“Understanding, yes. But foolish? I hope not.” Courtney sighed. “That’s why I’m proceeding cautiously. I need to be certain of what I want before making any decisions. And perhaps Tiffany’s investments can earn enough money for Lauren that Lucien could take his time and find a woman he really wants rather than one he just needs.”
“I don’t believe he’s paying you attention just because he needs you,” Ashley said. “There are plenty of rich mothers looking for a man of his social standing to marry their daughters to. He could take an easier path.” Ashley shook her head. “No. He is drawn to you, Court.”
The conversation might have continued, but a shadow fell across the terrace as the door opened once more. Baron Lockwood stepped into the lantern light, his attire impeccable but his eyes moved over the ladies with calculated interest. Courtney felt an instinctive chill when his gaze found her and lingered.
“What a delightful gathering,” he remarked, strolling toward them with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. “The loveliest flowers of theton, all conveniently assembled. I must be in fortune’s favor tonight.”
While undeniably handsome, with his golden hair and aristocratic features, there was something in Lockwood’s smile that put Courtney on edge—a coldness that never quite left his ice-blue colored eyes.
“Baron,” Lauren acknowledged coolly. “What brings you to the terrace? Surely the card rooms would hold more appeal for a gentleman of your…interests.”
If he registered the slight, Lockwood gave no indication. “The pleasure of ladies’ company far exceeds that of cards, Lady Lauren. Though I hear your father may disagree.”
Courtney saw Lauren stiffen and moved closer to her friend, distaste rising. Lucien had mentioned his confrontation with Lockwood at Crockford’s; the baron’s reference to the earl’s gambling problem was a deliberate barb.
“How fortunate we are to be graced with your preference,” Courtney interjected, her tone deliberately light but her eyes frosty. “Though I’m afraid we were just discussing matters unlikely to interest you.”
“On the contrary, Lady Courtney,” Lockwood replied, stepping closer to her, “I find everything about you fascinating.”
The directness of his gaze made her skin crawl. There was nothing of genuine admiration in it; rather, it held the calculating assessment of a predator.
“How flattering,” she replied, not bothering to hide her disinterest. “Though I imagine your fascination is rather newly acquired.”
His smile thinned. “Not so newly as you might think. I’ve long admired your…resilience.”
“My resilience?” she echoed, baffled by his choice of words.
“Indeed. To endure the loss of a fiancé, to stay true to him, then witness his miraculous return with a new child and no memory of your engagement, then observe his immediate proposal to your friend… Most women would crumble under such circumstances.” His voice dripped with false sympathy.
The other ladies moved subtly closer around Courtney, a protective wall of silk skirts and steely glares.
“Lady Courtney’s strength is well known,” Ivy said firmly. “As is her good judgment.”
“Of course,” Lockwood agreed smoothly. “I merely offer my admiration. And perhaps…a sympathetic ear, should you ever tire of Lord Furoe’s inconstancy.”
Claire scoffed audibly. “I believe Lady Courtney has no shortage of confidants, Baron.”
“No doubt. Though perhaps fewer who understand the true character of the returned viscount.” Something glinted in Lockwood’s eyes—knowledge, or the pretense of it. “I’ve been making some inquiries about his time in Ireland, you see. Most enlightening.”
Despite herself, Courtney felt a flicker of curiosity. “Inquiries?”
“Court,” Lauren murmured in warning, but Lockwood had already seized upon her interest.
“I find it curious,” he continued, lowering his voice theatrically, “that a man of Lord Furoe’s background would adapt so seamlessly to life as a simple farmer. One might almost think he’d had…assistance.”
“Lucien suffered a traumatic head injury,” Lauren said sharply. “He had no memory of his former life.”
“So, we’ve been told,” Lockwood replied, his tone suggesting skepticism. “And yet, he managed to find a wife almost immediately. Most convenient.”
Courtney’s dislike deepened into outright aversion. “I fail to see what you’re implying, Baron, but I find your interest in my former fiancé rather excessive.”
“Not in him, my lady,” Lockwood corrected, his gaze still fixed on her face. “In you. I merely thought you deserved to know the truth about the man who abandoned you.”
“Abandoned?” Valora repeated incredulously. “He nearly died in the Irish Rebellion.”
“Is that the story?” Lockwood’s smile was chilling in its insincerity. “How very dramatic. Almost as dramatic as returning with a child in tow.” He turned back to Courtney. “Tell me, Lady Courtney, have you met the little girl? Ava-Marie, isn’t it? Such an unusual name. I understand she looks just like her father.”
“She does,” Courtney replied stiffly, increasingly uncomfortable with his line of questioning.
