“I, ah, do not wish to reopen a conversation you clearly wished closed...” Miss Faraday said slowly, still looking out into the garden.
Lucas heaved a sigh. There was no avoiding it. He’d known the moment he recognized Colin that there was no keeping the truth from her now. At least not a portion of it. “Very well, Miss Faraday. Iwasthe man in the street that night, and I would request that you keep that information to yourself, if I may.”
“Yes, of course. I am sorry you would ever think I would do otherwise.”
Lucas pressed his eyes shut. His words had come out harsher than he’d intended. “No. I am sorry. I did not mean to imply you are not trustworthy. I...” He looked down at her, making a deliberate choice to share more than he usually might. He’d look into his reasons for that later. He expected they had to do with the draw he felt toward her that he was so far unsuccessful in fending off. “I find it hard to trust. It is easier to keep everything under my control.”
Miss Faraday’s eyes flicked between both of his. “I think it is natural to want to control your situation. But I do not think it is possible to control everything.”
He tightened his jaw then forced it to relax. “Nevertheless, I try.”
The ghost of a smile whispered across her lips.
He could not help himself. “What are you smiling about?”
Her mouth lifted even more. “Well, if I am honest...”
“I would hope you are.”
She gave him a censuring look then continued, “If I am honest, I was thinking of ways I could thwart your control. I know, I know, it sounds very unkind of me. But where you have a tendency toward control, I tend to rebel against it. So it was my first natural response. I promise not to follow through. Much.”
Despite himself, he found his mouth curving to match hers. “And how would you thwart my control?”
“Oh you know, be late for outings, convince Charlie to hide your lucky cravat, those types of things.”
“My lucky cravat?” he sputtered, the melancholy turn of the evening lightening in the face of Miss Faraday’s jests.
She lifted a shoulder. “You have to have a lucky cravat, do you not? Or... lucky gloves? Boots?”
A surprised chuckle surfaced from his mouth. Her eyes met his again, this time a measure of delight within.
“Did you just laugh?” she asked.
“Hardly.”
“But a bit, I believe.”
“Perhaps a minor amount,” he conceded, though he did not see the importance of whether he had or not.
She gave a little cheer, stopping before the stairs. When had they arrived back at the house?
“I do not see what there is to cheer about,” Lucas said.
“Lord Berkeley, I had not believed you capable of laughter. I find it a marked success that I have managed to coerce such a reaction from you.”
“You must not experience many successes in life, Miss Faraday.”
“You cannot know how very satisfying this particular success is, Lord Berkeley.”
He gazed down on her, bemused and entertained and... and lighter than usual. The stress was still there—he was still concerned for Patrick and the club—but it had dimmed. Like a two-hour-old wound rather than a two-minute-old one.
“Lucas. Miss Faraday,” his mother’s voice called from the doorway, breaking through the reverie he’d lost himself in.
He cleared his throat, stepping back, not having noticed when he’d closed the distance between himself and Miss Faraday.
“We are missing the two of you, if you are able to return?” Humor colored Mother’s question.
“Yes,” Miss Faraday called, starting for the doors. “Yes, of course, I am so sorry to have stolen your son for so long.” Shereached his mother, and the older woman entwined her arm with Lydia’s in a show of affection.
