Sara gave him a fleeting smile. ‘Lord Cannock is my lover, although he is too discreet to say so in as many words. It was a mutual decision, naturally, as he is a gentleman of honour,’ she said, before he could add anything. ‘And no seduction was necessary on either side.’ She turned to look at her brother. ‘And don’t grind your teeth, Ashe. You know perfectly well that if one of your friends was having an affaire with a widow of his own class you would not turn a hair. In fact, if you hadn’t met Phyllida when you did, I expect you would have been dallying with widows yourself.’
‘That is irrelevant.’
‘Then you are a hypocrite,’ she flung back.
‘Damn it, you are only twenty-four, Sara. What some older woman about town does is completely irrelevant. You have no experience of rakes and you know it.’
‘Lucian is not a rake.’
‘How do you know?’ That silenced her. As she sought for an answer Ashe spun round to face Lucian. ‘You marry my sister or you will meet me.’
This was getting out of hand. Sara had gone white and he suddenly realised why. It was not simply the hostility and her distress at arguing with her father and brother, although that must be affecting her. But she had already lost her husband to a duel and now her brother was not only raking that memory up but making her fear that she could lose her lover, or, far worse, her brother, the same way.
‘Actually, I have the priority for a challenge,’ he drawled. ‘You struck me.’
‘Damn it, then challenge me!’
‘Lucian.’ Sara’s voice shook and he felt as though he had hit her.
He glanced down and shook his head in reassurance before meeting her brother’s furious gaze. ‘Whether I call you out, Clere, or you call me out, I will delope. I will not risk killing Sara’s brother. If you do not delope, then you will be meeting me with the intent to kill me. Is that clear enough? And what your sister does when she is not under her parents’ roof is her affair, not yours.’
‘Exactly.’ Sara had the tremor almost under control now. ‘Now, are we welcome, all of us, or do we leave? Because if Lucian goes, I go.’
‘You are always welcome, Sara,’ her father said. ‘And Lady Marguerite needs our help, from what your mother hinted. So, no, my darling, you do not leave.’ He rose and held out his hand to Lucian. ‘I am sorry for your reception, but when you have a daughter of your own you will understand. I happen to trust mine and to trust her judgement. You are welcome here for as long as Sara is happy.’ For the first time he smiled and Lucian felt he knew what meeting a tiger face to face would be like. ‘On the other hand, if you make my daughter unhappy I will not trouble myself with the formality of a challenge.’
‘Understood.’ Lucian returned the firm pressure of the big hand with its calluses from years of handling reins and weapons. He did not make the mistake of offering his own to Clere, nor would he forget that blow outside just now. There would be a reckoning for that.
The room the footman showed him to was large, luxurious and decorated in an eclectic mix of fine furniture of the previous century and rich, dark, Indian fabrics and embroideries. It felt a little like being inside an exceedingly masculine jewel casket.
‘Lady Marguerite’s chamber is opposite, my lord,’ the footman volunteered when he had checked that hot water had been delivered to the dressing room. ‘Lady Eldonstone thought you would prefer her ladyship to be nearby. Mr Farnsworth is just around the corner to the left. An informal luncheon will be served in the Green Dining Room in half an hour.’
Lucian tidied himself up, grimaced in the mirror at the bruise on his chin and went in search of his sister. A maid opened the door to his knock and he found Marguerite happily exploring a room that was swagged in pale silk embroidered with flowers and animals.
‘This is lovely, Lucian! It is like being in a garden. Lady Eldonstone is so kind and understanding—Lucian, your chin?’
‘I walked into something.’ No more than the truth. ‘Ready for luncheon?’
‘Of course. I am starving.’ She dimpled at his grin. ‘I know, how unladylike of me. But I am. We must collect Gregory.’
‘Mr Farnsworth will make his own way down.’ He trusted them—up to a point. Showing the little minx the location of her lover’s bedchamber was positively begging for trouble. ‘Concentrate, Marguerite. This is the first act of a play, remember. Your reputation hangs on its success.’
She nodded with all the confidence of youth and Lucian gave mental thanks once again for Sara’s help. ‘It will be all right, do not fuss, Lucian.’
‘We haven’t met the other guests yet,’ Lucian said grimly. All they needed were a couple of those eagle-eyed dowagers, able to spot a scandal at twenty paces, and the acting would have to be of a very high order indeed.
When they located the Green Dining Room the first sight of the assembled company was promising, he thought. Everyone there was known to him, at least by sight, although for Marguerite, not yet out, they were all strangers. Lady Eldonstone had organised a casual buffet with several tables scattered through the room and out on the terrace which was accessible through the open full-length windows and the guests were standing about chatting while servants brought in various dishes to set out on the sideboard.
Two young bachelor acquaintances from his clubs came over at once. ‘Cannock, this is a surprise. Ma’am,’ Toby Peterson said, beaming at Marguerite.
‘Marguerite, this is Sir Toby Peterson and Lord Hitchin. Gentlemen, my sister, Lady Marguerite.’
‘Delighted, Lady Marguerite.’ Sir Toby moderated the smile to something more respectful. Marguerite, Lucian was amused to see, blushed and smiled back. He only hoped that her devotion to Gregory held firm in the face of close encounters with other personable young men or they really were in the soup.
‘What’s wrong with your face, Cannock?’ Hitchin enquired, loudly enough for several heads to turn. ‘Nasty bruise coming up on your chin.’
‘An unfortunate collision,’ Lucian replied. ‘I should have been more careful. Is that Fitzhugh I see over there?’ He abandoned the inquisitive Hitchin and moved to greet an acquaintance from White’s. His wife expressed interest in meeting Marguerite and made her way over to detach her from the baronet.
‘She misses her own young sister,’ Fitzhugh confided. ‘We fired Annabelle off in fine style this Season, but now Marie is like a hen without a chick. She’ll keep an eye on your sister with these young bucks around. Her first time out, isn’t it?’