Page 23 of The Penitent Duke
“Your Grace, good evening.”
“Good evening.” Reminding himself to speak civilly despite his ongoing frustration with the presence of thetonaround him – many of whom seemed to be quite determined to look at him but say nothing more – Lucian inclined his head and then took in a breath. “Thank you for the invitation, Lord Falconer.”
“But of course, Your Grace.” The surprise, it seemed, could not be hidden from Lord Falconer’s voice. “I do hope you enjoy the soirée.”
Lucian forced a smile. “If there are to be cards, then I am certain I shall be.”
At this, Lord Falconer directed him to where the card games were going to be played and Lucian took his leave at once, eager to sit down at a table and hide himself away from the prying glances of the other guests. The only reason he was present this evening was because Lady Rosalind’sfather, Lord Fairmont, had stated thathewould be present and hoped that they might have a conversation or two regarding the situation with his daughter. Lucian had not wanted to attend, preferring instead to remain at home for the evening and mull over all that had been shared with him of late but, as he had reminded himself, this was what he ought to do. It was what a respectable gentleman should do instead of simply demanding that an answer be given to him and thus, albeit reluctantly, he had come to Lord Falconer’s soirée.
“Good evening, Your Grace.”
“Good evening, Butterworth, Lucian muttered, looking at the gentleman who was already sitting at the card table, expectantly waiting for others to join him. “Clearly, you are already eager to play, yes?”
“Yes, just as you are, it seems!” Lord Butterworth replied, with a chuckle. “I am not the only one who is less than inclined towards conversation this evening, which I am glad to see.”
With a wry smile, Lucian sat down opposite him in a seat which gave him a full vantage point of the room. He did not want to have his back to the others present, quite sure that there would be a good many whispers about him if he did such a thing. At least here, with the other guests aware that he could see them all, they would be disinclined towards whispers… at least, whispering too obviously.
“How do you fare, Your Grace?” Lord Butterworth inclined his head, observing Lucian with circumspection, as though he were mindful of his query, lest he provoke the ire of the gentleman before him. “I do hope that you have found yourself a little happier? I am glad to see you returned to society for it has been a long time away from society.”
Lucian stiffened, the memories of the last time he had been in society – and happy within it – pouring into him. “Indeed, I have returned,” he muttered, passing one hand over his eyes, determined now to stop any further, prying questions. “That is all I shall say on that matter, however.”
Lord Butterworth flushed red, one finger pulling gently at the collar of his shirt. He coughed, then shrugged but did not say anything more, leaving both Lucian and himself in silence.
For himself, Lucian did not care about the silence. He preferred it over the questions that might otherwise have been asked of him. Aware that Lord Butterworth might soon go and inform the rest of thetonabout how short and sharp he had been, Lucian shrugged inwardly. He still did not really care about his own reputation nor what society thought of him. It was barely a passing thought for, if Lady Rosalind accepted him, then all he had to do was wed her and then return to the estate with his bride.There would be no requirement to linger in London, no need for him to stay in society any longer. Lady Rosalind knew of his reputation already and there was no requirement for him to attempt to hide that from her. Thus, Lucian simply sat back in his chair and waited for which ever other gentlemen might wish to join them for a game of cards, caring nothing for the silence between Lord Butterworth and himself.
“It has been some time since we have been in company together, Your Grace.”
Everything in Lucian’s frame snapped with a tightness which forced him to catch his breath. He could not move, could not turn his head to see who had come into the room from the door just behind him, the one place he had not been able to see. His breathing grew ragged, his strength weakening as his hands gripped the arms of the chair, a loud buzzing in his ears.
“I did not expect to see you in London society,” the voice continued, as Lucian tried to gather himself, attempted to find any semblance of strength with which to evenlookat the gentleman. “But, then again, neither of us have done anything to correspond with each other and, therefore, I suppose that should not be expected.”
“Westlake,” Lucian breathed, closing his eyes tightly for a moment, dragging in air as he finally opened them again and, with sheer force of will, turned his head to look up at the fellow. “Whatever are you doing here?”
Lord Westlake shrugged, an easy smile on his face which Lucian had not expected to see. “I am here to enjoy society, that is all. Why, might I ask, areyoupresent?”
“My cousin has her wedding very soon,” Lucian answered, stumbling over his words just a little. “That is the only purpose for my presence here.” He looked into the face of the gentleman, recalling that the last time he had seen him, Lord Westlake had been a broken man. News of Lady Pearl’s passing had brought Lord Westlake to his knees and Lucian had been too lost in his own grief to be of any comfort. He did not know Lord Westlake particularly well and felt the distance between them even more at this very present moment.
Lord Westlake put a hand to Lucian’s shoulder. “I have startled you, I can see that. I am sorry for it. I did not mean for my presence to upset you.”
“You have not upset me, not in the least!” Lucian exclaimed, trying to smile though it felt fixed and forced. “I am only surprised to see you, that is all. It has been a long time, has it not? I know that things were not in an excellent state between us at that time –” He coughed, his voicerasping now, hands curling into fists as he fought to speak clearly. “It was a trying few months, I know, but I do wish that I had been better able to speak to you. From what I recall, there was very little said between us.” Watching Lord Westlake’s expression, Lucian took in the shadow that passed over the gentleman’s face and immediately regretted what he had said. Perhaps Lord Westlake wished to forget about Lady Pearl’s passing and, in saying what he had, he had brought dark and painful memories to the fore. All the same, Lucian considered in the silence that followed, it was not as though he could remain silent. The only thing that bound them together was Lady Pearl herself and the grief which Lucian knew they both felt keenly still.
“I do hope, Your Grace, that we might leave the past as it is.” Lord Westlake finally spoke but did not smile. “I have decided that my life must have meaning and purpose again and therefore, as I have said, I have come to enjoy society as it is. I do hope that you are going to be able to do the same?”
Lucian said nothing but kept his smile in place.
“Speaking of enjoyment, might I join you for cards?” Lord Westlake asked, gesturing to the table. “There are plenty of seats still available, I can see, though if I sit to play then that might hopefully encourage some others!”
A little surprised at the strange urge to refuse this request, Lucian merely shrugged, glancing to his companion whom, he noticed, was attempting to make it appear as though he had not heard a single word of their conversation given the way his head was a little turned away and gaze darting all across the room.
Lucian rolled his eyes inwardly. “Lord Butterworth?,” he said, a little more loudly than he had meant, making the gentleman start. “Lord Westlake wishes to join us. I presume you have no complaints?”
“Of course not, of course not!” Lord Butterworth exclaimed, gesturing for Lord Westlake to sit down though, Lucian noticed, he satoppositeLucian rather than next to him. “We shall be able to begin a game very soon, I am sure.”
“Very soon,” Lucian murmured, finding the very strange desire to remove himself from the table entirely growing stronger and stronger. He did not do such a thing at all, however, aware of just how demonstrably rude that would appear and how much of a tension it might build between Lord Westlake and himself which was the verylastthing he wanted! Why was he feeling this sense of urgency to remove himself from the game? Was it simply that Lord Westlake’s presence brought him some dreadful memories and, as such, he wanted to avoid the fellow?
“Ah, here is Lord Ulminster come to play with us!” Lord Butterworth exclaimed and, with that, all of Lucian’s thoughts of leaving the game before it began came to a sudden and swift end.
Chapter Ten
