“That might be so,” he replied. “And yet we both find ourselves here to attend a ball we do not wish to attend.”
She wanted to ask who or what had pushed him to be here, but it was not really her place. Besides, an ache had spread across her head, and she knew that even resting on the chaise was not going to rid her of it. She had to go home. There was no other way.
“Well,” she said, “I do hope you find your peace and quiet—tonight and every night. But I must excuse myself now.”
He bowed, and she made her way out of the door, noticing as she went that he was looking after her. And she could not deny that the knowledge gave her a thrill she hadn’t expected.
CHAPTER 3
LUCIEN
December 30th1816
Lucien climbed the steps to Rhys’s London townhome. The structure loomed in front of him. From the outside, it did not look terribly impressive—it looked just like the other narrow houses, five stories tall with a narrow pathway. But he knew that once he actually stepped inside, the house would be much larger than one might imagine. Rhys’s father had purchased the much larger corner building some time ago and joined the two houses together, making Rhys’s home possibly the largest house in all of Mayfair.
He took a deep breath as the door opened. From inside, the murmur of the attendees drifted towards him. He had almost not accepted the invitation. He’d enjoyed the quiet of Christmastide, but he knew at this time of year, one had to attend events.
Rhys was one of his oldest and most particular friends, though, and he knew he could not deny his invitation. Indeed, Rhys and Charlotte’s boisterous home had been a sanctuary at times,especially since the birth of their son James the previous year. Henry adored their little boy, even though James was only a year and a half to Henry’s four. Yet he could see the two of them becoming fast friends in the future.
He’d enjoyed visiting with them and would continue to do so, even though a big family dinner like the one tonight was not what he preferred.
Still, he could not deny that he had been thinking about Rhys’s sister-in-law more than once. There was something about her that felt so very familiar. Perhaps it was her desire for peace and quiet, or her aversion to the bustle of society, but he felt that somewhere in there might be a kindred spirit.
The butler showed him through to the drawing room, where the family already waited for him.
“Lucien, we thought you were not going to come,” Rhys said, slapping a hand on his back. “Dinner is growing cold, old chap.”
“I do beg your pardon. Henry had a bad dream, and I could not leave him without reading another story.”
“Well,” Charlotte replied, “I suppose you are excused then. We all understand what it is like to have children who require attention and will not take no for an answer.” She glanced at her sister, Marianne. “I mean, most of us do.”
Marianne caught his eye and smiled, blushing slightly. He dipped his head in her direction as they made their way through to the dining room.
“You do remember Nathaniel and Evelyn, of course,” Rhys said.
Lucien bowed to the Duke of Sinclair and his duchess. “Of course. Your Graces. It is a pleasure to see you both again.”
“And you, Wexford,” Nathaniel said warmly. “It has been too long since you joined us. We were beginning to think you had forgotten the way to London entirely.”
“Not forgotten,” Lucien replied. “Merely… avoiding.”
Evelyn smiled kindly. “We understand completely. Though I must say, your return to society has caused quite the stir. The scandal sheets have been working overtime.”
“When have they ever not?” Nathaniel replied. The group chuckled, and then Rhys motioned to another lady. “This is Lady Eugenia. These young ladies’ aunt.” Rhys gestured to the older woman who wore a purple and turquoise turban over her gray hair. The lady nodded her head once.
“We did not have the good fortune of being introduced at the ball, but I have heard all about you, my lord.”
He wanted to ask exactly what she had heard and from whom, but refrained. Perhaps it was simply a platitude.
They took their seats at the long mahogany table, and the first course was served. The conversation flowed easily enough—talk of the weather, the just passed Christmastide celebrations, the latest gossip from court.
It was midway through the second course, as the rest of the party discussed the events of the past year, that Marianne spoke up.
“I must say, I think 1816 has been the most interesting thus far,” she said, smiling at Lucien, who looked up at her, glad she had finally spoken.
Lady Eugenia turned her attention to her niece.
“Indeed, our Marianne has had quite the unusual year,” she told the table at large, her tone bright but pointed. “Six months in a convent, can you imagine? Most young ladies spend their time preparing for the Season, but not our Marianne.”
