Chapter Five
Lydia
If Lydia weren’t already aware of what a cad that Viscount Snowdon was, the encounter she witnessed only proved her point.
It had already irked that he had helped the men beat the women in charades, but then to overhear him and his lover only confirmed what she believed to be true of his character.
They hadn’t even bothered to close the door before his lips were on hers.
She had scurried away as soon as she saw his head lean down to kiss the woman, deciding she didn’t wish to see or hear anything else. Lydia hoped they took the time to close the door before he lifted the woman’s skirts, and before he scandalized his family with his behavior.
He probably fought so hard to win the game so that he could ensure he paired with the woman.
Lydia supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, since Lady Billings was a pretty widow with a bit of a reputation for sinking her teeth into the men known for their prowess.
If the woman could land Jude, Viscount Sandon, the most notorious of them all, she’d have a complete set.
Lydia chastised herself for thinking such unkind things.
It wasn’t any of her business who the woman took to her bed.
In the spirit of the Christmas holiday, she shouldn’t be so harsh on others.
Besides, the whole of the ton would call her a lightskirt if they knew she had also allowed herself to succumb to pleasure at the hand of a different rake.
As much as she hated the blighter, she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed what he had done to her.
Or what he had attempted to do when he touched the sensitive place between her legs.
Even though she had stopped him since she didn’t feel comfortable being so vulnerable with him, the touch had still awakened something within her.
She had taken to repeating the act with her own hand, and had experienced something that made her shake and cry out in her chamber.
It didn’t help that she heard Lady Billings proclaim what a remarkable lover that Viscount Snowdon was. She may not care much for the man, but she didn’t doubt that he’d live up to his reputation in matters of bed sport.
She huffed and moved about her room, attempting to work off some of her pent-up energy.
There was a soft knock at the door and then Tilly cracked it open. “Are you ready for me, miss?”
“Indeed,” she said more harshly than she had intended.
Tilly helped her to remove her dress and then don a serviceable night rail covered by a light blue dressing robe.
Lydia settled in the chair before the mirror while Tilly brushed her long, dark hair and then fixed it into a long plait that fell over her shoulder.
Fortunately, Tilly did most of the talking, and Lydia just listened.
The talk was mostly various on dit from other servants about their respective lords and ladies.
It always amazed Lydia how the servants gossiped and got so much information from each other, which many of them undoubtedly shared, as Tilly had done.
Gossip wasn’t a sport limited to the members of the ton, it would seem.
Once Lydia had completed her evening ablutions, Tilly added another log to the fire, and then bid her goodnight.
Lydia removed her robe and then crawled into bed.
Warmth radiated within the bedding from where Tilly had put the bed warmer in place.
Snuggling under the blankets, and bringing them to her chin, she pushed aside all of her thoughts and turned to her side, willing herself to fall asleep.
*
Lydia’s eyes shot open, and she struggled to catch her breath.
Her hand was between her legs with her night rail pulled up beneath the covers so that her hand worked the place at the start of her folds.
Her chest rose and fell, as if she had sprinted across a field.
She wasn’t certain if she had actually achieved a climax, or if it had been part of her dream.
Lydia supposed she didn’t care, as the result was the same, and it had been even more intense than the first time she had experienced such a sensation.
She closed her eyes and saw him still there, touching her body.
Lydia blinked her eyes open again, her cheeks heated.
It would be quite embarrassing if Viscount Snowdon ever found out that she had dreamed of him and been driven to touch herself.
He never would, given she would never tell another soul.
She only hoped that her face wouldn’t turn five shades redder when she saw him at breakfast.
The upside of the matter was that she relieved the tension within her body and perhaps she could finally put an end to such wicked thoughts. At least until she was back home, where she could imagine what the viscount looked like without his shirt on and not see him at the breakfast table.
Lydia had never seen a man without his clothes on before and would need to quit thinking about it if she wished the tension she had eased to remain at bay.
