An Encounter at the Museum

by Claudia Dain

  Well, she certainly couldn’t side with her sister-in-law as that went against Lucy’s very nature. Without a second’s hesitation, she accepted Lord Brookfield’s proffered arm and said, “Thank you, my lord. I’d love to.”

  As Lord Brookfield led Lucy to the middle of the ballroom where the sets were forming, she hissed under her breath, “Are you trying to ruin me?”

  “What a very tempting offer.” His rakish smile once more lit his lips as he drew her to a stop, and Lucy couldn’t help but think how natural the expression was on his face. He must sport it quite often.

  “It wasn’t an offer.” She frowned at him.

  “Wasn’t it?” The first strings of the waltz began and Lord Brookfield bowed before her. Then he drew her into his arms and into the first turn.

  “Most certainly not,” she replied, staring up again into his light blue gaze, which was a mistake. It seemed as though the viscount could stare straight into her soul. He pulled her closer to him, and the heat from his body warmed hers just like it had done in Lady Staveley’s parlor. Heavens, Lord Brookfield could distract a saint. But Lucy couldn’t allow herself to be addled by the rogue. “You do have a habit of jumping to conclusions.”

  A wicked glint lit his eyes. “We can argue that point at a later time. But for now, we haven’t long before I must return you, Miss Potts. So what sort of trouble are you in? Tell me now.”

  “Trouble?” she echoed. “I’m not in any trouble. Though my reputation my not survive after this dance.” She pushed backwards against his arms, hoping for a bit more space between them, but he was much stronger than she was and didn’t budge an inch. “You’re holding me too close. And you can’t just take a dance that’s been promised to someone else, Lord Brookfield. It just isn’t done.”

  “Shelley didn’t object.” He loosened his hold incrementally.

  “Because his manners are obviously better than yours,” she countered.

  The viscount shook his head. “Don’t try to distract me. You asked for my help. How can I be of service?” He led her into another turn.

  Lucy stared up at the handsome lord. His chiseled jaw spoke of strength, but in his eyes, which no longer sparkled wickedly, she saw compassion. He truly was concerned about her, or at least he looked as though he was. Regardless, there was no reason for concern. She wasn’t in trouble, just miserable. It wasn’t as though Lady Elmstead could injure Lucy with her acerbic tongue, try as she might. “I’m not in trouble. I apologize if I made it seem as though I was. There’s no need for concern.”

  His brow creased a bit. “Then what sort of help do you need, Miss Potts?”

  She shouldn’t tell him. She’d made an error in saying something to him in the first place. But he did look concerned. Perhaps he might be persuaded to help her. It wasn’t as though he had a reputation to protect. Lucy took a steadying breath. “I’ve thought a lot about what you said yesterday.” Her words rushed from her before she could call them back. “And I’ve decided you were right.”

  “I was?” His brow furrowed even more.

  Lucy nodded, drawing her courage up inside her. “I want to escape, like you said. But I don’t know the first thing about jumping aboard a frigate or what to do once I get to where I’m going. But you…”

  “Where are you going?” he asked, though he looked far from pleased.

  “I’m not certain yet.”

  A snort escaped him. “That’s something you’d want to figure out, Miss Potts.”

  Of course it was. That was just one of the many reasons she needed his help. Why was he behaving so strangely tonight? Or was he always strange and she just hadn’t noticed it yesterday? “You mentioned India,” she prodded. “I thought you might help me.”

  “You want to go to India just because I mentioned it?” His voice rose slightly.

  If they weren’t in a crowded ballroom, she’d have kicked his shin to quiet him.

  “What if I’d mentioned Egypt, the Orient, or the Caribbean?”

  Honestly, any of them were fine with Lucy, as long as she could escape her sister-in-law. “Well, where do you suggest I go, then?”

  “Home,” he said softly, pulling her closer towards him once more. “You should go home and forget I ever said such nonsense.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened. Why would he say such a thing? She didn’t want to forget the words he’d spoken yesterday. They’d filled her with thoughts of adventure and excitement, but mostly of freedom.

