The butler shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Russell. We received no letters this morning, except for a few for Lord Rochester.”
“Ah, best to forward those to London. My brother won’t be in Bath for a few months.”
“Already done, Miss Russell.”
“Raikes, are Lawrence and Zehra still here?” She’d been so consumed with the telescope she’d quite forgotten to ask her older brother and sister-in-law what they had planned for the day. Lawrence was determined to allow his wife time to enjoy traveling around England before they started having children.
“I believe they are to attend the assembly rooms this evening after the dowager marchioness arrives.”
Lysandra bit her bottom lip in thought. “Oh, is Mama coming today?”
Her mother was often an ally, but on occasion she was also a nuisance, especially when she was in a mood to make a match. Jane Russell was a serious woman when it came to marriage. She’d claimed credit for matching two of her brood—Lucien, the eldest, and then Lawrence, the second eldest. But Avery, Linus, and Lysandra were still unmarried, which meant they were increasingly under her watchful eye.
“I believe she will arrive this afternoon.” Mr. Raikes held a large silver serving spoon up to the light, and then he pulled a polishing cloth out and began to wipe at some smudge that was likely too small to be seen even with her telescope.
“If any messages arrive for me, will you call for me at once?”
“Of course, Miss Russell,” Raikes promised.
Lysandra left the servants’ quarters. She had only just stepped into the hall when her mother burst into the townhouse in a flutter of colorful skirts and high spirits. She was laughing at something a footman had said, and the young man’s face turned a ruddy red as he accepted Jane’s hat and her spencer. Jane was still a stunning beauty, even in her early fifties, which made Lysandra quite proud. Her dark-red hair was only just beginning to show a hint of silver, and if anything it only enhanced her looks. Because she had forgone face paints in her younger years, her face was still smooth and her complexion clearer than most women of her age. And with a curvy figure but a slender waist, Jane looked more maidenly than matronly, which kept many a man on his best behavior around her. She was, as many men had learned, a force of nature.
“Lysa, dear.” Her mother caught sight of her. “Why aren’t you riding in the park? The weather is wonderful for husband catching.” Her mother’s teasing only made her smile. She made it sound like she should carry a butterfly net with her.
“Hello, Mama,” she said as they embraced. “I was just finishing building my telescope. The last parts arrived this morning.”
Jane held her tongue a moment. It wasn’t that she disapproved—her mother believed in women pursuing education in all its forms. But she also wanted her children married, especially Lysandra.
“Have you spoken to Mr. Cavendish? I understand he is a member of the Royal Astronomical Society. Wouldn’t he be glad to help you?”
Lysandra blushed. “Perhaps. Mr. Cavendish is rather occupied these days.”
“Oh? With what? He’s a gentleman with land and money. What else could occupy him besides pleasurable pursuits?”
“Mama,” Lysandra said in warning, though she kept her tone gentle. She didn’t want to think about Gregory Cavendish or the kiss he’d stolen from her last Christmas. Nothing had changed between them. He’d returned to London, she remained unmarried, and they both pursued their love of the stars . . .separately. That was all there was to it.
“Very well, I shall move you down the list. Avery is next. I had better find him a wife, but he’s always away on the Continent with that spy business. One can only imagine the sort of women he’s forced to consort with.”
Lysandra winced at her mother’s casual attitude toward her brother’s very dangerous lifestyle. “Mama, I was planning to go out. Would you mind terribly if I left you for the day?”
“Left me? Why? What happened?”
“Nothing. At least, I think it’s nothing.”
Jane caught the eye of her shy footman. “Tea in the drawing room, if you please.”
The young man nodded and rushed off.
“Come. Tell me all of it over tea.” Jane escorted Lysandra into the drawing room, where they both sat down. “Now, what’s the matter?”
“It’s my friend Lydia,” Lysandra began, and then she told her mother the entire story, from the ball to