Page 60 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

Mrs. Holly’s brows shot upward. “You, Mr. Eastwood?”

Lyness gave a modest incline of his head. “Naturally. She needed air. As her intended, I did not think it amiss to escort her. The Assembly Rooms grow unbearably hot this time of year. But she was unwell, so I took her home. Mother came as soon as I could get word to her.”

The collective gasp was immediate and deeply satisfying.

His mother choked on her breath as she looked up at him. “Lyness—!” But she recovered with admirable swiftness, years of social training snapping into place. She placed a gloved hand on his arm. “Of course,” she said faintly. “We had…we had hoped to save the announcement for a more appropriate moment.”

Mrs. Rothingham looked as though she had been gifted an elephant and did not know what to do about it. “You are engaged to wed Lady Emily Sterling?”

Keeping his expression mild, Lyness lowered his head. Conveying warmth and a touch of bashfulness as best he could. “Yes. Though word has outrun us, it seems. Lady Emily was overcome last night due to the heat.” He leaned in slightly, the picture of earnest young love. “I took her into the air for her comfort. Nothing more.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Holly said, deflated. “Oh.”

Wonderful. The moment hung in the warm summer air until a familiar voice sliced through it.

“Mr. Eastwood.” Jack Sterling stood a few paces away, his wife at his side. Both wore expressions that suggested they had heard every word.

It was convenient, if unexpected. They had likely attended the event for the same reason Roman sent Lyness. To take the measure of the gossip and decide what to do next.

Nothing could be done about it now. Lyness bowed. “Lady Juniper Sterling, Mr. Sterling.”

Jack’s gaze was sharp as a blade. “I did not think we planned to announce my sister’s engagement in public this soon.” His voice was not-quite steady.

The crowd, sensing something dramatic occurring, moved closer.

Lyness met his eyes without flinching. “I apologize, sir. I merely wished to put our friends, Mrs. Holly and Mrs. Rothingham, at ease. They were distressed about Lady Emily’s absence last evening. Of course, I was grateful I could be by her side until her family arrived to care for her.”

Because he watched them closely, Lyness saw when Lady Juniper’s hand tightened on her husband’s arm, her smile small but unmistakably genuine. “How kind of them. Thank you, ladies. I will pass your concern to my sister-in-law.”

“Yes. Very kind of you both.” Jack’s jaw flexed. “A private conversation, if you please, Eastwood? A family conversation.”

Lyness inclined his head. “Of course.”

Mrs. Holly, who had been drinking in every second, seemed to suddenly remember she had other guests to annoy and scurried off, fan fluttering wildly. Mrs. Rothingham wrinkled her nose at them, but then went on her own way, too.

With a lighter heart now that the most difficult part was done, Lyness took one step forward before his mother caught his sleeve.

“Lyness,” she whispered fiercely, “what have you done?”

He covered her hand with his own, his voice low and steady. “Something necessary, Mother.”

Her eyes searched his face while her own wore confusion, worry, and then, slowly, maternal understanding softened her features. She gave one short nod and stepped back. “I must have that conversation about the Leeds gardener. Do send for me if you need anything at all, Lyness.”

“Thank you.” He squeezed her hand before letting her go to pursue more pleasant conversation. Doubtless, she worried still, but she also seemed to understand there was a great deal at play. And she had been ready to defend Lady Emily herself. That she trusted Lyness to handle it gave him leave to relax a little more.

He fell into step with Jack and Lady Juniper, on the lady’s free side, as they went toward an area in the garden tucked behind a hedge, away from the tables and amusements, where few people stood.

Juniper spoke quietly as they crunched along on the gravel path, barely loud enough for the men to hear. “If you truly care for her, Mr. Eastwood, this is the moment to be brave.”

He did not falter in step or mind. Certainly, not in his heart. “And so I shall strive to be, my lady.”

And then they stood out of sight of most, in as much privacy as could be found at present, where their private reckoning began, and where he defended not only his plan or Emily’s name, but the fragile, powerful hope he had carried for her since the moment he knew was falling in love with her.

Emily had never disliked sunlight before, but the thin beam spilling across the carpet and onto her pillow felt as though it had arrived with opinions. None of them helpful. The sun was far too bright and too awake that afternoon.

Unlike her.

She shifted slightly, wincing when her head throbbed, and realized someone had place a damp cloth on her forehead. The scent of lavender clung to it. Juniper’s doing, surely.