Chapter Thirty-Seven
Lydia’s heart plummeted when she walked into Ralston’s parlor and saw Edmund standing by the window. His back was to the room and his arms were crossed over his chest. He didn’t even flinch when their group entered. Nor did he turn around to face them.
His mother, however…
Mrs. Holt twisted in place where she sat in the center of one of the two settees facing each other in the center of the room.
“I’s startin’ to think ye’d not be comin’,” she said with a subtle sneer.
Ralston arched his brows and lifted his chin to an imperious angle. “It is my home, madam.”
Lydia followed Charlotte to the settee opposite Mrs. Holt, which put Edmund directly in her line of sight.
Still, he didn’t turn around.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. Was his plan to reject her in front of their families? It would’ve been far easier if he’d just failed to follow Ralston’s dictate. Everyone would’ve assumed his refusal.
Charlotte sat next to her and Ralston came to stand behind them both, while her mother chose to place herself in front of the fireplace.
Bridget, unfortunately, had been dropped off at her home.
Her parting look to Lydia had been hopeful, apologetic, and encouraging despite having learned that their ruse had gone a bit sideways.
With a curt clap of her hands, the marchioness drew everyone’s attention. “Let us address this matter which has brought us all here.”
Lady Loxmarch’s lips curled as her sharp gaze slid to the earl, then to his mother, before swinging over to land heavily on Lydia. Her stare was hard and focused.
Lowering her voice, the marchioness addressed Lydia directly. “Do you finally see, my daughter, what your selfishness has brought upon you?”
Oddly unable to speak, Lydia simply stared back at her mother.
The words, however, did manage to create a reaction in Edmund as he slowly turned to face the room.
Lydia’s spine straightened. This was exactly what she didn’t want him to witness. As the heat of embarrassment and anger spread beneath her skin, Lydia refused to look at him, keeping her attention on her mother as she awaited whatever scene was to follow.
“Mrs. Holt,” the marchioness said, shifting her focus to the petite woman whose gaze was currently bouncing about the room.
Edmund’s mother looked to Lady Loxmarch, then to Ralston, then back again. Her smile was saccharine. “Shouldn’t we wait fer the gel’s father? Or the duke, per’aps?”
Lydia’s mother smiled back. “The duke is out of town and my husband is ill at home.” The marquess wasn’t ill.
He was just a man who’d happily turned matters of the family and household to his much more capable wife so he could focus on matters he believed far more important, such as politics and government.
“I shall handle this matter. In fact, there is really no need for you to be here, Mrs. Holt. I can call for a carriage to take you home immediately.”
The marchioness was already lifting a finger toward Ralston in a silent cue to do just as she said, when the other lady gave a vigorous shake of her head. “I don’t think so, m’lady. I’m ’ere to see to me son’s interest.”
Lydia finally shifted her gaze to Edmund. Her heart clenched painfully. She’d never seen him so tense and silently furious. His stare was directed at his mother, but Lydia could feel his dark animosity.
Of course! That was why he was here. His mother no doubt insisted on his attendance. No wonder he was so angry. He was probably worried that he’d be forced into marrying her after all. He wouldn’t know that her ambitious mother would never consider him a proper match.
“Your son’s interest?” Lady Loxmarch arched her brows. “I understand his interest in my innocent daughter was quite evident.”
“Not so innocent, eh,” Mrs. Holt cackled with a sly look to Lydia.
The marchioness gasped, and Edmund took a forceful step forward. “Ma.” His tone was full of warning.
Charlotte reached out a comforting hand to Lydia’s arm, providing her silent support. Lydia couldn’t say she was truly offended by Mrs. Holt’s words. For the most part, she was simply amused by the lady’s brazenness in stating such an accusation out loud.
Mrs. Holt shrugged. “Why dance ’round the truth? It’s why we’re here.” Her smile was wide and toothy. “We’re all gonna be family soon, anyway, ain’t we?”
Lydia watched in some fascination as her mother’s face twisted into a grimace of disgust and a flush rose up her throat to redden her face. “Over my—” the marchioness hissed.
“Now, just a moment. Please.”
