by Jessica Wolf
Luciana felt bile rise in her throat. How much had Aliana drank? She didn’t know what she was saying. She couldn’t be serious. Propose? To Reed? The idea was preposterous and...
And it made Luciana break out into a nervous sweat. What if—on some off chance—he accepted? What would become of her? She couldn’t stay if he married someone else. Not when she was pretty damn certain she loved him.
“That’s just the gin talking,” she muttered, swiping her hand over her warm forehead.
“What did you say?”
Luciana looked up. “Nothing.”
“Oh, I do so hope he’ll say yes,” Aliana said, tipping her head back to rest against the headrest.
Luciana found herself beginning to hope Reed called the dinner party off. Between their argument and Aliana’s drunken ramblings, she wasn’t so sure this was a grand idea anymore. Nor that Aliana had any of their best interests in mind.
Maybe Reed was right. Maybe it was she that had been wrong. She glanced across the barouche. Aliana’s mouth hung open, soft snores filling the air. Aliana was her friend, wasn’t she? She couldn’t be as mean as Reed hinted. There was no way a woman with Aliana’s grace and beauty possessed an ugly inside.
Holding her chin erect, Luciana shook away the notion. Reed was wrong about Aliana. He must be.
Chapter 23
The party arrived a week later. Since his strong words with Luciana in the ballroom, Reed had, once again, avoided her tactfully. He couldn’t claim to be skilled with confrontation and he also wasn’t especially adept when handling his own feelings. He was British, after all.
He dreaded the party. While several of the advisors he invited had accepted the invitation, which boded well, he wasn’t sure he’d in the right frame of mind when the woman he loved would be on his arm all evening. Everything rode on the advisors’ approval. If he wanted to start an investment firm—and he did—he needed their expertise. All he wanted was a little stability, some normalcy, in his life again. He needed it for himself and for Esther. Having Luciana by his side all evening was sure to distract him.
Her words stung. She’d called him a beast, a bloody beast! Not so easy to forget. Reed’s nostrils flared as he tugged his suit jacket a little closer. And maybe he was a beast for being tough with Aliana that morning. But her wretched idea was costing him more money than he wished to spend. Still, the anger that consumed Luciana’s eyes, the way she could barely look at him, and now the way she looked away in shame when he walked into a room—it all made Reed’s fists clench and jaw tighten. Women were a messy matter. He should have thought twice before letting himself fall for her.
If this dinner party didn’t prove to be fruitful for his investment idea, he would do what Jack always did and run to the continent and spend all his money on booze, women, and oriental rugs. It seemed to make him happy enough.
“Mr. Hargrave?” Mrs. Peters knocked on the door twice—two short raps of her knuckles.
He turned from the mirror. This was as good as it was going to get, he supposed. He had pulled all of his hair back into a low queue and dressed in his finest. It was an odd look: a slim, overly tall man with shoulder length hair and a neatly trimmed beard dressed in fine fitting, fine looking clothes. What would Katherine think of him now? He shook his head.
She was dead. It didn’t matter what she thought.
The knocks came again, this time urgent. “Mr. Hargrave?”
He stalked to the door and threw it open. Mrs. Peters fell back a step, clutching her oversized stomach. “What?” He winced at his harsh tone. Nerves did that to a man.
“They’re starting to arrive,” she said, jerking her head toward the direction of staircase. “And,” she added, almost as if an afterthought, “the ladies are waiting, too.”
Reed stepped into the hall. “Naturally,” he muttered. “Thank you, Mrs. Peters.” She nodded, but hesitated, nibbling on her lower lip. He resisted the urge to sigh. “Is there something else?”
“Mrs. Hargrave would have been right glad to see you like this, sir. You’re makin’ something of this house again. Just—just don’t get your priorities mixed up.”
She could only mean Luciana. Or Aliana. Or maybe both. Poor Mrs. Peters. So loyal, yet so mistrusting.
He patted her shoulder. “Point taken, Mrs. Peters.”
