“I wish I had your sweet and kind heart, my love.” Liliah released her sister’s hand and patted her knee. “Now, since we have a plan, let us leave it to rest and talk about something much more diverting.”
“What do you wish to speak about?” Samantha asked, her smile returning.
“Anything but Father! How about we discuss that delicious new gown that you ordered the last time we shopped on Bond Street!” Yet as soon as Liliah mentioned it, she regretted her words. Memories flooded back to her of her secret tryst with Lucas, and she missed him all the more. Her body carried around a dull ache that never truly subsided. Love was truly the most beautiful and wretched thing she’d ever experienced.
Samantha didn’t seem to notice her shift in mood. “Oh, it will be so very lovely!” She continued to expound on the detail of the gown, and Liliah tried to follow her words, but the dull ache throbbed, and she wished that she could simply see him again. But she knew the foolishness of such a hope, and tried to extinguish its frail flame.
But hope was nearly as stubborn as love, and refused to subside.
Her heart was a traitorous thing, and refused to listen to reason.
No matter how many times she called herself a fool.
She still clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe . . . what she knew must be the end, would somehow become a beginning.
Chapter Thirty-three
“Do I want to know?” Heathcliff asked as he strode down the Barrots’ hall toward Lucas.
Lucas chuckled. “I’d like to say that the chap is in a worse state, but I actually took the hit and didn’t give recompense.”
Heathcliff nodded, his gaze skeptical. “You’re bloody lucky it’s a masquerade; that shiner of yours is quite impressive.”
Lucas winced as he grinned. The swelling had increased and his eye boasted grand hues of purple and blue, but the silver mask would indeed help in hiding his current injury. It would also help with the swelling; the cool metal would be a welcome relief to his tender flesh. “Was there anything of import that you wished to notify me of, or are we done here?” Lucas asked dryly.
Heathcliff arched a brow and paused in the foyer just before Lucas. “I was going to confirm that the guest list has been set up at the side entrance. The carriages will deposit the guests in the front and they will follow the torchlit path to the correct entrance so that we can double-check for invitations. It was the only way we could make sure that no one unsavory crept in.”
“Very good. I’m sure we’ll have a few complaints about having to take the footpath, but the side entrance is much easier to manage for security, plus it’s almost a direct entrance into the ballroom, so fewer people to, er, get lost.” Lucas chuckled.
“That does happen quite often.” Heathcliff nodded his agreement, his grin wide against his dark beard. “Just last week I found Lord Jaymeson passed out on one of Lady Barrot’s fainting couches.”
“How poetic,” Lucas remarked.
“Lady Barrot didn’t feel that way about the situation. She poked him with her cane till he roused.”
“And what did you do while the poor man was being assaulted?” Lucas asked, chuckling.
Heathcliff hitched a shoulder. “I observed.”
“How noble of you.”
“I do what I can.” Heathcliff gave a curt nod. “Needless to say, Lord Jaymeson rolled off the couch and quickly make his departure. I’m not certain as to how he made his exit from the estate, but I’m assuming he made it home.”
“Good, good. He’s a confirmed guest tonight, so he’s obviously no worse for wear.”
“Lady Barrot no doubt appreciates our additional safety measures.”
“For the sake of her furniture, I’m sure,” Lucas added.
Heathcliff grinned in response. “I’m assuming your altercation was with Meyer?” he asked, changing the topic of conversation.
“You assume correctly,” Lucas said in an irked tone. He didn’t wish to converse about Meyer, because then his mind would certainly wander to Liliah, and he was already fighting the temptation to think of her constantly. It really was becoming exasperating to be so obsessed with a skirt.
“Your face bears an odd expression,” Heathcliff remarked.
Lucas sighed. “It was an odd afternoon. Were you able to gain any progress in the matter we discussed earlier?” Lucas glanced about for listening ears. Lord and Lady Barrot’s staff were notoriously discreet, practically invisible, which only meant they could easily overhear. Lucas would take no risks, even if they were probably trustworthy.
Which gave Lucas an idea, but he waited to hear Heathcliff’s news before he expounded on his newfound thoughts.
