Chapter 10
“ L ook at this.” Lydia’s fingers smoothed the crumpled paper for the hundredth time as she strode along the Serpentine in the pale dawn light, her friend hurrying to keep pace. “She says that she had the pleasure of conversing with him during the ball and is happy that he agreed to exchange letters with her so they can get to know each other better prior to their wedding.” Her lips curled into a bitter smile.
“So what, Lydia?” Honoria’s voice cracked with exasperation.
“So what ? Can’t you see?” Lydia’s eyes remained fixed on the letter. “They barely know each other. They’ve only met but once.”
Honoria planted herself in Lydia’s path, forcing her to halt. With gentle but firm fingers, she pushed the letter down until Lydia met her concerned gaze. “You need to take this letter back, Lydia. It isn’t yours.”
Lydia scrunched up her nose, fingers tightening on the paper. “I can’t. I tore it open.”
“You… what?” Honoria’s eyes widened. “It is unlike you to be this careless, Lydia! What happens when he finds out that the letter is missing?”
Lydia huffed a breath, a strand of hair flying up from her forehead. “You don’t understand. I need this letter.”
Honoria threw up her hands. “For what?”
“You don’t think that this is relevant, but it is. I can’t take the blasted ring off Art’s body, I’ve tried and failed!” She grimaced. Twice . “And do not wish to do so again. But with this”—she thrust the letter in front of Honoria’s face, making her friend take a step back—“I can.”
“What do you mean?” Honoria asked on a sigh, her shoulders sagging.
“I mean,” Lydia said in a softer voice as she leaned forward, “his bride obviously wants to know more about him. And as his bride, it won’t be intrusive if she asks him personal questions.”
Honoria briefly closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Are you going to ask her to help us? Because I don’t think she will oblige.”
“I am not planning to involve anyone.” Lydia made a dismissive gesture. “At least, she won’t know she’s helping us. We’ll be corresponding on her behalf.”
“ We? ” Honoria’s jaw dropped, her normally composed features twisting in horror. If the situation weren’t dire, Lydia would’ve laughed, for she had never seen such an expression overcome her friend’s beautiful face.
“I can’t do it alone,” she pleaded instead, clasping her hands together. “After all, I cannot forge Miss Prescott’s handwriting.”
“Why forge it? This is their first correspondence.” Honoria jabbed her finger at the letter with each word. “It. Says. So. Right. Here. Therefore, he doesn’t know her handwriting.”
“No.” Lydia’s mouth twisted. “But he does know mine.”
Honoria’s eyes softened, almost in pity. Her voice was calmer, quieter as she spoke, “It’s been ten years, Lydia. Do you truly think he still remembers?”
I remember. Lydia’s heart squeezed painfully. But he probably doesn’t. “He is the one who taught me letters.”
“Yes, but you have changed. Your letters have changed.”
“You don’t know that. And I can’t take that risk.” Lydia folded the letter and tucked it into her coat pocket. Perhaps she hoped he still remembered, just as she did. But the truth was simpler than that—she didn’t want to face this alone. Corresponding with him felt… personal. She needed to stay level-headed through all this, and Honoria possessed that level head.
And at this moment, she was shaking said level head, dark brown curls catching the light. “You are meddling with people’s lives, Lydia.”
“And didn’t he meddle with mine?” Lydia’s fingers clenched into fists. “Or have you forgotten the sole reason I am even living this life? I know I am the reason you’re living your life like this. Help me help you.”
“You are asking for trouble,” Honoria said, her protest weakening.
“No, I am not.” Lydia straightened, sensing victory. Her friend was wavering—she just needed a few more arguments. She looped her arm through Honoria’s and started walking along the Serpentine again. “Can’t you see? We’ll be able to know where he is at all times! Perhaps we can even get him to tell us exactly when he removes the ring or persuade him to surrender it for a good cleaning. Or we could lure him into a trap!”
“You are right,” Honoria said with a smile in her voice. “I can’t let you do this alone. God knows what you’re going to do to the poor fellow if I do.”
Lydia let out a low chuckle. “Well, then. Let the hunt begin.”
* * *
“Dearest Lord Thornton,” Honoria enunciated as she wrote the words, her fingers trembling slightly around the quill.
“Dearest?” Lydia scoffed as she leaned closer to look at the piece of paper before Honoria. “What, is she in love with him? They barely know each other.”
They sat huddled on Honoria’s narrow bed in her room, Honoria hunched over the small bedside table, while Lydia perched on her knees by her side, watching over her shoulder. They had precious little time before the master of the house would rise, so they needed to hurry.
“He is her fiancé,” Honoria protested.
“They saw each other but once.” Lydia rolled her eyes. “And judging from that dance, they did not enjoy each other’s company either.”
Honoria raised a brow, her jaw tightening, but wisely didn’t comment. “Fine.” She dipped her quill with more force than necessary. “My Lord Thornton…”
“That isn’t personal enough. You said it yourself, they are affianced.”
Honoria’s shoulders stiffened, her knuckles whitening around the quill. “Do you want to do this yourself?”
“No, no, dear,” Lydia soothed, patting Honoria’s arm with exaggerated gentleness. “Do go on.”
Honoria crumpled the paper and tossed it aside before starting anew. “My dear Lord Thornton,” she wrote.
“Good.” Lydia smiled. “Not too formal, yet not too personal. I like it.”
“Ah, yes, the letter is a raging success,” Honoria noted drily.
“Don’t act churlish. The first few sentences are the hardest, I promise.”
