Lucia straightened, hand back at her side.
“Do not go out this evening without speaking to me first about your attire.” She pointed a white gloved finger at Lucia. “I have a scarlet shawl with Indian fringe that I know will be just the thing to smarten up your new white satin gown with the square neck.” Then to Francesca, “Arrivederci, cara. Ti voglio bene.”
“Arrivederci, Mamma.”
Her mother kissed Francesca on both cheeks, eyed Lucia sternly, then, snatching her reticule from her waiting maid, flew out the door.
Hands in his pockets, Selbourne said, “I get the feeling your mother doesn’t approve of me.”
Lucia snorted and sank back into her chair, hoping she was out of Selbourne’s notice as well.
“Don’t concern yourself, Alex.” Francesca patted his arm. “Mama doesn’t approve of any landed man over twenty-five who hasn’t yet surrendered to the bonds of matrimony. Duty to the members of the fairer sex and all that.”
“She can keep her duty,” he said, eating another tart and picking up a third. “Marriage.” He shuddered before taking a bite. “I always thought it was my bad Italian.”
“Don’t start with your lifelong bachelor nonsense, Alex.”
Lucia smiled as Francesca, a good foot shorter than Selbourne, began to lecture him. “You’ll change your mind when you fall in love.”
The horrified look on Selbourne’s face turned Lucia’s smile into a frown. Vexing man! Why was it even the mention of matrimony sent some men into spasms of fear? What were men—rakes—like Selbourne so afraid of? Thank goodness she had Reginald. He couldn’t wait to marry her, and she—
Lucia bit her lip and looked back at Selbourne. She didn’t want to think about it right now.
“Oh, Alex, you’re hopeless,” Francesca finally said with a laugh.
“What is this?” Ethan Caxton, the Marquess of Winterbourne, strolled into the breakfast room. “Entertaining the ladies, eh, brother? I should have known.” He flashed a grin at Francesca, and her face lit up. “Lucia,” Ethan said with a bow. “A pleasure as always. You look well.”
“Thank you.”
He gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek. Lucia hadn’t seen the two brothers side by side since the wedding, and she couldn’t help but notice how alike they were in appearance. As they didn’t share the same father, Lucia imagined the brothers favored their late mother. If her sons were any indication, the woman who had been first Marchioness of Winterbourne and then Countess of Selbourne must have been a striking woman. Both her sons were tall, muscular, both needed a trim. Of the two, Lucia thought Selbourne more foreboding. His hard gray eyes had none of the softness of Ethan’s brown ones, now focused on his pretty wife. Lucia lowered her lashes, feeling like an intruder. Even after five years of marriage, Ethan and Francesca’s happiness was obvious.
“Unfortunately,” Ethan said, “I can’t allow my brother to charm you two any longer. Brigham’s waiting in the library.”
The finger of unease poked Lucia. “He does want to see all of us, doesn’t he?” Her father said she was too young and impetuous and used that as an excuse to exclude her from anything remotely interesting.
“Don’t worry, Lucia.” Ethan grinned. “You’re expected with the rest of us.”
Chapter Five
Ethan opened the door, and the dark, sober library shattered the sunny mood lingering from the breakfast room. Suddenly everything seemed so serious, so ominous, and Lucia missed her mother’s silliness. She knew why her father had waited until after her mother’s departure to call everyone to the library. He’d wanted to avoid her show of histrionics.
Though Lucia knew her father dearly loved his wife, her flair for the dramatic was a constant trial. The only thing worse was her grand passion—Italy and all things Italian. Lord Brigham had taken his new bride to Rome and Venice on their honeymoon and, Lucia suspected, regretted it ever since.
Her mother had fallen in love with Italy—or at least her romanticized view of it—and became a woman possessed. The family bore her mother’s obsession as well as could be expected, especially considering Lady Brigham’s scant knowledge but frequent use of the language, but Lucia had long ago come to the conclusion that her mother was a woman to be humored whenever possible.
Unfortunately, her own vivaciousness—reckless impulsivity, her father called it—had garnered her unfavorable comparisons to her mother on several levels. And Lucia had to admit that, in the past, she’d been immature and overly dramatic . . . on occasion. She might have even perpetrated a few—a very few—reckless acts. But that was in the past. She was an adult now. An engaged woman.
She’d changed, only no one took any notice.
Nevertheless, the library intimidated Lucia. A luxurious burgundy velvet couch resided near the fireplace, flanked by rosewood side tables, one littered with papers and journals and the other covered with decanters of sherry, Madeira, brandy, and claret. The Aubusson carpet was a plush pattern of dark blues and reds, matched by the heavy maroon draperies cascading from the large windows. Her father’s massive highly polished mahogany desk squatted in front of French doors that opened to the terrace and gardens.
Lord Brigham sat behind the desk now, smoking his pipe and looking through a sheaf of papers. He looked up as they entered, his expression grim. As always, his attire was flawless, except that this morning his cravat was askew, a sure sign he’d been worrying over something.
“Winterbourne.” He nodded. “Franny, dear, how are my grandchildren?”
“Just fine, Daddy.” Francesca kissed his cheek before sitting next to Ethan on the velvet couch.
Lucia sat down as unobtrusively as possible in a chair against the wall. Selbourne stood sentinel, leaning an elbow against the marble fireplace mantel across from her.
Her father nodded stiffly at Selbourne, but the cool greeting didn’t surprise her. Selbourne’s reputation for debauchery did not play well with Lord Brigham’s political ambitions, and she knew he had no wish to further the connection with the earl.
“I’ve called this meeting,” her father said, looking at each of them in turn, “because I feel the time has come to acquaint you with a matter of some concern.” He raised a hand. “Now, there is no need to become agitated or worried.” He glanced at Francesca and then at Lucia. “Everything will be sorted out in time, so please refrain from any show of theatrics.” He continued to stare at Lucia and tugged at his cravat.
Lucia sighed. Would she not even be given a chance to prove she’d changed?
On the couch, Francesca sat forward. “What is it, Daddy? Ethan says you’ve asked him to look into this matter.”
Lord Brigham nodded and picked up his pipe, still eyeing Lucia dubiously. “I asked Winterbourne to make discreet inquiries. I’m sure I do not need to remind you that this difficulty stays within the family. We will employ an investigator only if all else fails. You are not to breathe a word of our discussion to anyone.”
Which meant Lord Brigham didn’t want whatever was the matter to hurt his political ambitions. Lucia tapped her foot impatiently, wishing her father would go on. All his caveats and ho-humming frustrated her. Why didn’t he just get to the point?