Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“What are you doing here? Who said you were allowed to come in here with your baby?” the man thundered.
Lydia glared at him. She’d only just managed to calm the baby down.
The gentle weight of the child rested in her arms and nuzzled into her.
Lydia had been making quiet soothing noises and rocking the baby, settling the child as best she could.
“Shush,” Lydia hissed, glaring at him.
“You can’t shush me. This is my house,” he said.
That revealed his identity to Lydia. Standing before her was the Duke of Nightford, Victor.
Now that she looked at him more closely, she could tell that he was the man she had seen walking through the crowd earlier.
His height was impressive and his broad shoulders made him seem slightly intimidating.
He had a sharp countenance with a strong jaw, prominent nose, and ice blue eyes.
His dark hair was trimmed neatly, the kind of haircut that a man might have for years on end, wearing it like a pair of comfortable boots that served him well.
But Lydia did not care about his position or authority at this moment in time. The baby was all that mattered, and frankly given that she found it alone, she did not have much cause to respect Victor either.
“It is not my baby; it’s your baby. Don’t you know you are not supposed to leave it alone? Anything might have happened,” she said, wondering how many glasses of champagne he’d drunk to forget his own baby.
Color reached his cheeks, and he adopted a monstrous scowl upon his face.
“It’s certainly not my baby. I have never seen that child before. Who are you? I have a good mind to throw you out immediately,” he said, striding towards her.
Lydia twisted her body to protect the child. She glared at Victor.
“Don’t you dare touch me or this child. Clearly you don’t care about the baby’s wellbeing at all if you were happy leaving it unattended. Perhaps you should go back to your champagne. Where is the mother?” she asked.
Victor turned his gaze to the champagne and looked incensed as he realized what she meant. He shifted the weight between his feet. Lydia held the baby a little more tightly, vowing privately to keep hold of the child because clearly this man could not be trusted.
“I have no idea where the mother is because I have no idea what this baby is doing here. I demand you tell your name.”
“Lydia. Lady Lydia Hartley,” she said.
A look of realization came upon Victor’s face. “You are the Duke of Stonewood’s sister,” he observed. “I was just speaking to your grandmother.”
Lydia’s ire subsided for a moment.
“Grandmother? Where is she now? Was she confused?”
“Perhaps. It was hard to tell,” Victor said then his gaze hardened with suspicion. “I do not appreciate tricks, My Lady. Please remove yourself from my chambers and take that baby with you.”
“You should be the one to take it.”
“Certainly not,” he fired back.
Lydia rose from the bed and came towards him. Victor leaned back, as though he was repelled by the child.
“Surely you will not continue to deny that this child is yours. It was here, on this bed, and look…” She angled her body and relaxed her grip a little, just enough to let the blanket fall open. The soft material folded open to show the Nightford crest which showed a wolf beneath a moon.
The Duke stared at the crest but then shook his head in a disbelieving motion.
“That proves nothing. There are many blankets all around the house. You could have found one anywhere.” To illustrate his point, he marched to the bureau, yanked open a drawer, and pulled out a similar blanket.
He kept hold of it and bent down, placing the blanket over the broken glass and small puddle of champagne.
“The only thing I found was this baby.”
“And what were you doing snooping around in my private chamber anyway?”
“I was not snooping.” Lydia lifted her head, pointing her nose in the air, and looked offended. “I was looking for my grandmother if you must know. I feared that she had wandered off.”
“I see,” the Duke said, murmuring. Even if Lydia had not been as insightful as she was, she would have realized that he did not believe her.
“I don’t know why you are being so defensive. You should take responsibility for your child.”
Victor glared at her. “I tell you again that it is not my child.”
“If this is not your child, and it is not my child, then whose child is it?” Lydia challenged.
The Duke pressed his lips together and returned to his full height.
The question lingered in the air because that was a pertinent matter of course.
They both stared at each other, neither of them able to offer an answer.