“You say that as if you’ve done this before,” Honoria grumbled under her breath, and Lydia’s heart twinged with an old pain. I have.
“I just mean that people usually pay a lot of attention to the beginning.” Lydia’s fingers drummed a nervous pattern on her knee. “One shouldn’t rouse any suspicions when the person is just starting to read, for every mistake is noticed. But once one successfully catches the reader’s attention, they are more likely to forgive little blunders.”
Honoria chuckled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Don’t tell this to Lord Caldwell’s wards. Very well, what’s next?”
“We should say something about the upcoming festivities. Ask where he is planning to go next.”
Honoria scrunched up her nose, tapping the quill against her chin. “No, that is too obvious. First, let us write about the previous ball so we can move to our main topic of conversation from there.”
Lydia grinned. “You would make a perfect governess.”
“Yes, forging a letter, harboring a thief in my room. I am a perfect example to follow,” Honoria quipped, though her smile held a touch of genuine amusement.
“You are helping a friend punish an evil man and gain enough compensation for both of us to lead a pleasant life.” Lydia waved a hand, settling more comfortably beside her friend. “I’d say it is a very good example to follow. Especially for a lady.”
Honoria ducked her head and fiddled with the quill. “How about… It was a pleasure dancing with you during the Caldwells’ ball. An accomplished dancer such as yourself must require constant practice. ” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “That way, we can transition into the activities he performs in his spare time and perhaps even ask about his plans for future balls.”
“That is very good,” Lydia agreed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “But let’s add a flair of self-deprecation and perhaps a bit of humor.”
Honoria raised a brow and dipped the quill in ink, her hand poised expectantly over the paper. “Do dictate.”
Lydia thought for a moment, her lips pursed in concentration, before speaking. “It was a pleasure dancing with you during the Caldwells’ ball. A person, such as myself, who is not a graceful dancer only ever hopes for a competent partner to keep one upright and not to let one land on one’s face in front of the entire ton .”
“That is good.” Honoria chuckled, her quill easily gliding across the paper. “Please, continue.”
“ You must forgive my candidness ,” Lydia dictated, her gaze concentrated on a single point ahead, “ but I feel that my future husband should know all my worries. After all, my every step is being observed by harsh matrons of the ton who deem me unsuitable to be in their company, and my every smile is being evaluated by the envious ladies who wished to be the ones dancing with you.”
Honoria’s quill stilled mid-word, and she glanced at Lydia, something unreadable flickering across her face.
Lydia shifted on her knees, smoothing her skirts. “Something amiss?”
Honoria shook her head, her fingers tightening around the quill. “No.” Then she dipped her quill in ink and continued writing, the scratch of nib against paper unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
Lydia had once been the girl who wished to be dancing in Art’s arms in front of the entire ton . She’d thought she wouldn’t care for all the stares directed their way once that happened, but the reality was never as easy. Even in her new persona as a wealthy widow, she was looked down upon. If she had married the viscount all those years ago, a mere slip of a girl, a maid…
Lydia shook her head, pressing her fingernails into her palms. That line of thought was never helpful. Thank God she didn’t marry the bounder. No doubt, she would have been miserable.
Of course, he never would have married her. She was beneath him. Way-way beneath him. Even his current fiancée was considered unacceptable. His title probably had fallen on hard times if he sought out an heiress. Lydia’s lips curved into a sharp smile. She would make certain his troubles would not end there.
She cleared her throat, pushing away the bitterness threatening to color her voice. “ I have never been in a position where every eye was on me—watching, scrutinizing, evaluating. As the viscount’s betrothed, I need to get used to being in such a position, and I hope my husband will be by my side guiding me through it all. A hand on the small of my back, a nod toward me and a smile are truly the only things required to give me confidence. ”
Honoria threw a questioning gaze at Lydia, her eyebrow arched.
“I am getting to a point, I promise,” Lydia said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He needs to believe his fiancée to be vulnerable, sincere. He needs to want to share all his intimate secrets with her.”
“You mean with you,” Honoria observed shrewdly, her quill hovering above the paper.
“With us, yes. So we can get him alone, naked and afraid, then get the ring and leave him there.”
Honoria’s face twisted. “I do not want to see him naked.”
“Oh, fine!” Lydia rolled her eyes, pretending annoyance. “But how about vulnerable, alone, and without his precious jewel?”
Honoria grumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “I know which jewel you’d like to see.”
“What?” Lydia craned her neck to face Honoria, but her friend turned away, a flush creeping up her neck as she dipped her quill in the ink again.
“I said, as long as you get the ring, I do not care for much else.”
Lydia shook her head, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Then keep writing.”
Honoria raised a brow, quill poised expectantly. “Well?”
Lydia chewed on her lip, gathering her thoughts. “But before I can saunter into the society as Viscountess Thornton, I do hope you shall make a few appearances at balls and soirees to ease my entry. Are you planning any outings this week? Please, I would love to read any gossip you can share about life in London. I want to be familiar with every aspect of your and the ton’s life before my return to London.”
Honoria tapped a finger against her lips, leaving a tiny ink smudge. “That won’t do.”
“What do you mean that won’t do? It’s perfect.” Lydia’s voice rose slightly with indignation.
“Yes, but you can’t just ask him to share every aspect of his life without sharing yours.”
Lydia grimaced, slumping against the bed frame. “What am I supposed to say? I do not know anything about Miss Prescott, do you?”
“No.” Honoria shook her head. “But you’ll have to come up with something.”
Lydia narrowed her eyes on Honoria, a calculating thoughts swirling in her mind. “Fine. Write this.”