He studied her in the moonlight. “And what candid thought will you bestow upon me this evening, as you so often do?”
She hesitated. “I do not have any. At least, not any I could possibly say aloud.”
His voice lowered. “That is a dangerous confession.”
She met his gaze. “And yet I make it.”
For a long moment, they simply looked at one another, the air between them charged. Lucas shifted, closing the space by a fraction.
“Elowen,” he whispered—her name escaping him like a breath he could not hold back.
Her lips parted, but no words came. Her pulse drummed so loudly she could hardly breathe.
The space between them vanished. He bent toward her—slow enough for her to refuse him, yet quickly enough that she did not. Their lips met—light, brief, tender. A promise rather than a possession.
Time held still.
Then footsteps and Catherine’s bright voice shattered it. “There you are! Lady Harwick announces a musicale!”
Henry followed, smiling. “We thought to fetch you.”
Lucas inclined his head smoothly. “Miss Tremaine and I were admiring the air,” he clearly thought it fit to explain, eventhough neither one of them seemed perturbed by the fact that they were alone.
“Indeed,” Elowen added, heart racing.
Catherine’s cheer dispelled suspicion. “Then come—music awaits!”
Henry’s glance flicked between Lucas and Elowen before returning to Lucas. Something unspoken passed between them. Elowen hardly noticed. Her legs felt untrustworthy beneath her.
Together they re-entered the drawing room. Elowen summoned her composure, slipped her mask of calm back into place, and tried to pretend that her world had not just changed forever.
***
Elowen sat at her dressing table, fingers brushing absently across her lips. Moonlight, roses, and the unexpected warmth of Lucas’s kiss had followed her even into her dreams. Improper—yes. Incredibly improper. If anyone other than Catherine and Henry had discovered them, the night would have ended very differently.
Yet she could not summon even the faintest regret.
That same betraying flush returned each time she thought of it. A single kiss had changed everything—or perhaps only revealed what had always been there.
A knock sounded, and the door opened softly. A maid entered, carrying a small envelope upon a tray.
“A letter, miss.”
Elowen’s heart gave an unsteady flutter.Was it from Lucas?“Thank you,” she managed, striving for calm.
The maid set it down, curtsied, and withdrew.
Elowen reached for it at once, her breath catching—only to find Catherine’s familiar hand upon the seal. She smiled, though a trace of something wistful lingered, and broke it open.
Dearest Elowen,
If you are at leisure this morning, will you join me to select ribbons for my new bonnet? I should value your counsel, as Henry is no judge of such matters—though he pretends otherwise. Meet me at the milliner’s at eleven, if you please.
Yours, in haste,
Catherine
Elowen smiled. Catherine’s friendship had become a quiet joy—something she had not expected when the season began. She fetched her bonnet and reticule, wasting little time before descending the stairs.
