Page 200 of From Rakes to Riches

Pivoting, Fiona saw Lord Lucien coming toward them. “I have not.” He looked more like Cassandra than like their brother, Aldington. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, Lord Lucien moved with the predatory grace of a cat stalking a bird.

At that moment, Cassandra’s aunt turned from the woman she’d been speaking with. “Lucien, since you’re here, I may take myself off.” She waved to Cassandra. “See you later, dear.” Her gaze landed on Fiona and then Prudence with a bit of surprise. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed their arrival. “And your friend ishere with her companion. Yes, you will be quite taken care of. Splendid.” Smiling, she left in the company of her friend without waiting for anyone to respond.

“I see Aunt Christina is as helpful as ever,” Lord Lucien noted with a wry shake of his head.

“Always,” Cassandra drawled. “Lucien, allow me to present my dear friend, Miss Fiona Wingate.”

Lord Lucien took her hand and bowed elegantly. He did not press a kiss to her glove, which Fiona would not have minded. In fact, she would have found it thrilling. There was something rather magnetizing about him. But he was also her newest, dearest friend’s brother, and she would cease to think of him as attractive immediately.

“I have heard a great deal about you, Miss Wingate,” he said, his deep voice rippling over her.

“Have you?”

“Overton is a close friend.” He looked toward Prudence. “Good evening, Miss Lancaster. You are looking well.”

“Thank you, my lord. It’s nice to see you.”

Prudence knew Lord Lucien? Fiona was dying to know how, but she’d have to wait to ask her about that.

“Lucien, it’s good that you’re here,” Cassandra said. “I’ve been wanting to speak with you about the Phoenix Club assemblies.” She glanced toward Fiona. “I would like to go but, as you know, Aunt Christina is not a member. Neither is Miss Wingate’s sponsor, Lady Pickering.”

Lord Lucien gave her a bemused look. “I know how desperately you want to come to the club, but I can’t extend invitations to either one of you.” He cast an apologetic glance toward Fiona.

“Have you even invited Aunt Christina?” Cassandra asked.

“No,” he said slowly, stretching the tiny word out. “She would likely decline.”

Cassandra took a step toward him, her expression pleading. “Will you please try? She likes you. She might surprise you.”

“Father won’t like it. Neither will Con.”

“Since when do you care what they like?”

His lips spread in a devilish smile. “Never.”

“I’m actually surprised you haven’t invited her just to annoy Papa. And Con.”

“You make an excellent point.” He cocked his head. “Why haven’t I?” He narrowed his eyes playfully at his sister. “You’ve always been far too smart.”

Cassandra notched up her chin in faux haughtiness. “So you tell me.”

Their warm and easy sibling banter teased an ache inside Fiona. She hadn’t ever had siblings, of course, and she couldn’t even say she’d had a close relationship with family. Seeing them, she realized she wanted that—a connection with others. A family.

Perhaps marriage wouldn’t be such a bad thing, not that she’d ever thought it would be. But perhaps it wouldn’t be detrimental to consider it sooner than later. Yes, she would keep an open mind, just as she’d told Overton she would.

“Fiona, you will come as our guest once Aunt Christina accepts the invitation,” Cassandra said brightly.

“You’re confident.” Lord Lucien shook his head. “But then you always are. However, that doesn’t mean you’re always right. Do not be surprised if Aunt Christina does not want anything to do with the club.”

“I find that difficult to imagine. Why would anyone—especially a woman—decline an invitation? I’d give anything to be a member.”

“So you tell me at every opportunity,” Lucien said wryly.

“Perhaps if you didn’t tell me how delightful and wonderful it is, I wouldn’t be so keen to get inside.” Cassandra looked toFiona. “You should have heard him while he was decorating the club before it opened, always discussing an expensive wallpaper or the marble he’d ordered for a fireplace or the massive painting of Pan hosting a bacchanalia that he commissioned to hang in the entry hall. He made sure I was positively seething with envy.”

Lucien grinned. “It’s a brother’s duty to torment his younger sister. You forgot to mention the sister portrait featuring Circe and her nymphs as Odysseus’s men bow to them in the ladies’ foyer.”

“I’d love to see that,” Fiona said, more eager than ever to get into the Phoenix Club.

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