Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The next day dawned delightfully snowy. Lydia immediately dressed in her warmest clothes and made her way outside into the glittering snowscape.
All the plants and bushes in the garden had been covered in a white blanket, and her breath puffed from her lips as she stepped through the winter wonderland.
The cold nipped at her nose and slid down her neck, but she merely huddled more firmly in her coat.
Underfoot, the snow was a full six inches deep, and although gardeners worked to clear pathways, she knew the roads would be worse.
Just as Alexander had predicted, there would be no traveling today.
She flung her arms up, suddenly buoyed, and might have broken into a skip when a dry voice said from behind her, “Enjoying yourself?”
She whirled suddenly, spying Alexander, his greatcoat damp with snow and his cheeks flushed as though he had just come back from a walk. She looked from his sturdy boots to his face.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“Visiting the roads to ascertain their condition.”
“And?”
“And,” he continued, an eyebrow rising, “they are utterly impassable.”
She twirled again, laughing at the white clouds that surrounded her from her breath. If she listened, she fancied she could hear the tinkle of icicles.
“I do so love this sort of weather,” she said wistfully. “As a child, I always used to rush out at the first snow. It used to drive my mother wild.”
Alexander looked at her as though he’d never seen her before.
His eyes gleamed, bright for the first time since they’d met, and although she couldn’t see his hands to be certain, she didn’t think they were shaking.
In fact, his cheekbones carved into his cheeks and his mouth pinked from the cold, she thought he looked too handsome for words.
That part of her that had never died—the one who had fallen so desperately in love with him after his rescue—flared back to life as she watched him.
“Would you like to walk with me?” she offered. “It truly is refreshing.”
For a heartbeat, he looked as though he was tempted by the idea. Or perhaps even tempted by her. But then he shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“For a start, I have work to attend to. And for another, it is far too icy. What if you were to slip and fall?”
She had the temerity to laugh at him. “Then I imagine you would catch me!”
By the look on his face, he was imagining himself doing just that. Seconds later, he shook his head. “Absolutely not. That would be reckless in the extreme, and you might pose another danger to my hand.”
She nodded and flicked her scarf over her shoulder. “Very well. Enjoy your work, Alexander.”
“…Wait,” he called after her, indignation in his voice. No doubt he expected her to give up on her plans merely because he thought it was a bad idea. “If you think this will prompt me into ignoring my other commitments, then you will be disappointed. I have no intention of joining you.”
“No, I doubted very much you did,” she called back.
“What if you fall?”
“Then I must bear the consequences of my actions. Until dinner!” She flicked her fingers at him in the approximation of a wave and made her way through an archway in the wall, ignoring the satisfaction rising in her chest at the thought of defying him like this.
Alexander kicked at the snow as he made his way back to the house. When he encountered Philips, he jabbed a finger at his butler as though Lydia’s stubbornness were his fault.
“My wife,” he muttered, biting off the words, “has seen it fit to go wandering about the countryside without so much as a maid to keep her company.”
Philips looked askance at the front door. “She would have trouble finding a maid prepared to step out in this weather, Your Grace.”
“That is precisely the problem.” He gritted his teeth. Out of principle, he had not followed her, because he would not be beholden to her bad decisions. They were husband and wife in name only; he refused to allow himself to care for her.
But he also refused to allow her to be hurt due to her own stubbornness.
“The paths are covered in ice,” he said. “Does she have a route she typically follows?”
“I believe so, Your Grace.”
“Then send a footman out after her before she hurts herself.” Graphic images of her slipping on the ice and splitting her head open plagued him, and he shook his head. “See to it that she returns unharmed.”
“Of course, sir.”
Without another word, Alexander retreated to his study.
Then, when he encountered once again what a mess she had made of his private space, he relocated to the library.
Distracted by constant thoughts of Lydia’s whereabouts, he had just begun attempting to work through his pile of correspondence, the fire smoking pitifully, when there came a knock at the door.
“Yes?” he asked, irritable.
There had once been a time when he wasn’t so easily irritated, but that was so long ago, he could scarcely remember it—back when the world felt like summer sunshine. Now, he was a glacier, icy and impenetrable, and that was how he preferred things.
“There you are, old chap!” Samuel exclaimed, entering the room. “Working again, I see.”
Alexander spared a single glance for the window, noting that it was just as wintry as when he had retreated inside a full hour earlier. And Lydia had yet to return. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “The roads are impassable.”
Samuel raised a brow. “Checked already, have you?”
“And what if I have?”
As always, Samuel made himself at home, sinking into an armchair and lacing his fingers across his chest. “I walked here, as it happens. Where is that delightful young wife of yours?”
Alexander narrowed his eyes at his infuriating friend. “Out.”
“Out where? In this weather?”
It took all his considerable might to prevent himself from grinding his teeth. Yes, she was out in this weather, and he had been unable to dissuade her. “As you see.”
