“And here I thought gently bred ladies didn’t swear.” He tsk-tsked.
“And here I thought that men with a reputation of your caliber wouldn’t be so offended by a small slip,” she replied, grinning.
“Well played, continue.” His full lips cracked a smile.
“Our fathers will not be amused. Let us leave it at that.”
Lucas nodded. “So it is not just your father who wishes the union?”
Liliah twirled, then stepped back into Luc’s embrace, her body relaxing slightly, as if she had found home. She brushed off the sensation and focused on her words. “No, it’s quite a stubborn endeavor on the part of both our fathers. What Meyer and I cannot fathom is why, especially when the titles of both our families are amply wealthy.” She shrugged. Was there any more powerful reason than money? She couldn’t think of one.
“It is curious,” Luc replied. His gaze trailed along her face, then dipped lower as he studied her unabashedly. Her skin flushed where his gaze traveled, as if he were touching her, not simply looking.
“You’re deceptively attractive, Lady Liliah,” he replied after a moment. “Innocent, yet . . . not.”
The music ended, and he slowly released her from their dance. “It has certainly been a pleasure.” With a slow bow, he took her hand and kissed it softly, then turned on his heel and strode into the crowd. They parted as he walked toward the viscount, and without a backward glance, the two men quit the ballroom.
Liliah’s breathing slowly returned to normal as her heart ceased its pounding rhythm.
She had done it.
He’d agreed.
And while it was possible for him to go back on his word, she rather trusted that he wouldn’t.
Such a realization sent her heart to pounding once more, but the heat in her veins chilled immediately as the crowd parted.
This time it wasn’t in admiration of a rake’s reputation.
It was in the fear of a furious father.
Apparently her father wasn’t at the faro table any longer.
Without a word, he simply raised his arm, his expression daring her to refuse him.
Liliah placed her hand on his arm and kept her eyes straight ahead while the whispers surrounded them as they made an exit from the ballroom. The music played behind them, but all she could hear was the silence.
The calm before the storm.
She only hoped the price she was paying was going to be worth it.
Chapter Fourteen
Hours later as he swirled what was left of the brandy in his glass, he waited for the verdict from his friend. Heathcliff had listened to the whole sordid disaster silently, which was exceedingly out of character for the man. It was making Lucas twitch.
“You’ll have to repeat that last part again.” Heathcliff set his brandy down on the table beside the hearth. His expression was an odd juxtaposition of amusement and hesitancy.
“I’m an idiot.” Lucas shot back the rest of his brandy, setting the crystal glass down on the sideboard with too much force, making a loud clank.
“Well, I’ve known that for years. What I’m referring to—”
“Yes. I said yes. As if I needed to add another person’s problems to the list of my own.”
“She has bewitched you from the first moment, has she not?” Heathcliff lifted his brandy in a salute.
“I wouldn’t call it bewitching,” Lucas grumbled.
“No? I wish you could have seen yourself when I was dancing with her. The bloody cotillion, and you were ready to engage in fisticuffs.” Heathcliff chuckled darkly.
