Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
Lydia
T he morning was bright and warm, the air carrying the faint tang of sun-warmed grass and blooming wildflowers as Lydia and Louisa meandered along the shaded paths of the park. The sprawling oaks and sycamores offered relief from the August sun, their dappled shade flickering over the gravel path. Louisa was as impeccably attired as ever, her muslin gown adorned with a sash of soft sage, perfectly complemented by her straw bonnet trimmed with delicate white lace. Lydia, by contrast, wore a gown of simpler design, her bonnet tilted just so to shield her eyes.
“For goodness’ sake, Lydia,” Louisa began, her tone laced with exasperation, though her expression sparkled with mirth. “You cannot expect me to endure this suspense indefinitely. My curiosity has been most cruelly taxed! What has happened between you and Alexander since last we spoke? It seems whenever we meet there has been another development in the making.”
“Does it?” Lydia responded wryly, casting her sister a sidelong glance. “Pray, let me relieve you of so dreadful a burden. He has been exceedingly irritating for a number of reasons.” She recounted the events of the previous night, though she limited her report to just Eammon’s nightmare and her taking him to her chamber, leaving out what had happened between her and Alexander and the kiss. Well. The almost kiss. Had it been?
Did we really almost kiss? Or am I wrong to think so?
“Tell me truly—did His Grace behave so appallingly last night upon finding dear little Eammon in your chamber? Or is your vexation an embellishment born of fatigue?”
Lydia sighed softly, her hand adjusting the edge of her shawl where it draped loosely over her arm. “He was thunderous at first, Louisa. I quite thought he might insist the boy be carried back to his chamber at once.”
Louisa widened her eyes in theatrical alarm. “Surely not!”
“Indeed, he made his displeasure known most… emphatically,” Lydia said, though the corners of her mouth twitched. “And yet the storm abated as swiftly as it arose. Remarkably, he then began to speak in a manner altogether different.” She paused, wondering how much she ought to tell her sister but then resolved to tell her the whole tale. She needed advice and who better to give it than the person who knew her best?
Louisa slowed, her curiosity piqued. “Different, you say? Did His Grace condescend to display a semblance of humanity at last?”
Lydia cast her a droll look. “He did more than that, Louisa. He spoke of his childhood. Of his father’s favoritism toward his younger brother.”
Louisa’s step faltered, her expression softening with a mixture of surprise and sympathy. “Well,” she murmured, “if that is not a shared burden between the two of you, then I scarcely know what is.”
Lydia hesitated, her composure faltering at the unexpected observation. “Louisa,” she began, though her tone wavered.
Louisa held up a hand, her expression gentle but firm. “I know it is not an easy thing to discuss, Lydia. But you cannot deny that His Grace’s revelation mirrors certain… experiences of your own.”
For a moment, Lydia could only look away, her gaze resting on a cluster of bees flitting over a flowering shrub. When at last she spoke, her voice was quieter. “It is a painful parallel. One I have no wish to dwell upon.”
“Understandable,” Louisa replied simply, adjusting the ribbon of her bonnet. “But do go on. It sounds as though the exchange did not end with shared childhood grievances.”
Lydia exhaled, gathering her thoughts as they resumed their pace. “No. He grew unguarded, even vulnerable. It seemed as though each word cost him some great effort, yet he persisted in speaking all the same. For a moment, I thought… well.”
Louisa’s eyes gleamed. “You thought what , dear sister? Pray, do not keep me in suspense.”
Lydia felt the warmth of a blush rise to her cheeks. “There was a moment,” she admitted reluctantly, “when I thought he might…” She hesitated, the words catching in her throat.
Louisa, ever perceptive, supplied them for her: “Might kiss you?”
Lydia froze, her blush deepening as she hissed, “Do lower your voice, Louisa! Such declarations are unfit for public airing.”
“Was I wrong?” Louisa pressed, her expression one of delighted triumph.
“No,” Lydia confessed after a pause, her voice taut with both irritation and something far softer. “But he did not follow through. He pulled away. Therefore it is of no consequence.”
“Come now, Lydia, I daresay it is no small matter that your husband wanted to kiss you,” Louisa declared with a teasing smile, her eyes dancing mischievously as they strolled beneath the latticework of bare branches.
Lydia halted abruptly, rounding on her sister with an incredulous look. “Why should I find cause for happiness in that, Louisa? He did not kiss me—he pulled back instead, as though drawn to the precipice only to retreat.”