  A twinge of regret pricked Drew’s heart at the sight of Lucy’s crestfallen expression. But what was he supposed to do? Fill her head with one grandiose escape plan after another? Urge her to run away to parts unknown? She didn’t even have a real destination in mind, not really. He couldn’t encourage her. That was the worst thing he could do.

  “It was your suggestion.” Her hazel gaze met his, weakening his knees just a bit.

  Drew shook his head, then decided to admit the truth. “I was flirting with you, Miss Potts. I certainly didn’t think you’d really want to stow away aboard the first frigate in port.”

  Her eyes darkened perceptibly. “First of all, I don’t plan to stow away, and secondly…”

  “No?” He scoffed. “Miss Potts, no captain in his right mind would sell you passage.”

  She appeared affronted as though he’d somehow insulted her. “So you’re saying I should stow away, is that it? At least until it’s too late to return me home?”

  Drew stumbled slightly, though he quickly righted himself. He most certainly hadn’t said anything so utterly ridiculous. He didn’t even want to imagine what sort of things would happen to Lucy if she was foolish enough to actually hide herself aboard some ship. “What I said, Miss Potts, is you should forget I said any such nonsense yesterday.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Lord Brookfield.” Lucy heaved a sigh. “I can’t keep living in that house or I’ll go mad, though I don’t expect you to understand that.”

  Life with her harridan of a sister-in-law couldn’t be pleasant, but it couldn’t possibly be bad enough for Lucy to risk her reputation, safety, or her very life. “I understand, better than most, the need to escape, Miss Potts, but don’t be foolish,” he said just as the music stopped. Drew bowed before her once more and offered her his arm. “I…”

  “You don’t have to help me,” she interrupted. “I’m sure I’ll manage just fine on my own.” Then she breezed past him before he could reply, toward a cluster of debutants across the crowded ballroom.

  Drew could only blink in the chit’s direction as she joined the group of girls, his mouth hanging open, his thoughts all a jumble. Lucy Potts was out of her pretty mind. Spirited and determined, but out of her mind. She didn’t truly think to escape London on her own, did she? The whole idea was perfectly absurd.

  “Ah, aye.” Ian appeared at his side. “Ye look a lot more aimless than ye did before ye danced with her.” The Scot draped his arm around Drew’s shoulders and guided him from the middle of the dance floor.

  Drew tilted his head toward his friend. “You can go to the devil.”

  Ian tipped back his head and laughed. “Aye, I probably will, but I’m bettin’ ye’ll beat me there.” Then he glanced in Lucy’s direction. “Plottin’ yer downfall, I’d wager. Right this very second.”

  Drew scoffed. Lucy Potts wasn’t plotting his downfall. She didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with him, which would be more than frustrating if he gave it any thought at all. “If you wagered less, you’d have more blunt. You must realize this.”

  Ian’s smile faded. “Ye do ken how to wound a man, Brookfield.”

  “Family trait, I’m afraid,” Drew replied as his eyes wandered back to Lucy Potts. She might not want anything to do with him, but he wasn’t through with her yet. If she hopped some ship and ended up in trouble somewhere, it would all be his fault. He couldn’t let that happen. He’d never be able to live with himself if she ended up injured or worse, all on account of his foolish comment t
he day before. No, he wasn’t through with Lucy Potts. One way or another, she’d have to listen to reason.

  “What did you say to Lord Ericht?” Chloe asked, yanking Lucy to her side.

  Lord Ericht! Lucy hadn’t given the Scot a second thought. She truly was a terrible friend. Though, what could she have said…? A friend of mine would love to be your countess, would you like to meet her? “Nothing,” Lucy said honestly. “Lord Brookfield distracted me.”

  “Brookfield?” Chloe echoed in awe. “Is that who you were dancing with?”

  Lucy glanced back across the ballroom to the adventurous viscount, only to find his eyes on her. A shiver went through her. There was something wildly attractive about the man, even if he wouldn’t help her plot an escape. His kiss had nearly melted her knees and she’d felt so…safe in his arms. What ridiculousness. He’d inspired her present course, that was all. She shouldn’t give a second thought to Lord Brookfield, his chiseled jaw, or his wicked blue eyes. Losing her heart or her head wouldn’t help her in the end.

