Page 8 of A Lady in Name

He laughed. “There’s gratitude for you. And I had begun to think you equal to any eventuality, Miss Graydene.”

“I can’t think why. I have given you no reason to suppose it.”

“On the contrary, but let us set that aside for the present.” He gave her a little bow. “I must apologise for not attending to your comfort, ma’am. One of the maids will escort you wherever you wish. No doubt you would prefer to reassure yourself as to your appearance before meeting my sister.”

Lucy followed the maid back through the bewildering collection of rooms, corridors and staircases. She was glad to have had a few moments to refresh herself, and amazed to find her bandbox in the bedchamber to which she had been led by a maid directed by Lord Pennington to assist her.

“This is the Red Saloon, miss. Please to go in.”

Hesitating, Lucy was conscious of an uncomfortable dryness at her throat. What if the women of this house were to look upon her with the same disdain shown by the one she had met in the hall? Her putative half-sister, if Lord Pennington’s veiled comments could be taken in good faith.

“Miss?”

Lucy gathered herself. Nothing was to be gained by standing here like a ninny. Had not Papa taught her always to hold up her head? Stiffening her spine, she stepped quickly into the room and paused there, her quick glance taking in the single occupant, a fair girl lounging carelessly along a faded sofa. She looked up, and a youthful face broke into a fetching smile, laced with eager amusement.

“Aha, the lady of mystery herself.” She swung her legs to the floor and rose with easy grace, the full petticoats of her high-waisted dove-grey gown falling into place. She moved to Lucy with both hands held out. “I’m Dion, you must know. We are cousins, if all I hear is true.”

Lucy found her fingers warmly clasped and her face the subject of a searching gaze in features strikingly similar to his lordship’s.

“Gracious, there is a look of Paulina about you! Though your eyes are darker than hers, I think. How utterly delicious if you should turn out to be her half-sister. Paulina will positively loathe you, I’m afraid, but that can’t be helped. Do come and sit down and divulge the whole story before I burst with curiosity.”

Lucy held her ground, fending off the hands that would draw her forward. “You must hold me excused, ma’am. Whatever Lord Pennington may have told you —”

“Yes, but that’s just it. Stefan has given me nothing but the bare facts in the case, which won’t do for me at all.” The merry eyes twinkled. “Now don’t be cross. And for pity’s sake, don’t call me ma’am.”

Feeling a trifle battered, Lucy found herself giving ground. By the time she was again able to think with any coherence, she had been thrust into a sofa and the offending creature who had put her there was seated opposite, leaning forward with an expression of lively interest on her face.

“There, is that not a degree more cosy?”

Lucy was moved to indignation. “I don’t feel at all cosy, if you must know. Are all you Penningtons as high-handed as his lordship?”

Dion broke into a peal of laughter. “Discovered! Yes, I’m afraid you are very right. Oh, not high-handed perhaps. But we are all of us apt to do precisely as we choose without thought of consequence.” The bright eyes pleaded. “Forgive me? I am behaving shockingly, I know, but it is all so intriguing.”

“I dare say.” Lucy’s dryness appeared to have an effect, for Dion looked suddenly contrite.

“Oh, dear, I have offended you.”

Which caused Lucy to feel an instant volte-face. She put out an impulsive hand. “No, you have not. Only I am so put about by having been brought to this place. It is not at all what I intended. I had no notion of finding your uncle had died.” A thought struck her and she backtracked. “I take it he was your uncle too? You are Lord Pennington’s sister?”

Dion looked taken aback. “Did I not say so?”

A faint amusement seeped into Lucy’s breast. “To tell you the truth, you have so much bewildered me, I am not in the least certain.”

A gurgle escaped Dion. “Paulina would condemn me for a hoyden. Stefan too, I expect.”

“Stefan is your brother?”

To Lucy’s surprise, Dion made a disgusted face. “Stefanus. And I am saddled with Dionisia. You are astonished, and I am not at all surprised. You have not yet met our mother. When you do, all will become clear, I do assure you.”

“Which is more than can be said for your conversation.”

The tart note made Dion giggle again, and Lucy began to feel as if she had strayed into a dream world.

“The truth of the matter is we are both shockingly badly brought up,” said Dion in a matter of fact way which could not but appeal to Lucy’s sense of humour. “But let that be, for I am far too eager to hear your story to be boring on about my own.”

“And I have said, Miss Pennington — no, that cannot be right —”

“Ankerville. And I’m afraid it is Lady Dionisia since Stefan took the title, but pray don’t stand on ceremony. Dion, if you please.”