Climbing from her bed, she moved to the wash basin to wash her face, and her hands, after the way she had found herself once she woke. After she had freshened herself, she reached for the bellpull to ring for Tilly.
Half an hour later she was dressed in a pale blue morning dress, and her hair swept back into a simple chignon. Once Tilly had finished with her hair, she donned her ankle boots and then set off to join the others for breakfast.
She knocked on her parents’ door this time. After she rapped her knuckles, her mother called from the other side of the door.
“Good morning, dearest,” her mother said to her. “We were just about to join the others for breakfast.”
“I shall walk with you then,” Lydia said, bussing her mother’s cheek.
Her mother put on a pair of earrings. “Did you sleep well?”
Lydia felt the blush hit her cheeks. “Very well.” That wasn’t a lie.
“Good.” Her mother glanced over to where her father stood, his valet doing a last brush of his coat. “Ready, darling?”
Her father came over to where her mother was and extended his arm to her. “Indeed. I’m famished.”
The tenderness between her parents warmed her heart. They had been a love match, and their love had only grown stronger in the many years of their marriage. Just another reason it would have been a travesty if she had been leg shackled to a man who desired to bed any woman, willing or unwilling.
After they exited the chamber, she took her father’s other arm, and they strolled to the breakfast room.
The scene was lively when they entered with the buzz of conversation around the table.
There were only around fifteen guests invited, besides the Earl of Snowdon and his children, but it sounded like more as everyone excitedly chatted over their breakfast.
The sideboard had been set up with an array of offerings, so Lydia and her parents went there first to fill their plates and then find seats.
Unable to stop herself, Lydia glanced around the table to see who was already there.
As much as she loathed to admit it, she was looking for Viscount Snowdon, but didn’t see him.
His father sat at the head of the table with Diana seated to his right, and her sisters lined up beside her.
She noted that Lady Billings sat at the other end of the table.
Lydia opted to take the seat across from Diana and beside the elder Lord Snowdon, deciding that the younger Snowdon would select the seat near his lover.
“I am so glad that you could join us, Lydia,” Diana said after Lydia had taken her seat, and a footman helped to push her chair in.
“I am looking forward to seeing what other events you have planned. Your home is quite lovely.”
“Thank you,” Diana said, beaming with pride. “I have done my best to ensure that things have been well tended to over the years.”
The elder Lord Snowdon closed his eyes for a moment and drew a deep breath, then forked a bit of eggs into his mouth.
Diana noticed and placed her hand on her father’s arm. “I think you will like the activity I have planned for the morning, Papa,” she said, her eager tone only slightly forced. “We are going to build snowmen. You, Jenny, and Grace shall be the judges.”
Her father gave her a small smile and set his fork down to pat Diana’s hand, then picked it back up again. “That sounds very nice.”
Lydia’s body heated when a gentleman swept into the room out of the corner of her eye.
She didn’t even have to look at him to know who it was.
Training her eyes on her plate, she willed herself to focus on her breakfast. He was at the sideboard behind where she sat.
Drawing a deep breath, she told herself that in only a few moments, he would be seated at the other end of the table, and she could forget that he had entered.
A few moments later, the empty chair beside her moved and the very man set his plate down beside hers.
Once he took his seat, the intoxicating scent of sandalwood with a hint of cinnamon took over her senses.
She wondered if he intentionally selected the scent for the holiday or if he usually wore a note of cinnamon.
Not that it mattered, but if she were going to dream of him again, the added sensory details might enhance the experience.
She chastised herself for how wanton she had allowed her thoughts to become. There would be no more imagining of the man. No good could come of that. Before she could argue with herself any further, he addressed the group.
“Father. Sisters,” he said, giving them a nod. “Miss Cary, you look well this morning.”
She noticed the elder Lord Snowdon had a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and she wasn’t certain what it was about. But she was pleased to see that he at least appeared less grim.
“Thank you, my lord,” she replied.
“I hope you were met with a comfortable bed after all the excitement of yesterday’s events.”