  “He’s an acquaintance,” Lucy replied.

  “I’ve never heard you mention him before.”

  “He’s a recent acquaintance.”

  Chloe broke out into a grin. “You should have seen the look on Lady Elmstead’s face when you accepted his arm for that waltz. I thought she might swallow her own tongue.”

  Lucy couldn’t help but return her friend’s smile. “Rupert’s wife with no tongue? We should be so lucky.”

  Chloe giggled, but then she leaned even closer to Lucy. “Still, you should be careful. Lord Brookfield has a dangerous reputation, Luc.”

  Which apparently wasn’t warranted. After all, wouldn’t a man with a dangerous reputation be willing to help Lucy in her escape plans? But instead he’d told her to go home and forget he’d ever said something so foolish. “Most handsome men have dangerous reputations,” Lucy said. “But, honestly, he seems a bit tame to me.”

  “Tame?” Chloe echoed. “And just when did you get so wild, Lucinda Potts?”

  Probably the moment she first encountered Lord Brookfield.

  Lucy had never been particularly good at playing the piano. Her sense of rhythm and her ability to hit the correct key were often off. But these days she found solace in the music room, hitting wrong note after wrong note. After all, it was the one place she could truly drown out her sister-in-law’s voice. It was just a shame she had no talent for music.

  “You are truly awful, you know?” Rupert said from the threshold.

  Lucy looked up from the keys to find her brother smiling at her. For a moment, he reminded her of the portly boy she’d grown up with, the one who would tease her, tell her silly jokes and confide in her his boyhood hopes.

  “Emma says she can hardly hear herself think,” he continued, stepping into the music room and folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the wall.

  Her sister-in-law could do less thinking. She could do less talking too, for that matter. “You’re supposed to encourage me.”

  Her heart twisted. If only he were that same boy now, someone she recognized at the least. Lucy looked back at the keys, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears of loss threatening to spill down her cheeks. “Besides, practice makes perfect. You don’t have to stay.”

  “You never practiced before.”

  Lucy shrugged, knowing she could never tell him why she had the sudden urge to master the piano. He’d only get angry if she broached the subject of his wife. “I never had the need before.”

  “And now you do? You have what…? The need to escape into your own little world?”

  She resisted urge to snort at the word escape. He had no idea how on target he was. Or perhaps he did. Fine. If he wanted to have this conversation, they could have it. Lucy lifted her gaze to meet her brother’s. “Being adequate at the piano might help me ensnare a husband. I know you’ll be happier when I’m gone, Rupert.”

  “Luc!” For a moment he looked hurt, but the expression vanished as soon as it had appeared.

  “Don’t pretend otherwise.” She returned to the keys and promptly hit a wrong note. “You always side with her, even when she’s wrong, which is most of the time, by the by. And you don’t care one whit how I feel about it. She’s loud and embarrassing and mean to everyone, most especially me, day in and day out, but you don’t care about any of that.”

  “Lucy!” He pushed away from the wall. “That’s enough! “

  But it wasn’t, and it was just the beginning. “You used to care about me, but now…”

  The sound of someone clearing his throat in the doorway halted Lucy from saying anything else. She and Rupert both turned to stare at the interloper – Booth, who looked as though he wished he was anywhere else but standing there, in that moment.

  “Sorry to interrupt, my lord.” The butler cleared his throat once more. “There’s a caller for Miss Lucy.”

  A caller? If it was Lord Richard again, he could go hang. Coward. “Who is it?” Lucy asked.

  Booth clasped his hands behind his back, looking marginally more comfortable than he had a moment before as he said, “Lord Brookfield, miss.”

  Lord Brookfield had come? Lucy’s heart lifted a little. She’d actually like to see him again, though it probably wasn’t wise, all things considered.

  “Brookfield!” Rupert roared, which wasn’t like him at all. “And you let him in?”

