“Well, I did not mean she could not if she wished it. Only, well, that she would not need to,” Charlie said, attempting to retract his words.
Lucas looked at Miss Faraday. She was already watching him. A smile lit her lips. He returned it before he remembered himself and tore his eyes away.
Eventually, Father gave back the newspaper and bid them all goodnight, and not long after, Mother stood and stretched, silently indicating to them all that it was time to retire. They all filed from the room, making their way up the stairs. Charlie gravitated to Miss Faraday’s side, but their mother called him to escort her, saying she wished to discuss his recovery.
Lucas knew his duty, and though he was not thrilled to do so—or so he schooled his mind into thinking—he offered Miss Faraday his arm.
“How are your arms?” she asked.
Confused, he glanced down at her, seeing the way she tucked back a smile. “My arms?”
“Yes, they must ache terribly after holding that newspaper so high all evening. I couldn’t have managed it.”
He could not fall to her teasing bait—it was too dangerous. “They are perfectly well, thank you.”
“I suppose you do that as practice, yes?” She looked forward, her head tilted in thought. “The lifting of newspapers—the true secret of your pugilist success.”
He nearly snorted at the ridiculousness of the statement.
“Do not worry,” she said, voice lowered, “I will tell no one. The papers could not handle the increase in sales should everyone learn just how effective the exercise was.” The way she said it, so serious and certain, made the words even more humorous. “Come now. You must admit it is funny to think on,” she poked.
He kept his eyes forward. “A bit.”
“Newspapers, Lord Berkeley? Paper. As exercise?” She squeezed his arm, seemingly trying to physically provoke him into a good humor.
“Yes, yes, you are very witty.” Though he was certain he kept the smile from his face, he was not so sure it did not bleed into his words.
“So long as you are aware of my finer qualities. That is all I ask.” She was still jesting, he could tell from the tone of her voice, but he could not help but think that he was too aware of her finer qualities. She dropped her teasing and asked, “You have been busy of late?”
It might have been better not to invite her back into his confidence, but she’d worn him down with her levity, and honestly, he’d missed having her to converse with. “The club is dealing with some difficulties, and my father is considering handing over some of his responsibility to me.”
“Oh, you are certain to be successful in whatever responsibilities he gives you.”
“That is kind of you to say.”
“I do not mean it as a simple kindness. You have a discerning mind and an ingrained sense of right and wrong. You will succeed at whatever you attempt, I imagine.”
Strangely, he felt his neck heat at the praise, and he couldn’t find much in the way of a response.
“Might I ask what is causing difficulty at the club?”
Though weeks before he never would have shared even as much as he already had, he found himself almost grateful totalk about it. “Some of the men we have helped are experiencing pushback from their previous employers. It has been... problematic.” So far, Lucas had been able to find several of the shareholders of the canal group, but each of them had only invested money into the venture; they were not running it. Lucas needed to find the person in charge.
“Has anyone else been hurt?”
Lucas’s jaw tightened. “Yes. Though not as badly as the first.”
Her expression was solemn. “That is terrible. I hope you are able to put a stop to it immediately.”
He did too.
“Let me know if I can be of service in any way,” she added.
He nodded.
She stopped of a sudden, and he looked down at her to see what had arrested her attention. It was a family portrait that hung on the wall.
“Is that Marietta?” she asked softly, pointing to the young girl standing beside their mother. The twins were maybe five or six in that painting. Mother had adored having portraits done of the family and had made them sit through one at least every few years. Lucas both loved and hated those portraits.
