Chapter Nine
Lucian gritted his teeth as he prepared to enter the ballroom.
Gone was the feeling of exuberance he’d had after her visit, the feeling that he was about to experience a remarkable adventure with an equally remarkable woman.
Even if it seemed she was persistently annoyed by him.
Or perhaps because of that.
It had been pure impulse that had led to his suggesting that they meet for more than just figuring out the factory’s eventual output. That it would potentially solve his father’s problem as well as giving him the opportunity to learn more about her was sheer brilliance. But unfortunately, first he had to attend to other duties.
This evening, he was escorting Mr. Bishop to a social event, which meant he had to mind someone else beside himself. Even though his guest had shown he was clearly capable of handling his own pompous, devious self. The duke had been very clear that he expected his younger son to introduce the duplicitous hound to everyone.
More people to fleece, possibly?
Not if I have anything to say about it, Lucian thought.
I trust Mr. Bishop has arrived safely and you have made him comfortable. I expect even you can manage that.
Nothing else in the note, not even a note about John’s recovery. That hurt. It shouldn’t, now that he knew precisely how little the duke thought of him, but there was no reasoning with emotions. He wished he could reply to his father and tell him his exemplary Mr. Bishop was preparing to swindle most of Society’s best inhabitants, but he knew his father would not believe him.
Instead, Lucian would have to keep an eye on the man, much as he dreaded that. He would not want anyone to be fooled by Bishop’s polite manners and reasonable appearance.
He knew all too well how easy it was to fool people; he’d leveraged that himself many times, though not for nefarious means.
“The musicians sound out of tune,”
Mr. Bishop commented as they gave their hats to one of the footmen.
The party was just another Society event, not celebrating anything in particular, just that everyone had beautiful clothing and plenty of money to spend on good food and drink.
Normally, it would be one of Lucian’s favorite types of occasion, because there was no pressure to congratulate anyone or pay attention to somebody performing or whatever contrivance the Society hostess had dreamed up as an excuse to throw a party.
The event tonight was at the Sneeds’ home. Lord and Lady Sneed threw themselves into every Season as though it might be their last, and their parties were legendary.
For Lucian, at least. He didn’t know about anyone else.
“I believe the Sneeds have excellent taste in music,”
Lucian replied, wishing he didn’t sound nearly as priggish as Mr. Bishop, but rather feeling as though he did.
“Hm,”
Mr. Bishop said. His expression was placid, as always, with just a hint of superiority.
Lucian didn’t know when he had loathed anyone more.
“Well, shall we go in? I would like to meet the hosts.”
Mr. Bishop’s tone made it clear he wasn’t expecting much.
The two waited for the butler to announce them, then made their way down the few steps to the ballroom.
The room was immense, lit with candles that cast a golden glow onto all the guests. Footmen wearing gold and silver circulated discreetly, handing out glasses that looked to be champagne, while others carried trays of hors d’oeuvres. There were vases in alternating gold and silver holding huge bouquets of flowers, all white, and the various debutantes on the dance floor looked like they were flowers as well, wearing the pale shades suitable for a lady’s debut.
Lucian had always avoided ladies wearing those colors, since he did not want to hurt anyone through his being accidentally too charming. Or deliberately so, since he knew his own power.
If only his father knew of his forbearance. Honestly, Lucian could have been a lot worse, given his looks, pedigree, and wealth. That he wasn’t was a testament to Lucian alone, since he hadn’t gotten any kind of reasonable moral training from his father.
“Lord Lucian, what a pleasure,”
Lady Sneed exclaimed, putting her hand on his sleeve. “And your friend, Mr. Bishop. It is a pleasure to meet you,”
she said, holding her other hand out to him.
He took her hand, then lowered his head to it without actually placing a kiss on her gloved hand. Lucian took that avoidance as another example of Mr. Bishop’s generally haughty mien, but then again, he could admit he was completely biased against him.
“Please enjoy yourselves, gentlemen,”
Lady Sneed said.
Both men nodded, then Lucian plucked a glass from a passing footman and took a sip, wishing he had the whole bottle.
But he did not drink to excess, and most definitely not in public, since there was no guarantee he would not say or do anything that might be considered rude.
“My lord,”
he heard a voice say, and he spun around to see her, a tight expression on her face.
“My lady,”
he replied, bowing over her hand. It was inevitable they would run into one another, even though this year was the first time they’d met. It was wise, in fact, for her to come greet him, because they were bound to be seen in company together, and most people in their world knew of their parents’ feud.
