Chapter Ten
“My sister does not like you at all, Your Grace. You stand no chance at courting her.”
Lucas raised a brow at William. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to learn that bluntness runs in the family.”
William chuckled, swirling the last of the whiskey Henry had poured him earlier.
Nearly an hour had passed since they had retired to the drawing room after dinner, and the evening was beginning to wind down.
Catherine had performed several numbers on the pianoforte—each one, apparently, dedicated to her new dearest friend, Elowen.
Now the two ladies sat together by the window, speaking quietly, while the others conversed in the centre of the drawing room.
Lucas had pulled William aside, and it seemed the young man assumed he wished to speak with him about courting his sister.
Even though that wasn’t what he’d intended to speak about, he couldn’t help himself from asking, “And what makes you so certain that I could not win her over, were I to make the attempt?”
William’s eyes sparkled with humour. “Because I know my sister better than anyone. And once she has written a person off, there is no hope of getting back into her good graces.”
“You speak as if you have witnessed it many times.”
“Many?” William shook his head. “Elowen does not permit people to get close enough for it to happen many times—and in recent years, she has grown still more guarded. Ever since… well, you know.”
He was honestly surprised William was even making mention of it. The rest of the family never so much as brushed against the subject—the ever-present spectre of their disgrace. He could hardly blame them; few in their position would.
But William was quickly proving himself to be very unlike his family. While Lucas could attribute some of Elowen’s seriousness to her father, he didn’t think Lady Trenton was nearly as carefree as her son was.
“On the other hand,” William went on, “it seems she has taken quite a liking to your cousin.”
“Does she?” Lucas found himself glancing toward the window. Catherine’s lips hadn’t stopped moving, and Elowen nodded occasionally, composed as ever.
“She would have excused herself long ago if she hadn’t,” William said, chuckling. “I think it is best that you give up, Your Grace.”
“One would assume you would be encouraging me, if that were truly my intention.”
“Encourage you?” William’s grin widened. “I am trying to spare you the injury to your pride, Your Grace. No one delivers a sharper blow than my dear sister—and I say that with the utmost affection. Besides,” he added more quietly, “I should wish her to marry for happiness, not obligation.”
“Many ladies in her position do not have much of a choice.”
“I fear she may not either. Everyone in my family seems to think so. But one of us must keep our head in the clouds, and I am happy to volunteer.”
He drained the last of his whiskey, then turned to Lucas with renewed energy. “Here I am, burdening you with all my family’s woes—and this is our first real conversation. Yet somehow, it feels as though I’ve known you longer than an evening.”
Lucas nodded. “Lord Trenton, I take it.”
“Precisely, Your Grace. He spoke of you yesterday when I returned home, and has not stopped since. You are held in the highest esteem.”
“No higher than he holds you, I’m sure,” Lucas said. “In fact, that is the reason I wished to speak with you alone.”
William’s easy smile faltered. “Was this not about my sister?”
“Believe it or not, I do not intend to court Miss Tremaine—lovely as she may be.”
“Oh, good!” William laughed. “No harm then. So, what is this about?”
Lucas shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling that he was lying, focusing on the matter at hand. “It is a rather delicate topic, I’m afraid. I do not wish to get into it here, but I wanted to bring it to your attention.”
“I’m all ears, Your Grace.”
“It concerns what happened to your father—and to mine. I have reason to believe the accusations against Lord Trenton, and the circumstances of my father’s death, are connected.”
William straightened, all trace of levity gone. “You believe the accusations to be false?”
“Entirely. Your father is an honourable man. He would never have done what they claim.”
“You are in the minority, Your Grace. You would be surprised how many of his friends and colleagues turned their backs on him once the scandal broke.”
“Likely men who were told to do so. By whomever is pulling the strings in the background.”
“My thoughts exactly,” William agreed. “There was certainly corruption afoot—of that I am certain—but not by my father’s hand. I only wish I knew why they chose him as their scapegoat.”
“Whoever it is, they were willing to kill someone over it.” Lucas lowered his voice even further, even though he was certain that he couldn’t be overheard. “It would be best if Lord Trenton was not aware of our investigation. I do not wish to trouble him further.”
“Father has launched his own investigation, Your Grace. He is as determined to uncover the truth as we are.”
