Page 64 of The Earl’s Hoyden

He had confessed the truth of it all to Ranford after Lucien and Lady Alison had first appeared in public together and the earl cornered him to ask if he’d gone entirely mad.

There were many days Lucien did feel like a Bedlamite for his decision. Especially in times such as this when Hannah was only a few dozen steps away—when the exquisite force of her presence reminded him of everything he had lost.

“Do excuse me. I’m in need of refreshment,” Ranford said abruptly. In a lower, quieter voice, he added, “Your mother is approaching.”

With that, Lucien’s friend slipped into the crowd, abandoning Lucien to Lady Brightstone’s gloating smirk.

“You have done very well, my son.” She inhaled deeply as she settled beside him, the kind of breath one took when they had completed a difficult job. “Lady Alison will be an ideal addition to our household.”

He had not confessed his situation to his mother. Doubtless, she would be heartbroken when Lady Alison finally ended Lucien’s courtship for a wealthier man with a more noble title. For Lucien’s part, he wished he knew when it might happen so that he could count down the days to his freedom.

“You should have care to mind the duke around your lady.” His mother rested her hands firmly on the polished silver head of her cane. “He seems most interested.”

Lucien could not have been more grateful for that interest but did not say as much aloud. His mother’s focus wandered across the room to Hannah, and her mouth tightened. He tensed, waiting for a biting comment.

“You do not appear concerned about the duke,” Lady Brightstone mused. “However, you do still seem to be very concerned about Miss Bexley.”

Lucien cast a warning glance at his mother and found she watched him carefully with concern lining the thin skin on her forehead. “It’s her you want, isn’t it?” she asked.

The curious manner in which she studied him almost appeared to be affection.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucien replied in a stiff tone. “There will be no further opportunities to pursue something with Miss Bexley. I’m sure that delights you to no end.”

She frowned. “I don’t wish to see you unhappy. I only want what is best for you. But what I thought you needed, who I thought you were…I was wrong.” Her attention shifted back to Hannah once more, her displeasure carving fresh lines onto either side of her mouth. “I have made egregious mistakes.”

Something was not right with Lady Brightstone. Her demeanor had been altered for the last few weeks since the night he defended himself against her. She had been distant, quiet, almost demure. But never before had she acted in such a manner as she did now, nor had she ever admitted to being wrong before. About anything. To anyone.

“Shall I fetch the physician?” Lucien asked hesitantly.

His mother touched his forearm. “You opened the door for me to look at myself, Lucien. And I did not like what I saw. I have been petty and sharp and impossible. When your older brother passed…” She shook her head, still unable to talk about the brother that had died before Lucien was born, an unknown boy to Lucien that he was forbidden from ever mentioning. “I thought if I kept everyone far away, I couldn’t hurt anymore. I did not think of who I might hurt instead.”

She patted his sleeve. “If Miss Bexley is who you want, then you should go to her.”

Lucien put his hand over his mother’s, appreciating the touch of affection. “Thank you.” He couldn’t stop the sigh that followed. “But I am afraid it’s far too late.”

15

There were few things in life more enjoyable than friendship. Once Hannah allowed herself to shrug off the overbearing cape of sorrow, she sincerely did have a grand time during the season.

Despite Elizabeth’s romantic notions that love would seek out Hannah once she stopped looking, it was Lucy’s advice that rang truest of all. Hannah put her focus on spending time with the other ladies, donning her finest gowns and dancing when asked without any expectation for what— or whom—the next waltz may bring.

Though Lucien was also at the social events she attended, she ignored him entirely, and even his very presence with Lady Alison did not trouble her a whit. Or so she liked to tell herself. There were many times in the evenings after the candle by her bed had been snuffed, and she was left in the dark with her thoughts, that she relived the passionate moments they’d shared. Those lonely hours were when the ache of missing him was most poignant.

Lucien was a sore spot in her soul that never seemed to heal.

Fortunately, no one saw that part of her she managed to mask so well.

At least, no one but Mary, who continued to maintain the furrow of worry at her brow whenever she studied Hannah too long. Which was why it was extraordinarily strange that on the morning of Lady Gentry’s ball, as Mary was putting Hannah’s hair up, that she would broach the topic of Lucien.

“I have a friend who is in the employ of Lambert Abbey,” she began.

Hannah immediately stiffened, every muscle locking into place with the need to gird herself from the impact of whatever Mary meant to say.

“Evidently, your Lord Brightstone is exceedingly unhappy.” Mary eased a pin into Hannah’s hair.

Hannah tried to push this thought from her mind. “His contentment is not my concern.” A knot of tension formed at the back of her neck. She hated the gossip about him and had heard plenty in the last few weeks regarding not only Lucien but also Lady Alison. Hannah could stand no more.

Mary twisted another lock of hair, securing it back against the others with a pin. “But as it happens, the reason he—”