Watching her sing. Singing with her. A shiver moved over her neck at the memory of his delicious voice. That sound would follow her into sleep and twine through her dreams.
As the sky began to glower with the smoke of civilization, Rudyard let Bertie down first at Arendale House. The two girls parted with a squeeze of hands, Bertie exacting a promise for Lucasta to visit soon. Rudyard steered the horses the few blocks to Caroline Street and the town house the Pevenseys had rented, drawing up before the door with its scrubbed steps and large, ornate knocker.
“Bertie means it, you know,” he said as he walked around to help Lucasta down from the vehicle. “She would adore for you to call on her.”
“I should adore calling on her,” Lucasta admitted, putting her hand into his. His grasp was strong, warm, firm. “But it seems out of place that I should make free at Arendale House.”
“She needs friends,” Rudyard said. “The loss of her brother has laid her quite low. Perhaps you could introduce her to the Gorgons.”
“I thought the Gorgons were to be despised.” Lucasta gathered her skirts with her other hand to begin her descent. “Thus the name, unless I am mistaken?”
A sedan chair jogged by them. The men carrying it shouted and jostled Rudyard’s coach, and the horses stomped and jerked in their harness. Thrown off balance, Lucasta tumbled forward, only to collide with a firm surface. Rudyard’s arms clamped about her and remained there as he lowered her feet to the pavement, well away from the muck accumulating in the street.
A lightning bolt fell from the sky, shearing through her.
She was encased in heat, like a jacket potato. He held her as if reluctant to let go, his face a hand’s breadth away from hers. She stared into his eyes, overcome by a new and incomprehensible sensation. He was hard and yet yielding at the same time, solid as a wall and yet pliant. A man, a powerful man, as she had thought, yet with secret currents she had never guessed at before today.
The air between them crackled like a sky before a thunderstorm.
“I wonder, Miss Lithwick,” he said, his voice a low, sensuous rumble, “if we have both been mistaken about a great many things.”
She would touch her lips to his if she simply rose on her toes. His voice resonated in her chest, a rich, decadent chord. She had the insane urge to graze her teeth along the shadow of his jaw.
She couldnotkiss Jeremiah Falstead in the street. She ought not eventhinkabout kissing him, here in plain view of their house, the passing traffic, the curious eyes of the neighbors. Had she taken leave of her senses?
He released her and stepped back. Lucasta fought for balance. It was beyond her yet to attempt speech.
“I hope you will call on Judith as well. She gets lonely for company.” His voice was rough and low.
“I…” His touch had left her light-headed, wanting air. “I should like to see her again,” Lucasta gasped, her wits still at sea. “But I’m afraid I do not have means of transport.”
It was beyond her funds to hire a chair and beyond her stamina to walk that distance. She could request use of the Pevensey carriage, but then she would have to explain her destination, and her aunt would have too many questions.
Lucasta already knew she had been drawn into a great secret. Jem did not talk about his family, and neither would she.
“I can arrange it,” he said simply. “Send me word or tell Bertie when you are free. I shall drive you whenever you wish.”
Leaving his business and his other affairs to follow her whim, and putting his large, distracting presence in proximity to her. What a lovely, treacherous thought.
Lucasta stepped back, hoping the distance would repair her presence of mind. The burning look in his eyes made her want to sway toward him. Had she ever thought this man a shallow, useless dandy? He was a mine of rich ore and she wanted badly to explore his depths.
She could notbe in the pocket of Lord Rudyard. The complaints of Aunt Pevensey or the town gossips were the least of her worries. This man threatened her peace of mind.
“Th-thank you,” she stammered, her eyes burning with the threat of tears.
She felt his gaze scald her like a torch as she clutched her shawl and hurried inside. She needed her music room, her refuge, to soothe and order her thoughts before she must face anyone. There were so many revelations, so many sensations of the day to sort through and put in their proper place.
“Lucasta. There you are.”
The Baron stood in the hallway, blocking her progress toward the stairs. “A relief you’ve finally been able to tear yourself away from Rudyard. I’ll have a word with him if he bothers you in future.”
All the oversetting heat of her day with Jeremiah Falstead puffed away under the Baron’s cool stare. Lucasta followed the hand he flicked toward the green parlor, resenting that he could so quickly drain away all her pleasure.
“There’s someone you need to greet.” The Baron herded her toward the parlor, and she stopped in her tracks at the doorway.
Lady Pevensey perched in her favorite chair, her expression strained. Cici’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling with joy as she stared adoringly at the stranger in the room.
“Trevor,” Lucasta whispered. “I mean, Mr. Pevensey.”
