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Asquith nearly groaned. When Lenora closed her lips around a spoonful of Gunter’s ice, worry, tension, and artifice drained from her face. How well he remembered her look of pure ecstasy.
How much he wished to recreate that look...in every way possible.
“Look!” Emily said. “There is Lenora now!”
He turned, easily spotting Lenora amidst the shifting crowds.
There she is. Something in him settled at the same time something else took flight.
A group of older dandies briefly obscured his view, and then she reappeared.
The yellow hat. The warm pelisse. Both familiar, and yet not.
She’d undergone a subtle change. His breath hitched.
Her bearing made the explosion of feathers a quirk of fashion. The advanced month made the pelisse apropos. The lady beneath both was confident, yet open. The sort of lady who drew a drawing room crowd, not only from wit alone, but from warmth.
His heart beat in a small, dark hollow in his chest, dulling the sound in his ears.
“Who’s she with?” Eliza demanded. “That’s not Lady Asquith.”
“Asquith?” Millie waved a hand in his face. “Asquith.”
He blinked and shook his head. Right. He squinted as if he’d been trying to answer Eliza’s question and was not captivated by Lenora. “The lady to her right is Lady Amelia. And on her left...” Preston. What was Lenora doing out in public with Preston?
“Yes...?” Millie prompted.
“...is Lady Amelia’s brother, Lord Preston,” he finished.
Emily ducked between Nettie and Cassie and whistled. Then, she dropped her hand and looked around, pretending she hadn’t made the shrill noise.
Lenora turned her head, her gaze locking with his. She did not immediately smile. But when she took in the sight of her sisters, her face transformed.
He wished her radiance had been for him.
Nettie, Emily, Millie, and Cassie started toward Lenora and her party. Asquith’s legs wouldn’t move. His eyes remained on Preston.
Specifically on the crook of Preston’s arm, where Lenora had rested her hand.
“My, my,” Eliza whispered. “Are you, perhaps, feeling a little envious?”
He glanced askance. “Of course not.”
“Reminds me of the fable about the dog in the manger. Do you know that one?”
He groaned. “Everyone does.”
“You should read the tale again, methinks.” She pressed her lips together with the smug superiority of one who knows. “She doesn’t care for Preston, addle-pate.” She lowered her voice. “She loves you.” She turned her gaze to Lenora. “Has done, I think, since that very first meeting.”
“How could she have?” Briefly, he closed his eyes. “She was a child. And she didn’t know me.”
“She loved you with a child’s heart, and that love has since matured. As to not knowing you...” Eliza shrugged. “I cannot explain. What Lenora sees, she understands.”
His sidelong glance was skeptical.
Eliza sighed. “Just remember the fable. That old dog was the meanest dog because he couldn’t eat the hay, and he wouldn’t allow the other animals to have any either.”
“Subtle, Eliza. Subtle.”
