Lord Kilpatrick offered her a glass of madeira, which she accepted thankfully, even as she braced herself to sip of the overly sweet concoction.
“Believe me when I say no one is more surprised than myself—except perhaps Heightfield.” He chuckled and took a long drink of the orgeat he procured for himself.
Liliah regarded him. “How so?”
“Ah, but that is for me to know, and for you . . . to discover.” He winked, then bowed, taking his leave.
Liliah took another sip of her beverage, her mind wandering—so much so that she startled when a cold hand gripped her elbow.
“We are leaving,” her father commanded, sending a shiver up her back.
“But the last waltz . . .” Liliah said, even as he tugged on her elbow demandingly.
“Isn’t important. Come,” he asserted and steered her toward the exit.
He moved slowly, deliberately, clearly not wishing to cause a scene. There were a few whispers, but Liliah noted that he forced a smile to each of the people who dared glance their direction, as if deflecting attention.
It was brilliant.
It was calculating.
It truly shouldn’t surprise her.
As the carriage was pulled around front, Liliah took her seat and waited.
Because while her father smiled at the world, it was only a mask that hid the truly black heart within.
Chapter Twenty-two
“Where is Liliah?” Lucas asked in a tight tone.
Heathcliff shrugged, glancing about as if curious as well. “I left her by the refreshment table not a half hour ago. Where were you?”
Lucas studied his friend’s glass of orgeat. His stomach turned at the idea of it. He’d much prefer brandy at the moment—hell, even water was better than the overly sweet, almond-flavored syrup they called a beverage. “I was conversing with an acquaintance.”
Heathcliff arched a brow. “Who in the hell were you talking to here?”
Lucas sighed. “Meyer, if you must know. Greywick’s son, the idiot who’s found himself betrothed to Liliah.”
“Ah, that actually makes sense. You had me concerned, thought maybe you were losing not just your heart, but your sanity. The ton, bah!” Heathcliff shuddered.
“Those same people line your pockets, and mine,” Lucas reminded him.
“All the more reason to pity them,” Heathcliff added with a chuckle. “What did you speak of with Meyer?”
“I simply informed him of his father’s substantial bet. The poor chap about choked when I named the amount. Makes me wonder if the earldom is in some sort of financial difficulty.”
“Ramsey said he was good for it, did he not?”
“He did, but he’s been wrong before.”
“True.” Heathcliff nodded. “Anything else of note?”
“Not in particular. The final waltz will come up later, and I was simply making arrangements.”
“Ah, never thought I’d see the day when you’d play coy with a lass.”
“I’m doing nothing of the sort,” Lucas replied in an offended tone.
