Her father winked at Miss Fishburn, and as she walked by him to dish up a plate of food, she passed his chair. Discreetly, she brushed a hand across his neck, as if she had every right to touch him in such a personal way.
There was an aura being generated that Penny couldn’t identify, but it was very disturbing. They seemed much closer than they should be. What did it indicate? What was Penny observing?
His gaze moved from Miss Fishburn and landed on Penny. He grinned a sly grin that was full of secrets, and her heart literally skipped a beat. She whipped away and rushed off, determined to find Simon as quickly as she could.
“Luke! You’re finally back. I’d been wondering if we’d see you today.”
Luke flashed a wan smile. “Hello, Charles. You weren’t worried about me, were you? I was caught in the rain yesterday, so I spent the night at Barrett.”
“I heard, so I wasn’t concerned.”
It was early afternoon, and Luke had just arrived at Roland. After loafing for hours in bed with Libby, he’d tiptoed off to his own room just before dawn broke. He’d managed to fall asleep, but only after extensive reflection about what the event might mean for them.
Now that they’d proceeded to the worst—or perhaps the best—possible ending, she’d have to change her mind about an affair. Wouldn’t she?
He’d arranged to have breakfast with her at nine, but he hadn’t staggered down until almost ten. He’d assumed she would have dined without him, but when he’d been informed that she hadn’t been down either, he’d figured she’d overslept too.
He’d sent a housemaid to rouse her, only to be notified that her room was empty and she’d left without a goodbye. He was still trying to deduce what her actions signified, but who could guess what the accursed female was thinking?
“Could I talk to you for a minute?” Charles asked. “Alone?”
Luke couldn’t conceal a wince. He was in no condition to engage in a confidential chat with Charles, but he forced out, “Of course. What did you need?”
“Let’s confer in my library, shall we?”
“Certainly, but if we have to lock ourselves away, I hope it’s nothing awful.”
“It’s not awful.” Charles frowned. “At least it’s not awful yet. I simply have to probe your opinion on an important topic.”
“Lead the way.”
They were in the front foyer at Roland, and as Charles turned and marched down the hall with Luke stumbling after him, he received the distinct impression it was no accident that he’d bumped into Charles the moment he entered the house. Had Charles been watching for him? Gad, what could have happened?
The butler went by, and Charles said to him, “Lord Barrett and I will be speaking privately. We’re not to be disturbed.”
The request heightened Luke’s apprehension. What could Charles intend to discuss? Whatever it was, Luke was sure he wouldn’t like the subject matter.
Once they were sequestered in the ostentatious room, Charles sat at the desk, and Luke pulled up the chair across. Out the windows behind Charles, he could see the picnic tents. Everything was drenched from the rain the prior day, so there would be no outside reveling.
He supposed he was facing another afternoon of cards, duet singing, and book reading. It definitely made him wish he hadn’t resigned his commission in the navy. He had no aptitude for idleness and sloth, and the hours stretched out like the road to Hades. He simply wanted to find Libby and figure out why she’d run away.
“Would you like a brandy?” Charles asked.
“No, thank you. It’s a bit early for me.”
“Would it bother you if I have one?”
“No. Go ahead.”
Luke waved him to the sideboard, observing as he poured himself a tall drink. As he sat again, he studied Luke, then he scoffed with amusement. “You’re staring at me so morosely that I might be your headmaster and about to paddle you for an infraction.”
“It feels that way.”
Charles wasn’t that much older than Luke, only sixteen years, but he seemed much older. Wiser too. Luke had spent most of his life in the navy, following orders and doing what he was told. Charles had been wed twice, sired three children, been divorced, survived scandal and the death of a daughter, debated in Parliament, served on government councils, and advised kings.
Their experiences were so different that it was difficult to view them as being part of the same species.
“I’m sorry,” Charles said. “I’m not handling this very well.”
“Handling what? Am I about to be scolded for a transgression? I must admit I don’t remember committing one.”
“It’s not that. It’s . . . it’s . . .” Charles cut off his comment, then he tsked with annoyance. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“Just say it.”
“All right.” Charles took a deep breath, slowly let it out, then asked, “Are you having an affair with Miss Carstairs?”
It was the last question Luke had expected, but after Libby had passed the whole night at Barrett, he probably should have been prepared to answer it. He frantically considered what his response should be and ultimately settled on, “What makes you inquire about her?”
“I notice you didn’t deny it.”
“And I notice you haven’t explained yourself.”
“Are you in love with her? It’s the rumor that’s circulating.”
“Well . . .”
“I don’t think it’s a rumor,” Charles said. “I saw you gazing at her in the garden yesterday. Your affection was so blatant that it was almost embarrassing to witness it.”
“I like her.” It was such an understatement he was surprised the Good Lord didn’t swoop down from Heaven to call him a liar.
“But are you in love with her?” Charles pressed. “Again, you haven’t denied it. If you love her, and you propose to Penny, where will it leave my daughter?”
“Who told you about this?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me,” Luke said.
“Actually, it was Penny herself.”
Luke’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“Have you met Miss Carstairs’s cousin, Mr. Falcon?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve met him.”
“Apparently, he spilled the beans.”
Luke scowled. “Why would they have been discussing such an inappropriate topic?”
“Precisely,”