Samuel watched him with unaccustomed somberness. “So that’s it, then?”
“That’s what?”
“Never mind.” He shook his head. “I came to inform you that Miss Eliza and I are…” He paused lazily. “Well, let us say we are pretending to have an arrangement.”
Alexander laid down his pen. Although not all his mind disengaged from Lydia, this new information distracted him sufficiently. “Pretending?” he asked, brow arching. “Is Eliza one of my wife’s friends?”
“She is. And yes, Rayment.” Samuel fixed him with a stern glare. “Pretending.”
Alexander didn’t believe him for a moment, but he decided against questioning it. “Well, then,” he replied. “I wish you luck.”
“Hopefully, it will be a short-term arrangement,” Samuel went on. “But I wanted you to know about it before someone else happened to mention it in passing.”
“A short-term arrangement?” Alexander swirled his drink. “And it is merely to placate your respective parents, I hazard?”
“If she has my interest, she may garner the interest of other eligible gentlemen,” Samuel said vaguely, not seeming to notice anything odd about his words.
“I imagine there is a great potential for courting in this society,” Alexander added with as much sobriety as he could manage.
“Precisely. It seemed the most logical conclusion.”
“And the lady herself?”
“Pardon?”
“What of her?” Alexander considered his old friend for a moment. It wasn’t like Samuel to be so oblivious, but then again, he had rarely been involved in female matters. “Does she enter into the arrangement eagerly?”
“It was her suggestion,” Samuel clarified.
“Ah.” Alexander thought back to what little he knew of Miss Eliza. She had black hair and a lively temperament, and during the occasion he had specifically noted her, it had largely been in the context of noticing his wife.
Out of habit, he once again glanced at the window. Surely she ought to be back by now. Had the servants found her?
“You look distracted,” Samuel pushed. “Tell me, why are you in here working when you could be spending time with your lovely wife?”
“Because,” Alexander replied icily, “she is not to be my wife for much longer.”
“Mm.” Samuel let silence grow between them, and Alexander pulled a letter toward him, scanning the words even though the letters jumbled in his brain. All he could see was the expression on Lydia’s face as she had grinned at him, defiant and bright in the snow.
All it would take was a second, then something terrible could happen.
“You know,” Samuel began, as though roused from a great contemplation, “it would be a shame to remove her from a community in which she is so beloved.”
“Hmm?” Once again, Alexander wrenched his thoughts away from accidents and blood and prone bodies. “What are you saying?”
His old friend gave an impatient sigh. “Must you end the marriage. Are you intending to marry another?”
“No.” The word was out before Alexander could even consider the question.
“Well, then. It is not as though you want to leave a space in your life for another woman.” Samuel braced his elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely between his legs.
“Consider it, Rayment. She could stay here in this life she has created for herself, and you could return to London. Eliza would not lose a friend, the duchess would not lose her position, and all could be perfectly pleasant. Don’t act rashly just because you have a bee in your bonnet about the things you ought to do. ”
Alexander’s hand balled around his pen, knuckles whitening. “Enough.”
“Just consider it. Eliza tells me how very lonely the duchess was until recently. Will you force her to endure that all over again?”
Irritated with his friend, irritated with Lydia, and irritated with himself, Alexander rose from his chair and strode to the door.
The idea in and of itself wasn’t a bad one, especially as he had no particular desire to ever be in this house, but it would require informing everyone in his life about his change of heart.
As for Lydia, would he be able to leave her here, knowing she was in essence his responsibility, and knowing too that she was prone to making foolish decisions such as walking in the snow?
He was on the verge of storming out in search of her when he heard a bright laugh spilling from the hallway. He hung back to watch as Lydia shook out her cloak, apologizing laughingly to Mrs. Jones.
“I am sorry about the mess. I always forget how much snow tends to collect things when it sticks to your clothes.” As though to demonstrate her point, she held out a stick.
This wasn’t the ice-cold duchess that Alexander, in his worst dreams, had envisaged himself being forced to marry for the sake of his line.
She was soft, pliable, smiling up at the footman Oliver with such genuine gratitude that Alexander’s chest tightened with still more irritation.
Not once since his return had she looked at him like that.
“Thank you for coming out after me,” she said softly. “I hate to think I’ve distracted you from your other duties.”
“Not at all, ma’am,” Oliver answered stoically, but Alexander knew his servants enough to know the man was genuinely charmed.
Of course he was—everyone in this damn house had fallen under her spell.
“You see?” Samuel piped from behind him. “She belongs here.”
Alexander tried his best not to jump. “I hadn’t thought this would happen,” he murmured, massaging his temples.
The relief he felt at knowing she was well, felt overpowered by his uncertainty of his next path.
For the second time in his life, his future felt utterly shrouded, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
“Eliza is hosting a dinner tomorrow evening,” Samuel added. “I’ll be inviting Lydia. Give you an evening alone to come to a decision. And who knows—maybe you’ll decide she can stay.”