Lately he’d entertained passing thoughts of leaving the city behind to take up permanent residence there. But the prospect of rattling around in that big manor all alone stopped him from seriously considering it.
Just then, a small hand slipped into his, startling him out of his reverie.
Straightening, he stared down into the pixie face of a little girl he’d noticed simply because she reminded him of Megan with her long blond hair and big blue eyes.
“I’m Sarah.” She didn’t smile, only studied him with a seriousness that unnerved him.
Lucian glanced around the parlor, belatedly realizing Megan had finished the book. She and the parents were assisting the children swarming the dessert table.
“Uh, hello.”
What did one say to a child? Her warm fingers clutched his, and he marveled at their fragility. If he had to guess, he’d say she was about five or six.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Lucian.”
She scrunched up her nose, which only made her look more adorable. “Huh?”
Squatting to her level, he repeated, “My name is Lucian.”
Reaching out, she touched the tip of her finger to his sapphire tiepin. “That’s sparkly. I like pretty things. Can I have it?”
He cleared his throat to cover a chuckle. There was no guile in this little one’s eyes, merely simple curiosity. “Well, I doubt you would have use of it. It’s for gentlemen, and you are a lady.”
She seemed to ponder that for a minute. He held his breath, wondering what he’d say if she insisted. He had no experience with this sort of thing.
“Are you Mr. Charles’s son?”
He jerked his head back at the unexpected question. “No. I’m his grandson.”
Tilting her head, a tiny line appeared between her fine eyebrows. “Mr. Charles was a nice man. Are you nice, too?”
Lucian sucked in a breath.
“Sarah,” Megan said as she appeared at their side and placed a gentle hand on the little girl’s shoulder, “wouldn’t you like a treat? They’re going fast.”
With a nod, Sarah slipped her hand from his and hopped to the table without a backward glance. Lucian stood, grateful for the intervention and wondering what Megan had seen in his face that had induced her to take mercy on him. Could she read his moods that easily?
“She didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable.”
“I know.” He watched her at the table, solemnly debating what to put on her plate. “Is she always that serious?”
A heavy sigh escaped her. “She’s had a rough year. Her ma died in childbirth, as did the baby. Her father hasn’t coped well.”
Lucian’s mouth turned down. Such a tragic loss couldn’t be easy for a young child to process. His gaze returned to Megan to find her studying him with an inscrutable expression. One pale brow quirked.
“So, are you?”
“Am I what?”
Her voice went soft. “Are you a nice man?”
He exhaled. “That’s impossible for me to answer, Megan.”
She stepped closer, smelling of roses and, more faintly, strawberries. He clasped his hands behind his back, away from temptation.
“Well, I’ll answer it, then. I think you are nice.”
His jaw went slack. Pleasure reverberated through him, followed quickly by misgivings. “I’m astonished you’d say that, considering.”
“You’re simply acting under false assumptions concerning your grandfather.” Her blue eyes darkened. “And me.”
“Is that so?” He fought the pull of her innocent appeal.
“Don’t go all haughty on me,” she challenged, not in the least fazed. “We’re going to have to discuss this sometime.” Her mouth softened as genuine confusion settled on her face. “I’d really like to know why you didn’t come to see him. You don’t strike me as someone who’d deliberately hurt another person.”
Lucian didn’t often find himself without a ready response. Megan thought he was nice? If that was her true opinion, then she was one of the most charitable women he’d ever met. So was she really that bighearted? Or just very clever?
Chapter Five
Megan could tell she’d shocked him. No doubt he wasn’t accustomed to anyone questioning his behavior, especially females. New Orleans socialites likely tripped all over themselves to gain his favor, to be linked with such a man as he—wealthy, influential, articulate, gorgeous. Not her. She may be a romantic at heart, but she wasn’t about to allow herself to be impressed by superficial charms.
She wanted to know the man beneath the brooding reserve and smooth manners. His innermost thoughts and feelings. His motivations. And she wasn’t sure if that was possible, or even wise.
Abbott and Ivy Tremain, grandparents of one of the kids, took the silence stretching between them as a sign to interrupt.
“Mr. Beaumont,” Abbott interjected, thrusting out his hand, “it’s an honor to finally meet you.”
As Abbott introduced himself and his wife, Lucian shook his hand and nodded to Ivy. “Likewise. Please, call me Lucian.”
Was Megan the only one who noticed the tension jumping along his jaw? She mentally kicked herself. She shouldn’t have brought up the volatile subject while the house was crawling with guests.
“Lucinda, Ivy and I grew up together. Your mother was a delightful girl. Fun to be around.”
“Oh, yes.” The attractive brunette nodded with a nostalgic smile. “She was as sweet as could be. Growing up, she never caused Charles a bit of trouble, and so we were all taken by complete surprise when she up and ran off with Gerard. Terrible time, that was.”
Megan’s stomach dropped to the floor. Lucian’s face appeared carved in stone, his eyes as black as the forest on a moonless night. Beneath the blue coat, his shoulders went rigid.
Oblivious to his turmoil, Abbott continued, “Charles was never the same after that, was he, my dear?”
She shook her head sadly. “He missed her something fierce. I know a lot of folks around here hoped she’d come back and visit, but she never did.”
“But we’re glad Charles’s grandson is here, at long last,” the older man said with a grin. “How long are you in town for?”
Megan held her breath. Would he tell them about the will stipulation? If he did, the whole town would be buzzing about it within the hour.
“I’m not certain.” Their gazes locked, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “For a couple of weeks, at least.”
“Good, good. It’s awful nice of you to continue your grandfather’s traditions. The children really enjoy themselves when they come here.” Abbott cocked his head at Megan. “This young lady is a gifted storyteller.”
Lucian’s dark brows met in the middle. “Yes, she certainly is.”
Now, why didn’t that sound like a compliment?
“She’s going to make some lucky man a fine wife someday,” Ivy piped up. The sly wink she sent Lucian’s direction made Megan long to run for the door. Her cheeks grew hot. She kept her gaze trained on the colorful rug beneath her feet.
“I believe Tom Leighton’s already figured that out,” her husband joked.
Enough humiliation. “If you’ll excuse