  Still, Lucy paid her brother’s outburst very little notice. Lord Brookfield had come! She’d had stayed up half the night thinking about the viscount… Well, mostly about his kiss, and now he was here. To see her! She leapt to her feet and rushed toward the threshold. “Where is he, Booth?”

  “Oh, no, no, no!” Rupert moved to block her exit from the music room. “I’m not having you anywhere near that man. How do you even know him?”

  Dangerous reputation or not, every second that went by made Lucy more and more anxious to see Lord Brookfield again, and she certainly wasn’t about to let her brother dissuade her. What if the viscount had changed his mind in regard to helping her escape this house? “Honestly, Rupert, this Brookfield has never tried to kill anyone,” she parroted back Lord Ericht’s words from the previous night. “Now, excuse me.” Then she tried to brush past her brother who suddenly seemed quite immovable.

  “I said—” Rupert’s face turned slightly red “—you’re not going anywhere near that man.”

  “Ah, there you are,” Lord Brookfield said from just outside the doorway.

  Lucy’s eyes flashed toward the viscount, and her heart beat a little faster. He looked like he had that first day in the museum, like the epitome of a staid English gentlemen. But he wasn’t staid and he wasn’t a true gentlemen, not by his actions anyway. That knowledge swirled together with the memory of his embrace, and she somehow managed not to sigh.

  “Miss Potts.” Lord Brookfield’s light blue gaze settled on her, making tingles race up her spine. With a roguish smile he continued, “I thought it might be best if I came in search of you.”

  “Why the devil would you be in search of my sister?” Rupert growled.

  Lord Brookfield diverted his attention from Lucy to her brother, and his smile faded. “Elmstead, you appear well.”

  “And you appear the same ill-mannered blackguard you always were.”

  “Rupert!” Lucy gasped, her hand fluttered to her lips. She’d never in her life heard her brother speak to anyone in such a way.

  Lord Brookfield shook his head. “Oh, I’m certain I’m an altogether different ill-mannered blackguard than you remember.”

  Good heavens, they knew each other. Rather well, it appeared. And while it seemed Rupert had no love for Lord Brookfield, what if the viscount told her brother of Lucy’s plan to escape London? As soon as the thought entered her mind, Lucy felt more than a bit queasy. She couldn’t let that happen.

  “I’d rather not find out.” Rupert puffed out his chest. “Now, I’d like for you to leave.”

 
“I’m sure you do, but I came to see Miss Potts, not you, Elmstead. I’ll go if Lucy tells me to.”

  Lucy. Hearing her name on his lips sent a shiver of awareness through Lucy.

  “Did you just call my sister ‘Lucy’?” Rupert demanded, his face coloring even more deeply.

  Lord Brookfield returned his wicked blue eyes on her, nearly stealing her breath. “I had hoped you might join me for a ride in the park. I’ve won a fancy new phaeton from Ericht. There’s just space for two.”

  A ride in the park? With the roguish Lord Brookfield? Lucy would never hear the end of it, but, she suspected, the ride might be entirely worth it. “I would love to.”

  “Absolutely not!” Rupert’s hand landed on Lucy’s shoulder, and he squeezed her meaningfully. “You’re not welcome here, Yeats.”

  “Come now, Elmstead,” Lord Brookfield cajoled. “It’s just one little ride. Half of Mayfair is in the park today, nothing untoward could possibly happen.”

  Rupert scoffed. “All of London could have their eyes on you, and I still wouldn’t want my sister to be anywhere in your vicinity.”

  Lucy tilted her head to better see her brother. Honestly, Rupert never seemed to care one whit about Town gossip. What could he possibly have against Lord Brookfield? Whatever it was, Lucy was determined to find out. “But you were just complaining about my practicing. Your wife could actually hear herself think if I was gone.”

  Her brother narrowed his dark eyes on Lucy.

  She’d have to try a different tack. “Please?” She smiled at Rupert, the way she used to when they were younger and she wanted the last biscuit on her brother’s plate. It had always worked in the past.

  “You don’t know what sort of fellow he is, Luc. At least, I hope you don’t.”

  Lord Brookfield cleared his throat. “I, uh, probably should apologize for, uh… Well, for everything at Eton.”