Free Loving Lucy by Lynne Connolly

she felt panic.
    Then, further up Bond Street , she saw the man striding towards her and she waited, unsmiling, for him to arrive. She didn’t give him a chance. “I propose to go with this gentleman to visit my man of business. You will accompany me. We will travel in the carriage.”
    When Greene saw the crest, he blenched and shook his head. “No, my lady. I’ve been told to avoid certain parties, and these is one of them.”
    Ignoring the grammar, she told him, haughtily; “Nevertheless, I shall go. With or without you.”
    He sighed and bowed slightly. She let Lord Wenlock help her into the carriage. Her heart felt as though it was in her mouth, but she sat down and took her time arranging her skirts.
    Lord Royston waited there, and nodded as Lucy got in. She swallowed, but managed a cool inclination of her head in greeting.
    “Thank you for coming,” he said. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths if there had been another way.” The carriage lurched to one side for a moment as Greene hauled himself up behind, and then the vehicle began to move. “I called on your mother yesterday. It was made clear she wouldn’t meet me or see me. When I remembered your weekly visit to the library I thought I could approach you there.” He forbore to criticise Lucy’s mother, she noted, although he might have grounds to do so.
    The short distance to the City was accomplished in silence. Lucy gazed out of the window at the life London always sported, the democracy of the streets. Small children tumbled about their better dressed contemporaries, jeering and laughing, while their friends attempted to pick the pockets of the adults standing by. Street sellers abounded, hawking everything from lavender to scurrilous scandal sheets, shouting their wares in a general cacophony of horses’ hooves, wheels, shouts and even song from the beggars hoping for the odd penny for their sweet discord.
    Mr. Chumleigh’s office was near the Monument, sited in one of the many side streets the City possessed. The carriage drew up outside a tall, narrow building enhanced by a shining brass plate outside declaring Mr. Chumleigh to be ‘solicitor, lawyer, man of business.’ Lucy was relieved to have arrived. At least they hadn’t lied about that. It occurred to her that they might have driven out to the country, kidnapped her, but at the pace the carriage was forced to travel in the congested streets Lucy could have jumped out without any hurt if she’d been seriously alarmed.
    The steps were let down and Lord Royston helped Lucy down, but she dropped her hand back to her side when they climbed the two shallow steps to the front door, and glanced back to make sure Greene was following her.
    It was held open by a clerkly looking young man, his ill fitting pantaloons shiny where they had been rubbed daily against the wooden seat at his desk. His hair hung limply in an imitation of one of the styles sported by his fashionable contemporaries; his aspirations to modishness obvious but doomed, when one took into consideration his lanky figure.
    He announced them correctly and they went in, Lucy first. The spacious office was crammed with neatly filed papers; most of them tied up with red ribbon. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling; except at the window, in front of which was set a large, old fashioned walnut desk. Mr. Chumleigh stood by it, waiting to take Lucy’s hand and see her to one of the chairs set around the desk. “I trust I find you well, your ladyship?” He didn’t congratulate her on her forthcoming nuptials.
    She murmured a reply and sat down. Mr. Chumleigh shook hands with Lord Royston and Lord Wenlock and they also sat down. Greene could wait in the office outside.
    Mr. Chumleigh appeared to be everything a man of business should be; well but not showily dressed, grave featured, rotund with prosperity and respectability. There was nothing remarkable about him, except his knowledge. He was used by many of