Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
To Lydia’s shock, the duke seemed amenable to her spending the evening with Eliza’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Parsons. It was an opportunity for them to celebrate Eliza’s recent ‘engagement’—which Mr. Godwin was quick to assure her didn’t truly exist.
“I know it sounds shocking,” he said with a lazy grin. “But you may ask Eliza about it all you like. It’ll allow her the opportunity to form attachments without the burden of her parents requiring her to make a match.”
Lydia folded her hands neatly on her lap, forming her own thoughts, along with the memory of Eliza’s list. “What do you get from it?”
“The same freedom from my parents,” he shrugged, stretching out in the armchair. The duke lingered by the window, hands tucked behind his back, appearing to ignore them. “They are equally as concerned with finding me a match before I alienate all the eligible ladies of London.”
Lydia had to smile. “Is your behavior that shocking?”
“They have no idea, of course, but they assume the worst of me.” He winked at her, audaciously flirtatious, yet Lydia had spent enough time with him to know that for all their bickering, his heart belonged to Eliza.
She wondered if her friend knew.
The duke pivoted from the window, arms folded and scowling.
She half expected him to turn around and tell her that she would not be able to attend this dinner because she would have to pack in readiness for their trip to London.
Instead, he said in his usual clipped tones, “Enough of your nonsense, Godwin. So, Lydia? Do you wish to attend?”
She looked into his handsome, remote face, wishing she could read his thoughts behind the mask. “Do you have any objection?”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I would very much wish to go, then.”
“Very well.” He nodded at Mr. Godwin. “Be sure to return her at a reasonable hour.”
“You have my word as an honorable man.” Mr. Godwin gave the duke a salute and a wink, and the duke turned away. Yet before he did, Lydia thought she caught a glimpse of a reluctant smile.
“Are you not also attending?” she asked after Mr. Godwin left. That would be an excellent excuse for her to tick another of her items off her list, and she wasn’t sure how many more opportunities she would have.
His brows creased as he looked at her. “Would you like it if I attended?”
“I thought it might be fun?” She phrased the statement as a question, then doubted herself. “I expect you wish to see Eliza and Mr. Godwin pretending their engagement is real just as much as I do.”
His gaze jumped to hers, then away. “I think I have a reasonably accurate reading of the situation. Besides, I have other matters to attend to, so I think I will give this particular evening a miss.” He hesitated before adding, “I know Miss Eliza is a close friend, and I would not wish you to be deprived of her friendship.”
Lydia’s mouth opened, but before she could say anything—pointing out that he was the one who threatened to deprive her of it, or even thanking him for the sentiment—he strode away.
“I am exceedingly glad you could make it this evening!” Eliza chimed gleefully, hooking her arm through Lydia’s the first moment the two ladies were alone. “The duke wasn’t inclined to attend?”
“He said he had urgent business at home. But,” Lydia whispered, something compelling her to be fair, “he did express his wish that I not be deprived of this friendship.”
“Well, that’s something, at least.” Eliza dived into the fray and emerged with Marie following a little further behind. “Now that I have you both together, I can tell you my news. Before you say anything, let me be clear that this arrangement is strictly business.”
“I doubt it,” Lydia murmured.
Eliza’s mouth dropped open. “He told you, didn’t he?”
“Darling,” Marie said kindly, “this is an engagement dinner.”
“Yes, but I thought you would assume it was genuine.”
“I think,” Marie added, a twinkle in her eye, “you will end up married.”
“Before the year is out,” Lydia finished.
Eliza tossed her head. “To him? I would rather suffer the plague, I assure you.”
“He wants nothing more than to marry you,” Marie noted. “Even now, he is watching you.”
All three women leaned out to find Mr. Godwin watching them, a light in his eyes as though he knew precisely what they were discussing and what Eliza had to say on the subject.
And, not for the first time, Lydia reflected that he looked very much like a man in love.
Something she would have loved to have—a man who adored her so desperately.
If only Eliza could see it the same way.
“He is watching us,” Eliza insisted. “Because he knows I am telling you the truth, and he is wary of it reaching his mother’s ears. She is very keen on the match, you know. I shall almost be sorry when I’m obliged to throw him over.” She giggled. “But mark my words, I will.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Marie turned to Lydia. “Eliza told me about the list. Have you attempted anything of it?”
Lydia thought of the way she had sat on the duke’s lap, and her face flushed.
Eliza cackled. “I knew it! Tell us everything.”
“There is nothing much to say,” Lydia said instantly, defensive, though she hardly knew why. “I merely perched on his lap. Well,” she amended, “I fell.”
Eliza’s eyes turned round, and Marie gave a little knowing smile. “And?” she prompted. “How did he respond?”
“How? As any man might, I presume. He told me to get off.”
But, Lydia could recall, not for some time.
