Elowen tore her eyes away from the Duke’s, feeling as if she was being pulled out of a tub of water. It was her mother, watching her with that small, knowing smile of hers.
“It is time for us to take our leave,” she informed her.
Elowen wasted no time in standing. She didn’t look back at the Duke as she walked away, but she was far too aware of the fact that he followed right behind her, even coming to stop by her side as she joined her family, as if he belonged there as well. Everyone seemed to take note of it, but Elowen pretended she didn’t, even as that infernal blush started creeping up her neck.
The farewells were made quickly. It was quite late, after all, and the Duke and his family decided to take their leave at the same time. Which meant he had every opportunity to walk close to her as they made their way to the foyer, not breaking away until each party was heading to their respective carriages. Elowen made it a point of duty not to look at him as the carriage pulled out of the Westbrook driveway.
“Well then,” William said cheerfully once they were on the road. “Wasn’t that an interesting evening?”
Margaret laughed, but Elowen said nothing. She kept her eyes on the darkened streets, trying not to think of the Duke’s words—
Because you deserve it.
It was ridiculous, really. And yet, she could not deny it—
He intrigued her just as much.
Chapter Eleven
“You look as though you haven’t slept in days.”
“That’s because it feels as though I haven’t.”
Lucas didn’t turn at the sound of Henry’s voice, his gaze fixed on the window. If he so much as sat down, he would likely fall asleep in seconds—and he could ill afford that now. Not when his mind had been tormenting him all night with thoughts of a certain brown-haired lady.
And not thoughts of consequence. Not her family’s scandal, nor her father’s false disgrace, nor even her precarious reputation. No—his thoughts had been far less rational.
He had been thinking of how beautiful she’d looked the previous night. Of the fleeting moments when the mask had slipped and he’d seen the real Elowen Tremaine—the woman beneath the composure. He’d wondered what might have happened if their conversation had taken a different turn, if they had found themselves truly alone. Would he have kissed her, if only out of curiosity?
It was madness. She occupied his mind like an affliction, keeping him from the work before him. A dozen reports waited for his attention, yet all he could do was lie awake, restless, wondering if she ever thought of him at all.
He doubted it.
“Is this a bad time?” Henry asked behind him. “You don’t appear to be in the right frame of mind for company.”
“Your company will do,” Lucas sighed, finally pushing away from the window. “If I fall asleep in front of you, you may take it as a compliment.”
Henry chuckled and settled into one of the sofas. “Why so little sleep? You left Westbrook House at a reasonable hour. There was more than enough time for a good night’s rest.”
“Sadly, my mind refused to oblige.” Lucas pulled the bell and instructed the maid to bring tea and coffee before joining Henry opposite.
“And I suppose those restless thoughts have something to do with Miss Tremaine?”
Lucas groaned softly, dragging a hand down his face. “Is it truly so obvious?”
“As obvious as snow in winter,” Henry said cheerfully. “Your eyes follow her across a room. You forget the rest of us exist when she’s near.”
“It is not what you think it is.”
“Then what is it?” Henry lifted a brow. “Because it looks remarkably like infatuation.”
“Not in that sense. I merely—well, perhaps I’d like us to be friends—”
“Friends?” Henry laughed outright. “Lucas, even you cannot believe that.”
“Is that why you came? To interrogate me about my intentions toward Miss Tremaine?”
“I came to visit a friend,” Henry said mildly. “And in the natural course of conversation, men do tend to discuss the ladies who’ve captured their interest. But if you’d rather I spoke of Catherine—”
