“Your Grace, Lord Owen Radcliffe is here.”
“Send him in,” Graham said.
Moments later, Owen strode in, grinning. “Well, good morning Blackthorns. If it is not the most spoken about family of the ton.”
Graham shot him a warning glare.
“I did see the gossip column,” Owen said, his voice growing softer. “And I wished to pose a ride through Hyde Park, Graham. I wondered if you might need some fresh air after… well, everything that was touched on in the column.”
He was on his feet in seconds, breathing a relieved, “yes,” as he bid his mother and sister farewell. They could spin themselves into a frenzy if they wished but he would not sit idly by and wait for gossip to ruin him all over again.
And he would not hide. Not right now. Not when that was what everybody likely expected him to do.
CHAPTER SIX
Hyde Park was beautiful beneath the morning sun, with lush greens on display for miles. Amelia and Eleanor walked down a wide path that ended in a small bridge over water. Around them, eyes kept flicking to her and then away.
That is not so unusual, she reminded herself.For they looked at me, as the eldest Hawthorne daughter with two failed Seasons in her repertoire. Except now they have even further reason to stare.
She tried to ignore the stares and focus on the ladies in their fine dresses, and the gentlemen strolling through their morning constitutionals. Children ran across the grass, laughing and playing with sticks, chasing one another. It was a beautiful sight, one she needed after the tension in the breakfast hall only an hour before.
“You must tell me what has you so quiet,” Eleanor probed. “Last night was the most I have seen you speak and laugh in a long, long time, and now you have retreated back into yourself. Did something happen after the ball?”
Amelia shook her head. “I presume you read this morning’s gossip column?”
Eleanor’s steps faltered. “I did. I did not wish to bring it up before you did, however.”
Amelia nodded, understanding. “It cast a lot of tension over my dance with the Duke of Blackthorn… and yet, Eleanor, I can most honestly say that it was the most alive I have felt possibly since my debut. He… Heavens, when he took me into his arms onto the dance floor, I felt as though life had been breathed into me anew. He looked at me as though I was not part of the wall decorations, like so many others. He looked at me as though he saw me—hesawme, Eleanor. We danced, as you observed, and it was utterly sublime. It was precisely as I had envisioned, the embodiment of all I had ever desired when contemplating the most exquisite dance.”
Her cheeks flushed, recalling his closeness. She did not speak of how he had caught her when she had fallen but knew her friend would have seen. The whole ballroom had seen.
“However,” she continued, “there is the matter of his reputation. The scandal sheet spoke at length about the issue of the duel he was involved in, but… I just do not understand. I see the mask that he wears to protect himself but I do not see a murderer, as the rumours claim.”
“You have not known him for very long,” Eleanor murmured, her voice heavy with caution. “He danced with you but you do not yet know him. However, if the dance has made you happy then you must continue to see him. Women have settled for lesser husbands, and…” She paused. “I wonder if this is a chance, nonetheless. I know you have been worried about your prospects dwindling.”
Amelia nodded, shame creeping through her. Her hands clenched together tightly as she sighed. “It is all very confusing, Eleanor.”
“Indeed,” her friend agreed. “I must say I feel rather conflicted myself. I could not help Beatrice’s eyes on me last night when I danced and spoke with Lord Owen. I know what it is that everybody says. I am the daughter of an earl, and he is a viscount. But I enjoyed his company, I believe. We spoke about different dances. He… he laughed with me, and when he looked at me, it was as though nobody else existed. Yet I wonder the same as Beatrice, as perhaps others when they saw us together. How could he enjoy company such as mine?”
“Do not fret,” Amelia urged. “Your company is most sought out, and I understand exactly why Lord Owen would seek you out above others.”
“Do you think he perhaps only asked due to His Grace dancing with you? Perhaps he saw us
standing together and invited me out of pity?”
Amelia’s heart ached at the misery in her friend’s face. “Eleanor, I can assure you it was not pity that drove Lord Owen to ask you to dance. He looked so very happy. I believe you would not have enjoyed a full conversation with him had it only been pity.”
“I have not felt this way before,” Eleanor giggled, her hand clasped over her mouth.
“Me neither,” Amelia agreed. “It is all exciting and confusing in equal measure.”
They walked onwards, over the bridge, and turned the corner, past a cluster of thick trees, and Amelia stopped in her tracks. Her heart clenched, her breaths coming short and fast as she looked at the two familiar men coming towards them. On horseback, they looked imposing, straight-backed, their top hats making them look even more impossibly tall.
Amelia had only seen His Grace beneath the lights of the ballroom chandelier. Now, beneath the bright morning sun, it turned his scar lighter, less noticeable, but it sharpened that keen glare of his that she had noticed at dinner. It had been aimed at Percival last night but now it was aimed as he looked around himself, as though the enemy was everywhere.
Still, her heart kicked into a nervous beat.
Ladies on the path paused, eyeing up the two men, fans already snapped out. Gentlemen nodded as they passed, a sign of respect, only for Amelia to see them turn to one another and whisper as though circulating more rumors.