She nodded. “I’ll scurry to the kitchen then. Enjoy yourself, Mr. Hargrave.”
Reed thanked her and straightened his shoulders. It was now or never. Anger or no anger, he was going to impress those advisors. He was going to open an investment firm.
He turned the corner, running through his speeches for the advisors again, not bothering to focus on where he walked.
“There you are, thank God,” Jack said, a slight edge to his voice.
Reed looked up. Jack, as well as Aliana and Luciana, stood before him. “Sorry I’m late.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “People are starting to arrive. I think you should be there to greet them.”
“Of course.” Without giving her much of a glance, Reed offered his arm to Luciana. She took it after a moment’s hesitation. Her hand felt stiff curled over his forearm. He took a step forward, but was stopped by Aliana’s voice.
“I hope everyone enjoys this evening.” She sounded both hopeful and terrified.
“No doubt we will,” Jack said, patting her hand.
“And before you go, Reed, I wondered if I might have a word with you sometime this evening?” Aliana’s voice cracked and her cheeks turned a pretty pink.
“I might not have the time.” There was no way he was going to let Aliana Martin corner him. She would talk about the past, and Katherine, and things that no longer mattered. He had somehow avoided her thus far. He could make it another night, couldn’t he?
“If you do, though?”
“Then certainly, Miss Martin.” He bowed stiffly and then, turning to Luciana, said, “I hope you won’t mind greeting our guests.”
She shook her head. Her eyes reflected the glimmering lights. “Not at all.”
They took their places beside the entrance of the rotunda. The house was shining. Flower arrangements stood jammed into every opening imaginable. Shimmering lights hung from posts on the walls. Music drifted out from the open doors of the ballroom, already filling with guests. Luciana stood beside him, her hands clasped in front of her waist, knuckles white. She looked over her shoulder toward the shuffling crowd every few seconds, lips caught between her teeth.
He tried not to notice how beautiful she looked. Unlike the other women they greeted, who wore their hair in fashionable twists, adorned with pearls and clasps, Luciana wore her hair down. It was wavier than usual and a single golden comb held back the sides of her hair. Her dress—blue and soft—hugged her waist and gave her the appearance of someone floating when she walked. She stuck out like he did. What with her long hair, tan skin, and thick accent, she was a rare thing for the everyday English to behold. They pestered her with questions upon meeting her—Where are you from? How long have you been here? Truly, you can tell me, is there something special between you and Mr. Hargrave?—but she answered with grace and honesty after each new guest.
He let himself reach out and touch her back. It was a simple touch, fleeting and light, but it was meant as reassurance. To let her know he was there. He may be cross with her, but that didn’t mean he would abandon her to the claws of female society.
At long last, the final guests arrived. Reed escorted Luciana into the ballroom, where he greeted the gathering and told them to enjoy themselves, drink as much as they like, and stay as long as they wish. Yellow Brook was their home for the evening. It had been in the past, with the late Mrs. Hargrave’s guiding hand, and would be today. After a smattering of applause, the music restarted and the party began.
“Father! Over here, Father! Miss Renaldi, come look at me!”
Reed and Luciana looked to the left to see Esther standing on a chair, parading her new dress. Green and beaded e
xtensively, the thing had cost Reed a small fortune. Still, Esther glowed with pride and happiness and it made him happy to see her joy. She was his only family—his only true family. She deserved a little spoiling here and there.
He let go of Luciana’s arm and extended his hands to Esther. She jumped from the chair and rushed into his embrace. “My, my, you look marvelous, Esther,” he said as he held her at length.
“Don’t I?” She giggled and twirled in a circle. Her eyes fell onto Luciana and she gasped. “Miss Renaldi, you look pretty too.” She reached out to finger the lace on Luciana’s dress, her mouth forming an O.
Luciana smiled and squeezed Esther’s hand. “Grazie, Esther.”
“Are you going to dance, Father?” Esther asked.
Reed stood straight and risked glancing at Luciana. Her head was turned the other way, eyes roaming the dance floor. No, there would be no dancing this evening.
