“Lady Liliah Durary, daughter of the Duke of Chatterwood.”
“Chatterwood.” Lucas shook his head. The man was an arse, a political thorn in his side, and one of the most self-righteous, arrogant men with whom he’d ever had the misfortune to share a sordid and distorted past. And Lucas had almost bedded his daughter!
Could the evening get worse?
Of course. She was no longer here.
“You’re sure?” Lucas asked, spearing his friend with an unwavering gaze.
“Quite.”
“Blasted bloody wretched hell,” Lucas swore passionately as he ran his hand through his slightly mussed hair.
Mussed by her hands.
His mind was quick to remember the welcoming sensation of her warm body pressed against his, and he bit back a groan. “What do you suggest we do?”
Heathcliff gave a slow shake of his head. “I’m quite shocked you don’t see the real problem here.”
Lucas glared at his friend. “Forgive me if there are too many problems at this point for me to be specific about solving one. If you have a brilliant idea, by all means, share it.” He gave a wide gesture with his hand and stalked to the sideboard, pouring himself a healthy snifter of brandy.
Lord knew he needed it.
“What strikes me as the most important question is the one concerning how in the bloody hell she even knew about the club’s existence,” Heathcliff observed smoothly.
Lucas almost choked on his brandy.
As he cleared his throat, he watched his friend approach the table and pour himself a finger of brandy, lifting it in a toast.
“To your biggest problem. For once, it isn’t me,” Heathcliff teased, saluting his friend and taking a large gulp.
Lucas ground his teeth together as he thought over the situation. His gaze shifted to the remains of brandy in his glass. He swirled the amber liquid, the sharp and sweet scent floating up to his nose. “Motive. She had to have a motive to be here. Don’t tell me it was simple curiosity.” He glanced back to Heathcliff.
“Perhaps it was, but I would wager that she had other reasons. And as much as I hate to say it, our best avenue for discovering how she learned of the club would be to ask her directly.”
“Hell no!” Lucas backed away from his friend as if his words had been breathed in flames.
“Easy, old man.” Heathcliff shook his head as if annoyed by Lucas’s overreaction. “I’d rather think you’d be quite interested in seeing the delicate English flower. But if I must, I’d be happy to take your place.” He offered a wolfish grin.
“Delicate English flower, my arse,” Lucas grumbled. “And what do you expect to do? Waltz up to her doorstep during receiving hours and ask her the pointed question in front of some stodgy chaperone? Why, that will go over splendidly.” Lucas chuckled with a sarcastic edge.
“You’ve no imagination. Your need for control and predictability has robbed you of any ingenuity.” Heathcliff rolled his eyes. “We wait till some rout, make an appearance, which will no doubt be the talk of the week. Think of it, the scandalous Lord Heightfield attending a ball, and while you’re there, you make conversation. She can’t exactly give you the cut direct in such a crowded place, not without causing talk . . .” Heathcliff let the words linger.
Lucas sighed. “I rather thought we discussed your approaching the chit.”
Heathcliff’s lips tipped into a knowing grin. “I have a feeling she’ll be far more amenable to speaking with you . . . if you gather my meaning.”
Lucas did, in fact, gather his meaning. And the thought was both terrifying and tempting beyond words. But a ball—damn it all, he avoided those like the plague, rats, and mustard sauce.
“I knew you’d see it my way.” Heathcliff downed the rest of his brandy and set the crystal glass on the table.
“I never once said that.” Lucas took a slight sip from his glass.
“Ye will,” he answered in his thick brogue that came out when he was greatly amused.
Damn the man. “You can leave now.” Lucas arched a brow at his friend, irritated at his cocksure attitude.
“And leave you alone with your thoughts? It always took you longer to process information. I see my presence in your life as a real blessing,” Heathcliff said as he closed the door.
