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It was a rarity for Luke to find someone whose company he could enjoy as well as the illicit activities of the night, but that had all come to an end. The Duchess had a harshness to her that at times disgusted Luke. Their affair may have burned fast and had excitement to it, but he was rather glad it was over.
“Then you must look for another widower, your favourite prey.”
“Prey!?” Luke spluttered, coming to a sharp stop so that Adam looked at him with a humorous smile.
“Yes, that is what they are.”
“They are not. You speak of me as if I am some merciless hunter.” At Luke’s words, when Adam raised a single eyebrow, Luke shook his head, walking away from his friend in anger. Adam followed, still laughing away.
“Do you deny it?”
“Heartily. My hunting, as you call it, is fair-minded. I do not go with anyone that does not want to be caught.” Luke tossed the words over his shoulder as Adam followed him across the room.
“I see. So, it is as if you are fox hunting, and the fox comes to the hooves of your horse, ready for the catch?” Adam asked, catching up to him as they came upon the dance floor.
“No,” Luke said, stopping and turning to face his friend once more. “It is as if the fox jumps into my arms and chooses to ride in that saddle with me.”
“I rather like that analogy.” Adam tapped his chin in thought. “So, the matter of the Duchess of Bannerman is at an end. Do you have another lady in mind?”
“I….” Luke faltered. His eyes flicked to the dance floor to see who was dancing there, and upon that floor was a lady’s face he was becoming familiar with this evening. Miss Storey was dancing with a gentleman he did not recognise. She had this rather insufferably polite smile on her face that pulled her cheeks into an unnatural angle. Luke rather wished to know what it would be like to see the lady smiling fully, to lose herself completely in laughter.
“Who are you staring at?” Adam asked, moving closer to his side to try and see into his eyeline.
“No one,” Luke murmured, just as Miss Storey looked away from her dance partner. When her eyes fell on Luke’s, they stared at each other for a moment before she snapped her gaze away. Her cheeks coloured, pulling a soft laugh to his lips.
“I feel as if I am missing something. What has amused you?” Adam asked, elbowing Luke in the effort to get an answer from him.
“Nothing.” Luke tried to brush off the matter. He was merely rather humoured by the way this particular young lady was alarmed by his presence. She clearly put a lot of stock in what she read in the scandal sheets. “If you will excuse me, Adam. I should find my sister.”
“Yes, of course. But first, tell me who you were staring at.”
Luke didn’t answer but walked off. He looked away, seeking out his sister, who was currently by another drinks’ table. She had attempted conversation with another group before they made a hasty retreat, leaving poor Jemima to stare down at the punch glass in her hands.
“Luke! You’re back,” Jemima cried as he appeared beside her. Her false smile immediately appeared in place.
“Jemima, please,” Luke found himself whispering in his pleads to her. “This place holds no happiness for you. Let us leave.”
“No, I cannot.” Jemima shook her head. “We talked about this, Luke. You know I will not give up that easily.”
“Easily? I would not call it easy at all.” Luke needed a drink himself and turned to the table, pouring a glass of something stronger. He knocked half the brandy back before he fully faced his sister again. “Jemima, you have tried again and again with these people. They labelled you an outcast long ago.”
“Thank you for the reminder,” Jemima said drily, earning an apologetic smile from Luke.
“You know what I mean,” he said quietly to her and offered her his arm. She at once took it, in that way she always did, with a firm grip. It showed Luke the truth that Jemima was not so willing to utter. She needed him sometimes more than she cared to admit. He escorted her through the room, away from the bustle of the drinks’ tables. “You are kind to people you meet and lovely company. Yet you must have grown as tired as I have seeing the way people run away from you. They do not see you when they look at you.”
“I know,” Jemima murmured quietly. “They only see what was written in the scandal sheets so long ago.”
“Therefore, let us go.” Luke intended to steer her from the room again, but Jemima planted her feet on the floor and refused to move.
“I cannot.”
“Why not?” Luke asked, looking at his sister.
“Because I promised Noah.” Her words made him frown, startled by the change.
“What can your husband have to say on the matter?”
“Luke, he wishes to see me happy.” Even as Jemima spoke of her husband, a perfect smile appeared on her face, transforming her features from the false smile to the genuine one in a matter of seconds.
