Chapter 1 Little Lady Lydia—A New World
LITTLE LADY LYDIA—
A NEW WORLD
London, England
“Wait!
“Stop, please!
“Sorry! Lydia, I love—”
The carriage lurches forward. The clomping hooves of the six pair smother everything but the squeaks of Lydia’s tummy. The girl raised as the youngest Wilcox sister has learned she possesses no sisters, none at all.
Lies.
Everything was a falsehood. Yet she sits beside a princess, a real one like Princess Charlotte of Wales. The royal carriage of Princess Elizaveta Abramovna Gannibal speeds away from Ground Street toward the Thames.
The approaching river sounds noisy, angrily swirling and spitting froth along the banks. The stopped carriage allows the screams of “Forgive me” to reach the inside.
Face pressed against the glass, Lydia sees the Thames and Katherine. Drenched in the rain, the woman waves her arms and gives chase.
How could sweet Katherine—Katherine who wiped Lydia’s runny nose and mopped Lydia’s fevered forehead and who held her when she ached—cause such pain? How could she lie to Lydia and the duke?
And the duke is dying or is already dead.
Lydia sniffs and holds everything inside. Boy, her tummy hurts worser.
She folds her arms about her middle. Lydia knows that Katherine hates the duke. How could they have been in love once? Why act like they’d never married?
Lydia can’t understand. Katherine was married to Tavis Palmers, the late Lord Hampton. Wasn’t he the duke’s friend? Why would he marry his friend’s wife? How can all this be true?
Katherine catches up and beats on the door. Through the glass, Lydia watches her shriek—more sorries, more forgive mes, more lies about love.
Lydia knows you don’t lie to the ones you love. She turns from the window. The carriage starts moving again.
She casts her gaze to the painting of the girl propped against the opposite bench. “She looks like me except for the eyes.” Lydia dips her head. “Are you sure the duke’s painter didn’t make a mistake? You sure that’s not me? And me being the duke’s daughter … that must be a mistake. Right?”
The princess, with big tears flopping down her cheeks, lifts Lydia’s chin. “Nyet. You do look like my daughter Anya. Anya Andrewovna Charles is my son’s beloved sister. She died years ago. It’s the last portrait of her.”
Lydia’s teeth chatter a little. Not from being cold, but from fear—fear that this terrible dream will end in her new papa’s death. Not fair. “Are you sure, Princess Eliv … Elivet … Grama? Princess Grama—”
The old woman with fine silver hair bends and kisses Lydia’s brow. “I like that. You may call me this.”
“Princess Grama, is the duke truly my father? That my sister … Katherine is my mother?”
“That beastly woman is your mother. Lady Hampton defrauded my son, your father. You are my family, part of Gannibal’s legacy.” She glances out the rear window and tsks through her teeth. “That headstrong Katherine still runs after my carriage, and in the rain, like I’ve wronged her.”
“Katherine’s getting wet. She could catch cold.”
Shaking her head, Princess Grama huffs. “Child, precious one, Jahleel Andrewovich Charles, the Duke of Torrance is all you are to be concerned about. You’re Lady Lydia Jahleelovna Charles.”
“More new names?” Lydia groans and glances at the painting, the silver dress, the emerald tiara. “The duke must get well to teach me all our names.”
New Grama, Princess Grama, lifts Lydia’s chin.
The princess’s hand smells of rich spices and oil.
“My son has more faith than most. Instead of returning to St. Petersburg after burying that ne’er-do-well fool, Lord Hampton, he kept himself attached to London and those Wilcox sisters. It must mean he’ll stay for you.”
It has been three years since the duke came for Tavis, the man who spent all the Wilcoxes’ money. Lydia wasn’t supposed to listen to grown folks’ business, but she couldn’t help overhearing things. The Wilcoxes are loud.
She shivered. “My Duke, My Papa Duke became my best friend. He hasn’t left us since.”
“My Jasha won’t leave, not without saying goodbye.”
Another name? Goodbye?
But Lydia likes Jasha. It makes the tall duke sound small like her. “I want him to stay, Princess Grama. He never lied to me.”
“No. He would not. You must not have fear. I know he wants to see you. His letters tell me of the great love he has for his Lidochka.” Princess Grama’s arms surround Lydia. “You must walk into Anya House and expect to see your father alive.”
Yes. Lydia will only believe all the lies exposed today if the duke says so. Then he will say what happens next. There has to be a miracle today. Her Papa Duke must live.