Chapter Three #2
She swept out of the study before he could reply. Lucas remained seated a moment longer before rising with a reluctant sigh. If he did not follow, Catherine would return in a far worse temper.
Perhaps the walk would do him good after all. With everything on his mind, he certainly needed it.
***
Hyde Park was far too populated at this time of the year, Lucas decided. He shuddered at the thought of having to take part in the Season himself one day. When it was time for him to find a wife, he imagined that the number of indiscreet looks of approval he was receiving would only double.
Though, if Charlotte Beaumont had anything to say about it, Lucas would have found his wife the moment he inherited the dukedom.
“What do you think of her, Lucas?” She gestured offhandedly with her fan at Lady Tilly and her three daughters, who were seated by one of the ponds.
“I hear Lady Tilly intends for all three of her daughters to debut this year. She is being rather presumptuous, don’t you think? But perhaps you could help her.”
Lucas did not bother looking. He knew Lady Tilly well enough to recall that her three daughters—each a year apart—were tiresome company and not particularly blessed in countenance. Lady Tilly had quite the challenge ahead of her.
“Am I to assist her by relieving her of one of them?” he asked with a sigh.
“It would not be such a terrible match,” Charlotte went on, linking arms with Catherine, who giggled at his tone. “The Tillys are wealthy, and I am certain each comes with a considerable dowry.”
“That would be endearing,” Lucas said, “had I any need of money. Which, as you know perfectly well, I do not.”
“I am merely reminding you of the options before you. It is plain enough that, left to yourself, you would make no effort to find a wife at all.”
“That is because I do not want a wife,” he replied. “At least, not until I must.”
“Oh, do not waste your breath, Aunt Charlotte,” Catherine interjected airily, waving a hand in his direction. “You know as well as I that pressing Lucas never works. If you wish to see him married, you will have to be sly about it.”
Charlotte bent her head toward her niece, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “Do you have a plan, then?”
“Yes, let us hear it,” Lucas said. “Though I doubt there is anything you could contrive that would make me do something I have no desire to do.”
“Oh, you would be surprised, Lucas,” Catherine said with a grin.
He rolled his eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps the outing was not such a terrible idea after all. Though the park was busy, they were spared intrusion; there was little reason to be irritated.
Catherine suddenly halted, gasping in delight. “Is that Henry?” she whispered, wide-eyed.
“Henry?” Charlotte looked around, puzzled. “Do you mean the Viscount of Westbrook?”
“Yes, Lucas’s friend! How do I look? Am I flushed?” She patted her cheeks anxiously, eyes fixed ahead.
Lucas caught his mother’s amused glance. “It appears she’s quite taken with him,” he murmured. “I’m surprised you missed it. They spent half her debut ball exchanging glances.”
“Is that so?” Charlotte’s face brightened. “Catherine, have you been keeping secrets from me? When I asked if any gentleman had caught your eye, you said nothing of Henry. Would you like to go and greet him?”
“Too late,” Lucas said under his breath. “He’s seen us.”
Henry was indeed trudging over, flexing his hands at his side as if bracing himself for the interaction.
Lucas could tell that his friend was nervous, even more so when he stopped in front of Catherine and she flashed him a broad, welcoming smile.
He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, his mouth opening but no words coming out.
“It is a pleasure to see you again, Lord Westbrook,” Charlotte quickly said, filling the silence. “His Grace tells me you were in Bath all this time?”
“Ah—yes, Your Grace.” Henry looked grateful for the rescue. “I returned only recently. And I had the honour of meeting Miss Beaumont a few days ago.”
“Was it truly an honour, my lord?” Catherine asked sweetly, tilting her head. “You have not called upon me once since, though I have been looking out for you.”
Henry flushed scarlet. “Forgive me, Miss Beaumont. I have been uncommonly busy these past few days. I have scarcely had a moment to myself.”
“Then it is fortunate we have time now,” Catherine said brightly. She took a step closer and extended her hand toward the path with a look of clear expectation. “Shall we?”
Henry hesitated only a moment before offering his arm. Catherine accepted it with a triumphant little smile as they began to stroll ahead.
Lucas watched, amused, as his friend allowed himself to be led away. He and the Dowager Duchess hung back a few paces to give the pair some privacy.
“I see Henry has not changed in the least,” Charlotte remarked, smiling.
“If anything, Catherine makes him even more flustered than usual. And I believe she delights in it.”
“She has always been a peculiar child,” Charlotte said fondly. “Most young ladies prefer a more commanding gentleman. Someone like you, for instance. I am sure one of Lady Tilly’s daughters would—”
“I have no interest in any of Lady Tilly’s daughters,” he cut in quickly.
“Then what of Miss Rachel? She is a dear girl.”
