Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Lucien truly did despise ton balls.
Tonight, the annoyance of it all was a little more dimmed as he searched the ballroom below him. Lord and Lady Telford’s townhouse was respectively expansive, but there were so many reflective surfaces that it hurt his eyes to look too hard.
Still, Lucien had done his usual routine: entered later than everybody else, drawing every ounce of attention he could, because that was who the Duke of Fairmont was, but now, the bespectacled lady he was looking for was escaping his notice, and that irked him.
Had her stepmother forbidden her to attend another ball as punishment for their act?
Her displeasure of the engagement was palpable, likely due to the fact that she wanted Lucien to notice Belinda more than Elinor, but even if he were not falsely engaged to Lady Morland’s stepdaughter, Belinda still had not caught his interest.
She was merely a face in a sea of them, all of them blurring into a similar lady that did not excite him anymore.
Not when he had met Elinor.
Not when she truly was different, and he wished to be alone with her to hear more of that difference.
Not when, behind closed doors, she was more herself.
Softer, more thoughtful with her words and ideas.
Yet, he was starting to enjoy the woman who emerged when he purposefully riled her up.
Part of him wanted to give her that space to unleash herself.
Likely, Morland House did not give her much chance to do so, and it was clear she had plenty on her mind to say, so, without confessing it directly, he was giving her the opportunity to loosen the tension she would need to swallow every day.
The riling—and the kiss, the very thing he had not been able to get out of his head for the past week.
“Looking for your betrothed?”
Lucien glanced at his side, finding Dominic. “When did you arrive?” he deflected.
“A while ago, but I saw you come in. I was all but prying a lady off my arm so I could come over to you. You are watching this ballroom like a cat hunts a mouse, so if it is indeed Lady Elinor you seek, I half fear for her.”
Lucien tugged up that easy, broad smile he had long perfected. “Perhaps she is my prey. Perhaps she ought to fear my devotion and attraction.”
“Who fears your devotion and attraction?”
Lucien sharply turned at the gentle voice on his other side, his heart pounding when he realized the company he had now found himself in.
Elinor stood next to him, atop the stairs, and by Jove, had he truly been so distracted by thinking of their kiss and searching for her that he neglected to notice either of them approaching him?
“You, I believe, Lady Elinor,” Dominic answered before Lucien could wave her question away.
When Lucien could only look between the two of them, dumbfounded, not wanting them to meet so soon, at least not like this, Dominic coughed.
“Well, then, Fairmont? Are you not going to introduce me to your prey—”
Lucien made a choked noise, hoping Elinor had not caught the teasing.
He would surely find a way of getting revenge for that one later.
“Of course.” Pushing away how off kilter he felt, how he could not straighten out his thoughts when seeing his friend alongside Elinor, trying not to think about how, in a way, the dynamic was all too familiar, he composed himself.
“Lady Elinor, this is His Grace, Dominic Barrow, the Duke of Silverford. Silverford, this is Lady Elinor, my fiancée.”
Dominic reached forward to take Elinor’s hand and kissed her knuckles. Lucien swore to himself that a flare of envy did not go through him.
“It is an honor to finally meet you, Lady Elinor. I would love to say I have heard a lot about you from Fairmont, but I confess I have not. Everything I know about you has admittedly come from ton gossip, if you do not mind me saying so.”
Elinor laughed gently, retracting her hand. “I am aware of what the ton says, Your Grace, do not worry. Although, it is refreshing to meet two men now who do not seem to judge me for what they all say.”
“Nobody ought to judge anybody,” Dominic snorted, and Lucien had to look away from their easy introduction.
It reminded him too much of another time, another scenario. Even if Elinor wasn’t truly his betrothed, they were playing their parts well.
“Besides,” Lucien purred, finding himself back in his usual role, far more composed once more. “The only thing they ought to judge is your beauty, my darling Elinor, and they should judge well, for you have outdone every lady here.”
Elinor covered her mouth with her gloved hand, pretending to preen. “You truly think so? I got this new gown for tonight specifically.”
In truth, Lucien had gifted it to her, making sure to be seen the day before, dropping the parcel box off at Morland House. Now, Elinor had turned up in a new gown, and he knew that, from the eyes that flicked in their direction, people were putting the two together.
“I think you will find I got you that gown for tonight,” Lucien chuckled, pulling her close. Elinor tucked her hand into his elbow.
“Of course,” Elinor sighed, smiling.
