Chapter Four
Lucas handed off his hat and gloves reluctantly to the young footman as he entered Westchester Manor.
Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to create a worthy excuse to escape the invitation to dine with the Duke of Wimberley and his family and friends after his encounter with Miss Granger.
For as much as Lucas had not wished to come, for formal dinners were usually rather tedious affairs and he had grown to enjoy the tranquility of his reclusive life, he also couldn’t quell his desire to see the beautiful Ophelia Granger again.
While he knew he should not have developed such a keen interest in her, the truth was he already had.
So much so that he’d thought of her quite often in the two days between their first meeting and this evening’s dinner.
There was something hopeful and light about her that had brought him unexpected…
joy. Something he had not felt in some time.
He hoped to feel the same way again this evening.
If he didn’t, this dinner would be quite trying.
He could only hope for the best.
He smoothed his hair and rolled his shoulders.
He could delay no longer and took his first step through the hallway.
The interior of the manor was warm and inviting with tasteful décor that showed the wealth of its occupants without being too boastful.
Soft pastels and warm golds graced the walls and moldings and lush rugs covered portions of the polished hardwood floors.
He followed the footman to the parlour where the members of the family had gathered and were moving about the room, chatting in front of the hearth where a low-burning fire helped to cut the chill of the autumn evening.
The faint but delicious scent of baked bread and roasted meat carried through the air.
Evidently, they would be eating soon, and his stomach gave a low rumble of approval.
He stood at the doorway as the footman announced his arrival.
‘Lord Worthing has arrived, Your Grace.’
The announcement silenced the chatter in the room, and they all turned to look upon him.
And for the second time, the mere sight of Miss Ophelia Granger stilled him.
Evidently, her beauty was not an illusion during his first encounter with her, but a fact he needed to let go of.
He had no need of her matchmaking services for a wife, even though his mind wished to talk him into it in order to spend more time with her.
Was he coming down with something or it was just…her that made him feel so unlike himself?
‘Good evening, Your Graces,’ he said nodding to the Duke and Duchess, before continuing his greetings to Lady Buchanan, Miss Hastings and Miss Granger. To their credit, the awkward pause and lingering gazes at his facial scarring were brief before the greetings continued.
‘We are pleased you joined us, my lord,’ Her Grace replied with a smile, regaining her sense of propriety first.
‘Especially since it is not a Wednesday,’ Lady Buchanan quipped.
Rather than allowing himself to be annoyed by the barb she had lobbed at him quite early, he took her jest in stride.
Evidently, Miss Granger had shared some of his preferences.
A thread of annoyance unraveled in him, but he squelched it quickly.
Although he did not know Lady Buchanan, he knew ladies like her.
If he showed annoyance, she would continue to draw blood.
If he laughed at himself and her quip, she would soon seek out a new target.
He reined in his expression to be as neutral as he could muster.
‘Quite, Lady Buchanan. I was surprised I agreed as well. While the gossip sheets are not usually accurate, I admit to being rather reclusive. I made an exception this evening, to ensure Miss Granger was well after her…adventures of the other day.’
‘I am quite well, my lord,’ Miss Granger replied.
‘And again, I appreciate you intervening on my behalf. It was quite chivalrous of you.’ Her words were as delicate as she looked in her soft goldenrod gown.
The shade of it complemented her flaxen hair and made her appear ethereal, like the fairy or angel he’d believed her to be in his carriage that morning in the sunshine, or perhaps it was simply the kiss of the candlelight.
Or maybe he was just acting like a besotted fool, he thought cynically.
He cleared his throat, cursing himself.
Do not be a dolt. You are a viscount. Act like one.
The dinner bell chimed, and he almost sighed aloud with relief.
The interruption meant at least they would soon be doing something other than engaging in small talk, as eating naturally hindered it to a degree.
Such conversation was tedious when one had little to talk about, and his life was a small one.
He hoped his hosts would be more adept at filling the voids that would surely arise.
They fell into pairs behind the Duke and Duchess, with Lucas escorting Lady Buchanan into the dining room.
Lucas held his breath for another barb. He was surprised by her silence and the solitary sympathetic smile she directed at him.
Perhaps he would not be devoured this evening but merely studied and gawked at like an exotic creature in the Royal Menagerie at the Tower.
He smirked at his own comparison. As they settled in their seats, guided by the Duchess’s place cards, Lucas was pleased to find himself across from Miss Granger.
She settled her hands across her lap and glanced up, the candlelight dancing upon her skin, and as he met her brilliant blue gaze, he wondered if he had ever seen a more beautiful woman.
But hadn’t he thought the same of Rebecca the first moment he saw her?
He had.
His stomach soured, and he dropped his gaze.
That fateful night at the ball in Mayfair.
One he hadn’t even wished to attend, but he had gone to please his mother, who had been too ill to make an appearance.
He could still remember how pleased she had been to hear of his joy at meeting Rebecca Faust and at the thought of a match with a family from such a heady lineage.
His stomach clenched at the memory, and he studied the shiny silver forks beside his plate, letting his finger skim along one of the glimmering tines.
