Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lydia stilled instantly. At least, that’s what presented on the outside.
Inside, a riot exploded in her core, sending replies of tingling sensations throughout her body.
It stunned her completely. One second, she was fuming in anger, focusing all her energy on not dissolving under the weight of his betrayal, and in the next, she was seated atop Darlington’s thighs as his arm slid around her waist to hold her in place.
She didn’t think he’d intended her to end up there when he’d grasped her arm to stop her.
But there she was; her back to his chest, her bottom against his groin.
She should probably try to scramble back to her feet.
She could easily send an elbow back toward his throat to startle him into releasing her.
And though the sharp pain of what he’d just revealed to her still rolled beneath a precarious outer calm, some twisted part of her wanted to see what he’d do next.
So, she stayed put. For now.
“What do you think you are doing?” she asked. The words were hard and clipped.
“I won’t hurt you.”
Lydia kept her focus trained intently forward and her spine ramrod straight, but couldn’t contain a low growl of annoyance. “If I thought you might, you wouldn’t have a voice to speak right now.”
“I understand your anger. It’s totally justified.”
She rolled her eyes. She did not need him to validate her reaction. In truth, she was almost angrier with herself that she’d ever stopped believing he had an ulterior motive for pursuing her. She’d been so very stupid to allow him to convince her otherwise.
“I know what you’re thinking, right now,” he said in a low tone that warmed her insides despite herself.
She clenched her teeth against it.
“You’re thinking my only interest in you has been about satisfying this agreement. You’re doubting everything I’ve said and done since we met and placing it all under the heading of deceit.”
She didn’t refute him.
“But I swear,” he graveled, “though I started out with dubious intentions, I’ve been honest in everything else.”
“When?” she interrupted. “When did you change your mind?”
“That night at the theater,” he answered readily, “when I learned your feelings about marriage. I won’t force you into something you don’t want.”
She straightened her spine. “And prior to that, you’d just assumed I wanted a husband because, why? That’s what all women must want?”
He cringed. “I admit that’s what I believed. But you quickly disabused me of such a notion. And I’m grateful for it. I may be an idiot sometimes, but I can learn.”
Lydia drew a deep breath, but held herself stiffly in his arms.
Could she believe him? She wanted to think he’d reconsidered because he’d truly listened to her. She wanted to believe that his desire for her had been real. But if he could lie to her once, he could do it again.
Perhaps sensing her distrust, he added reverently, “Don’t ever doubt how much I want you.”
Her belly fluttered, but her chest tightened as she murmured. “So, I’m just to forgive you? Pretend that you never sought to deceive me?”
“No,” he answered heavily. “But perhaps you could allow me to make it up to you,” he suggested.
“Someone hired a solicitor to orchestrate this manipulation with the goal of seeing you ruined and forced to marry. And I cannot help but wonder if there is some connection between the person who tried to blackmail me and the one who sent you those threatening notes. If they are one and the same, they will not likely give up easily.”
His words were effective. Lydia couldn’t ignore that very real possibility.
“I could help you find out who—”
“No, thank you,” she interrupted with sharp, swift assurance.
“But I owe you that much at the very least. I’d like to help you.”
“I said No! Surely, you know the meaning of the phrase.”
“I’ve heard of it,” he drawled, humor creeping into his voice.
“Then you should know the proper response is acknowledgement and acceptance.”
“So, I’m not supposed to pull you onto my lap,” he mused.
“Decidedly not,” she retorted.
“Well, perhaps…” his hand dropped to the curve of her hip as his arm around her waist tightened. “If I make you more comfortable…” He then physically turned her to sit sideways.
Lydia gasped a swift breath, losing her balance for a moment before she felt his other arm come up around her back for support. Her gaze flew to his—now far too close—and a familiar twisting thrill flew through her belly.
Desire? Now?
His slow smile only made the twist go deeper.
His voice lowered, “Drape your arm around my shoulders.”
When she didn’t move, he took her wrist gently in hand and lifted it over his head into the position he wanted. Then he grinned, obviously quite pleased with himself.
“See. This position is much more secure. And it’s far easier to converse.”
Strangely amused despite her rioting emotions and the circumstances that created this moment, Lydia forced a stern and dubious expression as she looked at him with a narrowed gaze. “Is it?”
He tensed the muscles of his thighs beneath her, making her weight shift just a bit.
“For now, anyway,” he replied. His tone was unsettling as the corner of his mouth tilted upward.