“I am certain you can think of a way to thank me later on.”
“Heavens, Fairmont,” Dominic muttered. “You speak so brashly in public?”
“Oh, let us not pretend as though you have not said worse. Besides, I am to marry this lady. Although your mind is filthy, Silverford, I was merely thinking of a dance with my betrothed.”
Dominic gave him an unconvinced look, and Lucien just flashed him that grin again.
“So, as Fairmont here has been rather quiet on how the two of you came to be engaged, I am most curious to hear about it from you, Lady Elinor,” Dominic said, and Lucien tensed.
“I am certain I already told you,” Lucien answered clearly.
“And I am asking Lady Elinor.” His friend only returned a beaming smile that looked far too innocent.
“We met in Hyde Park, like I said,” Lucien said.
But Elinor said at the same time, “Lady Morrow’s ball, I was rather entranced upon first sight.”
At once, they both sharply looked at one another, Elinor’s eyes wide, while Lucien’s mouth set grimly.
Her story was thin, anyway, for she had not attended Lady Morrow’s ball, and Dominic already knew that.
Why had she needed to overcompensate the lie?
“I—I mean, it was at Hyde Park, and then at the ball,” Elinor said, laughing nervously.
Dominic smirked at them, bemused. He leaned against the railing of the staircase’s small platform. “If I am correct, you were not at Lady Morrow’s ball.”
“Oh!” Elinor looked pleadingly at Lucien, and he knew that this was her panic about not being a very good actress. “Oh, that is right. Silly me, how could I forget? It—it was at Hyde Park, then.”
“For a fiancé you claim to be so entranced by, you have forgotten where you first met? Dominic’s mouth curved with amusement, and his eyes stayed sharp. “And the rumors of you two at Hyde Park only began after the Morrows’ ball. So how exactly did this courtship start?”
“Exactly,” Lucien cut in smoothly, tightening his arm against Elinor’s grip, a silent let me handle this.
“We met at the park as, I will remind you I already told you, and Lady Elinor is confusing the Morrows’ ball with the Hales’ one.
You know how these things are, Silverford. One ball blurs into the next.”
Dominic still looked unconvinced, his eyes lingering on Elinor. “How interesting for you to confuse a ball you attended with one you did not. Not to mention the ball at which you got engaged. Most intriguing.”
He chuckled under his breath.
“I-interesting indeed,” Elinor stammered, her cheeks flushing as she ducked her head. “Either way, His Grace swept me away quite thoroughly, like a leaf in a stream.”
“Lady Elinor, you way with words is charming,” Lucien praised falsely, fighting back his laughter. Even she herself looked as though she were embarrassed at her clumsy comparison. She giggled falsely. “But you know what is even more charming?”
“Oh, this will be humorous,” Dominic muttered.
“Yes?” Elinor asked, her eyes turning wide and doe-like.
It was rather hilarious for Lucien to witness how much more she was stepping into her role, especially when her stepfamily was not present.
“You in your entirety,” Lucien told her.
Behind him, Dominic groaned, laughing as he shook his head. “Come on, Fairmont, stop flirting with the poor lady. She looks ready to erupt into the biggest blush I ever have seen.”
“I shall not stop.” Lucien gave Elinor a wink. “I fear she has not been complimented enough.”
The line, although spoken in an affected voice to ramp up the drama of their flirting, was true in itself. Elinor really hadn’t been praised enough, not for any part of her, when she ought to have been lavished with compliments.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Elinor said sweetly, ducking her head, acting the perfectly demure lady.
It was strange to use titles again when all Lucien wished to do was drop the act and be back at Fielding House with her, their masks stripped away, leaving them with honesty.
Even as a man who had worn his own mask long before Elinor, a part of him felt more himself with her in those private moments than he had in years. She made him feel like Lucien Stanton, simply a man, not the rake he presented to the ton.
“Come.” He began guiding her down the stairs. “We can have that dance you promised me.”
“I do not recall agreeing,” Elinor replied.
“Well, I would like you to, anyway.”
She laughed softly, and he thought he would prefer to drink in that sound all night than any glass of wine.
I am merely attracted to her, he thought, that is why I am thinking these things. She is pretty and interesting, but there is nothing more here.
As they descended the stairs and walked into the thick of the crowd, he felt her tense up.
“Everybody is staring at me,” she whispered. “Perhaps it is the dress?”
“They are staring, Elinor,” he said quietly, “because you are worth staring at.”