Too bad she can’t go to The Nemesis and face off against some bruiser, Nathaniel thought with some amusement. She’d probably love it.
“False friendship is fine, as long as one sees it for what it is,” he replied.
She scowled darkly. “I prefer honest enmity.”
“I’m sure you do.”
The music slowed as they came to the end of the set, and Nathaniel bowed over his sister’s hand. “What do you say, Lucy? Shall we go home? Or shall we stay and show all your false friends how high you can soar?”
Her blue eyes narrowed on his face. “I’m not sure I like the fact that you seem to understand exactly what motivates me.”
“And what is that?”
She smiled a little. “Why, spite, of course. I’ll stay.”
“Well done,” he said softly, and tried not to feel anything at the way she glowed a bit at the praise. “Now, let me introduce you to some acquaintances of mine. Lord John Findlay is considered very charming and respectable. Do try not to shock him.”
Nathaniel was conscious of the eyes upon them as he escorted Lucy away from the dancing. The other guests would be taking note of the attention he paid to his sister; they would be recalling the ugly history of their family’s estrangement and concluding that perhaps it had come to an end at last.
He stayed by Lucy’s side long enough to ensure that every last gossip in the room got a good look at them together.
Just before he handed her off to Lord John, Lucy glanced up at him and said, with an impulsive earnestness that charmed him against his will, “Thank you. You didn’t have to buck me up like that, so. Thanks. You were right; I would have regretted leaving and letting the Prudences of the world win. How did you know?”
Memory tugged at him, but he gritted his teeth and smiled through it. “I have some experience with bullies. It’s usually better to face them head on. Show no weakness.”
Weakness—vulnerability—was punished. Swiftly and painfully. Nathaniel knew that better than most.
He made the introductions, watching eagle-eyed to be certain Lord John comprehended the honor being granted him, and finally allowed the young couple to wander off in the direction of the refreshment table.
The rest of the party was tedious but uneventful. He’d missed his chance with Lord Romby, but he would run the man to ground eventually. Lucy ended up dancing nearly every dance, only sitting out the waltz, which was still considered slightly scandalous for girls in their very first Season.
Nathaniel kept his eye on her, and he couldn’t help noticing that across the ballroom Lucy’s chaperone was watching attentively as well. Mrs. Pickford was occasionally approached by a hopeful gentleman, but she seemed to effortlessly and gracefully rebuff them all. Nathaniel knew he ought to feel badly about that—he’d ruined her evening, most likely, with his display of temper earlier.
But if was honest with himself, he had to admit that it pleased something dark and wild inside him to see her turning away admirer after admirer.
God. What was wrong with him?
He’d apologized to Lucy. He ought to apologize to Mrs. Pickford as well.
He didn’t get a chance until they were in the carriage on the ride home.
Exhausted and overstimulated, unused to keeping such late hours, Lucy had climbed into the carriage and immediately kicked off her slippers to curl her feet under her on the seat. Before Nathaniel could give her more than a disapproving glance, she’d leaned her head against Mrs. Pickford’s shoulder and dropped off to sleep.
The carriage rumbled through the fog, the only sound the wheels against the damp cobblestones and Lucy’s deep, even breaths.
Nathaniel bent all his considerable will to not thinking about the last time he’d been in a carriage with Mrs. Pickford.
“What you did for Lucy in there,” she said abruptly. “That was a good thing.”
Nathaniel’s hands clenched against the edge of the velvet-covered seat. He forced them to relax. “I merely offered her the opportunity to be brave. She was the one who took it.”
“My own instinct was to retreat,” she admitted. “Or even to have Lucy try to smooth things over with them.”
He frowned. “Lucy did nothing wrong.”
“Of course she didn’t,” Bess agreed, but there was a twist to her lips that he didn’t like. “But the world is not kind to people who ruffle the waters. Especially women.”
“Lucy is a duke’s daughter. A duke’s sister.” Nathaniel knew his tone had taken on an autocratic chill, but he couldn’t soften it. “She should never have to scrape and bow to her social inferiors.”
