Page 34 of Lady Louisa and the Carriage Clock
Cecil would attend Lady Norfolk’s ball tomorrow. His elderly butler could help him dress, he supposed, but he was used to doing without a valet. At the moment he wasn’t sure he could trust anyone to be that close to him and so often. It did mean he was slower in preparing for outings but other than Parliamentary sessions he rarely had any pressing engagements. When he’d brought the RA down he could have a full staff again.
At the ball, he would play the part of an interested suitor. It was for an important cause, after all.
It looked as if the outspoken Lady Louisa was going to get her way.
Chapter Twelve
Louisa wasn’t surprised when Lord Wycliffe left the dinner party early. Nathaniel looked slightly irritated, but Edith took the defection in stride. Her call to play cards hadn’t elicited much interest.
“Shall we have a sherry?” Edith asked Louisa once they arrived back in the drawing room.
She followed her friend to the drinks tray as Diana spoke with Nathaniel. “I suppose this is a ruse to speak with me privately?”
“I should like to know what you and our handsome viscount were whispering about at dinner and whether the conversation hastened his departure.”
“The man bowed to my demand and will bring the second carriage clock to me for inspection.” She paused. “He also asked if you’d discussed the clocks with your husband.”
“I will tell Nathaniel everything later this evening.”
“We need your help transporting the other clock to Carstairs.” She proceeded to tell Edith about her idea to utilize a hat box.
“How will I get a hat box to Cecil?”
Louisa thought a moment. “Perhaps the viscount could put the clock in something else, and when you are together, Lord Wycliffe can transfer it to the hat box.”
“A convoluted plan, but it could work. And when do you propose we bring the other clock to you for inspection?”
“The day after tomorrow. You will attend Lady Norfolk’s ball, will you not? Lord Wycliffe will attend as well. Leopold now sees the viscount as a marriage prospect, and to aid our investigation, I think Lord Wycliffe and I should take advantage of Leopold’s false impression.”
Edith raised a brow. “Cecil is a marriage prospect?”
“Leopold is satisfied that the viscount’s financial hardships are merely rumors. I do not want to encourage the belief that Lord Wycliffe and I have an understanding, but it might allow the man to visit Carstairs without raising too much suspicion within the RA.” She let out a breath. “I suppose you must inform your husband that the viscount was in my bedchamber.”
Edith tugged at her earlobe. “I won’t tell Nathaniel if you don’t want me to.”
“You may tell him. I’m sure your husband will torment the viscount with the information,” she replied with a chuckle. “I will excuse myself and speak with you tomorrow evening. Will you need help dressing for the ball?”
Edith shook her head and winked. “My maid learned well under your tutelage. She will ensure I am presentable.”
* * * * *
“Excellent.” Cecil studied his appearance in the Cheval mirror in one corner of his bedchamber. “I look quite the thing.”
His black coat was the first stare of fashion. He had a new wardrobe every year, whether he needed one or not. His tailor expected it, and Cecil didn’t want to disappoint the man.
High shirt points were currently in fashion, and he was glad. It was an excuse not to turn his head and engage in conversation more readily. And while at a ball, he wouldn’t be able to indulge his practice of drumming his fingers on a nearby table. Nathaniel had been the first to alert him to the annoying habit.
“Cecil!” Nathaniel had frowned at him across the table in the dining room at White’s.
“What?”
The baron sighed. “You’re not attending my words. I know because you’re drumming your fingers on the table.”
“Sorry, my friend.”
Returning his attention to the present, he took one last look in the mirror. Freshly shaven, his dark brown hair was cut longish in the prevailing style. A staunch advocate of the current fashion, he wore trousers instead of breeches, his white linen shirt contrasting nicely with a gray waistcoat and blindingly white cravat. His dress pumps were not new, as he attended balls rarely, and when pressed to do so, he appreciated a pair of broken-in pumps.
Cecil had never cared for his gray eyes. Shrugging, he turned from his reflection.
