“No, I don’t because you just did. And you have to agree that it’s the silliest rule you’ve ever heard of.”
“I disagree. If we don’t have order, where will we be?”
Roderick stared at her. “I don’t think this is the type of order Society requires, Lucy.” His withering tone almost made Lucy squirm, but she held onto her composure with the tips of her fingers. Gazing at the details on the ornate woodwork in that particular room helped Lucy avert her attention for the briefest moment and thus regain control over her emotions.
“What sort of order would you recommend, if you’re so smart?” Lucy demanded, keeping her tone light and friendly, hoping it would almost sound like she were flirting with him, even though she was almost holding her breath hoping he would explain something intriguing to her.
“I don’t think it would interest a fashionable young lady like yourself,” he said, denying her the interest she was refusing to admit she craved.
Lucy tossed her head. “Did it interest Miss Bastion?” she asked before she could swallow back the words. She should never admit to being so interested in his whereabouts. Even though she didn’t think he ought to pursue any sort of conversation with the dreadful woman, it was terribly gauche of her to harp upon it.
Sure enough, Roderick’s intelligent gaze narrowed upon her. “Why so interested, Luce?”
Heat filled her at his use of the childhood familiarity. She shouldn’t allow it, but she couldn’t deny him her friendship. In that same spirit, Lucy thought to warn him away from the mercenary young woman.
“As we’ve said, Mr. Northcott, we’ve been friends for an age. As such, I feel I owe it to you to prevent you from making a misstep.”
Roderick, ever proud of his intelligence, lifted his chin in a display of pride, as though to deny she might have any sort of advice to offer him.
“What are you trying to say, my lady?” he asked, setting her at a distance. “Do you think to advise me?”
“I am merely taking an interest in an old friend,” Lucy excused. “Is there anything more to your conversation with them than fellow guests crossing paths?”
“Not yet,” Roderick finally answered after a brief pause wherein Lucy could tell he had been trying to decide whether or not he ought to even tell her anything at all.
It took effort for Lucy to prevent her chin from dropping open in surprise. Did he mean that he was hoping it would end up being something else? What was she to do?
“Might that change?” she finally asked.
Roderick didn’t seem to appreciate her question if his heavy sigh was any indication.
“What are you about, Lucy? Isn’t there some fashion crisis occurring somewhere you ought to be confronting rather than sticking your unwelcome nose in my affairs? I have important things to accomplish.”
Lucy’s mouth opened but she wasn’t sure what meant to come out. She shut it quickly but then thought otherwise. “Do you think to have Miss Bastion’s assistance for these important things?” She knew her tone was demanding but that couldn’t be helped.
“It really is none of your affair, Lucy. As the years go by, our paths are likely to cross less and less often. You needn’t trouble yourself about me, our long friendship notwithstanding. I can assure you, I have every reason to expect that I can take excellent care of my own affairs.”
She knew she ought to feel offended by his words, but she was too preoccupied with the content of them.
“Why do you think we shan’t see one another in the future?” The very thought made Lucy wish for a quiet corner in which to weep. She lifted her chin to ward off the unwelcome sensation, blinking her eyes rapidly to ward off the threat of tears.
“Isn’t it obvious?” the insufferably intelligent man countered. “You will carry on leading the fashionable Society while I shall retire somewhere to carry on my studies.”
The assault on her feelings continued with his added words. She so wished to inquire as to whether or not he had shifted his field of study or what he was working on at the moment. Her mind drifted back to the last time they had enjoyed anything but the most cursory of discussions about his research and she found herself leaning toward him, wishing to hear more about electromagnetism or whatever he had called it. She had been involuntarily intrigued and had peppered him with questions despite her intention to never reveal her interest.
The thought of retiring from Society briefly distracted her with a sharp pang of longing. She ignored that along with all the other unwelcome feelings she wouldn’t allow to mar her Season.
“Why must you retire?” Lucy asked with a frown. “Don’t you need to continue to seek patronage? Or if you’ve gained a patron, don’t you need to keep them apprised of your progress?”
“That could surely be done through correspondence if it were even true. Do you think this is the proper environment for such an interchange?”
Lucy glanced around the crowded rooms and looked back at him with an embarrassed smile as heat touched her cheekbones. “I see your point. But surely you must come to Town from time to time.”
“I don’t enjoy it like you do, Lucy,” he replied quietly. Lucy almost contradicted him. She didn’t really enjoy it either. But that wouldn’t be an appropriate thing to admit in such an environment.
“How will you manage, then? And if you hate it so much, why are you here now?”
When his gaze flickered briefly back to where he had been talking to Miss Bastion, realization finally dawned on Lucy as though one of the modern gas lights had suddenly been illuminated, and her mouth opened in a silent oh.
