A Lady Never Tells(27)

Mary’s first thought when she saw the group was how utterly handsome Sir Royce was in evening attire. His lean, masculine build and sharp, aristocratic profile were perfectly complemented by the luxurious materials and elegant lines. Her pulse quickened in response.

Her second thought was an acute consciousness of the inadequacy of the dresses she and her sisters wore. Their frocks were clearly out of style, with waists that were too high. But more than that, they were far too simple, too plain, with no more than a ruffle of the same material around the hem. The people waiting for them looked ready to go to a ball. Mary suspected that neither of these women would have considered Mary’s dress acceptable to wear even to the market—not, of course, that they would ever go to the market.

Surprise flitted across the faces of the earl and his companions when they saw the Bascombe sisters, and Mary’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Then Royce strode forward, smiling at her.#p#分页标题#e#

“Miss Bascombe. What a pleasure it is to see you again.” He swept her a bow, then took her arm to steer her toward the others.

Mary let out a tightly held breath, grateful for his support. “Thank you.”

“It is you who do me the favor. A gentleman always appears to advantage with a beautiful woman on his arm.”

“I fear we are terribly underdressed,” Mary began in a low voice.

“Nonsense. Your face outshines any amount of jewels and silk.”

He was speaking foolishness, she knew, but his extravagant compliments warmed her and steadied her nerves.

The earl stepped forward, saying, “Miss Bascombe, pray allow me to introduce my aunt, Lady Euphronia Harrington, and her daughter, Lady Elizabeth.”

Mary noticed that he did not explain who she and her sisters were, and she wondered if for some reason he did not want his relatives to know their identities. Was he putting them to some sort of test? Seeing if they would pass muster with the rest of his relatives before he acknowledged the Bascombe girls? If so, Mary had a sinking feeling that she and her sisters were doomed to failure. She could not see even the slightest warmth or interest in these two women’s faces as they gave Mary and her sisters the slightest of nods and a murmured greeting.

They stood in an awkward group for a few minutes before two more women arrived along with another man, a rotund, smiling sort who greeted everyone with bluff affability. Both the women had dark hair shot through with silver, but one of them, Lady Phyllida Kent, was almost as tall as Lady Euphronia, and the other, Lady Cynthia Atwater, was softer and shorter than the others and possessed of a certain vague sweetness of expression. The gentleman, Mary learned, was the husband of Lady Phyllida.

There was a faint resemblance among the three older women, and Mary could see something in them that reminded her of her own mother’s face—though it was hard to catch it in the stiff arrogance that stamped these women’s features.

The earl took a look at the watch that was tucked into his waistcoat pocket and sighed. “Apparently Fitzhugh has chosen not to honor us with his presence. One never knows whether to wait for him, so I suggest that we move forward. Aunts, Cousin Elizabeth, I am sure you are rather curious about the reason for my invitation… .”

Lady Euphronia gave him a regal nod. He drew breath to continue, and at that moment, a man came striding into the room.

“Sorry. Am I late again?” He came to a dead stop as he caught sight of the older women. “Aunt Euphronia! Beg pardon.” He made a bow that, even to Mary’s untutored gaze, surpassed all the other men’s efforts. “Aunt Phyllida.” He spoke to each of the women, then to Sir Royce and the earl, his expression growing increasingly puzzled as his gaze traveled from one to another, ending with the Bascombes.

His greetings gave Mary and her sisters ample time to observe him. This, Mary thought, must be the man Sir Royce had referred to as Fitzhugh. He was the earl’s younger brother—as well as Sir Royce’s—if she remembered correctly Sir Royce’s explanation of the family tree. Mary could see the resemblance. This man was tall and broad-shouldered like the earl and Royce, though Fitz was the tallest of the three, and his figure was more lithe than powerful. He was also almost dazzlingly handsome. His hair was thick and black and perfectly styled in a carelessly windswept way. His eyes were a brilliant blue, and his face was almost too well-modeled—but a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and the deep dimple that creased his cheek when he smiled saved him from the blandness of perfection.

“I beg your pardon,” he went on, casting an engaging grin at Mary and her sisters. “Did I know we had guests this evening?”#p#分页标题#e#