He quickened his pace until he was outside in the damp night. Other guests had also meandered out into the night’s fresh air—an escape from the room’s stifling humidity and crowded spaces.
MissBrannon was standing alone, her back to him, looking out over the black landscape. Her pale gown emphasized her slender form, and the candlelight from the nearby torches highlighted her peerless profile.
His chest felt full, his head light. When had he become like this? How had this woman, in such a short time, affected the inner workings of his heart and mind?
Lucas approached her without entirely knowing what he would say. He cleared his throat and said her name as he drew near.
And she turned.
***
“MissBrannon.”
Olivia did not need to turn around to identify the speaker. Indeed, she’d been hoping, nay, praying, to hear that voice. A smile quirked her lips, and she turned.
Lucas Avery stood just feet from her. The evening wind was catching his hair, and his affable expression was vibrant in the low light. How handsome he looked in his formal broadcloth tailcoat of corbeau green, which emphasized his eyes’ verdant hue. He bowed in greeting, clasped his hands behind his back, and glanced over his shoulder. “Is Mrs.Milton not with you?”
“Mrs.Milton would like to return to Cloverton Hall, so she asked me to find MissWainbridge since she came in our carriage. I’ve been looking for her, but I needed a bit of air.” Olivia smiled and pressed her finger to her lips in a silent request for him to keep her secret.
“Your secret is safe with me.” He stepped closer. “I couldn’t help but notice you arrived quite late. I was worried you encountered trouble on the roads.”
“Mrs.Milton did not want to travel in the rain, so we were delayed.”
“I see. And has Mrs.Milton been introducing you to Yorkshire’s finest?”
She laughed at the reference to some of the men she’d been partnered with over the previous hours. How good it felt to laugh. “Mrs. Milton and her friends have introduced me to several interesting people—none of whom compare to the company at Cloverton Hall, of course.”
His manner easy, his tone light, he motioned back to the structure behind him. “And what is your opinion of Whitmore House?”
“It’s impressive, isn’t it?” She looked past him and up to the house’s stone facade. “It’s not nearly as interesting as Cloverton, at least to me, but lovely nonetheless.”
“No dragon statues staring at you?” he teased.
“No, no. Nothing of the sort.”
“Just ogling gentlemen and judgmental ladies?” he offered, his gaze unnervingly direct.
Sohe has been watching.
He leaned next to her against the stone railing. “I’ve been so preoccupied with the Cloverton collection that I’ve failed to ask you how the assessment of Mrs.Milton’s collection is going. How are you finding it?”
“It’s really quite fascinating. I’ve never seen one quite like it. The number of shells and rocks she has from the Orient is truly incredible. Several I’ve never seen before, so I’ll need to do some more research when I return to London. But in the end, I hope that I’m able to help her. The most difficult part will be getting Mrs.Milton to actually part with them. It can be so hard to assign a monetary value to an item someone holds dear.”
“Unfortunately for us, we cannot take emotions into account, can we? The value of these pieces is solely in what they are worth to others, not how much they meant to the owner.”
“Very true. Mrs.Milton misses her old way of life. The things just remind her of it.”
“It’s the same with my mother.”
Olivia jerked at the reference to Margaret Avery. How vividly she recalled how his mother and hers had been great friends before their fathers parted ways.
“She hated how Father would clutter the house with things he would bring back from his travels. Now she will not part with a single item.”
“And you? Are you a collector?”
His answer came quickly. “No.”
She raised her brow, a bit surprised. “No?”
