Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
“He’s growing well,” Georgia said, smiling with pride. Lydia returned the gesture.
“I’m glad. I want to make sure he has a full life. I know that might seem silly because he’s only a baby, but I think it’s important for him to experience different things.”
“Oh no, you’re right with that, Your Grace. The more he learns now, the more he’ll know when he grows up. You just wait. I bet he’ll be toddling along and babbling before long.”
Lydia smiled. There was a sense of fond anticipation although she tried to restrain it because she could not allow her heart to become vulnerable.
She might never get to see John start walking or talking, and this might be all she knew of him.
If she did see how he grew, then it meant that she was condemned to stay with Victor.
It was somehow even worse now that Rose had raised the possibility that Lydia was falling for him. Was it better to be married to a man she did not love or a man she did love yet who did not return her feelings?
“Are you well, Your Grace? It’s just that you seem troubled,” Georgia said.
“I’m just a little sad that Rose and Edmund had to leave. It was wonderful to have them here, but now, I miss them more dearly than before,” Lydia said, omitting the real reason for her dismay although this was certainly no lie.
“They were wonderful guests indeed.” Georgia nodded.
“It is nice to know that John has such a loving and welcoming family. I’m sure they’ll be back before too long, and there’s no reason why you can’t visit them in London as well.
Family is family no matter how much distance lies between you; that’s the way I like to think about it. ”
“Yes, you are right Georgia.”
Lydia peered over at John and thought about his family.
What were his parents thinking now? Did his mother regret leaving him? Was she upset, or did she feel relieved not having to deal with the burden of a child?
That night, Lydia could not sleep. She tossed and turned because one moment she was too hot and the next she was too cold.
There was also a dull ache in her calf that did not fade with stretching.
She thought she would check on John, just as a matter of course.
It was better than lying in bed with her eyes open, staring into darkness.
Lydia opened the door gently and silently. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, spreading a soft warmth through the room. The glow was faint, illuminating the shapes in the room. John was breathing heavily and the sound of this reassured her, but he was not the only presence in the room.
Victor was there as well.
He was draped in the chair beside the hearth, half of his face glowing, the other cast in shadow. His head was tilted back. His cravat was loose, his sleeves rolled up. He looked relaxed and at peace which was something she could not say about him often.
As she crept towards him, he did not stir. She stared at him, thinking that this was strangely intimate but also forbidden.
Was it right for her to invade his privacy like this?
She studied the angles of his face, the line of his jaw, the hands that rested in his lap. A lump formed in her throat. She was so close to him now in this quiet place. In the darkness, it seemed as though anything might happen.
A blanket had been draped over his legs, but it had fallen to the floor. She picked it up and returned it to its position. She was just pulling away when a hand shot out and grabbed her arm. She looked up, and their gazes locked together. The grip loosened as he stirred from his slumber.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m sorry,” she whispered, careful to speak low so that she wouldn’t wake John. She was ready to back out of the room, but then Victor stopped her with one word.
“Stay,” he said, keeping his voice to a low whisper as well.
Lydia froze. Then her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor beside him. He tilted his head towards her. It was framed in the soft light of the fire. His eyes were tired and heavy, and there was something more tender about him at this moment than there had been before.
“What are you doing here?”
“John stirred. I sat with him until he slept again. I thought I would wait just in case he didn’t settle. I must have dozed off.”
“You’re tired. You’ve been working hard. I can sit with him. I’ve had enough rest now,” Lydia suggested.
“I want you to know that I am not taking this lightly.”
“I know you’re not.”
“Lydia… I’m sorry that you have been deprived of your dream. I hope you realize that I did not do this to punish you,” he said.
The candid nature of his words surprised Lydia as did his openness. It was almost as though the night had cast a spell on him.
“I know you didn’t. It was the best thing for John, and I am glad that I have been here for him.”
“Because we have both suffered. Neither of us would have chosen this life. I know you must resent me.”
“I resent the situation. I resent the ton and their judgment,” Lydia replied.
“But not me.”
“As you say, we have both suffered.”
“But you have suffered more than I. You lost your dream. I have never had the luxury of having a dream.”
Lydia furrowed her brow.
“Surely, you must have had a dream, even as a child.”
Victor shook his head.
“I was never particularly good at being a child. My uncle was right. I was always in too much of a hurry to grow up, always trying to take things too seriously…” He sighed.
“I have only ever tried to make a success of myself in life, but I have failed. If I had a dream, it was to protect my family, but my father is dead, my brother hates me, and you… you are an illusion.”
There was a dreamy, hazy look in his eyes as he reached out to her.
His fingers slipped through the shadows like a serpent in the sea and then brushed a lock of hair over her ear.
It was the same tenderness he showed to John.
Lydia felt a tingling warmth run from her ear all the way down her arms and the core of her body.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she was almost afraid to stare into his eyes, but she did so anyway, and she was caught in their intense, brooding focus.
His breath was heavy and rhythmic. It flowed out and his hand lingered against her head, his fingers gently stroking her ear, and suddenly they were closer than ever before.
“I am no illusion,” she whispered back.
She wasn’t prepared for what happened next. How could she be? Her heart raced, and the room seemed to melt away. She did not think of Stonewood Manor or the ton. She did not even think of John. She thought of nothing but Victor, who loomed before her and filled her vision.
The chair creaked as he leaned towards her, his powerful body angling, his face getting closer. Lydia felt her eyes close automatically, just as they did in all the books she read. An exhilarated feeling swept through her. It was excitement. It was fear. It was confusion. It was joy.
It was everything.
And then his lips brushed against her, and a fire was ignited, far more powerful than the embers that glowed in the hearth.
His lips were warm and tender. His breath was sweet.
Her mouth puckered as she caught his lips in hers for just a moment, but then his hand fell away from her ear, and his head tilted back.
He nestled into the chair, his eyes closing again, and Lydia was left there alone with the echo of his kiss upon her lips.
She was forced to wonder if it had happened at all.
His breathing became heavy. Lydia traced her lips with her fingers, as if to confirm that it had indeed happened.
She had just kissed Victor.
The moment had happened without warning, and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt. There was no dizzying, giddy eruption of happiness nor was there disgust.
It was more that she was intrigued. She sidled out of the room, leaving Victor and John to sleep. She pulled the door behind her and then pressed her back against the wall.
Her lips would never be the same again.
Lydia stumbled back to her chamber and pulled the covers over her, trying to understand what this meant.
“We said we would not consummate the marriage,” she whispered aloud. A kiss was not a consummation, but it was a gesture of affection. Did it mean that his feelings towards her were changing? Did it mean that his heart was shifting?
And what did it mean for her? Her animosity towards him had changed, that was certain, but into what had it transformed? It certainly wasn’t love. She didn’t know him well enough for that although he did hint at family secrets.
“What happened to your father?” she said aloud as she tilted her head to the side. For a man who wanted to avoid scandals, his family seemed rife with them, and perhaps this should have been a foreboding sign, but something else he said had struck her.
Victor had never had a dream. It didn’t sit right with her.
Every child should have had a dream, whether it was impossible or not.
When she thought of John growing up and not having a dream, it nearly broke her heart, and part of her wished she could encounter Victor as a child and hug him tightly, telling him that he should feel encouraged to dream.
She wanted to make sure he dreamed now. It was never too late to have a dream. Perhaps that was something she could take heed of as well. After all, she was in need of a new dream.
Love had eluded her, and she still believed this despite what had just transpired.
The kiss was just a kiss. It held no other significance.
The only bond they shared was John, and he would not be with them forever.
At least, this is what she told herself, despite the emotions swimming in her heart hinting at something quite different.