Chapter Thirteen #2
Bertram opened his mouth as if to respond, but instead glanced at the window.
“It’s stopped raining and the sun is out.
I’ve been on a ship for a little over four weeks and I’d really like to step on some grass for a change.
Perhaps even look at some flowers. Is the little park still at the end of the street?
The one with the bandstand and the lily pond? ”
“Yes, it’s still there.” Lydia smiled. “Remember when we used to catch frogs in that pond?”
“And fish for tadpoles,” Bertram replied, nodding. “Yes, of course I remember. Come on, Lyddie. Let’s go and relive some old memories and maybe create some new ones.”
“As you wish, but they will not include catching frogs.” Lydia rose. “You can tell me about this new venture of yours and how it all came to be.”
Sighing, Bertram rose to his feet. “While you can break my heart by telling me who has managed to steal yours.”
A short while later, they stepped out into warm spring sunshine. “Glorious,” Lydia murmured, glancing up at a near-cloudless sky.
“So, who is he?” Bertram asked, tucking her arm through his as they crossed over the street.
“No, Bertie, you first,” Lydia replied. “I want to hear all about this bequest of yours.”
“Very well. Do you remember my employer, James Abbott?”
“Yes, of course I do,” Lydia replied. “He dined with us the night before you left for New Brunswick. I remember he had a wonderful sense of humor, and he and Papa got along exceedingly well.”
“Yes, he always spoke very highly of your father.” Bertram winced. “Sadly, Mr. Abbott passed away a year ago.”
“Oh, Bertie, I’m so sorry. I know how much you respected him.”
“Respected the man and loved him as a father.” Bertram cleared his throat. “And it would seem Mr. Abbot loved me as a son, since he left me his entire estate.”
Lydia gasped. “And you had no idea he’d done so?”
Bertram shook his head. “Not at all. It was a total shock. He never spoke of his intentions. Why would he? I am not his kin. And I never thought to discuss such a thing with him.” He heaved a sigh.
“In my eyes, death could not touch James Abbott. He had the world at his feet, and I could not imagine that world without him in it. And then, without warning, he was gone.” Bertram glanced away for a moment and Lydia sensed his struggle.
“Oh Bertie,” she whispered, uncertain how to ease his obvious grief.
“A bleed in his brain, the doctor suspected,” he said.
“Aside from the shock of his death, I confess I wondered how the business might continue without him at the helm. So many people relied on him. The second shock came when the solicitor summoned me to his office and informed me about Mr. Abbot’s wishes.
I’ll admit I was, at first, terrified. It was a massive responsibility.
But, in looking back, I came to understand that Mr. Abbott had been teaching me the entire time, guiding me.
Preparing me. It was then I realized how much faith he’d placed in me and I determined not to let him down.
And, so far, I haven’t. We’re expanding and growing all the time.
Hence the new shipping line.” He gave her a gentle nudge.
“I’m a wealthy man, Lyddie. I’d take great pleasure in spoiling you, given the chance, for the rest of my life. ”
It was Lydia’s turn to sigh as her cheeks warmed. “Bertie, I…”
“I know, I know. I’m late to the ball.” He gave her another nudge.
“But I can still make you blush, it seems. Ah, here’s our little garden.
Unchanged, happily, except that a few of the trees have grown.
” He pushed open the wrought iron gate, which was set into a neatly clipped privet hedge. “After you, my dear.”
Lydia stepped through the gate and took Bertram’s arm again as they followed the path to the lily pond. “So, who is this lucky gentleman?” he asked.
“His name is Ambrose Crossley,” she replied, preparing herself for what she would say next.
Bertram appeared to mull for a moment. “And what does this Mr. Crossley do for a living?”
Lydia cleared her throat. “He is better known as Lord Pendlewood.”
Bertram halted, eyes widening as he gazed down at her. “He’s titled?”
“Yes.” Another blush warmed Lydia’s cheeks. “He’s an earl, actually. The Earl of Pendlewood.”
