As he helped Freddie down, he enjoyed the feel of her warm, small hand in his, while also vaguely noting the absence of the spark he had felt moments before. Perhaps Alex was a witch.
It would certainly explain a few things.
“Thank you,” Freddie breathed, still staring at him in wonder.
Lucien basked in her appreciative gaze for another moment as he slowly released her hand. “My pleasure.”
Then she hesitated. “And I shall see you tonight, then?”
Lucien’s breath hitched. She still wanted him there. Even though he was only little Lucien Taylor. The son of the help. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“I believe your father is waiting for you in his quarters,” Alex cut in with barely veiled impatience. “Shall I show you the way?”
Lucien’s jaw tightened as he released Freddie’s hand and shot Alex a glance. She made no attempt to hide her disapproval, which bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
“No need, Miss Atkinson,” he replied crisply. “I could never forget my place here.”
Lucien didn’t wait for her reply as he adjusted his satchel and headed toward the carriage house. Back to where he belonged.
Two
Alex’s gaze lingered on Lucien Taylor’s figure until he disappeared round the bend toward the carriage house. He had grown considerably since she last saw him, with the kind of broad shoulders and lean form that naturally drew the eye, while his golden-brown hair was just a little too long to be respectable—though given that he had been living among the Bohemians in Paris, that was likely the point. One which was further emphasized by the small gold hoop in his right earlobe. But while his face still retained a hint of chubby-cheeked boyishness, it was tempered by the edge of world-weariness in his hazel eyes. The kind that spoke of experiences one could not find in Bunbury.
“I still don’t believe it’s him,” Freddie marveled as she stared after him. “Lucien.”
Alex frowned at the blatant interest in her sister’s eyes. This would not do. “I don’t see what’s so hard to believe.”
Freddie turned to her, incredulous. “Are you joking?”
“He’s certainly taller now. And bigger,” Alex acknowledged. “But I wouldn’t go as far to say he isunrecognizable. You just never really noticed him before.”
Freddie looked offended. “I most certainly did! We were playmates.”
“But you never saw him as anything more than that.”
And certainly not anyone worth ogling, though Alex kept that thought to herself.
At that moment the memory of young Lucien angrily wiping away stubborn tears surfaced. It had been the night of her mother’s birthday party and Alex had come across him en route to the summer house where she was searching for Freddie to stop her from doing something incredibly stupid and inconveniently irreversible. Meanwhile, the shy, sweet boy had been crushed by the actions of her careless and completely oblivious sister.
Lucien’s hopeless infatuation had long been obvious even to Alex, who usually didn’t concern herself with matters of the heart. For years she had never understood how he could feel so much for a girl who offered him so little in return. Until Alex had been foolish enough to offer her own affections to an unworthy suitor. Until she, too, had been hoodwinked by her own heart.
You need to go somewhere far, far away from here, she had told him that night.Somewhere you can be whomever you want.
And, by God, he had done just that.
Only last fall she had learned through servant gossip and her own discreet inquiries that his traveling supper club had been the toast of Paris with a waiting list filled with everyone from artists to aristocrats—until it had fallen quickly, and completely, apart. Still, Alex knew very well just how difficult it was to accomplish what he had. Lucien had managed to create and execute a novel business in the avant-garde capital of the world. Privately, she was convinced it was only a matter of time before he came up with something even better.
Now Lucien had returned to lick his wounds and visit with his ill father. It should be nothing more than a short detour on apromising career path. But if the scene she had interrupted earlier was any indication, he was in great danger of veering off the path entirely and sinking into a Freddie-shaped quagmire.
Meanwhile,actualFreddie looked primed to argue before she promptly shut her mouth and turned back toward the direction of the carriage house. The corner of her mouth curved. “Well, then, I suppose I’m seeing him now.”
“Freddie,” Alex warned. “You know very well that the Ericsons will be in attendance tonight.”
They were a wealthy American family interested in investment opportunities in England, and Alex had made it her personal mission to ensure they partnered with Atkinson Enterprises. That would help the company make greater inroads in New York society and be a huge coup for her professionally. That Hank Ericson Jr., the eldest son and heir apparent, had been pursuing Freddie since the spring also weighed heavily in their favor, but the man was beginning to grow impatient with her laissez-faire approach to courtship. It seemed as though everyone except Freddie was waiting on their engagement. But in the years since her debut, she had left a trail of broken hearts that stretched from Bunbury to the Continent. And since she had no interest in joining the family business, that left the business of getting married. Freddie would not charm her way out of this one. At least, not without a more compelling reason thanboredom.
“Not to worry, dear sister,” she said sweetly, albeit with a thick layer of sarcasm. “I know very well that nothing is more important to you than maintaining your business relationships, and I won’t do anything that could possibly jeopardize them.”
“That’s not what I—”
