only etiquette, my dear."
This was not sufficient explanation, for her cousin must hear all the particulars of the Duchess of Chilworth's ball.
"And the dark-haired one, who looked so shy?" Alicia asked, shyly enough herself, when her cousin had finished detailing the previous evening.
"Where Mr. Trevelyan goes, there goes Lord Tuttlehope. I assure you he hasn't the remotest interest in me."
"Oh." Alicia became thoughtful. If Lord Tuttlehope could have seen the tiny wrinkle between her brows or the charming way she chewed delicately on her lower lip, his fate would have been sealed.
But fortunately for that bewildered lord, there was only Isabella to see. She was curious about this interest in Basil's loyal companion, but had no opportunity to question her cousin, for Veronica entered then, demanding to see all the new finery. The
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