As their plates of marzipan cakes and sliced oranges were cleared away, Lord Westwich addressed them all. “At this time, I would invite the gentlemen to join me for port as the ladies retire to the drawing room.”
Hannah rose with the other ladies and departed, but not before casting one last, lingering look in his direction. It was the prolonged gaze that most confused him, for it was one of yearning and heartbreak. Granted, he was no expert on women, or he would never have needed her instruction in the first place. But recently, he had become exceedingly aware of the emotion and how it might affect someone viscerally.
Namely him.
And, as he’d once hoped, her as well.
“Lord Brightstone.” Lord Westwich settled at the open seat beside Lucien and waved a servant over with the port decanter. Lord Hasselton and Lord Whimbly were already discussing Napoleon’s recent imprisonment on Saint Helena, where the landscape was said to be less than hospitable.
“Tell me, what do you make of this Elgin Marble business?” Westwich said as the servant carefully poured a measure of rich red wine into first Lucien’s empty glass, then that of Lord Westwich.
The marble statues the baron referred to had been on the tongue of every member of Parliament since the season began. The marbles had been excavated from the Parthenon in Greece by the Earl of Elgin by somewhat questionable means.
“I believe we ought to await the evidence to ensure the items were procured honorably,” Lucien answered with his usual diplomatic decorum.
Westwich chuckled. “I believe you have stronger feelings than that. My daughter told me of your love for history.”
Lucien masked his surprise at this, but only just. He hadn’t expected Hannah to speak of him to her parents, let alone in praise.
“It’s true.” He set aside civility with his host for a more candid response. “If the marbles were obtained under false pretenses, it would be a travesty to Greek culture and a mark against England to have allowed such an atrocity to befall so sacred a place.”
Westwich nodded. “From what I understand, they have not been well cared for in the time they’ve been in Elgin’s ownership, moldering away in ill-kept storage.”
“Better to have left them where they belonged than subject them to such treatment.” Lucien sipped his port to keep from becoming too passionate on a topic he vehemently felt for. There was a certain laissez-faire attitude toward the history of other countries that crossed into pillaging, and he did not condone it in the least.
“Speaking of precious treasures…” Lord Westwich lifted a brow. “What are your intentions toward my daughter?”
The port slipped down Lucien’s throat wrong, caught with a startled inhale. He coughed, sputtering more than he would have liked when faced with such a question.
Westwich clapped him on the back with a laugh. “Come now, my boy, I want you to be honest with me. Lady Westwich and I cannot help but notice how much time the two of you have spent together. Yet you have not once sought me out to ask my permission to court her. I know you can be somewhat…odd.” He held up his hands. “Respectfully.”
Lucien was not at all offended, not after the years of rumors he’d heard about himself.
“While this is, admittedly, somewhat unconventional,” Lord Westwich continued, “I wished to approach you on the matter in case you did not feel comfortable coming to me.”
Lucien took another sip of wine, this one somewhat larger. At least the gulp went down smoother than the last.
“Well?” Lord Westwich gave a good-natured smile, his easy spirit reminiscent of Hannah’s. “What have you to say, my lord?”
“I…” Lucien stammered. “That is to say…that I…”
Westwich chortled and patted Lucien on the shoulder. “Out with it. Surely, it cannot be so difficult to say what is going on between the two of you.”
“You have an extraordinarily kind daughter,” Lucien spoke slowly as his mind raced to piece together carefully a proper explanation.
Westwich grinned and nodded.
“She has a sharp wit and is exceptionally fashionable,” Lucien continued.
A twinkle touched Westwich’s deep blue eyes. “Indeed, she does.”
In that moment, Lucien wished he had asked for the earl’s permission to court Hannah. Not only to appeal to the man’s obvious pride, but also for Lucien’s own desires. He wanted Hannah above all other women in England. Certainly, more than any of those ladies on that damnable list.
That look of longing she’d cast him as she left billowed forefront in Lucien’s thoughts again. But he could no sooner put her in such a position as to be forced to be courted by him than he could steal another unwanted kiss from her.
“She has been assisting me this season,” Lucien finally confessed.
“Assisting?” The smile remained on Westwich’s face, though his brows furrowed in slight confusion. “Is that a strange turn of phrase? You youth are so creative with your own vernacular these days.”
“It is assisting in the sense with which you are familiar.” Lucien cleared his throat, mortified to admit the truth aloud to another person, most especially Hannah’s father. “You see, Miss Bexley has been assisting me on my wardrobe purchases and offering guidance on what to say while dancing and at dinner parties. Such as the fine one you hosted this evening.”
The confusion on Lord Westwich’s face fully replaced any affability in his expression now. “I don’t understand.”
“She has been helping me become more appealing to others.” Lucien sipped his wine again. “To women.”
The older earl shook his head. “Why would she do this?”
Lucien sighed. “So that I might attract a wife.”
Lord Westwich’s face darkened to a strange shade of russet. “She is helping you be more fashionable so that you might court and wed someone else,” he said in summary. “But not my daughter.”
There was a glint in his eye, but it was not jovial as before. It was somewhat murderous.
Lucien nodded slowly.
“You have been occupying her at every social event thus far this season.” Westwich’s nostrils flared. “So that you could find someone else to marry. And what of my daughter and her prospects?”
It was not Lucien’s place to tell Westwich of Hannah’s decision not to wed. Lucien clenched his back teeth, knowing exactly how much of a cad this entire scenario made him seem.
“And what of my Hannah?” Westwich declared. “Is she not good enough for you?”
“She is uninterested.” At least in this, Lucien could be honest.
“I’ve seen you at the soirees and balls this week.” Westwich’s jaw tightened. “In your fashionably cut jackets, amid a crowd of swooning ladies. It appears my daughter’s efforts were successful. Which means you may now leave her be to the suitors she deserves rather than spending any more time with your wasted companionship.”
Lucien wanted to protest, to resolve a way to remain in Hannah’s presence. But no matter her future intentions, her father was right. It was unfair for Lucien to continue to occupy her company when there was no opportunity for a marital agreement between them.
While she did not desire to be a wife, she could well meet someone at a ball who would unexpectedly sweep her off her feet, much in the way Darcy seemed to have done with Elizabeth Bennett.