The implication in his words chilled her, though she forced a neutral smile and turned her attention to the game.
Meanwhile, Lucas had taken a seat a short distance away, feigning polite conversation with a gentleman about the prospects of the upcoming parliamentary session. But his attention was as fixed on Elowen as hers was on him, even though her eyes were focused on the table.
Elowen lifted her gaze briefly, her eyes finding Lucas’. The connection was quick, but in that single glance, she felt moored, pleased that he’d opted to stay.
Victor noticed, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, though his smile remained intact. “Shall we begin, Miss Tremaine?” he said.
“Yes, my lord,” she replied quietly.
The game commenced.
The dealer shuffled briskly, cards snapping against one another before he fanned them out across the green baize table. Elowen accepted her hand quietly, arranging the cards in her hand. Victor leaned close, his shoulder brushing hers as though by accident.
“You needn’t fret,” he murmured, low enough for only her to hear. “Your inexperience will only charm the table. Leave the strategy to me.”
Elowen kept her eyes upon her cards, already weary of his proximity. “I shall do my best, my lord.”
“Call me Victor,” he said, his breath brushing her ear.
Her spine stiffened. “That would be improper.”
He smiled, unbothered. “Improper only if overheard. Between us, it would signify nothing but understanding—would it not?”
Elowen said nothing, refusing to meet his gaze. She placed a card carefully in the centre of the table, hoping the small motion might distract from the disquiet coiling in her chest, and make him move on from this conversation.
How long is a hand of whist?she wondered grimly. Whatever the time, it was far too long for her liking.
***
Across from them, Lucas pretended to follow a discussion about shipping tariffs, though his eyes flickered often toward the table. He caught the angle of Victor’s lean towards Elowen and the stiffness in Elowen’s shoulders. His fingers drummed once against his chair, then stilled.
Catherine, seated nearby with Henry, leaned toward Lucas. “He hovers like a hawk. Poor Elowen.”
Lucas did not answer. His jaw worked, but his eyes never left the table.
***
Victor chuckled lightly at a remark from another player, then lowered his voice. “You are tense, Miss Tremaine. Surely the company of friends ought to relax you.”
“Perhaps,” Elowen said softly, her eyes upon her cards.
“Or is it,” Victor pressed, “that other company suits you better?”
Her pulse quickened. She knew where his gaze pointed without looking. “I enjoy many kinds of company, my lord,” she replied evenly.
Victor’s smile widened without any hint of mirth. “A diplomatic answer. One might think you have been coached in subtlety.”
Elowen ignored him and laid a card. The play was neat and correct—hardly bold.
Victor clapped softly when the trick was theirs. “There, you see? Already, we make a formidable pair.”
Elowen inclined her head. “If you say so.”
“I do,” he returned, holding her gaze until she was forced to look away.
***
From his vantage, Lucas saw the faint colour rise in Elowen’s cheeks—not the warmth he had drawn from her earlier, but discomfort. He wanted to walk right over and place himself squarely between her and Victor, but propriety bound him. Intervention without cause would only mark him as jealous, perhaps even ridiculous, and it may embarrass Elowen, who hated attention.