Bertram blinked, several times. “You’re not making this up, are you?”
“No, I am not,” she replied, her defenses rising. “Are you insinuating that I’m not good enough for an earl?”
“Lydia, my darling girl, you are good enough for a king.” Bertram brought her hand to his lips. “It’s just that the aristocracy rarely marry outside of their class. How did you meet him?”
The question was expected, but Lydia decided to give him an abridged version of the answer. “We were introduced at an event and he has courted me ever since.”
“I see.” Bertram fell silent as they began walking again, but Lydia sensed his unease.
“I wish you would be happy for me, Bertie,” she said. “He’s a wonderful man.”
He winced. “I am happy for you, Lyddie, of course I am. It’s just…”
“It’s just?”
“I hope his pursuit of you is sincere, that’s all. That he’s not simply toying with you.”
They halted again by the lily pond and Lydia shook her head.
“He isn’t toying with me, Bertie, I know he isn’t.
Actually, I’d like to introduce you to him.
Then you’ll see for yourself how sincere he is.
In fact, I’m sure the two of you will get along.
He’s been in Nottingham for a cousin’s funeral this past week, but is due back the day after tomorrow, so I’ll make arrangements if you’re agreeable. ”
“Agreeable certainly,” Bertram replied. “In fact, I insist on meeting him, but it won’t be anytime soon, I’m afraid.
Although seeing you again was at the top of my list, I am, nevertheless, back in this country to do business.
I leave tomorrow morning for Southampton, then I’ll be moving onto Plymouth and Bristol before heading north to Liverpool and Glasgow.
I’ll be gone for at least a month I should think, all told.
Please don’t get married in the meantime. ”
Lydia laughed. “Ambrose hasn’t got as far as proposing marriage yet.”
“Ah, then there is hope.” Bertie traced a fingertip over her cheek.
“For it means I may yet have a chance with you. I can be just as noble as an earl if I so choose.” He glanced around, eyebrows lifting as his gaze settled on a nearby flowerbed.
He went over, plucked a flower, and then presented it to Lydia with a bow. “For you, my lady.”
Lydia took the flower and sniffed it. “Why, thank you, my lord,” she said, curtsying. “But I fear my heart has been stolen already.”
“Oh, Lyddie, I could kick myself.” Bertram’s eyes softened as he cupped her face in his hands and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I should have written, damn it. I hope his lordship knows how lucky he is.”
“I’m the lucky one,” she replied. “Ambrose is a wonderful man. You’ll see when you meet him.”
“It’ll be torture, Lyddie.” Bertram released her and went to stand by the pond. “Excuse me for a moment, will you? I just need a few seconds of quiet.”
“Bertie,” Lydia said, “don’t you think you’re being just a little bit dramat—?”
Quick as a flash, Bertram ducked down, and Lydia heard a splash. “Yessssss,” he said, turning back to her, laughing with triumphant delight as he held out a dripping hand, which now held a frog. “See? I still have the knack, even after all this time. Bet your earl can’t do that!”
“I hope you’re right,” she said, stifling her own laughter. “Now put the poor thing back.”
“Marry me, Lyddie,” he said, soberly, as he dropped the frog back in the pond. “We can travel the world together.”
Lydia groaned. “Don’t, Bertie, please. I love Ambrose.”
“You used to love me,” he replied.
“And I still do.”
He huffed. “Don’t you dare say ‘like a brother’ or I swear I’ll drown myself in the bloody pond.”
“No, not like a brother.” Lydia sighed. “Oh, Bertie, you said it yourself—you’re late to the ball. Too late, I’m afraid.”
“Well, I’m not giving up,” he said, tugging gently on one of her curls. “Let’s see how things are when I get back to London.”
Lydia smiled. “I’m sure things will be the same.”
“Well, like I also said, don’t get married before I get back.” He presented his arm. “Speaking of which, I really have to go. Come on, let me see you home.”