“I have business to attend to.” A pregnant pause filled the space between them. “And speaking of business, Miss Renaldi, I’m afraid I must take my leave.”
Luciana looked away from the spinning skirts and stepping feet. There was an unmistakeable longing in her eyes. A longing for what he wasn’t sure, but a longing all the same. He shook off her stare. Reed couldn’t let that steer him away from the task at hand: meeting with and convincing the advisors he was a worthy venture.
“I’ll stay with Esther.” Luciana smiled, though it was weary, and took Esther’s hand again. “I hope your meeting goes well, signore.”
He stiffened. She hadn’t called him sir in a long time. The formality made his heart clench. He knew he should set aside his own petty hurt and mend things between them. He loved her, after all. But Reed was a stubborn man. He wouldn’t be the one to crack first.
“Make sure you enjoy yourself. Don’t let her keep you all evening.”
She said nothing in response and let Esther drag her toward the dancing crowd. They stood on the edge of the onlookers, hand in hand, watching every move. Reed swallowed and flexed his fingers. He had work to do.
He located the three advisors near the table filled with an assortment of different alcohols. His heart begin to beat a little faster and his palms grew a little warmer. He picked up a glass of wine and took a deep breath.
“Gentlemen.”
The advisors turned their heads. One of them, the shortest and the fattest, broke into a grin. “Ah, Mr. Reed Hargrave, the man of the hour.” He stuck out his chubby hand. “Calvin Harper, pleased to meet you.”
“Thank you coming, Mr. Harper, and on such short notice, too.”
Harper waved and scoffed. “I knew your uncle. He and I were good friends. I’m always happy to help someone in the Hargave family.”
A man taller and skinner than Reed finished downing his glass of champagne. “Spencer Wilkins.” He shook Reed’s hand. “You have a wonderful home.”
“Thank you, sir,” Reed said with a glance around the room. “It didn’t look like this a month ago, that’s for certain.”
The third man, nondescript besides his impressively large nose, kept his mouth straight. “I’m Wallace Green.”
Reed nodded to him. “Sir.”
“I’m sure you’d like to start talking business then,” Wilkins said as he grabbed another glass.
“Certainly, sir, but I don’t want to take away from your evening.”
Green huffed. “We came to talk business, Hargrave, not dance.”
“Of course.” Reed cleared his throat and downed his glass of wine, only to reach for another.
“Well?”
Reed curled his fingers around the stem of his glass. He was botching this already and they hadn’t even begun. “As my letter stated, I’m interested in opening an investment firm. You’re some of the best men in the business, so I’m looking for advice.”
“We’d be happy to give it,” Harper said. “Won’t we?” He nudged Wilkins with his elbow.
The unexpected nudge caused Wilkins to choke on the champagne in his mouth. His face turned bright red and he thumped his chest, coughing. “Most certainly,” Wilkins said when he’d recovered, his voice hoarse. “What is it you want to know?”
“Most importantly, I’d like to know if starting a firm would prove to be beneficial.” He paused when the three advisors frowned. “I have daughter and many tenants to consider. I don’t want to venture into something that will—”
Wilkins held up his hand. Reed shut his mouth. An uncomfortable heat crawled up the back of his neck. “Hold on a moment.” Wilkins fixed his eyes on something over Reed’s shoulder. The frown no longer marred his skinny, haggard face.
Green and Harper followed his gaze, and they, too, seemed transfixed by something behind him. Reed frowned, irritation bubbling under his skin. If they tried to ask him what advice he wanted, he would be lost as his thoughts were now muddled with confusion. He would only achieve embarrassing himself more than he already had. He resisted the urge to growl.
He wasn’t a beast. He wasn’t a beast.
“Who is that exquisite creature?” Wilkins asked. His voice was astonished, his eyes rounder than they were a mere moment before.
With a frustrated sigh, Reed looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Aliana parading herself through the hordes of people. What he saw instead brought him to tears.
