Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Victor usually felt at peace when he returned to Nightford. The world could be unnerving and unpredictable, but his home was a haven to him. Everything was exactly as he liked it, and he never had to worry about anything threatening his tranquility.
However, now, there were daggers in his stomach and an uneasy feeling that he could not shake.
The apprehension only increased as the carriage drew closer to the gates of his estate.
He had spent as long as he could away, but there was no way to extend the trip.
His home was no longer a safe refuge. There was a baby and an unwanted wife and all the complications that came with them.
A bitter feeling rested at the back of his throat, and he wrung his hands together. He alighted from the carriage, marched into the house, and was immediately struck by the carpet that stretched before him.
It was different to what he had been used to. Previously, there had been a dark blue carpet running along the hall. That had been replaced with one that was beige and had intricate, flowery patterns stitched into it.
“Who ordered this change?” Victor asked, snapping his fingers to beckon a servant. One came rushing over and clasped his hands behind his back.
“Her Grace did, Your Grace,” the servant said.
Victor pressed his lips together, taking a deep, dark breath. He glowered at the carpet. The runner had been altered, introducing a lively, colorful pattern.
How dare she come into his home and change it at her whim. She had ideas above her station, and it made him fear that she was thinking about the future. Even though she claimed to want freedom from this marriage, she might have changed her mind.
Perhaps the reality of being married to a Duke was appealing to her now, and she did not want to lose the status it had brought.
“And what other changes has she made?” he asked in a biting tone.
“There is a crib in the library. Apparently, the young master likes it there. Other carpets and rugs have been changed, and there is also a new schedule with notes on the baby. I believe that a copy has been left on your desk, Your Grace.”
“I see. Thank you. I suppose I should go and peruse this new schedule,” he said. The servant bowed as Victor turned away.
Victor’s cheeks colored at the sheer gall of the woman. He had been gone for three days, just three days! It might as well have been three years given how so much had changed. How dare she make such changes without his consent? This was his home, and the last time he checked he was still the Duke.
These thoughts formed a storm in his mind, a storm that only became more intense with every step he took.
By the time he reached his study, he was about ready to erupt in anger.
Lightning crackled in his mind, and thunder made his skin bristle.
His heart thumped in his chest, and he was of a mind to tear everything down and start again.
Then he saw a woman in his study, rifling through his drawers.
“Excuse me, what in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?” he asked, incensed. For a moment, the molten anger was replaced by sheer bewilderment.
The woman looked up at him with a nonchalant expression on her face. She had curled hair and rosy cheeks.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. I’m Mrs. Jones, but you can call me Georgia.”
“I didn’t ask after your name. I want to know what you’re doing in my study. I’ve never met such a brazen thief.”
Georgia bore an indignant look.
“I’m no thief. I had Her Grace’s permission. I thought there might be an emblem or something of that ilk for John. Something of the family that he can keep close to him. A baby needs to know their heritage after all.”
“There’s nothing of that sort here,” he said, approaching the desk and slamming the door. “Don’t you know better than to go through a man’s private drawers?”
“Her Grace didn’t think they were private. The door was left unlocked after all, and I swear I didn’t look at anything, Your Grace. Why, I wouldn’t understand it even if I did,” she chuckled. She had a disarming manner about her, but Victor was too tense to be mollified by her demeanor.
“I shall have to rectify the matter about the unlocked door. From now on, you no longer have access to this study. Please leave immediately,” he said, and then a thought occurred to him. He frowned. “Who is John?” he asked.
Georgia laughed as she moved towards the door.
Before she could give him an answer, Lydia appeared.
“Georgia, have you— Oh, Your Grace. I wasn’t aware of your return. Has it been three days already?” she asked, staring at him icily. She made sure to keep her distance from him. The space between them might as well have been an ocean between continents.
She held her hands close to her abdomen.
The dress she wore narrowed at the waist and left her neck exposed.
Her hair was tied back although a few strands escaped and framed her face.
There was a strength in her delicate features, and he was surprised to find that she looked just as striking on this ordinary occasion as she had on their wedding day.
“Apparently so,” he replied. His voice was thick with emotion. “Now what is the meaning of this? And who is John?”
“John is the baby,” Lydia replied. With a subtle gesture she directed Georgia to leave the room.
This irked Victor even more because Lydia had well and truly entrenched herself in his estate, going so far as to give orders.
The way she acted added legitimacy to their marriage when he wanted the opposite effect.
He wanted it to remain hollow, whereas she seemed to be adding substance.
“He doesn’t have a name,” Victor replied.
“Yes, he does. It’s John.”
“You didn’t consult me.”
“You were not here to be consulted, and I couldn’t go on calling him ‘the baby’ or ‘the child.’ It seemed too impersonal.”
“Why did you choose John?”
“Because John reminds me of the hymn Amazing Grace. ‘I once was lost but now I am found.’ I named him after the man who wrote the hymn, John Newton.”
“I see,” Victor said bluntly.
“Does the name displease you?”
Victor huffed. John was a strong, sturdy name. He couldn’t truly find fault with it, even though he searched.
“I suppose not although I do wish you had waited to consult with me.”
“And I wish that you had not disappeared for three days,” Lydia countered.
“My business could hardly wait.”
“I’m glad to know where your priorities lie. It’s fortunate that I was here for John.”
“Where else would you be?” he challenged.
