Read Online The Cinderella Debutante by Elizabeth Hanbury - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Hanbury
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yourself! I see nothing remiss,” Lady Sinclair looked uncomfortable for a moment before adding in a more moderate tone, “Belinda is in good spirits and why should she not be, given her success this evening? Still, it would be a pity if anything overshadowed her dazzling debut. No one must think we do not understand the rules of high society. I will mention it.”
Thankful that for once her mother was prepared to correct Belinda, Lucy slipped away, only to be confronted by Mr Pottingham.
He had procured her a glass of lemonade and she was forced to take a seat in a nearby alcove beside him. Mr Pottingham’s disposition was serious, his conversation sober. His disdain of frivolous young women was legendary; he had shown no interest in any ladies during recent seasons but he had sought out Lucy often and made frequent visits to Mount Street on the flimsiest of pretexts.
Flattered as she was by his attention, Lucy could only marvel as to why he had singled her out. She enjoyed discussing weightier matters with him but more often than not, her sense of the fun bubbled to the surface. Mr Pottingham disapproved of this. His expression became troubled when she made some comical remark or observation. Lucy couldn’t imagine life with such a staid man, but the more she discouraged him, the greater his admiration grew and the more determined his pursuit. He seemed to have set his sights on her.
“Miss Sinclair! How delightful it is to enjoy a moment of peace,” he began. “One sees such shocking behaviour at these events. I couldn’t help noticing the Duchess of Forsyth flirting with the Earl of Quarle. I expect you saw it too. That must be distressing to a lady of your delicate sensibilities, I imagine?”
It took Lucy a moment to realise he was referring to her. “Not really. I’m not acquainted with either.”
“Ah. But you must have seen Lord Blountford ogling Mrs. Nelson?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Or Jane Stichcombe practically throwing herself at Rake Baverstock?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He gave a thin smile of understanding. “No doubt you averted your eyes. You are refreshingly dignified, a lady able to agree with my views on morality. Morality, along with newts, is a subject close to my heart. Did you know that I collect newts and have made a study of them? Excellent creatures! Far superior to frogs and toads. I have a pond on my estate devoted entirely to newts. Do you like newts?”
“N-newts?” stammered Lucy, bewildered. “I’ve never considered the matter before but—”
“I knew you would. I said to myself, ‘Algernon, Miss Sinclair is a woman of taste. She cannot fail to like newts, unlike those women of weak intellect who run away screaming when confronted with them. Miss Sinclair has stamina where newts are concerned.’” He clicked his tongue approvingly.
Lucy gaped at him. “Indeed, I—”
“But enough of newts! Let us discuss moral decline instead. Did you know I recently attended a lecture entitled The Advancement of Morals in Polite Society ? I’ll tell you the details for I am sure you will find them riveting…”
Lucy endured several minutes of his monologue. She tried to change the subject but to no avail. Mr Pottingham was impervious to snubs. Short of being intolerably rude, she could see no way out until Sophie and Olivia came to her rescue by declaring Mr. Fernihough was searching for Lucy, his partner for the quadrille.
Mr Pottingham relented, but not before he had extracted a promise from Lucy to dance with him before the end of the evening. She reluctantly agreed before walking away.
“Thank you!” she said, heaving a grateful sigh. “He is difficult to interrupt.”
Sophie giggled. “We saw you needing rescuing from that sanctimonious bore.”
“Mama thought he had detained you long enough,” said Olivia. “Besides, Mr. Fernihough has been extremely patient and it’s not fair to disappoint him.”
Lucy smiled, and then, as she turned around, she
Thankful that for once her mother was prepared to correct Belinda, Lucy slipped away, only to be confronted by Mr Pottingham.
He had procured her a glass of lemonade and she was forced to take a seat in a nearby alcove beside him. Mr Pottingham’s disposition was serious, his conversation sober. His disdain of frivolous young women was legendary; he had shown no interest in any ladies during recent seasons but he had sought out Lucy often and made frequent visits to Mount Street on the flimsiest of pretexts.
Flattered as she was by his attention, Lucy could only marvel as to why he had singled her out. She enjoyed discussing weightier matters with him but more often than not, her sense of the fun bubbled to the surface. Mr Pottingham disapproved of this. His expression became troubled when she made some comical remark or observation. Lucy couldn’t imagine life with such a staid man, but the more she discouraged him, the greater his admiration grew and the more determined his pursuit. He seemed to have set his sights on her.
“Miss Sinclair! How delightful it is to enjoy a moment of peace,” he began. “One sees such shocking behaviour at these events. I couldn’t help noticing the Duchess of Forsyth flirting with the Earl of Quarle. I expect you saw it too. That must be distressing to a lady of your delicate sensibilities, I imagine?”
It took Lucy a moment to realise he was referring to her. “Not really. I’m not acquainted with either.”
“Ah. But you must have seen Lord Blountford ogling Mrs. Nelson?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Or Jane Stichcombe practically throwing herself at Rake Baverstock?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He gave a thin smile of understanding. “No doubt you averted your eyes. You are refreshingly dignified, a lady able to agree with my views on morality. Morality, along with newts, is a subject close to my heart. Did you know that I collect newts and have made a study of them? Excellent creatures! Far superior to frogs and toads. I have a pond on my estate devoted entirely to newts. Do you like newts?”
“N-newts?” stammered Lucy, bewildered. “I’ve never considered the matter before but—”
“I knew you would. I said to myself, ‘Algernon, Miss Sinclair is a woman of taste. She cannot fail to like newts, unlike those women of weak intellect who run away screaming when confronted with them. Miss Sinclair has stamina where newts are concerned.’” He clicked his tongue approvingly.
Lucy gaped at him. “Indeed, I—”
“But enough of newts! Let us discuss moral decline instead. Did you know I recently attended a lecture entitled The Advancement of Morals in Polite Society ? I’ll tell you the details for I am sure you will find them riveting…”
Lucy endured several minutes of his monologue. She tried to change the subject but to no avail. Mr Pottingham was impervious to snubs. Short of being intolerably rude, she could see no way out until Sophie and Olivia came to her rescue by declaring Mr. Fernihough was searching for Lucy, his partner for the quadrille.
Mr Pottingham relented, but not before he had extracted a promise from Lucy to dance with him before the end of the evening. She reluctantly agreed before walking away.
“Thank you!” she said, heaving a grateful sigh. “He is difficult to interrupt.”
Sophie giggled. “We saw you needing rescuing from that sanctimonious bore.”
“Mama thought he had detained you long enough,” said Olivia. “Besides, Mr. Fernihough has been extremely patient and it’s not fair to disappoint him.”
Lucy smiled, and then, as she turned around, she
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