He knew many of the gentlemen gathered around the various tables, and he nodded to them, but did not stop for conversation. He was not good company and had disturbing matters on his mind that were not solved on the ride, and they certainly could not be if he had remained at Wyndhill Park with Eliza in residence.
He was not in the mood for conversation and was quite aware that he had every intention of brooding, which was exactly what he did with his back to the wall while he drank ale. Whenever anyone approached, he glared, which sent them changing direction and away from his table.
Did Eliza really see him in such a negative way—a grumpy old earl?
He could understand why she may not be happy with him now since he refused to let her wander his estate at will, but that was more because there was a man sending her letters and even though she didn’t think he would ever approach, Lucian was not so certain. It hadn’t stopped him from watching her sleep. That is assuming that he had, but Lucian did not doubt that it was the case since the stranger had access the entire time she lived at Greenhaven Cottage.
Good God! Anything could have happened to her. He may have tried to kidnap her or murder her if she had rejected him, or…Lucian couldn’t finish the other option.
Lucian took a deep drink of his ale. As much as he was concerned with Eliza’s safety, that was not what had brought him to theCrooked Swan. It was putting distance between him and her so that he could consider his options.
Bloody hell! What options did he have?
Was he really in love with her?
The answer was yes and he had probably been in love for almost ten years but lied to himself and made excuses for why they would not suit.
They weren’t excuses because he and Eliza were so different, yet it changed nothing. He wanted her. He desired her. Yes, he loved her.
She saw him as a grumpy auburn-haired earl who wanted to live alone in his manor.
Could he convince her to see him any other way?
Could he be different?
It had never been his intention to become this old, staid gentleman, but it had somehow happened. Gentlemen approaching their sixtieth year enjoyed life far more than he did.
Had he allowed the death of his parents and the responsibilities suddenly thrust on his fifteen-year-old narrow shoulders to turn him into so serious a man that he was now just a shell of a person?
When was the last time that he fully laughed?
Why did he not like being around people?
They made him uncomfortable because he had always been so conscious about every word he spoke and had been so worried about protecting his family that he withdrew into himself and never emerged again.
Lucian sat in theCrooked Swanfor the longest time, but only drank two ales. Had it been any other night, he would have drunk far more and likely enjoyed the company of the men sitting at the other tables.
He wasn’t a complete recluse because he liked the company of these men—his neighbors who also enjoyed their evenings here. He’d never been uncomfortable with them even though he was an earl and they were farmers and shop owners. It was only Society that made him anxious.
As he took a final drink of his ale, and as he recalled the description in Eliza’s books, something else occurred to Lucian, which prompted him to toss coins on the table and retrieve his horse.
Eliza stood at the window,looking out at the drive, and wondered where Lucian was. It had grown dark and she had supped alone, yet he had not returned.
Worry ate at her and she wanted to insist the footmen go out and search the property to make certain that he was not injured, but nobody else seemed concerned.
Did he ride out often without word to anyone?
Did he not understand that others worried?
She blew out a sigh and marched up the stairs to the sitting room between their chambers where she poured herself brandy. She would have helped herself to the liquor in his library but didn’t want the servants to think poorly of her.
At the bang of a door, she rushed to his chamber because that door remained open, only to find him shrugging out of his wet suitcoat, dark hair wet and dripping.
“Where have you been?” she demanded.
He turned, wiping droplets from his face and grinned. “Why, Eliza, were you worried about me?”
She took a step back. She’d never seen Lucian, well, happy, and with such a large grin. It transformed his entire face. Not that he wasn’t handsome before but he was stunning, if such could be applied to a gentleman, and he had a dimple at the corner of his mouth that she’d not witnessed before.