Esther stood in the center of the ballroom, her hands clutching Luciana’s. Together, the two girls danced the waltz. It was a clumsy waltz. Esther was too short to put her hand on Luciana’s shoulder so she held both her partner’s hands, her stare intent on watching her feet. Luciana would stumble every now and then, but throw her head back and laugh, unaffected. They weren’t even dancing to the beat of the music. They seemed oblivious to the world around them. The world around them, though, could not take its eyes away. Every head in the room turned and all eyes were fixed upon the dancing girl and her used-to-be governess. Even the other dancers had slowed, their own waltzes turning messy as they strained to watch the pair.
Reed cleared his throat. Good Lord, they were beautiful.
He glanced to the advisors and then back to the dance floor. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” was all he said before his feet took him in their direction.
When he reached them, he tapped Esther’s shoulder. The pair stilled. Esther looked to him and smiled. She dropped Luciana’s hands. Luciana paled, seeming to remember that she was in a room full of people. She looked around. Her eyes glistened with tears.
“Have you come to dance, Father?”
“If I might, may I have the next dance?” He extended his hand to Luciana. It trembled.
Her eyes darted back to him. “But I thought—” she started.
He knew what she would say. I thought you were angry with me. And he was, if only a little. At the moment, he didn’t care. She was stunningly beautiful and out of place. Like him.
“Will you dance with me, Luciana?” he asked again, his voice deeper than expected. His hand still trembled in the air.
To his great relief, she slipped her hand into his. “I’d be delighted, Reed.”
Chapter 24
If ever a man felt like he was floating, that man was Reed. It was a silly thought: a man floating. Weren’t feelings of airiness left to women? There was no denying, though, that Reed felt like he was walking on air.
Luciana’s hand fit perfectly in his and he held her close as they spun. He grew warm and light headed, but he didn’t care. Here she was, in his arms, for the whole of Eastbourne to see. It felt right. Unexpected, but right.
They said nothing. There was nothing to say. There was only the music, the feeling of her in his arms, and bliss. They moved along the floor like the most skilled of partners. She was relaxed and poised and graceful. Her feet never stumbled.
He came to a short stop. The music around them continued, swirling about his head and his ears. The room was loud—a mixture of beautiful notes and stepping feet—and his entire body reverberated the beat. The da
ncers didn’t pause like they had before. They merely picked up the pace as the music moved in to another song.
“Luciana,” he whispered.
A crinkle appeared between her eyebrows. “Yes?”
“I want you to know that—” The words stuck in his throat.
“Is everything all right, Reed?” She laid her fingers on his chest. He could feel the warmth burn through his jacket and onto his skin.
With that simple touch and those concerned eyes, he threw caution to the wind. Placing a hand behind her slender neck, he cupped her cheek and stooped to press his lips to hers. She reacted with no surprise, only melded in the kiss with ease. She gripped his arms like a parched man might grasp a glass of water. He held her a little closer, a little tighter, if only to savor the moment as long as he could.
She kissed him with a gentleness that battled Reed’s urgency. He couldn’t get enough. She tasted of wine and her lips were soft, save for a tiny cut on her upper lip he continuously brushed against. Upon realizing that he was kissing her in front of everyone, he pushed himself away, but not before pressing his lips to hers one last time.
Her eyelids remained hooded and her lips parted. She blinked and let go of a sigh. “I—don’t know—” She shook her head, sucking in a deep breath.
He removed his hands from her skin, curling his fingers into fists before flexing them. “That was untoward. I’m sorry.”
“But not unwelcome.” She grinned and titled her head to the side, reaching for him again.
What he wouldn’t give to kiss her again. But he couldn’t, not with eyes watching and his heart hammering so hard in his chest he thought he might keel over. He had to think.
He needed to think.
If he gave his heart over to her, what was he risking? Everything.
Everything.
And what about what she had said, what she had called him? Didn’t that matter?
He took a step back, but kept his grip on her fingers firm. “I need some air.”
She nodded slowly. “Do you want me to—”