Because they sat opposite one another, the others’ heads turned back and forth, following the exchange like spectators at a match. Then, with perfect composure, Elowen said, “I have never told you that I am not fond of you, Your Grace.”
“You did not have to.”
“Well,” she returned smoothly, “you are certainly not improving your case.”
“I doubt there is much I could do that would.”
Her lips tightened, but before she could reply, William leaned forward, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Perhaps you should try agreeing with her, Your Grace. She does seem to like that.”
His words easily diffused the tension, making Lady Westbrook chuckle. “Which lady doesn’t?” she said. “I, for one, find Miss Tremaine’s candour most refreshing.”
Elowen had already turned her attention back to Henry. “I did not mean to sound imperious, my lord. Pray forgive me.”
Henry waved a dismissive hand, looking vastly relieved. “Imperious? Not at all, Miss Tremaine. Gallant would be nearer the mark.”
“Gallant indeed,” Catherine agreed, smiling broadly. “It is a comfort to know you would so readily defend my honour, Elowen.”
Elowen gave another mild shrug. “We are friends, are we not?”
Catherine drew in a theatrical gasp. If Lucas hadn’t known better, he might have thought her near tears. “You have made me the happiest creature alive,” she sighed dramatically.
“Please don’t expire on my account,” Elowen replied, though a flicker of amusement softened her words.
“I shan’t!” Catherine declared. “Instead, this piece shall be dedicated to you. And,” she added, turning to Henry, “my mother speaks nothing but the truth—I play the pianoforte, harp, cello, flute, and even the guitar. As Elowen so wisely presumed, I am what one might call a prodigy.”
“How modest of you, Catherine,” Lucas drawled.
“Another one of my virtues,” Catherine replied with a brilliant smile before gliding to the pianoforte.
As her fingers struck the first chord, Lucas felt the faint prickle of awareness at the back of his neck. He glanced, almost without meaning to, toward Elowen.
She was not watching Catherine.
Her eyes were fixed on him instead, her brow faintly furrowed—as though studying him, trying to make sense of something she could not quite grasp. And when their eyes met, she did not look away.
She held his gaze—calm, searching, intent.
Good,he thought, a flicker of something like satisfaction curling through him.At least the confusion is mutual.
Chapter Ten
“My sister does not like you at all, Your Grace. You stand no chance at courting her.”
Lucas raised a brow at William. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to learn that bluntness runs in the family.”
William chuckled, swirling the last of the whiskey Henry had poured him earlier. Nearly an hour had passed since they had retired to the drawing room after dinner, and the evening was beginning to wind down. Catherine had performed several numbers on the pianoforte—each one, apparently, dedicated to hernew dearest friend, Elowen. Now the two ladies sat together by the window, speaking quietly, while the others conversed in the centre of the drawing room.
Lucas had pulled William aside, and it seemed the young man assumed he wished to speak with him about courting his sister.
Even though that wasn’t what he’d intended to speak about, he couldn’t help himself from asking, “And what makes you so certain that I could not win her over, were I to make the attempt?”
William’s eyes sparkled with humour. “Because I know my sister better than anyone. And once she has written a person off, there is no hope of getting back into her good graces.”
“You speak as if you have witnessed it many times.”
“Many?” William shook his head. “Elowen does not permit people to get close enough for it to happen many times—and in recent years, she has grown still more guarded. Ever since… well, you know.”
He was honestly surprised William was even making mention of it. The rest of the family never so much as brushedagainst the subject—the ever-present spectre of their disgrace. He could hardly blame them; few in their position would.
