It would be far more agreeable to don her finest dresses, sip lemonade with her closest friends and dance when the opportunity presented itself. The season would close in no time, and she would be free to return to the country once more.
She would live her life for herself and no one else.
A familiar laugh rose over the sound of the orchestra, unfettered and charmingly joyful. Lucien spun Lady Alison on the dance floor and glanced in that direction.
Hannah.
His heart constricted.
She wore a silver-and-blue gown that made her eyes look like sapphires, and glossy silver ribbons were wound through her hair. As usual, she was surrounded by her friends, her hand over her mouth in a poor attempt to squelch the laugh she hated so much. And that he simply adored.
He hadn’t seen her since Lady Whimbly’s soirée. She’d appeared so melancholic then, her smile nonexistent and her light dimmed. Seeing her thus, and knowing he had a part in her sorrow, had lodged in him like a stubborn thorn.
While he was pleased to see her happy again, her exuberance made him long with a visceral pang to be in her presence.
“Pay attention,” Lady Alison hissed. “You almost went the wrong way.”
He muttered his apology but struggled to draw his focus from Hannah.
Lady Alison followed the line of his focus. “It won’t do to have you gaping at her like some starving puppy at a feast. You’re supposed to be with me if you recall? Come, it’s my favorite part of the dance, and the Duke of Dudley is watching.”
“The Duke of Dudley is a step away from being engaged to Lady Jillian.” Lucien caught Lady Alison by her waist and hoisted her into the air.
She struck a pose while elevated, her expression seraphic as if she truly was a sweet, innocent debutante. Lucien knew better.
When she landed, she frowned at him. “You could have held me up longer.”
“Then we would have missed the next turn.” He recalled now more than ever why dancing was so loathsome.
But Lady Alison giggled as if he’d said the wittiest thing and batted her eyes at him. “The duke is looking,” she whispered. “Gaze at me with pure adoration.”
“I’m afraid that is impossible,” Lucien ground out.
Her hand squeezed his. “Try.”
He sighed and stared down at her. She was lovely in the way ice was, glittering with beauty but cold and unyielding. Instead, he imagined she was Hannah, that he had the opportunity to dance with her, be near her, be privy to the fascinating insights and happiness that she always freely shared.
With that thought firmly lodged in his mind, he did what Lady Alison asked and studied her with complete adoration.
Her eyes widened and she blinked, her cheeks flushing pink. “Why, Lord Brightstone, if you were a duke, I should have my entire attention set on you simply for how you’re looking at me.”
The music slowed, and he bowed to her as she curtseyed. “In that case, I’ve never been so glad to be merely an earl,” he replied, taking her hand to lead her back to the edges of the ballroom where an assortment of male suitors waited to claim her hand in a dance.
She scoffed but had to dull the sharpness of her tongue with so many witnesses around to prevent her beloved duke from overhearing. Not that he was as beloved as was his title and his wealth.
The duke approached Lady Alison first, casting aside the attention of a very disinterested Lady Jillian. As the duke swept Lady Alison onto the dance floor, Lucien searched the crowd, desperate for another glimpse of Hannah.
When he located her across the room, her face almost entirely visible with how she faced her friends, he knew he should look away. Except that she was so exquisite, with her cheeks rosy with good health and her eyes twinkling. She was animated as she spoke, her hands moving as she regaled a story that he wished he were close enough to overhear.
How he wished he could approach her now, to confess why he was with Lady Alison, that the arduous effort was all for her. And truly, it was.
Not only to protect her reputation from Lady Alison’s threat to tell the ton of that night in Vauxhall Gardens but also to guard Hannah’s heart against being hurt by him again.
The memory of Lord Westwich’s agonized expression followed Lucien through every day, a warning never to cause Hannah such pain again.
Ranford appeared beside Lucien. “You should go to her.”
“I’m courting Lady Alison,” Lucien replied without feeling.
Ranford slid him a skeptical look. “And I’m finally going to be honest with the ton about who I’d truly like to wed.”
“Ever the cynic,” Lucien tsked.
“How are you not cynical after everything you’ve dealt with?” Ranford asked with a shake of his head.
“I’m doing it for her.” Lucien didn’t need to specify who “her” was. They both knew.
He had confessed the truth of it all to Ranford after Lucien and Lady Alison had first appeared in public together and the earl cornered him to ask if he’d gone entirely mad.
There were many days Lucien did feel like a Bedlamite for his decision. Especially in times such as this when Hannah was only a few dozen steps away—when the exquisite force of her presence reminded him of everything he had lost.
“Do excuse me. I’m in need of refreshment,” Ranford said abruptly. In a lower, quieter voice, he added, “Your mother is approaching.”
With that, Lucien’s friend slipped into the crowd, abandoning Lucien to Lady Brightstone’s gloating smirk.
“You have done very well, my son.” She inhaled deeply as she settled beside him, the kind of breath one took when they had completed a difficult job. “Lady Alison will be an ideal addition to our household.”
He had not confessed his situation to his mother. Doubtless, she would be heartbroken when Lady Alison finally ended Lucien’s courtship for a wealthier man with a more noble title. For Lucien’s part, he wished he knew when it might happen so that he could count down the days to his freedom.
“You should have care to mind the duke around your lady.” His mother rested her hands firmly on the polished silver head of her cane. “He seems most interested.”
Lucien could not have been more grateful for that interest but did not say as much aloud. His mother’s focus wandered across the room to Hannah, and her mouth tightened. He tensed, waiting for a biting comment.
“You do not appear concerned about the duke,” Lady Brightstone mused. “However, you do still seem to be very concerned about Miss Bexley.”
Lucien cast a warning glance at his mother and found she watched him carefully with concern lining the thin skin on her forehead. “It’s her you want, isn’t it?” she asked.
The curious manner in which she studied him almost appeared to be affection.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lucien replied in a stiff tone. “There will be no further opportunities to pursue something with Miss Bexley. I’m sure that delights you to no end.”
She frowned. “I don’t wish to see you unhappy. I only want what is best for you. But what I thought you needed, who I thought you were…I was wrong.” Her attention shifted back to Hannah once more, her displeasure carving fresh lines onto either side of her mouth. “I have made egregious mistakes.”