Page 3 of Lady Louisa and the Carriage Clock
In a compartment behind the panel rested an ebony box that held a gold clock. It was one of a pair made by the French clockmaker Gaston Jolly. Tales about the pair of clocks described them as carriage clocks, but in reality, the clock he now possessed was a mantel clock. To Cecil, it was a treasure beyond price: One half of the key to bringing about the downfall of the Rogue’s Alliance.
* * * * *
“Edith!” Louisa rushed forward to grasp her friend’s hands. “Thank goodness you’re here!”
The lady in question, a full head shorter than Louisa, replied with a grin, “Nothing too dreadful could have occurred before I arrived.”
“I’ll tell you what is dreadful. My mother would have pressed all four of my brothers into escorting me this evening if they'd not been warned by Leopold and made themselves scarce.”
“I would offer to chaperone you for the season if I thought your mother would allow it,” Edith replied.
Louisa winked at her friend. “I’ve thought of a way to convince her. We tell my mother you were instrumental in bringing Charlotte and Ashford together and that once you set your cap for Nathaniel, he was helpless against your charms. She will surely see you as an incomparable matchmaker and the perfect chaperone.”
“That might just work.” Edith squeezed Louisa’s hands and released them.
“Where is your husband?” she asked, looking about the ballroom.
“Speaking with Lord Kettering about a bill.”
“And you’re not listening in?” she asked with a raised brow.
“Nathaniel knows my opinion on the legislation.”
She couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Of course he does.”
Edith tapped her friend on the arm with her fan. “At least your mother cannot fault your appearance, Louisa. You are looking your best this evening.”
“Thank you.” She sighed. “My parents have spared no expense on my wardrobe, hoping it will bring about a grand match this season.”
Louisa’s gown of white gauze over a maiden blush slip was exquisitely demure, trimmed in a garland of taffeta flowers with white satin draperies above. Her copper-colored hair, dressed low to the sides, pulled high from behind, sported a wreath of French roses to match the trim of the ball gown. Simple pearl jewelry, white kid gloves, and satin dancing shoes completed her ensemble.
“A gentleman approaches,” Edith said quietly, gazing at something behind Louisa.
“Perhaps the gentleman will ask you to dance.” She shuddered. “Is it that squat baron?”
“Huzzah! Right in one.”
There was nothing for it; Louisa would dance with the man if only to convince her mother Edith was a positive influence in her hunt for a husband.
The squat baron was a passable dancer. Louisa was not known for her womanly graces, but she could dance. She recalled that even the stuffy Lord Wycliffe had mentioned her gracefulness while dancing to her friends.
Lord Wycliffe. The handsomest man she had ever met and the most irritating. She hadn’t seen him since Edith’s Christmastide wedding in the country, a gathering he attended for a mere two days. So obsessed with the Rogue’s Alliance that he’d only been able to leave London for a short time, he’d braved muddy, nearly impassable roads to return to Town.
“You are as lovely as ever, Lady Louisa,” the baron said haltingly, gasping from the exertion of a country dance.
“Thank you, Lord Danner, and may I say you are truly dazzling in your waistcoat,” she replied, although the salmon color of his vest was an assault to the eyes.
The man smiled but did not speak. She wondered if he lacked breath for a response at present.
The set was long, and she took pity on her dance partner. “Lord Danner, I am feeling a bit fatigued. Might we resign from the dance for refreshment?”
Louisa was afraid the man would collapse if he danced further, and if she was involved in a scandal, no matter how slight, her mother would surely blame her.
After the baron escorted her to the edge of the dance floor and proceeded to the refreshment table, she looked about for Edith, but her friend was across the room speaking with someone.
“You danced with Lord Danner without being coerced,” her brother said from close beside her.
Louisa jumped, swallowing her irritation; her eldest brother Leopold was forever sneaking up on her. If she wanted Edith to be her chaperone this season rather than Leopold, she would have to convince her brother she was open to finding a husband.