“She hardly says two words,” Lucas said.
“Which should suit you perfectly, given your dislike of conversation. The two of you could retire into blissful seclusion together!”
He frowned at her. “And that would not bother you?”
“Not in the least. Once you are married and have produced an heir, there is no further need to parade yourself about London if you do not wish it.”
Lucas sighed. He was clearly fighting a losing battle.
“And,” Charlotte continued, “now that I think on it, you would do quite well away from London’s pressures. But—my, is that not Lady Trenton?”
Lucas halted, his heart tripping over itself.
It was for just a brief moment, hopefully brief enough for his mother not to notice—though he doubted that.
But he wasn’t focused on his mother right now, though he was certain she was staring at him as he scanned the area.
If Lady Trenton was out and about, then that must mean. ..
The moment his eyes landed on her, he forgot how to breathe.
It had been so long since he’d seen Elowen in the light of day, and he’d almost forgotten the radiance of her beauty.
Under the warm glow of chandeliers, surrounded by powdered faces and upturned noses, she was a rose among thorns.
But, as she calmly meandered along the path, heading directly towards them, Lucas couldn’t help but admire her ethereal grace, like an angel on earth.
“Miss Tremaine!”
Catherine’s excited squeal drew the attention of those nearby.
Lucas noticed the exact moment Elowen stiffened and watched the way she pulled her shoulders back, tucked away her wariness, and plastered a smile onto her face as Catherine hurried over, all but towing Henry along beside her.
Lucas just barely remembered to unstick his feet from the ground to approach from behind.
“Good day, Miss Beaumont,” he heard Elowen say as he approached.
She looked at the older woman next to her, who was the spitting image of Elowen with only fine lines around her mouth and streaks of white through her auburn hair.
“Mother, this is Miss Beaumont—Catherine. She is the cousin and ward of the Duke of Beaushire and we met at the ball three days ago. Miss Beaumont, my mother, the Lady Trenton.”
“But please, call me Margaret,” the baroness said with a warm smile. “Elowen has told me all about you, Miss Beaumont.”
Catherine brightened visibly while Elowen shrank. “Has she?” she chirped. “I hadn’t realised that I’d made such an impression.”
“Well, Elowen does not have many friends, you see—”
“And that may not be entirely my fault, Mother,” Elowen cut in, cutting a warning glare in her mother’s direction. But Margaret Tremaine only laughed, clearly unbothered by the look in her daughter’s eyes.
It was one of the things he’d loved most about Lady Trenton.
He’d met her only once before, and he’d quickly learned that she was the sort of lady who did not care to mince her words, who said exactly what was on her mind in the most endearing and down-to-earth manner possible.
It was rather refreshing to see that she was still the same despite the scandal that hung over their heads.
Lady Trenton turned her attention to Lucas and Charlotte with that same warm smile. As did Elowen, though her smile was simply polite. Lucas tried not to stare at her.
“Why, it is good to see you, Your Graces,” Lady Trenton greeted, sinking into a graceful curtsy, with Elowen dipping beside her. “You are out enjoying a family stroll, I see.”
“It is nice to see you again, Lady Trenton,” said Charlotte kindly. She had always spoken well of the Tremaines, though to Lucas’s knowledge, they had never been especially close. “Are you out for the same purpose?”
“Yes. I was longing for some fresh air,” Lady Trenton replied with a light laugh. “I quite had to drag Elowen out with me, or I should have been forced to promenade alone.”
They all laughed at that—even Henry. Only Elowen remained quiet, her gentle smile unmoved, and Lucas found himself far too absorbed in watching her to follow the conversation.
“And what of Lord Trenton?” Catherine asked. “Was he not inclined to join you?”
Lady Trenton’s smile softened. “My husband has been rather unwell of late. But rest assured, I intend to persuade him to come with us next time.”
“Do let us know when that will be,” Charlotte said warmly. “Perhaps we might accompany you.”
“Yes!” Catherine exclaimed. “The more the merrier, after all. Wouldn’t you agree, Lord Westbrook?”
“If I say no?” Henry asked, smiling.
“Then I shall be obliged to leave you behind.”
There was a pause—then Henry said with mock gravity, “The more the merrier, then,” which earned a ripple of laughter.
Except from Elowen. And from Lucas.
He could scarcely pay attention to the chatter.
Some distant part of his mind registered that their parties had agreed to walk together, but his focus remained elsewhere—on Elowen’s quiet composure, on how her gaze darted now and then toward the murmuring passers-by. He knew precisely why she did it.
And though he had no right, he felt the sudden, powerful urge to protect her—from the stares, from the whispers, from the unkind scrutiny of the world.
So instead, he simply fell into step beside her—telling himself that he had no reason to feel so unaccountably nervous.