She had been sitting on his lap perfectly comfortably, and he had let her remain there for a few seconds—several seconds—before finally bidding her to move.
In fact, she had been so comfortable, she had almost felt as though she had rather not move at all.
“Did he become excited?” Marie asked, wiggling her brows.
“Excited?” Lydia frowned, thinking back. “I don’t think so. He seemed a little—shocked.”
Eliza giggled, one hand over her mouth. “Marie! Are you suggesting what I think you are?”
“How do you both know what she’s meaning and I don’t?” Lydia complained.
“That’s because, darling, you are married in name only,” Marie said, patting her arm gently. “No matter. Tell me, did you look down?”
“Down?”
“At his breeches, dearest.”
Lydia’s face flamed a deeper red. “Of course not! Why would I look at that?”
“Because then you would have an idea of how excited or not he was at having you in his arms. But you can always try it next time.”
“It would help me if I knew what I was looking for!” Lydia said, feeling as though the conversation had taken a detour through a rather impassable forest. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”
Marie lowered her voice and leaned in. “If he is aroused, there will be a bulge below his hips,” she murmured. “Men have an… organ that hardens when they are excited, and it is this that—if you are intimate—”
“We are not intimate,” Lydia whispered hurriedly. “And I have no intention of being so.”
Eliza pursed her lips, but her mother called her, and she glanced over her shoulder distractedly. “Drat. I must go. Mama wishes me to greet our guests with Samuel.”
Lydia and Marie watched her go. “How likely is it, do you think, that Eliza is in love with him?” Lydia asked idly.
“Oh, almost certain. And I believe she will marry him, too, if I have anything to say on the matter.” Marie cast a long look at Lydia.
“And you—I know you have no intention of being intimate with him, but speaking as a woman with experience, there are few things that take such a direct path to a man’s heart.
If you want him to fall in love with you, you could do worse than seducing him. ”
Lydia took her time thinking through her answer. True, she wanted to remain in the house, and thus for him to remain as her husband. And if, to do that, she needed her husband to love her, then perhaps it was worth consideration, but…
“If he loves me, will he not want to spend time with me?” she groused. “I would rather we lived separate lives.”
“Now, you would.” Marie accepted a crystal glass from a passing footman and sipped the wine inside. “But believe me, if you engage his heart and—well, darling, his manhood—then perhaps you might feel differently about the situation.”
“Do you really think me so weak as to fall in love with the man who abandoned me for a year?” Lydia demanded.
“Not love, precisely, no.” Marie considered her words, lowering her voice still further, though there was no one nearby enough to hear. “But there is something compelling about pleasure. And let me tell you now, there is nothing shameful about a lady’s enjoyment of such things with her husband.”
“I think I know rather more about your marriage than I wished to,” Lydia said dryly.
“It is the first and fastest way to a man’s heart, in my experience,” Marie nodded, taking Lydia’s arm and leading her through to the dining room.
Eliza and Mr. Godwin were ahead, Eliza staring into his face as she said something, her expression animated.
“And it comes with certain… perks. Believe me, Lydia.”
“Well, your husband might be good at that, but—”
“So teach him,” Marie said, her face perfectly serious. “Learn the things you like, and teach him. If he is a good man, he will listen and follow your instructions.”
“How am I to know what I like?” Lydia squeaked.
“With your hands, of course.” Marie patted her arm sympathetically. “I know the entire concept feels alien and wrong, but I think if you attempt it, you will understand.”
“I—” Lydia had no words left to convey her shock. That she, a woman who attended church every Sunday, might also touch herself, seemed like a sin too far.
And yet, as the dinner continued, she could not stop thinking about Marie’s expression—the contentment within her eyes, her conviction—and her own desire to remain in York. If seducing her husband was her best ticket to achieving that, then she would not quail at the last moment.
After all, being in his lap had been a largely pleasant experience.
Perhaps being intimate with him—even a kiss; after all, that was on her list—would not be so unpleasant. And they were married. As she had concluded, this was her last chance to experience these things if she was to go back to a solitary life.
Why not go further?
If the worst-case scenario was that he remained unmoved and intended to ship her away regardless, she would have lost nothing but gained experience.
That wasn’t so bad, was it? That wasn’t wrong. That wasn’t sinful.
Once the dinner ended, she decided, she would go in search of the duke and see if she could seduce him. If such a thing were possible.
She glanced down at herself and tugged at her silk gown, looking at the neckline and the way it dipped. Nothing too scandalous, but the ruffles made her appear even more busty than otherwise.
Her figure was good; the dress displayed it to advantage. He had not seen her before she left.
Determination solidified in her chest. When she returned home, she would throw herself at him, be positively shameless—and this time, she would look at his breeches. Then she would know for certain if she aroused him.
So, reassured, she settled back in her chair and waited for the evening to be over.