It might’ve been the first time Lydia was fully grateful for her eldest cousin’s authoritative manner. Raised to become a duke, he was likely the only one present who could make her mother take a step back.
In the tenuous moment of quiet that followed his deep, commanding words, Lydia forced herself to focus on the reason she’d instigated this situation.
A quick glance to Edmund found him still staring intently at his mother.
She could almost see his thoughts wishing himself anywhere but there, and her heart gave an aching lurch.
Lydia steeled herself against the emotions his presence inspired.
She couldn’t worry about him right now. This was about her.
And her future. It was not difficult to read the marchioness’s thoughts in that moment.
But Lydia was not going to do as her mother wished.
She was never going to be the daughter she was supposed to be.
And it was time for her mother to accept it.
“I will not marry him, Mother.”
“Now see here, you li’l—”
Mrs. Holt’s objection was cut off as Edmund’s hand dropped firmly to her shoulder.
“You must consider carefully, cousin,” Ralston instructed, but his words were nearly drowned out by the marchioness.
“Of course, you won’t marry Darlington,” Lady Loxmarch declared firmly with a wave of her hand.
“Men like him come and go, my dear. But your reckless behavior has gone on long enough. Surely, you see how this could have absolutely ruined you. Thank God, it was your cousin who came upon you or you’d have no choice in the matter. ”
Lydia’s stomach twisted and rolled with each word her mother said. Her suspicions were playing out as expected.
“Yes,” she replied through gritted teeth, her stare never leaving her mother’s face. “That was quite fortuitous,” she noted. “It couldn’t have been planned any better.”
At her last statement, the corner of Lady Loxmarch’s eye twitched. Just the tiniest bit.
“Fortuitous, indeed,” the marchioness repeated slowly.
“A boon of which we will take full advantage.” She turned to Edmund with pursed lips.
“Lord Darlington, your reputation is…undeniable. There is no expectation that you will behave honorably toward my daughter, so perhaps it would be best if you simply go about your evening—gamble away your inheritance, get blind drunk, find a new companion for the evening, whatever it is you’d normally be doing—and forget this little incident ever happened. ”
“Mother—” Lydia protested, tensing to stand, but Charlotte’s hand on her arm stopped her. Casting her a quick look, Lydia saw the other woman give a tiny nod as she stared across the room. Lydia followed her gaze to Edmund.
He’d removed his hand from his mother’s shoulder and now stood in a relaxed posture. His head was tilted to a curious angle, a sharp glint of amusement sparkled in his eyes, and a subtle smile touched his mouth as he gazed back at the marchioness.
He was fully embodying the wicked rake.
There was so much more to him than was evident in the presentation of this irreverent devil-may-care charmer, but Lydia couldn’t help but feel a thrill at his secretive smile.
And when his attention danced briefly to her, she felt it like a crackle of fire across her skin and a delicious stirring ignited in her core.
Foolish woman.
She was in on the ruse and yet the man could affect her with the slightest glance. She steeled herself for his rejection, for surely, he would take this opportunity her mother provided to take leave of the situation.
“My lady,” he began in a smooth, gently cajoling and lightly teasing voice, reminiscent of the one he’d used that very first encounter in the sewing room. “I admit the trajectory of this evening has gone a bit awry, but I believe we can resolve the issue without further insult.”
The marchioness snorted as she cast a long glance down her nose at Mrs. Holt, making it clear that their very presence was an insult.
Lydia’s blood boiled. Her mother’s ambitions had turned her into a pretentious, abhorrent snob.
Still, Charlotte’s firm hand stayed her when she would’ve responded.
It was clear that the other woman wished to see how the scene would play out.
Lydia had believed her cousin’s wife to be a reasonable person and, having come to London from Paris and an unconventional childhood, one with a unique perspective and insight.
But in this moment, Lydia couldn’t contemplate what Charlotte was seeing that she herself couldn’t.
With a soft huff of exasperation, Lydia clenched her teeth and turned her attention back to the uncomfortable confrontation between her mother and Edmund.
“Lord Darlington,” the marchioness intoned with a tight smile of superiority, “you are not the one directing this scene, and I’d advise you to do as I say. You are not needed here. You are not wanted here. You and your mother may go.”
