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When his father called later that evening, the discussion between them was brief and disagreeable. Battle lines had been drawn. He would either end his friendship with Harrow or lose all support for his ambitions with regards to Parliament.
Lucas bid his father farewell with the expectation of the latter and the understanding this wasn’t over, that there would be more unpleasantness to come.
As the door closed behind his normally mild-mannered father, he reflected that it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done exactly as he pleased and managed to make it work. Even his trip abroad had worked to his benefit in the end. Not only had he avoided escalating the conflict that had set him on such a course, but the journey had provided him the means to both ingratiate himself with the Crown and enrich himself through profitable investment.
Same as then, his gambler’s mind weighed the risks against the potential gains—only this time, the margin was far slimmer than any he’d previously justified. His mother was right. Regardless of whether he succeeded in this game, Society would always remember his association with Harrow. Whether that was for good or ill depended on the man maintaining plausible deniability concerning his true nature.
But could he count on Harrow’s discretion? After all, he’d managed to catch a glimpse of the truth. What if someone else did, too? It might just as easily have been a servant who’d seen them as himself.
Fingers of apprehension marched across his scalp.
But it’s not as if people don’t already wonder… As long as he wasn’t caught in the act by at least two witnesses willing to testify before a magistrate, however, it was nothing more than gossip. Harrow had many powerful friends who’d clearly decided to turn a deaf ear to the rumors. He had his detractors, too, but they were lesser men.
Lesser men are often envious, ambitious, and cunning. To discount them entirely would be very unwise.
If he was going to continue on this path, he’d have to befriend Harrow in truth and then somehow tactfully warn him to be more careful. In this game, the only one Lucas wanted to see gain the upper hand was himself.
Chapter Eleven
Diana encountered Blackthorn far too many times in the weeks following the picnic.
When the garden gate was repaired, he called to present her with the key, as promised. But it wouldn’t do to simply leave it with a footman. No, he had to be the one to place it in her hands directly, necessitating a conversation.
Two days later, he presented her with tulip bulbs to brighten a corner of her garden she’d complained of being dull. And not just any tulips, but a rare new hybrid, quite coveted. Of course they had at once found her gardener to instruct him as to their immediate placement. They’d chatted for nearly two hours before he left again via the shared gate.
Every few days he’d found an excuse to visit her early in the afternoon, usually bearing some sort of token—a book on growing orchids, some seeds—that, while they couldn’t necessarily be construed as “gifts,” were certainly meant to please.
They met four times at mutually attended balls and danced at least twice at each. Harrow was not neglected at these events, for Blackthorn made it a point to include him in discussions while she danced with other gentlemen.
And then there were the evening card games on Tuesdays and Thursdays to which Harrow had invited him. Westing was there for some, but not all. Some nights there were others from their circle. Blackthorn managed to win them all over with his charm.
Her Tuesday appointment with Minerva was followed by a trip to Fisk’s, since both required new gowns for upcoming events. On the way back, they stopped for refreshment—and who should be at the café but Blackthorn and Westing.
By the time Diana spied them it was too late to alert Minerva and make a tactful retreat—they’d already been spotted. Her stomach dropped, but all she could do was paste a smile on her lips and pray the situation didn’t become too awkward.
Blackthorn’s brows rose high—an unpromising sign—as they were led to a table right beside his. His speculative gaze darted between them as he and Westing rose. “Lady Diana, what a pleasure.”
Careful not to clench her teeth, she did what was expected and turned to her companion. “Minerva, allow me the pleasure of introducing Lords Blackthorn and Westing. My lords, this is my friend, Lady Harrow.”
Blackthorn bowed respectfully. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
“Indeed, my lady,” echoed a suddenly florid Westing, also bowing.
He looked so guilty and abashed it nearly made Diana laugh aloud. In that moment, she knew he’d given ear to the sordid tales concerning herself and Lord and Lady Harrow. She took a modicum of satisfaction in watching him squirm now that the lady stood before him in the flesh.
Minerva, though she also very likely knew the reason for his blush, was the epitome of sweetness and poise. Diana watched as she favored the two men with a disarming smile. “My husband speaks highly of you both. I’m so pleased to finally meet you.”
Now Blackthorn had the good grace to flush, too, though only a little. He gestured toward the table behind him. “Would you and Lady Diana care to join us? We only just arrived, ourselves, and there is plenty of room.”
Diana knew Minerva would say yes. Their tables were so close they might as well. As her friend agreed, she resigned herself to what was sure to be at least an hour of awkward conversation.
Making small talk while her protector’s wife looked on with curious eyes was enough to cure Diana of any desire for food, but she nonetheless made herself nibble at a scone and sip her tea. They spoke of upcoming balls, and Blackthorn told them of t
he improvements he’d made to his new residence.
Westing’s failure to contribute more than the briefest answers to the conversation didn’t go unnoticed by Diana. While Blackthorn was engrossed with Minerva’s account of Harrow’s plans for the renovation of their country estate, she took the opportunity to address his apparent discomfort.
“You seem preoccupied, Lord Westing. Is all well with you?”