Romeo and Juliet indeed.
Tonight she wore a gown in a bright lemon yellow, as though she was the literal sun. She looked lovely, and he didn’t want to take his eyes off her. Was this how Romeo felt on seeing Juliet?
Given the ending to their love story, perhaps not something he should be wondering.
“May I introduce Mr. Bishop?”
he said, gesturing to his unwelcome companion. “This is Lady Diantha Courtenay.”
“A pleasure, my lady,”
Mr. Bishop said in a much different, far warmer, tone of voice.
Oh no you won’t, Lucian thought. I will not allow you to try to fleece this particular sheep.
Even though she was far closer to a wolf in sheep’s clothing, given her incisive wit and intelligence.
But Mr. Bishop, the wily fox, didn’t know that. Likely he just saw a young woman who could be maneuvered into a bad investment.
“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Bishop,”
she replied.
“Mr. Bishop is here at my father’s invitation,”
Lucian explained. “The duke wishes him to—”
And then he remembered, and he wanted to stuff his foot in his mouth rather than say it, but now he was too far in, and he’d have to. “The duke wishes him to consult on the disposal of the property you and I are both involved in.”
Lady Diantha looked with some surprise at Mr. Bishop. “I hadn’t realized the duke was so invested in finding a solution, given the acrimony behind it.”
“And that is why he wishes it to be taken care of smoothly and carefully,”
Mr. Bishop responded, at which Lucian wanted now to stuff his foot into Mr. Bishop’s mouth. “My lady, would you care to dance?”
he continued, gesturing to the dancing couples whirling about.
“Thank you, yes,”
she said, shooting a pointed look toward Lucian. You could have asked me to dance also, but you were late.
Or she was just annoyed that he hadn’t told her of Mr. Bishop’s interest in their mutual problem. He wanted to explain it was because he’d forgotten, but he didn’t think that would make her feel any better toward him.
Because it definitely didn’t make him feel any better toward himself. Not an emotion he’d ever dealt with before.
The sooner he resolved all of this, the sooner he could return to his previous lifestyle.
Which was most definitely what he wanted, he told himself. But the words inside his head didn’t sound convincing. Not even to himself.
“How do you know the duke, Mr. Bishop?”
Diantha asked. The dance was a waltz, which allowed for some conversation. There was nothing so frustrating as performing a country dance and having to wait a few measures before replying to a question.
“He is my cousin. Or rather, I am his,”
the man replied.
And why hadn’t Lucifer mentioned that this man was to be—what word had he used?—consulted about the disposal of the factory?
“I am surprised to find you have an acquaintance with his son,”
Mr. Bishop said. He danced correctly, but not with the elegance of— Stop that, Diantha, she reminded herself. “Given the history between your families.”
“It is surprising,”
Diantha replied. Wishing, suddenly, they were doing a country dance so she didn’t have to answer these questions. Explaining her family’s quirks was one of her least favorite things to do; she was often frustrated by them, but she loved them and was protective of their idiosyncrasies.
“I hope we can resolve the matter to the duke’s satisfaction,”
Mr. Bishop continued.
“And my father’s,”
Diantha couldn’t help but remind him.
“Of course.”
Mr. Bishop swung her around, and for a moment, she lost herself in the dance. Just like that other time, only this partner was not nearly so— Stop that, Diantha.
“Perhaps I could pay a call sometime, to meet your father so I can have a better understanding of his concerns.”
His tone was almost condescending.
“That is not necessary,”
she said quickly. “My father has entrusted me with solving the problem. I do not wish to bother him with any of the details.”
Because the earl would think of some arcane objection to what they’d decided, and the whole process would have to begin again. Or this new gentleman would rile her father in some way to make him dig in his heels and refuse to do anything.
She’d experienced both multiple times, so many that she’d long ago just started to solve things herself without asking anyone. It was easier, and the solutions mostly made sense.
If she worked with this gentleman on it, however, she wouldn’t see as much of Lucifer. That was fine with her, she told herself.
Even though she knew she was lying.
Because she couldn’t stop thinking about him, even though he was contrary and deliberately aggravating and her complete opposite.
If she could somehow get him out of her system, her life could return to what it was before, albeit hopefully she’d have her own future settled, thanks to the as-yet-undecided factory manufacturing.
And she could strike out on her own, not needing anyone but herself.
Which would be fine with her, she told herself again.
Even though she knew she was lying.