Edmund smiled. Slow and deliberate and wide enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. Then he chuckled.
The marchioness visibly flinched at his insolence.
“Ye know,” he said in a casual drawl accented with the East End, “me mum would be the first to tell ye I’ve never been much fer doin’ what I’m told.”
Mrs. Holt snorted in agreement.
“And I’m not that bad of a catch,” Edmund noted with a grin. “I’m young, wealthy, and titled.”
“You’re barely fit to carry that title, and you know it,” the marchioness spat.
“My God, Mother,” Lydia exclaimed in shock, “your snobbishness is truly astounding.”
The marchioness’s eyes were wide and piercing. “I speak only the truth. As anyone could clearly see,” she added with a sweeping glance over Mrs. Holt, who was sitting back on the sofa, watching the scene with dramatic delight.
At the obvious insulting reference, the other lady sat upright. “Now see ’ere.”
“Don’t bother, Ma,” Edmund said. “Our origins’ve never been a secret to anyone who cared to look into me past. But the law o’ the land made me the Earl of Darlington, and society accepted me as such.
And, as I understand, this house belongs to Lord Redington,” Edmund continued.
“Since he invited me here, I’ll be waitin’ for him to rescind that welcome.
” His gaze flickered just briefly to Lydia. “Until then, I’m stayin’.”
The marchioness took a breath that lifted her full bosom. Keeping a steely gaze on Edmund, she said sharply, “Ralston.”
Fortunately, Ralston was also not one to take orders. His response was quick and decisive. “He stays.” The marchioness gasped, but Ralston continued to Edmund. “Are you refusing to do the honorable thing by my cousin?”
For the first time since their arrival at Redington House, Edmund fully looked at her. His expression was tense, his jaw firmly squared, and though his gaze was intent and focused, there was warmth layered within the depths.
Lydia instantly felt the intensity of this amber stare. It felt as though he saw every little quiet corner of her that was trembling and uncertain. As though his piercing gaze reached right into her chest to sweep gently over her fiercely racing heart.
He knew—surely, he had to know—how much harder this was for her with him there.
Did he already suspect the marchioness?
It felt as though he stared at her in silence for an age, though it was likely only a few seconds. As though he were waiting for her to give some cue. But she honestly didn’t know what to say.
She’d thought this moment of confrontation with her mother would bring clarity.
Instead, she just felt awful.
The corner of Edmund’s mouth curled upward and his gaze softened. The glimmer in his eye seemed to suggest that he was sharing a humorous secret with her. And suddenly, she was bolstered. Because they did share something beyond this moment, beyond this room and these people.
They’d shared a conversation in quotes by Ovid.
They’d shared breathless moments under the stars.
They’d shared truths about themselves that no one else knew. He knew her greatest fear was being shackled to a life she’d hate. And she knew he still didn’t believe he wouldn’t someday be booted from his current fortunate state.
And they’d shared moments of sublime ecstasy and the deepest, most vulnerable, communion.
It was impossible not to allow a softening of her lips in response.
Then with a quick, barely noticeable wink, he turned his focus to Ralston to once again speak in the polished tones of high society.
“My lord, my one and only intention in coming here tonight is to ensure that Lady Lydia is not forced into something she does not desire.” He slid his gaze to Lydia.
His eyes darkened and his voice deepened—but just a little.
She suspected no one else even noticed the change, but to her, his next words sounded almost reverent.
“And for that reason alone, I refuse to make an offer.”
A shiver ran through her as the fine hairs on her arms stood up. Her stomach clenched and an odd tingling rushed to her toes.
What did he mean by that?
Even as her mind formed the question, her heart formed an answer. If only she could trust it.
Before she could respond in any way other than a furrow of her brows, her mother exclaimed, “Excellent.”
Edmund tossed her an amused look. “Despite whatever faults and flaws you perceive in me, I do find it extremely curious how quick you are to dismiss me from this situation, Lady Loxmarch.”
Lydia’s heart stuttered. He knew.
“I was thinking the same,” Ralston noted stiffly.