“It’s the dancing master.” Ciaran shook his head, a grin curving his lips. God, poor Lucy. It was no wonder she despised dancing lessons. No lady wanted to be made to waltz with her instructor. “She looks miserable.”
“So does he, come to that. Shall we rescue them both?” Vale pushed the door open and went inside. Ciaran and Markham followed, and the three of them took seats in the entryway to wait. The music came to an end soon afterward. There was a shuffling of feet as the students filed out the door, but after ten minutes Lucy, Miss Jarvis, and Lady Felicia still hadn’t come out.
“What the devil’s happened to them?” Vale got to his feet with a long-suffering sigh. “Come on then, lads. We’ll have to drag them out.”
The room was nearly empty when they entered, the dancing master having made his escape through a door at the back. Lucy, Miss Jarvis, and Lady Felicia were alone, seated on a row of chairs against a wall, their heads close together.
“Well, would you look at that, Markham?” Vale drawled, as they made their way across the room. “Three ladies huddled together, whispering? Why, the three of you look like a trio of thieves.”
Lucy, Miss Jarvis, and Lady Felicia all jumped.
“Ah, just the reaction you’d expect from the guilty.” Vale strolled to Eloisa Jarvis’s side and leaned over her chair. “What are you ladies so deep in conversation about? Discussing your gowns for the next ball, or tittering over the latest sensational novel?”
Lady Felicia shot her brother an annoyed look. “Is that what you think, Sebastian? That ladies discuss nothing but fashions and scandalous books? How dismissive of you. It’s not surprising you’re not married.”
“I’m not married because I don’t wish to be, and you know it well, dear sister. However, you never know when a young lady might appear who will inspire me to mend my wicked ways. Perhaps it will even happen this season. What say you, Miss Jarvis?”
Eloisa Jarvis fixed Vale with a cool look. “I haven’t the slightest interest in your matrimonial prospects, my lord.”
“Pity.” Vale’s lips curved into a delighted grin as his gaze roamed over her face. “There must be another reason you look so flushed, then. Too much dancing, perhaps?”
“Far too much, from what I saw.” Markham shot Lady Felicia a disgruntled look. “What does Nash need with dancing lessons?”
Lady Felicia blinked innocently at him. “Oh, were you watching, Edmund? I can’t say I even noticed you.” She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned away to take Lucy’s arm with a toss of her head.
“We were watching from the window.” Vale hadn’t taken his eyes off Eloisa Jarvis, and now he swept her a mocking bow. “You dance like an angel, Miss Jarvis.”
Miss Jarvis’s cheeks went pink at Vale’s teasing, but she didn’t deign to reply. She took Lucy’s other arm. “Come, Lucy. We’re expected back home.”
“Not quite yet, I don’t think.” Lucy’s dark eyes fell on Ciaran. He gave her a slight nod, and she disentangled herself from the two irate ladies on either side of her and walked across the room to glance out the window. “Our uncle’s carriage hasn’t yet arrived. Mightn’t we take a brief stroll to St. Paul’s Cathedral? I haven’t had a proper look at it yet, and it’s just down the street.”
To Ciaran’s surprise, Markham stepped forward at once and offered Lady Felicia his arm. “If you’ll allow me, my lady.”
Lady Felicia’s eyebrows rose, but she took his arm. “Yes, all right.”
Ciaran drew Lucy’s arm through his, which left Miss Jarvis no choice but to let Vale escort her. She darted a glance at him, her eyes wide and her cheeks on fire. “It isn’t proper to walk with—”
“It’s quite all right, Miss Jarvis.” This time there wasn’t a hint of his usual mocking drawl in Vale’s voice. “I promise I’ll behave like a perfect gentleman.” He offered her a bow, elegant and proper, and held out his arm. “Won’t you walk with me?”
Eloisa glanced anxiously at Lucy, but Vale was at his most charming when he was being sincere, and Miss Jarvis wasn’t jaded enough to resist him. She took his arm without a word.
“I’m so pleased to see you, Ciaran. I thought perhaps you’d be halfway to Scotland by now,” Lucy began, as they made their way through the door and down the street in the direction of St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Her tone was teasing, but her words stung Ciaran to the quick. “You thought I’d leave without saying goodbye to you?”
If shehadthought it, wouldn’t she be justified? He hadn’t proved to be a very loyal friend. Lucy had brought him back to life. If it weren’t for her, he never would have made the decision to return to Scotland at all. Now he was thanking her by leaving her at the mercy of Godfrey and her despicable uncle.
“No, of course not! I didn’t mean it that way, Ciaran.”
The hurt in her voice tore at his chest. He squeezed his eyes closed, and for one aching moment wished with everything inside him they were in Brighton still, sitting together on the beach with the sun rising over the water, the cool sand between his fingers and her soft laughter in his ears.
She’s the best friend I’ve ever had…
How could he leave her like this, turn his back on her when she needed him most?
The answer was simple. He couldn’t.
Lucy was staring up at him with wide dark eyes. Without thinking, Ciaran brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. As soon as he touched her, he realized he’d been wondering if her skin could possibly be as soft as it looked.
