Mama’s expression softened. “Yes. Poor man. Whatever madness drives him, it has taken firm hold.”
Elowen remained near the window a moment longer, watching the door where he had vanished.Lucas saw him at the ball,she thought, recalling his watchful expression as Lord Redley faltered and embarrassed himself.What coincidence—what brings him here? And why now?
Her mother’s gentle hand on her shoulder pulled her back to the present. “Come, my dear. Let us not dwell entirely upon disquiet. Allow your father and brother to manage what must be done.”
Elowen nodded, though unease still stirred beneath her composure. Lord Redley’s visit was no simple interruption—of that she was certain. She only feared how soon they would discover why.
***
“Honestly, Henry,” Catherine exclaimed, her hands fluttering as if she might catch the music from the air itself, “I cannot imagine a more delightful evening than attending the Royal Opera! The chandeliers alone are worth the price of admission.”
Henry smiled, his gaze resting on her with an easy patience. “I am pleased you find it so captivating, Catherine. And I agree—the setting is exceptional. Yet I find the music itself equally compelling.”
Lucas leaned back in his seat, arms loosely crossed, watching them both. “I am convinced,” he drawled, “that the chandeliers are the true performance this evening. The music is, at best, a pleasant accompaniment.”
Charlotte Beaumont’s lips twitched at his tone. “Lucas,” she said gently, “your appreciation of society’s refinements never ceases to astonish me.”
“Merely honest observation, Mother,” he replied with a shrug. “Though I confess—a touch of melody does not entirely escape my notice.”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Lucas, you are incorrigible. Can you not enjoy one evening without your relentless sarcasm?”
“I do my best,” Lucas murmured, casting her a sidelong glance. “But some spectacles are better admired from afar.”
The Dowager Duchess leaned slightly toward him, her eyes shrewd. “And yet,” she said softly, “you observe more closely than anyone else in the room.”
Lucas inclined his head, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “Observation is not enjoyment, Mother. But it can be… informative.”
From their elevated box, the view of the opera house was magnificent. Below them, the stage swept wide and glittering, the balconies shimmered with light, and the murmuring crowd formed a living mosaic of movement and colour. Yet his gaze faltered—caught, quite without his consent—when motion at the entrance drew his eye. His breath stilled.
“Elowen,” he whispered, the name escaping him as though it carried its own breath.
She moved with quiet grace, her simple blue gown falling in soft, fluid lines beneath the golden glow of the chandeliers. The light caught the delicate sapphire comb in her hair, where loose strands framed her face and softened her profile as she spoke gently with her parents. William walked just behind her, that small smile he constantly wore now gone.
“She looks… remarkable,” Lucas murmured, scarcely aware he had spoken aloud until his mother tilted her head in faint amusement.
“Yes,” she agreed softly. “She does indeed.”
Lucas inclined his head, suppressing the words that rose unbidden to his lips. He forced his attention back to Catherine and Henry. Henry was describing some nuance of the evening’s performance, leaning forward to ensure Catherine followed, and Lucas found the simplicity of their exchange unexpectedly enviable.
No danger, no investigation, no secrets,he thought.Just enjoyment and trust.
He blinked, returning to where Elowen and her family were now seated, yet his mind strayed. William’s message from earlier this morning echoed in his thoughts—the strange visit from Redley and his fractured warnings. The coincidence of Ambrose’s outburst and the increasing pace of their inquiry gnawed at Lucas’s composure. Matters were advancing too swiftly; the danger of discovery grew with each passing hour. And with it came a fear he had thought long since vanquished—a fear not for his own safety, but for hers.
Ambrose had gone to her home. He had made a spectacle of himself before her very eyes. Every effort Lucas had made to shield Elowen from the peril surrounding them was not only unravelling but threatening to draw her into its heart.
The curtain rose, and the orchestra began to play—but for Lucas, there was only one figure on the stage, and she was seated far across the theatre.
***
The first act ended, and the audience rose for the intermission, spilling into the foyer in a soft tide of motion. Conversations swelled, blending with the muted hum of footsteps and laughter across the marble floors.
Lucas stood back as his mother and Catherine exchanged greetings with Elowen and Margaret Tremaine while he manoeuvred through the crowd toward the refreshment area.
“William,” he murmured, catching sight of him near the grand staircase. He inclined his head slightly, and the two stepped aside to speak. They stood only a few feet from the others—close enough to remain within sight, though Lucas’s attention strayed inevitably to Elowen. She nodded along to something Catherine was saying, her expression composed and radiant beneath the chandeliers.
“Your Grace,” William said quietly, inclining his head. “I assume you received my message regarding this morning’s visit?”
“I did,” Lucas replied evenly. “It seems Lord Redley was… unsettled.”
