“Certainly,” Charlie said without censure but with a fair amount of amusement.
Miss Faraday did not seem to take offense. She once again lifted her shoulder. “They were my closest friends growing up.”
Lucas had been leaning forward toward their conversation without realizing it. He sat back. “I imagine they must miss you a great deal.”
“I should like to think they are in the throes of despair, always watching the window to see if I may surprise them with my return, but in truth, I think they are glad I am gone.” She spoke cheerfully and without malice, so Lucas assumed it was safe to ask for elaboration.
“Why is that?”
She shrugged again. “According to many, I am too perceptive by half and too much of a mother hen. ‘Overbearing’ may have been a word used on more than one occasion, if memory serves.” She offered half a smile, her words light and filled with good humor. She was far more relaxed than their last visit. Dared he hope that it was because she preferred his and Charlie’s company to that of Colbert and Belcher? Not that he should hope for such a thing.
“Overbearing? I do believe I know an older sibling or two that may fit in that category.” Charlie cut his eyes to Lucas. Lucas ignored him.
“I am sure they appreciate the care you have on their behalf,” Lucas said.
A distant expression appeared on Miss Faraday’s face. “I certainly hope so, though even if they do not, I do not believe I could keep myself from it.”
Lucas nodded, understanding that feeling himself. Marietta had often told him he cared too much. He was fairly certain she had even calledhima mother hen a time or two. Such as when she wished to run off to help a neighbor or deliver a basket, and he felt the need to accompany her—slowing her down, by her estimation.
His caring hadn’t helped her in the end.
He was so focused on squashing the emotion that came with that thought that he did not realize he’d allowed the conversation to grow stagnant. Thankfully, Charlie had finally decided not to be so derelict in his duty, and he asked her some question to which she was now responding. He made her laugh with a response, and Lucas was able to blend quietly into the background of the conversation. The place where he was most at ease.
But for some reason, he hardly felt at ease at all. An anxious, itchy feeling seemed to have taken up residence in his person, and it took all his attention just to keep from shifting constantly in his seat or attempting to stand and pace the room.
It had to be the recollection of his sister. It couldn’t have anything to do with the looks Miss Faraday kept sending his way. He listened in on their conversation, gleaning information such as Miss Faraday’s favorite color (which was green), her favorite dish (which was a type of soup he’d never heard of but was apparently divine), and about a dozen facts about Charlie that he’d already known.
At least, he’d known most of them. The conversation veered for a bit to talk about pugilism, of all things. Charlie told Miss Faraday that he’d been taking lessons from Gentleman Jackson, which was something Lucas had not known. He almost broke into the conversation at that, but Miss Faraday saved him the effort, directing a question to him.
“Do you enjoy the same things as your brother?” she asked.
Charlie laughed, which briefly drew Miss Faraday’s attention to him, but it came right back to Lucas after, with a questioning look in her eye.
“Not really, no.”
“The understatement of the century,” Charlie said, smiling broadly. “Speaking of centuries, Miss Faraday, did you hear of that woman who reached one hundred years of age in February? Last name was Perryman or something. Anyway, fascinating stuff. Would you want to live to be one hundred? I cannot say that I would.”
And just like that, Lucas was shunted again to the background of the conversation. Watching Miss Faraday converse with his brother was the first time he’d felt the desire to be more involved in a social situation.
Miss Faraday sent a look his way, along with a small smile, which sent a drop of warmth down his spine.
“And though Lucas seems to question my driving abilities, I—we—would love for you to join us for a drive. If you would be amenable?” Charlie was asking Miss Faraday. Apparently their next adventure would include more driving. Lucas would have to do his best to be at the reins again.
Miss Faraday’s brows rose at the invitation, but she recovered a more neutral expression quickly. “I shall consult with Lord Tarrington, but I imagine that will be agreeable.”
Charlie came to his feet. “Shall we say Thursday? We shall collect you at half past twelve, if your guardian approves the outing.”
Miss Faraday glanced Lucas’s way. The room seemed smaller at that look.
Chapter 11
Lydia met Lord Berkeley’s eyesfor the briefest of moments before flicking back to Lord Charles, who was awaiting her answer regarding the outing.
“Certainly,” she said despite a measure of reluctance. Her gaze traveled between the brothers in front of her. Every sentence included the use of “we,” but Lord Berkeley did not seem to be truly interested in anything to do with his brotherorher. He had come to his feet, his expression unchanged, butsomethingabout him seemed to give off reluctance.
She studied him briefly. Perhaps it was the stiff stance, though that seemed more his personality than anything. But the pulling of the lips to the side,thatbelied disagreement, and it might work in her favor. If she truly was not to marry until twenty-five, she needed to put off any suitors, and if Lord Berkeley did not want to join his brother, that would mean he would be a safe person to be with. Wouldn’t it?
Lord Berkeley’s eye caught hers again, and this time she would swear his eyebrow rose just a fraction at her perusal. She would have blushed, but she’d never been prone to that sort of outward embarrassment. Instead, she simply ducked her head, and by the time she looked up again, he had moved his gaze elsewhere.