“Despite his waning health?”
William crossed his arms, fingers digging into his skin. “And against my counsel.”
“We should keep this between ourselves all the same.”
“As you wish, Your Grace. I am sure you would be able to uncover far more with your connections than I ever could.”
Lucas let out a breath of relief he hadn’t realised he had been holding. “Thank you.”
“It is I who should be thanking you.” And just like that, the grin was back. “First, I learn that you have no designs on my sister; and now this. All in all, this has been a rather fruitful evening.”
Lucas smirked. “Are you so opposed to the idea of my interest in her?”
“If it is any consolation, Your Grace, I was impressed by how well you managed to hold your own against her this evening. But she’s always been cynical, and the way the ton has treated us has only made her worse. I do not know if there is anyone capable of tearing down the walls she has built up.”
They looked at Elowen at the same time and, as if she sensed the weight of their eyes, glanced in their direction. Even from a distance, he saw the tiny twitch of her brows as if she was trying not to scowl.
“For her sake, though,” William went on. “I rather hope there is.”
***
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Catherine asked, leaning in to whisper even though they were far enough away from everyone else that they would not have been overheard if she’d spoken normally.
Elowen lifted one shoulder. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“I think it’s about you.”
It took all her effort not to react. She had, in truth, suspected the same—though she could not imagine why. She had been careful not to glance at her brother and the Duke, who were speaking quietly on the far side of the room. She did not trust herself not to stare.
“I doubt that,” she replied, knowing Catherine needed little encouragement to continue.
She’d spent the past twenty minutes explaining to Catherine why she much preferred Benjamin West’s collection to that of Krauffman.
To Elowen’s surprise, she found Catherine’s chatter almost pleasant—a feat few others could have managed.
“I know my cousin,” Catherine went on eagerly. “And I cannot help noticing that he has been acting rather oddly ever since my debut ball. He seems to value your opinion.”
“Perhaps he has simply realised that I hold valuable opinions,” Elowen said dryly.
Catherine giggled. “Perhaps—but I do not think that is the extent of it. I believe he—”
“Again, Miss Beaumont, I doubt that is the case.”
Catherine’s expression turned thoughtful, her head tilting. “Do you wish to be married, Miss Tremaine?”
“Which lady does not?”
“More than you might think. I, for one, should like to marry—but only for love. A prospect which many assure me is nearly impossible in London.” Her eyes brightened. “You, however, seem not to care for marriage, whether for love or convenience.”
Elowen hesitated. She did wish to be married—though she rarely admitted it, even to herself. But she had long accepted that some women were simply not meant for happiness in marriage. She had already resigned herself to being one of them.
“I mean no offence,” Catherine went on quickly. “I’m only curious.”
Elowen studied her companion properly for the first time.
Catherine’s face glowed with the ease of someone untouched by hardship.
She might not have been without her own sorrows, but she was still the charming, beloved ward of the Duke of Beaushire—young, beautiful, and bound to have a dozen proposals before the Season was out.
Elowen expected none. She attended the Season merely to appease her hopeful parents.
“I do wish to be married,” she said at last—and realised with a start that it was the first time she had ever said the words aloud. “But I know better than to presume I shall.”
“Why wouldn’t you? You are very pretty, and far more intelligent than most ladies of the ton.”
“Beauty and intelligence only go so far, Miss Beaumont. In most cases, not quite far enough to reach the altar—unless one possesses the former to excess and none of the latter.”
Catherine raised her brows slightly. “How surprisingly pessimistic of you, Miss Tremaine.”
“Surprisingly?”
“Yes, surprisingly.” Catherine explained no further, studying Elowen as if she was an enigma she was trying to understand.
Elowen didn’t particularly care for it, especially since Catherine was not the only one who seemed to want to peel back the many layers she’d draped over herself. The other one was standing across the room, whom she was trying her best to ignore.
“Enough about me,” Elowen tried to escape. “Tell me about you and Lord Westbrook.”
Catherine pouted. “That is hardly fair. I cannot be expected to gush about Henry if you will not tell me a word about your own prospects.”
“Because there are none.”
“What of Lord Cherrington? And Lucas clearly wishes to be one as well.”
“We are back to that again?”