He liked her sense of humor. “Your father would be furious that you were speaking with an Avery. My father would be furious that it was taking me so long to finish this evaluation.”
She let out a sweet, charming laugh.
He wished he could erase every barrier that had separated them. Never had he met a woman who intrigued him so. But the attraction went beyond merely enjoying her company. He was inexplicably drawn to her uniqueness. Her clever wit and inquisitiveness. Her self-assuredness. Her beauty. Her very presence was awakening a part of him he never realized existed. He’d set his goal so firmly on business that he’d not considered much else. But now,what good was business and the success it could generate without someone to share it with?
She was close—he could reach out and touch her. Would she welcome an embrace? At this moment, he desired nothing more than to be the source of her happiness. He wanted to be the first person she sought when she entered the room. He wanted her to hold him in high esteem. Could she do that given their past? Given how his father treated hers?
He needed to make it right.
He did not think. He simply blurted, “I owe you an apology.”
Her smile faded. “Whatever for?”
“Well, perhaps not me specifically, but on behalf of my father.”
“I still don’t understand what you mean.”
“Last night we spoke about our fathers’ argument. They were both so stubborn, and our families have keenly felt the effect of it. I would like to think that you and I could mend the rift that our fathers could not.”
“That was our fathers’ argument.” She offered the slightest hint of a smile. “There is no reason why it should continue to be ours.”
Encouraged by her words, he drew nearer to her, as if by closing the distance between them, he could strengthen their bond. He was close enough now to see the specks of gold in her eyes as she looked up at him. He took a moment to take in her long lashes, which were just a few shades darker than her chestnut hair, and noticed how the wisps of hair curled at her temples. She was lovely—lovelier than any antique, any painting.
This was what he should be seeking—this sensation of closeness and intimacy—being close toher. The feeling of building a life with someone instead of merely existing to reach a goal. Everything within him screamed that Olivia Brannon was the lady who would capture his imagination and make him see his future in an entirely different light.
The mantel clock chimed the hour, snapping the moment that seemed to be suspended in time. MissBrannon pressed her lips together, stepped back.
“I should be going.”
Lucas wished he could come up with an excuse to extend their time together. “Yes. It will be time to depart for the ball soon.”
As he watched her curtsey and withdraw from the library, a fresh new optimism flared. He’d come to Cloverton Hall hoping to change his financial circumstances, but as the event went on, a new hope was forming... one that was more powerful than money could ever be.
Chapter30
MissHaven had declared several times that Mr. and Mrs.Whitmore held a ball that would rival any ball thrown in London, and she was right.
Lucas accepted a glass of champagne as he exited the gaming room and entered the ballroom. Hundreds of candles and lanterns illuminated every inch of the massive space and reflected from the mirrors paneling each wall. All around him, laughter and music floated in lighthearted strains. The Whitmore ballroom was bursting with people who would not be deterred by the incessant rain and cool September wind.
He’d arrived with Tate and Wainbridge over an hour prior, but his comrades had settled in at the gaming tables, where they would likely be for the rest of the evening.
But Lucas had other plans.
He wound his way through the throngs of people and around the vivacious dancers, intent upon one thing: finding MissBrannon.
He knew she’d be arriving with Mrs. Milton, but he’d yet to see her. The memory of their auspicious conversation in thelibrary fueled his every move, flooding him with an energy he’d never quite experienced before. He mulled the entire interaction over and over in his mind: her reactions, her statements. All he knew was that their time together had ended too soon, and waiting to see her again was nearly driving him to distraction.
He located a spot just at the edge of the ballroom where he could keep an eye on those entering. He’d gladly wait here all night if it meant being able to greet her.
“You look lonely, Lucas.”
Lucas jerked at the unusual sound of his Christian name.
Only his mother ever called him by it.
He pivoted.
MissStanley was sauntering toward him. The light from the candles shimmered off the golden strands embroidered in her lustrous dress and sparkled from the tiara atop her tresses.
