Elowen glanced away, smoothing her skirts as though grateful for the interruption. Yet Lucas, watching her profile, knew she felt the same quiet disquiet that had taken root in him.
The group returned toward the house some time later, gravel crunching softly beneath their shoes. Catherine and Henry walked ahead, their conversation light and teasing. Lucas and Elowen followed a step behind, the air between them still touched with the memory of what had passed.
As they approached the terrace, the hum of polite voices grew louder—the flutter of fans, the clink of china, the steady murmur of contented guests.It will be talked of for weeks,Elowen thought absently.
“Ah, Miss Tremaine, there you are,” came a smooth, familiar voice.
Elowen’s shoulders stiffened before she turned. Victor was detaching himself from a group of gentlemen near the French doors, approaching with his usual graceful confidence, his expression pleasant but his eyes fixed on her with unmistakable possession.
“Lord Cherrington,” Elowen said, her tone carefully neutral.
“You have been elusive this afternoon,” he observed, bowing slightly before straightening with a smile. “I began to fear you would deprive me of your company altogether.”
“I was admiring Lady Penelope’s roses,” Elowen replied.
“Indeed? Then I must be jealous of her roses,” Victor said smoothly. He offered his arm, though the gesture had the air of command rather than invitation. Elowen resisted the urge to frown. “I was hoping you might favour me with a hand at whist. The tables are set, and Lady Penelope insists upon my participation. I should be gratified if you would be my partner.”
Elowen hesitated, her fingers brushing lightly against her skirts. “I do not play often, my lord. I should be loath to disappoint you.”
“Nonsense,” Victor said, ignoring Lucas entirely, though he stood at her side. “You could never disappoint me.”
Lucas’s jaw tightened, though his voice, when it came, was even. “Lord Cherrington, Miss Tremaine has only just returned from her walk. Perhaps she might be allowed a moment’s rest before being pressed into service?”
Victor’s smile did not falter, though his eyes hardened. “Ah, Your Grace—ever the gallant protector.”
“I would not presume to protect Miss Tremaine,” Lucas said calmly. “Merely to respect her preference.”
Victor turned back to Elowen, his tone deceptively light. “And what is your preference, Miss Tremaine? Would you rather sit idle while others amuse themselves, or will you allow me the honour of your company at the table?”
Elowen felt her throat tighten. Lucas’s steady presence on one side and Victor’s insistent gaze on the other left her little room for refusal. Politeness demanded an answer, though her heart recoiled from it.
“If you insist, my lord,” she said softly.
Victor’s smile widened, victorious. “Excellent. Come, then.”
He offered his arm again, and this time, under the weight of expectation, she rested her hand lightly upon it.
As Victor led her toward the tables, Lucas followed a pace behind with Catherine and Henry. Elowen heard Catherine whisper, “He is far too forward with her.”
“I have noticed,” Lucas replied, his tone quiet but edged.
At the card tables, Victor drew out a chair with exaggerated courtesy, his hand brushing against hers as she sat. “We shall make an unbeatable pair, you and I,” he said smoothly.
Elowen forced a polite smile. “I would not raise your expectations too high, my lord.”
“You underestimate yourself,” he returned, taking his seat beside her. “I have excellent instincts in these matters. Together, we cannot fail.”
Across the table, another guest chuckled. “Careful, Cherrington—confidence has undone better men.”
Victor’s smile deepened. “Confidence,” he said, “is merely clarity of vision.”
As the cards were dealt, Elowen folded her hands in her lap, resisting the urge to glance toward Lucas. She felt his gaze nonetheless, boring a hole into her cheek.
Victor leaned closer, lowering his voice so that only she could hear. “It pleases me that you agreed. I had begun to fear you were avoiding me.”
“I had no intention of giving offence,” Elowen said quickly, hating that she couldn’t just be honest.
“You could not offend me,” Victor said, his tone threaded with something darker than charm. “But I do not like to be denied.”
