It was dawn before I slept.
Chapter Ten
It was an almost silent breakfast the next morning. James had, apparently gone to his rooms in Duke Street, a stone’s throw away, and Lucian had been out riding early. I met him in the hallway and commented on his energy, rising so early.
He gave me a long, unreadable look. ‘I felt the need for some exercise,’ he said and strode off to his room to change, leaving me to sigh over the sight of long muscular legs in buckskin breeches. And those boots…
When we sat down to eat Garrick padded about discreetly, as though we both had crashing hangovers, and Lucian was taciturn, although, as always, exquisitely polite. I only had to glance round for the butter or the sugar and they were passed to me and I had to urge him to look at the newspaper when Garrick placed it on the table.
I wondered if the brisk morning ride had been a substitute for a different kind of exercise. It would probably been easier now if I had dragged him into the bedchamber last night and had my wicked way with him, I thought dismally as the knocker sounded and James walked in.
Lucian greeted him with a sound verging on a grunt and James winked at me as he sat down and took a cup of coffee from Garrick. ‘You are not at your best first thing in the morning are you, brother dear?’
This time it was definitely a grunt. Perhaps it wasn’t a fit of male sulks over not getting any sex the night before after all. ‘Is Lucian always this grumpy at breakfast time?’ I murmured to James as I passed him the toast.
‘I am in a perfectly tranquil state of mind, thank you.’ The man obviously had excellent hearing, even if he was buried in the Times. ‘I am thinking.’ He put down the paper and reached for the coffee pot and I took the hint. Obviously his lordship was a three-cup man in the morning.
I was on my second, and beginning to feel slightly less sub-human, when the door knocker went again. ‘It’s like Piccadilly Circus this morning,’ I said and then found two pairs of eyes regarding me with identical expressions of puzzlement. ‘Oh, no, nothing you know about yet. And nothing to do with circuses – well, not the kind with clowns and acrobats.’
Lucian shook his head slowly. ‘I would find having Grimaldi and the entire equestrian troupe from Astley’s in my drawing room easier to cope with than you, Cassandra.’
Garrick came in before I had a chance to retaliate. ‘Sir Clement Selbourne has called, my lord.’
‘Show him in, Garrick, and lay a place for him, would you?’
‘My lord. Sir Clement.’
The man he ushered in was tall, sandy, freckled and had a face that was immediately likeable. He wasn’t handsome, but he looked masculine, cheerful and absolutely dependable. I took to him immediately and thought that falling for him was probably the most sensible thing Arabella Trenton could have done.
He walked in smiling, saw me, stopped dead, looked rapidly at Lucian and blushed a deep, and rather endearing, crimson. ‘Oh. Excuse me, Radcliffe, I did not realise… your man said nothing about er…’
‘This is my cousin Cassandra from America,’ Lucian said as I stood up and offered my hand.
Selbourne put out his left, caught himself, changed hands and gave a sort of embarrassed bow over mine. ‘I do beg your pardon for intruding. I had no idea…’
‘A surprise visit,’ I said. ‘It is very kind of Lucian to put me up. The American branch of the family is rather an embarrassment, shall we say?’
‘Yes, we did not recognise it at all until Cousin Cassandra came into our lives,’ James said. ‘Come and have breakfast, the kedgeree is good.’
‘Thank you.’ Still looking confused, Selbourne sat down and gamely made small-talk. ‘I was talking to your Mr Monroe the other day, Miss Lawrence. Interesting chap. Difficult, of course, given his views on the French, but he is sound on trade between the United States and Britain. Very sound.’
‘My Mr Monroe?’ I queried faintly. There had been an American President Monroe, I remembered, but surely he wasn’t in London?
‘The Minister of
State to the Court of St James,’ Lucian said. ‘You really ought to take more interest in politics, Cousin. Minister Monroe is negotiating the renewal of the Jay Treaty.’
‘Oh, of course, the Jay Treaty. Silly me.’ The what? Just so long as I never met Minister Monroe – he would spot more than my ignorance of international relations in 1807 if I ever had to open my mouth in his presence.
‘Trade between our two countries has to be a good thing,’ James put in helpfully. ‘Although I understand that President Jefferson is decidedly wary.’
At least I now knew the name of my supposed President. I kept quiet.
‘We have spoken of Miss Trenton’s disappearance to Cousin Cassie,’ Lucian said. ‘She has had experience of a similar situation at home.’
No, I hadn’t, but I suppose it was the only safe way of explaining why I was involved. ‘It ended happily,’ I assured Sir Clement. ‘The young lady was in hiding. I cannot say any more about the particular case because…’ Why the devil not? I racked my brains. Ah… ‘I was sworn to secrecy. It was all very delicate.’
‘So you can see that Cousin Cassie is the soul of discretion,’ James added.