“Not in the least. Once you are married and have produced an heir, there is no further need to parade yourself about London if you do not wish it.”
Lucas sighed. He was clearly fighting a losing battle.
“And,” Charlotte continued, “now that I think on it, you would do quite well away from London’s pressures. But—my, is that not Lady Trenton?”
Lucas halted, his heart tripping over itself. It was for just a brief moment, hopefully brief enough for his mother not to notice—though he doubted that. But he wasn’t focused on his mother right now, though he was certain she was staring at him as he scanned the area. If Lady Trenton was out and about, then that must mean...
The moment his eyes landed on her, he forgot how to breathe. It had been so long since he’d seen Elowen in the light of day, and he’d almost forgotten the radiance of her beauty. Under the warm glow of chandeliers, surrounded by powderedfaces and upturned noses, she was a rose among thorns. But, as she calmly meandered along the path, heading directly towards them, Lucas couldn’t help but admire her ethereal grace, like an angel on earth.
“Miss Tremaine!”
Catherine’s excited squeal drew the attention of those nearby. Lucas noticed the exact moment Elowen stiffened and watched the way she pulled her shoulders back, tucked away her wariness, and plastered a smile onto her face as Catherine hurried over, all but towing Henry along beside her. Lucas just barely remembered to unstick his feet from the ground to approach from behind.
“Good day, Miss Beaumont,” he heard Elowen say as he approached. She looked at the older woman next to her, who was the spitting image of Elowen with only fine lines around her mouth and streaks of white through her auburn hair. “Mother, this is Miss Beaumont—Catherine. She is the cousin and ward of the Duke of Beaushire and we met at the ball three days ago. Miss Beaumont, my mother, the Lady Trenton.”
“But please, call me Margaret,” the baroness said with a warm smile. “Elowen has told me all about you, Miss Beaumont.”
Catherine brightened visibly while Elowen shrank. “Has she?” she chirped. “I hadn’t realised that I’d made such an impression.”
“Well, Elowen does not have many friends, you see—”
“And that may not be entirely my fault, Mother,” Elowen cut in, cutting a warning glare in her mother’s direction. But Margaret Tremaine only laughed, clearly unbothered by the look in her daughter’s eyes.
It was one of the things he’d loved most about Lady Trenton. He’d met her only once before, and he’d quickly learned that she was the sort of lady who did not care to mince her words, whosaid exactly what was on her mind in the most endearing and down-to-earth manner possible. It was rather refreshing to see that she was still the same despite the scandal that hung over their heads.
Lady Trenton turned her attention to Lucas and Charlotte with that same warm smile. As did Elowen, though her smile was simply polite. Lucas tried not to stare at her.
“Why, it is good to see you, Your Graces,” Lady Trenton greeted, sinking into a graceful curtsy, with Elowen dipping beside her. “You are out enjoying a family stroll, I see.”
“It is nice to see you again, Lady Trenton,” said Charlotte kindly. She had always spoken well of the Tremaines, though to Lucas’s knowledge, they had never been especially close. “Are you out for the same purpose?”
“Yes. I was longing for some fresh air,” Lady Trenton replied with a light laugh. “I quite had to drag Elowen out with me, or I should have been forced to promenade alone.”
They all laughed at that—even Henry. Only Elowen remained quiet, her gentle smile unmoved, and Lucas found himself far too absorbed in watching her to follow the conversation.
“And what of Lord Trenton?” Catherine asked. “Was he not inclined to join you?”
Lady Trenton’s smile softened. “My husband has been rather unwell of late. But rest assured, I intend to persuade him to come with us next time.”
“Do let us know when that will be,” Charlotte said warmly. “Perhaps we might accompany you.”
“Yes!” Catherine exclaimed. “The more the merrier, after all. Wouldn’t you agree, Lord Westbrook?”
“If I say no?” Henry asked, smiling.
“Then I shall be obliged to leave you behind.”
There was a pause—then Henry said with mock gravity, “The more the merrier, then,” which earned a ripple of laughter.
Except from Elowen. And from Lucas.
He could scarcely pay attention to the chatter. Some distant part of his mind registered that their parties had agreed to walk together, but his focus remained elsewhere—on Elowen’s quiet composure, on how her gaze darted now and then toward the murmuring passers-by. He knew precisely why she did it.
And though he had no right, he felt the sudden, powerful urge to protect her—from the stares, from the whispers, from the unkind scrutiny of the world.
So instead, he simply fell into step beside her—telling himself that he had no reason to feel so unaccountably nervous.
Chapter Four
