She could see at once it wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. He stared at her, stunned into silence. Then he reached for her hand and cradled it with infinite care in his own. “Listen to me, Lucy. How can you think I’d just jaunt off to Scotland without knowing you’re safe first? Nothing in the world would make me unhappier than that.”
Lucy’s heart melted in her chest. She gazed up at him, taking in his strong jaw, his dark, silky hair ruffling in the breeze. Emotion rushed over her, so powerful her throat closed. He was such a dear man, and so handsome she could hardly tear her gaze away from him. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve such a friend, but she was tremendously grateful for him.
How could she refuse such a heartfelt plea? “I—if you’re sure, Ciaran.”
Relief filled those ocean blue eyes. “I am.”
Lucy dropped her gaze, afraid he’d see too much in her face. “Very well, then,” she murmured, as casually as she could.
He took her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. “That’s better, lass. I’ll call on you tomorrow then, and take you for a drive.”
Lucy risked a glance up at him. “You will?”
He grinned. “Yes. That’s what a suitor does, Lucy. He dances with his chosen lady, sends her flowers, and takes her for drives.”
His chosen lady…
His words cut through her, because she knew she wasn’t his chosen lady. All the dancing, flowers, drives, and pretend courtships in the world wouldn’t change that.
She didn’t say it. Instead, she forced her lips into a smile. “Then I’ll expect your call.”
There wasn’t time for them to say any more. Lord Vale and Eloisa joined them then, with Lady Felicia and Lord Markham close behind, and the six of them made their way back toward the dance academy. When they arrived, they found Uncle Jarvis’s hired carriage at the curb waiting for them, a stone-faced Bexley perched on the box.
Lord Vale murmured something to Eloisa that made her blush. She tried to withdraw her hand from his, but Lord Vale held on long enough to hand her into the carriage. Ciaran handed Lucy in after her cousin, and then paused by the open carriage window.
“Tomorrow,” he murmured, when Lucy leaned toward him.
She shivered. He was so close his warm breath drifted over her ear. “Tomorrow,” she repeated, half in a daze.
Then Ciaran was gone, and Eloisa and Lucy were on their way back to Portman Square. They didn’t speak. Each of them was lost in her own thoughts, but when the carriage came to a stop in front of the house, Lucy dragged herself back to the present moment.
They were a trifle late getting back. It was nearly teatime. They’d all been having such a…well, perhapspleasantwasn’t quite the right word, but certainly an interesting time that the minutes had seemed to fly by.
“Lord Vale admires you, cousin,” she whispered to Eloisa as they handed their cloaks to the butler.
“Lord Vale is a terrible tease, just as his sister says he is, and a wicked rake besides.” Eloisa used her sternest, most disapproving voice, but she couldn’t hide the tinge of color that stained her cheeks at mention of Lord Vale.
Lucy cocked her head, studying the blush drifting from Eloisa’s neck into her face.
Was Eloisa developing atendrefor the handsome lord? Lucy wasn’t quite sure she liked that. She’d grown quite fond of Lord Vale already, but he was an earl, and a handsome, charming, rakish one at that. Handsome, charming, rakish earls didn’t marry untitled, penniless young ladies with vulgar, grasping fathers.
She didn’t believe Lord Vale would trifle with Eloisa’s affections, but his sophisticated flirtation might prove too seductive for her innocent cousin. “Not so very wicked, I think, and terribly handsome.” Lucy watched Eloisa closely. “Such lovely blue eyes, just like his sister’s. Don’t say you haven’t noticed how handsome he is, Eloisa.”
“Hush, Lucy! I haven’t noticed a single thing about Lord Vale.”
Lucy snorted as she followed Eloisa up the stairway to the drawing room. “Eloisa Jarvis, you’re the most shameless liar I’ve ever—”
“Well, here you are at last. I expected the two of you home an hour ago.”
Eloisa came to such a sudden halt Lucy stumbled against her. She peered over her cousin’s shoulder, and what she saw waiting for them in the drawing room made the smile flee her lips.
Uncle Jarvis was standing in front of the fire, his arms crossed over his barrel of a chest. It was plain to see he was in a towering rage, as he was doing a poor enough job of disguising it. Aunt Jarvis was seated on a settee, a cup of tea balanced on her knee, her pale face pinched with anxiety.
And across from her, cozily ensconced in the best chair in the room sat Lord Godfrey, like a king presiding over his lowly subjects.
Eloisa had frozen in the doorway, so Lucy gave her a gentle little push. “I beg your pardon, Uncle. We didn’t realize you were waiting for us.”
Uncle Jarvis’s lip curled. “It’s teatime, isn’t it? A few weeks in London, and you’re both already so lost to decent manners you no longer appear for tea?”