Louisa raised her brows, as if in challenge. “And what of it? Surely such a moment ought to speak volumes, regardless of how it ended. Is it not plain that he desires more closeness between you?”
Lydia’s sigh was laden with frustration. “If he does, it remains far from clear to me. He is the most perplexing man I have ever encountered—aloof, reserved, yet not without the occasional gesture that suggests some… deeper thoughtfulness. And yet just as often, he is strict as a sergeant or a whatever they are called in the navy,” she added dryly, her cheeks flushing in consternation.
Louisa laughed softly. “Ah, a martinet! How droll. And pray, what precisely leads you to this conclusion?”
“Take, for example, his sudden insistence that we dine together each evening,” Lydia said, resuming their walk. “It is as though the man who could not spare two words to me for weeks has resolved upon our acquaintance as a nightly ritual! He likewise makes efforts to spend more time with Eammon, worrying, so he says, that the boy fears him. But just when one thinks he might truly soften, he retreats behind his fortress of cold civility.”
She exhaled, shaking her head. “And then last night, Louisa—last night!—he speaks openly of his life, his brother, and his father. For a moment, I even…” She faltered, her voice lowering. “I began to feel something like affection for him, only for him to turn distant once more. It is maddening!”
Louisa slowed her step, turning toward her sister with a curious, catlike expression. She regarded Lydia in silence for a long moment before breaking into a knowing smile.
“What?” Lydia demanded, her brow furrowing at her sister’s mysterious amusement.
“You just said you felt affection for him,” Louisa pointed out, her voice lilting with delight.
Lydia clamped her lips tightly shut, a blush creeping up her neck. “I most certainly did not,” she denied.
“Oh, but you did,” Louisa pressed, folding her hands neatly over her reticule and lifting her chin in triumph.
Lydia threw her a sharp glance before muttering, “Even if I did say so, it proves nothing.” She clasped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and raised her gaze to the horizon. “It is an idea I have no wish to entertain, Louisa. Kindly drop the subject.”
Louisa, unwilling to let her sister off so easily, smiled but relented—for now. “As you wish, Lydia,” she said, a trace of amusement still coloring her tone. “Shall we turn to lighter topics then? Perhaps you would like to hear what is new with me.”
“Yes,” Lydia replied promptly, the relief in her voice palpable. “What mischief are you up to now?”
Louisa’s eyes gleamed, her cheeks coloring faintly. “As it happens, I am to attend a ball tomorrow night,” she said. “You must join me, Lydia.”
Lydia’s brow arched. “A ball? I suspect Father will be only too eager to escort you himself. Why, then, would you require my attendance?”
“I do not require it,” Louisa countered lightly. “But I should greatly prefer to go with you. Besides, I rather think you and your husband are also invited.”
Lydia frowned. “Invited?” she echoed. “The Duke made no mention of any such event.”
“Well, perhaps he meant to surprise you,” Louisa teased.
“Highly unlikely,” Lydia replied with a snort. “His Grace has shown little enough interest in me to make such a gesture unthinkable. In any case, I have no particular desire to spend the evening at a ball, parading before strangers on his arm.”
“But you must come,” Louisa persisted. “Truly, I would not ask if I did not need you.”
“Need me?”
Louisa hesitated, her blush deepening. “Yes. The ball is hosted by the cousin of the Earl of Arlington,” she admitted.
Lydia’s expression shifted, a spark of recognition in her eyes. “Ah, I see,” she murmured knowingly. “And do I take it to mean that matters with Lord Arlington are… progressing?”
Louisa glanced away, clearly abashed, though a smile tugged at her lips. “I do like him,” she confessed softly.
“I had thought as much,” Lydia said with a fond smile. “Very well, Louisa, I shall come. Though it is more for your sake than mine—I trust you know that.”
“I do,” Louisa replied warmly, slipping her arm through Lydia’s. “And I am most grateful. You will not regret it, I promise.”
Lydia pressed her lips into a faint smile, though her thoughts churned with uncertainty. What sort of evening awaited her? And would Alexander—the inscrutable Duke of Leith—make an appearance as well? No, she knew he would not. If he intended it, he would have shared the invitation with her. Since he had not she had to assume he was not planning to go.
However, she most certainly would. Even if it meant risking an encounter with her father, a thought that made her stomach turn and twist in a most unpleasant manner.