He would do well to remember the pain of losing such love and attraction and the fact that Miss Granger would not think of him as a suitor. He had been handsome once, but now?
Now he was a monster.
He spied a reflection of himself in the silver tureen of soup before him. His scarred features were even more exaggerated and grotesque in the curve of the surface of it, and he cringed and looked away. He could hardly stand to look upon himself. How could anyone else bear it?
Furthermore, how would he survive this dinner? He had only just arrived and all he wished to do was flee.
‘Have you lived in London all of your life, my lord?’
Startled from his dark thoughts, Lucas looked up and met Miss Granger’s encouraging smile and bright eyes awaiting his answer.
Even though he didn’t deserve it, the young woman could be his boon and refuge from this awkward meal, but he would have to dare accept her help.
She nodded to him as if to let him know he was somehow safe with her here.
He cleared his throat and replied, grateful for her kindness. ‘Yes, I have. I grew up not far from here in Barnett House with my parents, who have both since passed away.’
‘You have no other family?’ the Duke asked before taking a sip of wine.
That familiar ache gained traction in his chest. ‘Not really. I do have some cousins far removed, but both of my parents lost their siblings to war and illness when they were not much older than I am now. It has made our family a rather small circle, I’m afraid.’
‘I understand. If not for my cousin here,’ His Grace replied, smiling at Lady Buchanan, ‘I would not have survived the loss of my first wife and parents. Just when I believed all was lost, along came Hattie and now, suddenly, our once small family is growing.’
‘That is lovely to hear, Your Grace,’ Lucas replied. And he meant it. He had always been one to cheer for those at a disadvantage, wanting the best for those struggling the most.
The Duke shook his head. ‘I do not say it to brag, Lord Worthing, but to encourage. I know…’ he paused ‘…the gossip sheets have enjoyed berating you, but do not count yourself out yet. Things can change in the blink of an eye.’
His Grace’s words startled Lucas. Such kindness and vulnerability he had not expected from a man unknown to him and in such a high station. It took him a beat to recover before he nodded and replied, ‘I shall remember that. Thank you.’
The dinner was brought out, severing the moment.
As their attention shifted to the servers and the dishes they held ready for dispersal, Lucas paused and caught Miss Granger’s heavy appraisal of him.
He held her stare for the briefest of moments and in her gaze, he saw a flicker of understanding, as if she too knew what it meant to want something so terribly that you dared not want it at all, for fear of disappointment.
As he nodded to the footman to place a ladle of boiled potatoes with sauce upon his plate, he wondered if he and Miss Granger longed for the same things. Could it be that a matchmaker yearned for love and happiness yet feared it as much as he?
Or was it merely another trick of the candlelight?
The evening ended far more quickly than he had expected, and despite all his misgivings, he’d almost had fun.
Almost. The conversation and discussions had been lively, the food divine, the company engaging and the ease of it all had surprised him.
Perhaps there were people he could enjoy and spend time with just as Diana had implied.
Was this the beginning of his first small step back into Society and the world?
As he shrugged on his coat and gave his goodbyes, he wondered if this would be his first visit to Westchester Manor or his last. He looked up to find Miss Granger holding his hat and gloves in her hand rather than the footman.
The rest of the evening’s party was further down the hall but still within sight.
His pulse skipped, uncertain of what her next action might be.
‘Thank you again, my lord, for coming to my rescue the other day…and for being here tonight. I know you said you do not enjoy such outings, or people, for that matter, but I appreciate you making such an effort. It meant a great deal to me…to us,’ she amended hastily.
She handed him his hat and gloves, and for the briefest of moments, his bare hand skimmed the inside of her silk glove–encased wrist, sending a trill of desire through him that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
‘About this matchmaker service of yours,’ he began, before he could stop the words from spilling from his lips.
What was he doing?
He was not ready for any such step. Not really. He was being a fool.
A fool for her.
‘Yes, my lord,’ she answered with an eager smile.
‘How…how is it faring?’ he stumbled, unable to ask what he had wanted to but a moment ago. It was too daring. Too much of a risk.
Her shoulders drooped and she shifted on her feet, her disappointment apparent. ‘Still getting the word out.’
‘It is early days,’ he answered, setting his hat upon his head and donning his gloves. ‘I am sure it will be a success.’
That small trill in his body was still there, but he ignored it. He wasn’t ready.
Hell, he might never be.
‘Yes,’ she replied clutching her hands at her waist with a tight smile, although the words didn’t quite reach her eyes as truth. ‘Yes. I am sure you are right.’
‘Well, do not lose hope, Miss Granger. As the Duke said, “Things can change in an instant.”’
‘Yes,’ she replied before he turned to leave. ‘I know they can.’
But could he? Could he change?
That was the biggest question of all.
For now, he would ignore the pull of desire to find a match and begin that new life Diana had challenged him to explore.
He wasn’t ready for any sort of attachment or countenance the idea of looking for a wife, not even with a matchmaker as lovely and breathtaking as Miss Granger.
He was still too scared to lose everything, even if all he had was the small, safe life he had managed to salvage as the beast.