And how had she repaid him?
True, he hadn’t been completely honest with her, but could she really blame him for the subterfuge? He was an agent searching for evidence of treason against the Crown, and she’d just been released on suspicion of murder. Of course he wouldn’t have taken her into his confidence.
Turning on her side, Lyra tucked her hands beneath her cheek. It was times like this, when she allowed herself a moment of reflection, that she found it difficult to connect the bumbling Duke of Albright to the confident, passionate man she now knew. She couldn’t imagine that such a remarkable and intelligent man was content to let people assume the worst of him. Granted, the fact he was an agent was likely a strong motivation for him to pursue such an artless facade, but how could the entire ton, herself included, have misjudged him so? Had they truly not been able to see through such an obvious guise to the amazing man beneath it all?
With a sigh, she realized that the only thing she could do now was try to make amends for both her past transgressions and her current ones. Since there was nothing she could do to repair matters now, she promised herself that she would seek Alister out the moment she returned to London. Then she allowed sleep to claim her.
A brief knock at Lyra’s chamber had her blinking her eyes. She’d slept longer than she’d thought, for the maid bustled in holding her freshly pressed dinner gown. It was the nicest mourning dress that Lyra owned, but she couldn’t help but wince at the sight of it. She was so tired of wearing bombazine and crepe to honor a man who had never cared one whit for her.
But since she had already pressed her luck by daring to wear that scandalous purple bonnet and gloves that morning, which would normally be approved only during half-mourning, she supposed she should be grateful she hadn’t become a pariah among the other guests and been sent packing in disgrace.
After the maid had assisted Lyra with a bath and styled her hair into a simple but elegant bun, Lyra brushed her hands over her skirts and made her way downstairs.
It wasn’t until she stepped over the threshold of the parlor, where everyone gathered before dinner was announced, that she realized there was a slight buzz of excitement in the room. A few snippets of conversation met her ears about a surprise guest who would be dining with them that evening, but it wasn’t until Lyra joined her mother that she received the fullon dit.
“Oh, there you are, dear,” Lavinia said with a smile. “You missed all the hullabaloo at tea. I went by your room, but you were sound asleep, so I didn’t wish to bother you.”
“I think I’m still recovering from yesterday,” Lyra admitted wearily. “What’s going on?”
“My brother, that’s what,” Euphemia said dryly as she came up to them. She had eschewed her favorite purple turban, although the orange silk gown she wore was just as bright and eye-catching.
But it wasn’t Lady Franheim’s fashion sense that had caught Lyra’s attention. “The duke ishere?”
“Unfortunately,” the duke’s sister huffed. “If he hopes to curry my favor, then I fear he’s going to have to do more than—”
The rest of Euphemia’s tirade was cut short as Lyra turned to glance about the room. Her heart was already thumping madly in her chest in anticipation of seeinghimagain, but when her search turned up nothing, she felt her spirits sink.
Maybe he’d already left?
But then, like the sea parting for Moses, a group of gentleman across the room shifted—and there he was.
When he looked up, their eyes met, and she watched, as if in slow motion, as Alister excused himself and began to make his way over to her. His stride was even but not rushed, his eyes intent but not piercing. Yet it was what he wore that caught her breath.
Absolute black.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When Alister finally paused before Lyra, she couldn’t help but whisper, “What are you doing?”
He lifted a brow before he bestowed a breathtaking smile, complete with that single dimple that drove her mad. “I thought I was coming to talk to you.”
“I mean, what are youwearing?”
He glanced down at his attire. “Don’t you like it?”
“You look like you’re in mourning,” she noted.
Now his eyes were piercing. “Ihavemanaged to lose something quite dear to me just recently,” he murmured.
Lyra wasn’t sure how to reply to that, although Lady Franheim had no problem picking up the slack following his bold statement. She pursed her lips in annoyance. “So,Your Grace, what brings you to our humble gathering?”
Lyra wasn’t the only one who caught the inflection in Lady Franheim’s voice, for Alister’s gaze instantly shifted to his sister, while Lavinia murmured her excuses and left. His voice was even when he said, “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Euphemia. I merely wished to speak with Lady Weston. If you have an issue with my presence, then let’s talk about it later in private.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t matter what I say.” She shrugged. “I know you’re going to do whatever you want anyway.”
Alister clenched his jaw as Euphemia flounced off.
Lyra felt sorry for him, for she knew how frustrating it was to be at odds with one’s siblings. “My sister Margaret is a lot like Lady Frenheim.” When he glanced at her, she added, “We have never been close, as she was quite a bit older than I was. In fact, it wasn’t until recently that I was able to reconcile with my brother.”