The intimate and precarious elements of her current position were not lost on Lydia. But for some reason, she wanted to call his bluff. He thought to disarm and disturb her. She was determined to remain utterly composed no matter what he threw at her.
Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to hear him out.
“Alright,” she said stiffly. “How do you expect to help me?”
“I’m not sure yet,” he admitted with a dip of his brows. “But you’re very clever. I’m sure we could come up with a scheme to reveal the person behind this.”
Lydia’s brow furrowed as she held her tongue. She absolutely intended to find out who was behind this deception. Allowing Darlington to aid her was another matter entirely.
His expression turned thoughtful as his hand moved to a more casual position on her hip, sending a frisson of awareness across her nerves. She tried to ignore it.
“I’ve been trying to consider who might wish to injure you in this way,” he noted thoughtfully. “A jilted suitor perhaps? Or a rival debutante? Or maybe some secret admirer?”
Amusement rose with each ludicrous suggestion until Lydia could no longer suppress her snorting laughter. When he gave her a curious, arch-brow look, she said, “Have you met me? None of those people exist in my world.”
“Bollocks,” he retorted, his expression incredulous. “This is your third season, right? Surely, in that time—”
“No,” she interrupted.
“There had to be some gentlem—”
“No.”
“A jealous friend?”
“No,” she laughed. “Trust me, you’re looking in the wrong direction.”
His golden gaze roamed over her face, seeking deception. It was clear he wanted to press the issue, but decided not to.
She was grateful. No one ever wanted to believe her isolation from the haute ton was by choice, let alone that she had a wealth of friends and acquaintances beyond the scope of high society ballrooms and fancy soirées.
“Well, someone wanted to see you ruined,” he noted with an angled brow. At some point, while the one hand remained warmly on her hip, the other had fallen across her lap to curve around her thigh, just above her knee. His gaze was earnest as he inquired, “What are your theories?”
Lydia had already been considering that question. “What were the terms, exactly as they were presented to you?”
“I was instructed to seduce you. Bring you to the brink of ruin so that you would have no option but to marry.”
Her eyes widened in panic, and his face shifted into one of horror as he quickly added, “Not to me, of course.”
“Thank God,” she sighed in relief, and his expression shifted once again. He almost looked offended. “But who would marry me if I was ruined?” she asked, almost to herself.
“I should clarify,” he noted. “You were only to be compromised to the knowledge of your family, not society as a whole.”
A sharp suspicion entered her mind.
His arm tightened around her, pulling her close for a moment. She shifted her gaze to his and saw a darkened glimmer of concern. Or maybe it was just morbid curiosity.
“Who did you think of?”
The thought that had entered her head did not warrant consideration. It was ludicrous.
“No one.”
He arched a brow and twisted the corner of his mouth. “Now who’s being dishonest?”
She felt nauseous. When she tried to stand, he tightened his arm across her lap, holding her firmly in place.
“Stay put.”
Lydia settled a hard glare on his face, currently filled with concern. “Let me go.”
“Not until you explain your reaction just now.”
An odd growl vibrated in her throat as she tried to stand again. When he retained his hold, she lifted the arm she had rested across his shoulders over his head to press her elbow to his throat beneath his chin. The pressure forced his head back against the chair as he looked up at her in shock.
The move was swift and surprising, as it was designed to be. Honestly, there was a lot she could’ve done that would’ve caused significantly more damage than a bruised windpipe.
Her stare was hard and steady. “Release me.”
He did, slowly spreading his arms to the sides even as his mouth widened in an admiring grin. “That’s what you meant,” he rasped gently.
Lydia gave him a flickering look.
“When you said I wouldn’t be able to speak.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t now,” she muttered as she stood and quickly stepped out of his reach.
“Where did you learn to do that?”
Her chin rose. “There is a great deal of education available to a woman if she knows where to look.”
“Which you obviously do,” he murmured. “I’m impressed.”
“I don’t care,” she retorted, though her body warmed at his response.
“You’ve got a suspicion of who ordered this plot,” he noted. “And you’re going to tell me.” Before she could deny it, he shrugged. “Not today, of course. You need to process this revelation first. But you’ll realize you need me.” His expression softened. “And I’ll be here.”
Lydia snorted her denial, but she worried he might be right. She would need to deal with the issue in a way that was final and complete. Perhaps the most rakish lord in town could help with that in some way.
But she obviously couldn’t trust him. There was a harsh twist of discomfort in her belly as she acknowledged she’d been an idiot to ever think she could.
“I’ll see myself out.”
Darlington didn’t try to stop her, nor did he follow her as she left the room, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed by that.