Then, the baby started to cry. It was a painful sound, burrowing right into the middle of Lydia’s mind.
The baby’s face was scrunched up, and its mouth was open, revealing its toothless gums. Its skin was so red, it was almost purple, and the sound that emanated from its mouth seemed impossibly loud for someone so small to produce.
“Can’t you make it quiet?” Victor asked, wincing a little.
“It’s a baby. They have a habit of crying,” Lydia said. She started to rock back and forth, making shushing noises, but she was not sure the baby would be able to hear her over the sound of its own cries.
“Why is it crying?”
“I don’t know. The child could be hungry, tired, cold, or maybe just upset that it was abandoned.” She glared at Victor, still believing that he was somehow to blame.
After all, why else would this baby be in his chamber if it were not linked to him somehow?
At least after this, there would be no more talk of her being presented to the Duke as a potential bride.
It was going to be a huge scandal although Lydia did not take any delight in this. She almost pitied him.
“Let me try,” Victor said. Before Lydia could do anything, he slipped his arms between hers and wrested the baby from her.
For a moment, their hands brushed as the baby functioned like a link in a chain.
Lydia became suddenly, acutely aware of how close he stood.
He held the baby high, but the head drooped over his arm.
“You’re doing it wrong. Look…” Lydia reached up to adjust the position of the infant’s head. The Duke tried to shift away from her, but Lydia was determined.
“See, you know what you are doing. This must be your baby,” he said, speaking loudly to be heard over the crying.
The sound echoed between the walls and filled the room.
It seemed far louder than the noise created by the guests in the ballroom.
A baby’s cry could be like a storm, and it was utterly impossible to ignore.
“I know what I’m doing because I have a nephew,” Lydia replied. The baby was writhing in the Duke’s arms, and if he was not so strong, then the baby might well have slipped away. Lydia tried to take the baby back. “You have to soothe it. Make soft noises. Try singing to it,” she suggested.
“I will do no such thing,” he replied incredulously.
Lydia rolled her eyes. She had been doing much better when she had been on her own.
“I shall fetch a maid. Perhaps they will know what to do,” he said, and was in the process of handing the baby back to Lydia when Agatha arrived at the door.
“Ah, there you are Lydia. I’ve been looking all over for you.” She then smiled, and her face lit up. She clasped her hands together. “Oh, how precious! My sweet children, you already have a baby. When did you get married, and why was I not invited?” she asked, chuckling to herself.
The color drained from Lydia’s face, and she felt absolutely mortified. She could feel the Duke growing tense beside her. They were both still holding the baby which continued to cry between them.
“This is not my baby.” The Duke gritted his teeth and tried to push the baby into Lydia’s arms. Lydia wrapped her hands around it and turned her back to Agatha, squeezing the baby tight in the hope that the closeness might calm the child.
“The noise is not good for the baby,” Lydia observed.
“Begone, go! You shouldn’t be here,” the Duke said, taking short shrift with Agatha. Lydia glanced over her shoulder and saw him wave a hand to dismiss her grandmother as though she was a troublesome cat. When that did not work, he took her hand and escorted her to the door but then paused.
“Oh no,” he said in a crestfallen tone. Lydia turned slowly, trying not to be overwhelmed.
Sometimes there was nothing to do but let a baby cry.
However, it was not so easy when Victor’s presence was making her tense.
There was something in his tone, however, that gave her cause for concern.
She turned slowly and then realized why he seemed so troubled.
There were people standing in the doorway and lined up all the way down the hall, from what she could see anyway.
The sound of the crying baby must have attracted them, for such a noise would have caused intrigue and concern.
But all they saw was Victor and Lydia standing close together in his bedchamber with a baby that was wrapped in a blanket displaying the Nightford Crest.
There were shocked gasps, and Lydia could already hear the whispers flowing through the crowd. The misunderstanding was clear, and the scandal had just begun.
And now, Lydia wanted to cry too.