“Well, this is rather awkward, is it not?” the woman said with a light, forced laugh. “I apologize... I only wanted to leave the ballwithout making a fool of myself. It seems I was not particularly successful.”
Lucas looked at her without meeting her eye. He itched to leave the situation, but his honor compelled him to remain. He could not allow this young woman to traverse his home with only Charlie as company. But he needed to help them quickly—the less time in the woman’s company, the better. Who knew when she might suddenly recognize him as the pugilist from the wrong part of town rather than the heir to a marquessate that he was meant to be.
“No, it is I who should apologize for detaining you. Come, I will accompany you both.” If he stayed behind them, he could see them out without her seeing much of him.
Charlie pushed up from the table he’d been leaning against. “There is no need. I have the situation well in hand.”
Lucas looked at his brother, his gaze brooking no argument. Whether Charlie truly had it in hand or not, Lucas could not leave them. It would be ungentlemanly at the least.
Charlie opened his mouth to argue, if his furrowed brows were any indication, but another voice from the room Lucas had just vacated cut him off.
“Lucas? Are you in here?”
It was their mother. That was inconvenient.
Charlie’s furrowed brows sprang apart, his eyes turning pleading. “Blast. I promised I wouldn’t cause any problems tonight.” He glanced over at the young lady, who still seemed frozen to her spot. Interestingly, she was watching him, not Charlie, for direction. “Will you distract her so I can get Miss— You know, I don’t even know your—never mind.” He met Lucas’s eye. “Distract Mother, would you?”
Lucas thought for half a second then shook his head. He wasn’t allowing Charlie to run off with this woman.
“Lucas?” Her voice was coming closer.
Charlie’s eyes grew round. Lucas jerked his head to another door. “Go. I will take the young lady to Mother. She will help.” He already knew he’d regret this.
“And you won’t—”
“I won’t tell her what you’ve done.”
Charlie pressed his eyes closed. “I owe you.” Then he darted off with only a fleeting wave for the woman, who watched him go with wide eyes.
“Yourmother?” she hissed, stepping toward Lucas.
He tried to give her a reassuring look without actually meeting her gaze, but according to his friends, his expressions ranged from stoic to more stoic regardless of the scenario, so he was probably not successful.
She took a steadying breath, and it was as if he could feel her nerves from several feet away.
Dash it all. He was meant to be helping her, not adding to her difficulties. That went against everything he strove to do in life. “Do not worry,” he said, attempting a lighter tone more like his brother’s or Henry’s. “It has been at least a week since she breathed fire. She will help you.” His power over conversation had clearly grown rusty. Perhaps comparing his mother to a dragon was a bit too far.
The woman gave a startled laugh, however, and then after half a breath, she gave a brief nod. “If you are certain she will not eat me.”
And not a moment too soon. Mother appeared in the doorway, all glittering poise save for her furrowed brow. “Lucas. There you are. You do not intend to stay hidden away for the entirety of the ball, do you? I had hoped—oh. Hello.” Mother looked between the two of them, expression expectant.
Lucas took a step forward. “Mother, this is Miss...”
“Faraday.” But it was not the young lady who had answered. It was his mother. “Lord Tarrington’s new ward, yes?”
The woman nodded.
“I see you have helped me find my son. He is always disappearing at these events.” Her voice was light, welcoming, but Lucas noticed the hint of confusion that wove its way through the words. And the hint of suspicion.
The woman beside him nodded but seemed at a loss for words.
Mother continued, sending Lucas a small smile, though it was clearly guarded. “It would seem he prefers the company of draperies and shelves to that of—well, nearly the entire upper ten thousand.” Mother watched the woman—Miss Faraday—expectantly.
Miss Faraday looked between him and his mother, her gaze finally choosing the latter. “I suppose I cannot blame him. It is a beautiful ball, but there are a great number of people. I admit to seeking a bit of respite myself.”
Something entered his mother’s eye, but just as quickly, it vanished. “Is that how you found each other?”
Lucas made to enter the conversation, planning to take the blame so neither Charlie nor Miss Faraday would suffer any ill consequences, but he did not get the chance.
