Hunters

XII. Method

XII. Method

Vaughan knocked at the door and awaited an answer. He noticed that the vases in the hall had fresh flowers; they weren’t roses and that was all he knew about it.

He heard a call from within and straightened himself so as not to ever appear unlike a Duke. After all, he’d spent many years perfecting himself for the job. The latch clicked and the door opened gently to reveal Lecia and not the maid. Vaughan stiffened for a moment, surprised, and then relaxed.

“Where’s your—?” he started.

“I do like to be alone sometimes,” she told him. She smiled, but she was unhappy. “Come in,” she opened the door all of the way and closed it once he’d cleared the threshold.

Her sitting room was in disarray. There were fabric and wallpaper samples everywhere, and a box of…letters? Notes? He couldn’t tell. Frankly, he was shocked that she was capable of making such a mess.

“Are you busy?” he asked. Lecia noticed how he couldn’t help but keep looking at her disorganized planning.

“Not at the moment,” she grinned. “I’ll have you know, planning this Grand Soiree is more of a task than any one person can manage. Poor Izzy has tried to clean up after me, but I’m afraid I just get angry with her for it. There’s a structure to it all, I swear it.”

He watched in silence as she glided through the disastrous place, moving things around and into order so that they could sit.

“I feel as though I haven’t seen you in ages,” she told him. It had been awhile.

“I know,” he sighed dolefully. “That’s why I’ve come now. I have time tomorrow for a ride, and I was hoping you’d accompany me.”

“I’d love to,” she said softly, staring into the empty pit of the hearth.

Vaughan was justifiably concerned at this point. He’d noticed the sullen shift in her behavior almost a month ago. It had been at the Ascot, she’d become despondent right before his very eyes and it sickened him. He knew it was his doing. What else could it have been?

“Really, Lecia, what’s troubling you?” he practically whispered, moving to sit beside her. He didn’t yet dare to touch her, but he needed to be closer.

“What?” she tried to laugh. “What makes you think something’s the matter?”

“You’ve been apathetic and detached, and I just…”

“Oh,” she sighed. “Planning this ball has just been consuming so much of my time lately. I’m just fine, really.”

Not convinced, Vaughan took her hand in his and gazed at her until she finally looked at him.

“Tell me.” He was more stern than he’d intended.

First, she blinked. Then she swallowed and pulled back her shoulders.

“Zora is with child,” she declared. It was a simple statement. Her chin was up, putting on airs that she wasn’t the least bit bothered by the fact, but clearly—as they were in the current situation—it was eating away at her in some capacity or another.

“Ah,” was all Vaughan could manage at first. His instinct was to release her hand from his and retreat to the opposite settee, but, looking at the darkness in her usually bright eyes, he knew he had to stay. “Is that…bad?” Lecia’s expression blackened.

“No,” she said. “I’m quite happy for her, truly.” She was honest, at least, he could see.

“Then I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” he said softly.