Page 80 of Forget Me Not

The possibility that what she thought held that much sway with him was flattering, but it also worried her. If he were mistreated or made to feel a fool for doing something to appease her oddities, it might very well snap this fragile thread between them. He, after all, had worried from the very beginning that her lack of polish and Social experience would prove an embarrassment.

“Are you certain?” she asked. “I don’t wish for you to have a miserable evening. If we are the only two who are unpowdered...”

He smiled at her kindly. “We won’t be.”

“How can you know that? Suppose we, alone, eschew the affectation.”

“I happen to know of several other quite fashionable young gentlemen who will be arriving unpowdered this evening.”

From across the carriage, Kes dipped his head the tiniest bit, and Digby bowed at the waist from his seated position.

“You would do that for Lucas?” she asked.

“No,” Kes said.

Digby’s smile was as dazzling and charming as ever. “We would, however, willingly and happily do almost anything foryou.”

That pleased her almost beyond words. Warmth enveloped her very heart. She leaned against Lucas once more, an unexpected peace settling over her. Life was changing, but she was feeling equal to it. Lucas was walking this path with her. He wanted her in his life, part of the adventures he so often spoke of. She had ample reason for optimism. Her nervousness hadn’t entirely dissipated, but she felt comforted and calm.

As the carriage passed into the thickness of Falstone Forest, Lucas kept her arm through his, his hand on hers. The gentlemen chatted amicably, something she’d discovered they did almost ceaselessly, no doubt the result of so many years of deep and abiding friendship.

“You will not wish to miss your first glimpse of Falstone Castle,” Digby said. “It is impressive.”

She slid to the carriage window and looked through the glass. Lucas moved as well, watching from close behind her. After a time, they turned a bend, and stone towers rose up among the trees. Heraldic flags flew from the many towers. The tall, surrounding wall didn’t detract from the splendor of the edifice. Digby was correct: Falstone Castle was impressive.

“I’m not certain I am grand enough to be a guest in such a place,” Julia said.

“You are,” Lucas whispered.

She carried that reassurance with her as she was handed down from the carriage some five minutes later. Lucas took her arm as soon as he too alighted. They, along with the Gents, walked through the front doors into the entry hall—large, wide, and grand.

Lucas led her to a very regal family, their hosts, no doubt. His Grace was a large man, physically intimidating but with kindness in his expression. Her Grace could not possibly have been more elegant. Her clothes were in the absolute first state of fashion. Her coiffure spoke of utter perfection—powdered, of course. She would have been a little formidable if not for the eager, sincere sparkle of welcome and excitement in her eyes.

It was, however, their son who pulled Julia’s attention. He was likely no more than six or seven years old. His sweet face was terribly scarred on one side, a literal web of wounds. What had happened to the poor child?

He did not appear to be in any pain, neither did he otherwise appear to be injured nor the recipient of current mistreatment. His posture was sure and confident, but his blue eyes showed much the same nervousness she felt. It lent his expression an unmistakable air of shyness. How her heart went out to him.

“Lord Aldric,” the Duke of Kielder greeted. “Mr. Layton, a pleasure to see you both again.”

Bows and curtsies were exchanged. Aldric, being the higher ranking of the two gentlemen already acquainted with the duke and duchess, undertook the necessary introductions.

The little boy was Lord Falstone, but the name didn’t suit him. He was so tiny to be a Lordanything. She knew, of course, that infants were born lords—Lucas had been, after all—but she felt such an urge to pull the little boy into her arms and sing him a lullaby. One did not do that with a lord.

“Lord Falstone.” Lucas bowed formally to the little boy.

He copied the extremely correct bow, his expression every bit as ducal as his father’s and, somehow, even more impressive. “Lord Jonquil,” his little-boy voice greeted in reply.

“When do you begin your time at Eton?” Lucas asked.

“Never,” little Lord Falstone answered quite seriously. “We are a Harrow family.”

Lucas kept his expression somber, but Julia could see the mirth in his eyes. “I don’t think I can stay here after all.” He made a show of turning to leave.

“We can forgive your educational preferences,” the duchess called after him, laughter ringing in her voice. “I doubt your wife will forgive you if you leave before the ball.”

Especially if he left her without a word of warning or a moment’s discussion. He’d once done that often and without regret. She didn’t think he would anymore. She trusted he wouldn’t.

That realization startled her. She didn’t trust easily, but she was coming to trusthim.

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