Lucius followed Philippa out into the fresh air of the entryway, then into the library. His mind was consumed with the vision of Miss Lockhart's stricken face, and his conscience was ringing quiet alarms that he had perhaps been wrong. He was so used to building up walls, to not getting involved.

His mother had leaned on him ever since his father had died, and Lucius had been too young to bear all her burdens or squire her about. Maria used him for her own ends, usually to even out her numbers and attract the right kind of society by having her titled brother attend all her functions. Even Charles had attempted to get him to throw his way into politics, so he could gain another ally that might sway the votes.

And George and Philippa, endearing though they were, were always in some scrape or another. George seemed only to get himself into trouble, and Philippa could wear down stone with her persistence, all while displaying a tendency toward wildness. It was never beyond the lines of propriety with her, but Lucius worried if someone didn't keep Philippa in check—and his mother was too indolent to do so and Maria too heavy-handed—he would end up having to rescue her reputation through a meeting at dawn or some such drama.

The last thing he needed was to have to defend the reputation of a woman who was not even related to him.

But Miss Lockhart had begun to creep past the barrier of indifferent acquaintance into something resembling attachment. He didn't know how it had happened, but her quiet dignity calmed him. Her poise attracted him, particularly when the rest of his family seemed to possess none. And when she flashed him a sudden, rare smile at something he said, it caused his heart to beat painfully, as if he were a lad experiencing his first crush. He tried to ignore these facts, but facts they were.

"Lucius," Philippa said, calling him to attention. "It was terrible what happened with Miss Lockhart. Could you not have done something?"

Lucius evaded her gaze. "It would have been a very delicate thing to do, for it would have given rise to speculation about the nature of our—”

"Who cares about speculation?" Philippa demanded. "Imagine if it were me receiving such backlash from a man like Mr. Downing. What right had he to treat her in such a way, especially after he jilted her? He should be the one who gets a tongue-lashing for being so fickle. It was entirely unfair that Miss Lockhart had to endure that—and all under the stares and whispers of the guests. I cannot believe Maria invited him here."

Lucius shook his head. "It could not have been innocently done. I suppose I should not be able to believe it, but I do. Let us not talk of this, however. What is done is done. I will do what I can to spread it about that Downing is the villain in the scenario."