“Go to hell,” Lucas bit out, but without heat. “What I’m trying to stay to your dim-witted self is that I never was able to understand what was going on in that astonishing mind of hers. It vexed me, tortured me, drove me mad, and utterly captivated me at the same time. It is very much the same way, being married to her. But I’d not change a thing. And you’ll soon discover that Samantha will both drive you mad and drive you to your knees because who she is will both humble you, vex you, and astonish you. And I look forward to watching.”
Heathcliff glanced at Samantha, replaying Lucas’s words and tasting the truth in them. “‘Misery loves company’ and all?” Heathcliff remarked after a moment.
“Something like that,” Lucas finished.
“Then you’re saying I shouldn’t worry?”
Lucas chuckled. “I’m saying that worry means you care, and that, my friend, will take you, and her, far.”
Heathcliff nodded, taking a deep breath.
“What do you think?” Liliah turned to him, her light brows raised in question.
“Of?” he asked, utterly at a loss as to what they’d been discussing.
“Of the party. If you’re to have such a small affair for the wedding—” She spoke with a little air of frustration.
Lucas cut in. “May I add that we had quite a small affair for a wedding too, my dear. You offered no complaint.” He grinned wildly; it was an expression of victory.
Liliah pursed her lips, then her mien seemed forced as her eyes glowed with an amused expression that finally caused her smile to break free. “Very well. You have a point. But what I’m saying is that if the masquerade is to be the event we wish it to be, the event that brings word all over Scotland and back to London—” she said meaningfully, “we are going to need your help. Which means giving us your opinion.”
“I do believe they just asked us for insight,” Lucas said in an astonished tone.
Heathcliff turned to him, nodding. “Miracles do happen.”
“You’re impossible,” Liliah ground out. “But unfortunately, we need you. As much as I’m loathe to admit it, you’re much better at throwing a . . . noteworthy event.”
“We do have experience.”
“Years of it,” Heathcliff added.
“I know,” Liliah said through clenched teeth, her patience running thin if her expression were any indication.
“So, the invitations are sent, the décor is set, the food is established, but what we need is the something that makes a party the event of the Season. Do you know what I mean? The little something extra, maybe even scandalous.”
“And being the proper lady, you don’t know what that is?” Lucas added, his smile wide.
“No,” she bit out the word.
Lucas leaned forward, his countenance secretive and devilish. Heathcliff knew what he was thinking; it was the same thing they’d often discussed when creating events.
“Secrets.”
Heathcliff grinned, fully expecting the confused expressions he found on the ladies’ faces.
Lucas continued. “You spread the word that there is some secret, some deep and startling undisclosed piece of news, and you tell the servants, who tell other servants. You let the rumor mill do the work for you. Because if there’s something that no one can resist, it’s scandal. If you have gossip and knowledge, you have power. And we have the perfect bait.”
Liliah and Samantha blinked, an owl-like movement. Even Mrs. Keyes appeared lost.
“Why, Lady Samantha, you’ve escaped His Grace, the Duke of Chatterwood. You ran off to Scotland, hiding away as a governess only to marry your employer. The only thing people love more than good gossip? A good romance. And we, ladies, have both.”
Heathcliff chuckled as understanding dawned on Liliah’s face. Samantha’s expression was thoughtful, reflective. “I had never thought of it that way.”
“How so?” Heathcliff asked.
“Escaping. I rather think I did, didn’t I?” A small smile grew into a larger, more confident one.
“You did.” Liliah reached out and placed her hand on her sister’s.
