“I would not say that you are aimless,” Lucien contradicted her. “Your aim was very clear. You did not wish to be your father’s or your aunt’s puppet. Perhaps there is something in that. Perhaps you can free other young girls from the same troubles.”
“I suppose maybe I could,” she said. Then she glanced around the room before looking up at him. “You know, I dare say our venture is working. People are looking at us with a lot of interest.”
“I can see that,” he said, noting that a lot of pairs of eyes were on them at this very moment. “I suppose they mistake animated conversation for something more.”
“Do they mistake it?” she said. There was a double meaning to her words; he knew it. She was wondering if there was something more between them, and he had to admit there was. He didn’t want it to be, but there was.
“People will see whatever they wish,” Lucien replied, making sure to keep his voice even. Too much. He had allowed far too much banter, far too much feeling between them. “It is an illusion we are projecting and one that they are believing.”
The smile that had been on her lips for some while dimmed and then faded entirely. “I see. Well, perhaps we are both made for the stage after all, then.”
“Indeed, it appears that way. Our evening has been thoroughly successful in that respect,” he said as the waltz ended.
“I imagine so.”
. They walked off the dance floor together, and then Lucien made an excuse to go and greet Rhys, who had just entered. He needed to talk to his friend before Gideon found them, because once the two of them were together, there was not much else Lucien could do. They would do what they always did when the three of them were together. Drink until they could barely stand and then gossip like fishwives at Whites.
Marianne, meanwhile, walked towards where Charlotte and Evelyn were standing. As Lucien looked after her, he saw her stop and glance back at him. There was sorrow on her face, and he knew that he had put it there. Instantly, he felt bad. He shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have allowed her to think that there was something more between them. Was there? He knew that his feelings for her had grown. But he hadn’t realized that she had feelings for him, too. After all, she had been nearly as wary of him as he had been of her.
“You look as though you are carrying the weight of the entire world on your shoulders,” Rhys commented the moment Lucien joined him. “Until a few months ago, you looked as though you were running around light-footed and lighthearted.”
“What do you mean?” he said, even though he already knew.
“You have a lovely wife. Taking turns on the dance floor. Do not tell me that you and she do not truly have feelings for one another. She admires you as much as you admire her.”
“You are starting to sound like Gideon,” Lucien said, spitting the name.
“And Gideon is not wrong. I know that you dislike him, but he is the sort who will speak the truth whenever it presents itself before him without trying to soften it. So if he thinks that the two of you look as though you are in love, perhaps you look as though you are in love. I certainly think so.”
“I do not love her,” Lucien replied firmly. “She’s pleasant. But that is it. There is nothing between us.” The words came out more like a hiss than anything else.
Rhys raised his hands. “Very well, though you are protesting a lot, my lord.” He chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “I know what you need. Good whiskey.”
Lucien sighed and followed his friend. Perhaps he was right. What he needed was a whiskey or five to take away these nagging thoughts that would not leave him alone.
CHAPTER 20
MARIANNE
After the dance, Marianne barely saw Lucien. He had left with Rhys and Gideon, which surprised her since he evidently did not care for Gideon any more than she did. However, the rumors regarding their marriage seemed to have been dispelled as nobody whispered about her— at least not within earshot. And the few times that she was approached, it was just to offer congratulations. She knew, though, that some of the ladies were looking at her stomach as though they were trying to figure out if perhaps she was hiding a pregnancy after all, but she made sure to place her hand on her stomach several times to show how flat it was.
She spent most of the evening with Evelyn and Charlotte, who were each chattering about their various projects. Evelyn had started a reading circle, focusing on material that might be considered inflammatory by some. The material was no doubt inspired by Charlotte, who had always enjoyed the works of Mary Wollstonecraft, one of the more daring authors of the last century. Marianne had eventually agreed that she would attend one of the reading circles. It wasn’t as though she was notinterested in culture. Besides, spending time with her sisters was going to be good regardless.
But still, by the time the first guests started to leave, she wanted to go home. She longed for her bed. But first, she knew that she had to travel home with Lucien. As they ambled into the carriage, his breath filled the space around them. Whiskey and whatever other spirits he and the other men had drunk. His nose was as red as a tomato, and he fell into his seat with as much grace as a potato falling from a sack.
“Zooks,” he said. “Will you tell the driver to please not have the carriage rock so much?”
“It isn’t rocking at all,” she replied. “In fact, we have not yet left. We are in line to leave.” There were about five carriages in front of them still.
“Thank goodness,” he said. “Perhaps I ought not have had quite so much wine.”
“Perhaps not,” she said. “Is that where you disappeared all evening? Drinking wine, and I suspect some stronger drinks as well?”
“Yes,” he said. “Gideon has never been a good influence on me.”
“I dare say that not everything can be blamed on Gideon Morris.”
“No,” he said. “I ought to take responsibility for that myself.” He closed his eyes, squeezing them so that creases appeared around the lids. When he opened them again, a groan escaped him. “I shall be quite sick,” he said.
