Page 58 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

They could not change what had happened. But what if they recast one of the players? What if it hadn’t been Roman who lead Emily out into the night?

The thought struck like lightning. Lyness did not have to accept Roman’s plan—nor yield the narrative to it. It had been a crowded ballroom. While the chandeliers and candelabras had offered plenty of light, it would not be difficult to convince people not to trust what they thought they saw: Lord Hartwell escorting Lady Emily from the assembly rooms.

They could persuade the elite of York that it had been the younger Eastwood brother—Lyness—escorting his beloved out into the night to request her hand in marriage.

The idea turned into a plan. It laid itself out in his mind as clearly as though a map unfurled in front of him. The path he must take already marked.

Roman tilted his head forward again. “You went awfully quiet,” he said. “And you look as though you had a thought. Care to share?”

Not ready to reveal his sudden clarity, Lyness shrugged. He bent to give Athena more of his attention, looking into her large, calm eyes. “There is not much I can say that has not already been said. What you ought to focus on now, Roman, is who would have wanted to tamper with your drink. You have made enemies, certainly—but I cannot think of anyone so bold as to drug you. Who would benefit from such a thing? Why dare attempt to destroy the good standing of a nobleman?”

It was the right thing to say and a far better problem for Roman to fix his thoughts upon than Lady Emily’s reputation.

Roman sat forward, eyes sharpening with righteous anger. Apollo huffed and moved away from the desk, back to the fire. Roman opened his top drawer, withdrew a small notebook, placed it before him, and took up a pencil. Lyness came closer and realized his brother was making a list of names—names he recognized. Men who stood in political opposition to the York Whig party. Roman had made many political enemies, but they were the sort who spoke boldly against him in public and still sat at his table to dine that same evening.

“What will you do to determine who is responsible?” Lyness asked. “Have you a plan?”

“It will not take long to form one,” Roman said firmly. “I will bring my suspicions to those I trust, and with their assistance we can find which blackguard would do such a thing, and ensure he cannot ever commit such an act again.”

Roman bent over the notebook with renewed purpose, already scribbling names with the same intensity he brought to accounts and estate ledgers. His focus narrowed to a single, potent point. “No one endangers a lady in my company without consequence,” he muttered. “We will discover who stands behind this.”

Lyness watched the familiar crease appear between his brother’s brows, the one Roman always wore when he believed he had found a just and noble mission. Good. Let him chase that. Let his honor fix itself on the villain who had dared tamper with his drink.

“That is wise,” Lyness said quietly. “Lady Emily is safe for the moment. You may do the most good by finding the culprit who endangered you both.”

Roman nodded sharply. “Precisely. Her reputation hangs in the balance, but the source of this attack must be rooted out before any further harm is done.” He returned to his list, pencil scratching with grim determination.

Lyness gave Athena one last pat on the head before he stepped back, letting the fire’s glow warm his spine. Roman’s attention was fully claimed, drawn away from Emily’s reputation and pointed squarely toward the enemy he was certain lurked somewhere in York’s political shadows.

Nothing could have pleased Lyness more.

His own plan came again in his mind: delicate, daring, and far too easily executed. The ballroom had been dimmer than Roman remembered. The movements quick. The gossip easily reshaped. And Roman, his wonderful and honorable brother, was now thoroughly occupied hunting a different quarry.

Lyness inclined his head toward his brother. “I will leave you to your work,” he said, steadying the tremor in his voice. “You have a great deal to consider.”

Roman barely acknowledged him, too engrossed in his list.

Good.

Lyness quit the study with a careful, measured step, closing the door softly behind him. And in the quiet corridor, he allowed himself a single, steadying breath.

He would not surrender Emily’s future, or his own, to Roman’s sense of duty. Not when another truth, another possibility, had begun burning clear as the dawn within him.

Chapter Eighteen

August 22nd, 1822

The morning after the ball dawned with a brightness particular to York in August, without fog or clouds to disturb the enjoyment of the day. Lyness Eastwood stood at the window of Hartwell House, in the dining room, watching the faint stir of activity in the street below. Carriages rattled past, servants hurried with baskets of bread or linens, and the distant hum of race-week excitement rippled through the city.

The Sterling family had left a short time ago, all of them exhausted, and Lady Emily leaning heavily on her brother’s arm as he helped her into the carriage. Though he had been awake the whole night through like them, Lyness’s mind stirred with invigorating ideas.

In a few hours, he would ruin everything.

He pressed his palm briefly to the cool window glass. His thoughts tangled, then untangled, then settled into a single, curving line.

Emily deserved better than fear. Better than rumors. Better than being betrothed for honor’s sake. And if he did not act now, Roman would. Roman always chose the honorable path, even when it crushed him.

But Lyness would not let that happen. Not this time. Not with her.