Lydia’s face dropped at this, and for a moment, the defiance slipped away from her face, leaving a profound sadness that he might have found pitiful had he not been so irritated.
“Nowhere, I suppose. Come, see him in the library. I have created a nook for him,” she said and made an about turn, expecting him to follow promptly. She moved too fast for him to call her back, and he had to take quick strides to reach her.
“You also should have consulted with me about the changes you made to the décor of the house.”
“It was just a few trivial changes.” Lydia waved her hand airily. “I didn’t think you would mind. That dark carpet was not inviting at all. I thought we should add a little color to the house. It makes everything warmer.”
“That was by design,” he said.
“And now the design has changed. I know that this estate is called Nightford, but we do not have to make it live up to its name. Sometimes even at night there are vivid colors. Did you get a chance to look at the schedule I left on your desk?”
“No, I was too busy dealing with that woman,” he said, annoyed again that she moved on from the subject of the carpets as though the matter was settled. He hadn’t expected her to be so forthright and stringent.
“She was there at my request. Please do not be angry with her.”
“She shouldn’t have been there at all. Do you have no sense of privacy?”
“The door was unlocked. Is there something in that study that you do not wish for me to see?” she asked. The question left him confused. It wasn’t that he had anything to hide exactly; it was just that he did not want people to go rummaging through his private affairs.
“I would simply appreciate some discretion. I have always been accustomed to my affairs being my own.”
“That is no longer the case. We are married, so they are our affairs,” Lydia said, emphasizing the words.
“I’m not entirely sure that’s how marriage works.”
“It’s how our marriage is going to work for as long as it lasts, anyway. Victor, you have left me to do a lot of thinking over the past three days. I am not going to sit by and do as you ask. I have my own thoughts, and I shall express them.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Victor muttered.
“And you mustn’t leave with without telling me again.
It was unkind of you, especially when we are trying to salvage our reputation.
Neither of us wanted this situation, but we both find ourselves embroiled in it.
It is only fair that we both take equal share of the responsibility.
Please peruse the schedule. There are duties that you must perform. ”
“Duties? What sort of duties?” Victor asked, a horrified look appearing on his face.
The question faded in the air however as Lydia did not seek to give him an answer.
Instead, they arrived at the library, and she led him through the door, putting a finger to her lips, gesturing for him to be quiet.
It felt as though he had been usurped in his own home. Suddenly, she was giving orders and writing schedules and demanding things from him. The sooner this marriage was over, the better.
Lydia led him to the reading area of the library.
There was a hearth in front of which two chairs had been standing, but those had been moved to make way for the crib.
The shelves had been pushed back as well, creating more space for the child.
Above the crib, bedsheets of assorted colors had been stretched and fastened to the tops of the bookshelves, creating a colorful canopy.
A gentle fire crackled. The air smelled of lavender and milk.
“What have you done? This is where I like to read,” Victor said in disbelief. He had spent many hours sitting in front of the fire, turning crisp pages, losing himself in books.
“And now, it’s where John likes to relax. You might even continue reading. I’m sure John would find it soothing. My parents used to read to me all the time.”
“I shall do no such thing,” Victor replied, recoiling at the thought.
The baby stirred. Lydia tilted her head and gave Victor a look of dismay.
She turned to the crib and made a cooing sound as she reached in and picked the baby—John—up.
She held him in her arms as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and John was quickly soothed.
Lydia rocked back and forth on her heels while rubbing her hand in a circular motion around John’s back.
“He’s easily startled,” she said.
Victor blinked slowly as he tried to comprehend all of these changes.
There was an aspect about this sight that he could not ignore.
Lydia seemed so natural in this role as caregiver, as though she belonged with John, and he was perhaps a little envious that such a thing could come to her so naturally.
“Victor, we must talk about John. It is a conversation I believe we should have had three days ago.”
“I believe we have discussed everything that is pertinent. I have already sent out missives in the hope of finding the mother. We merely need to keep him alive until we find her, and you seem quite adept at that.”
Lydia gave him a waspish look.
“John needs more than life. Babies need love and care. How can you be so heartless? This baby needs you.”
“But I do not need him. I never asked for this.”
Lydia raised her hand, as if to shield John from Victor’s words.
“You shouldn’t say things like that. Babies are more perceptive than you realize,” she said. Victor wore a skeptical look. “You should have left word that you were leaving. You can’t function as though you bear no responsibility for John. Let us not forget that he was wearing your crest.”
“As you keep reminding me, but that is an incidental detail. Whoever left him clearly chose a convenient item that was at hand. It does not mean anything more than that. And if you must know, I returned to London in the hope that my presence might expedite the search. I thought that I might be able to bring the mother back with me. However, I failed.”
“She must be making herself difficult to be found. I wonder why she left him,” Lydia said, her features becoming etched with concern.
“Perhaps it is best not to think of that. Clearly, she has… troubles.”
“You believe her to be of low character?”
“Don’t you? She left a child after all.”
“And you have made it clear you do not want anything to do with him. Does that make you low of character as well?” She arched an eyebrow.
“That is irrelevant. She abandoned her child, and you would have pity for her?”
“I believe there must be a reason. I cannot imagine a mother would abandon her children without good reason,” Lydia said.
The eyebrow fell, and her voice cracked, losing its strength for a moment.
She tilted her head forward, and a shadow fell across her eyes although Victor did not quite pick up on any deeper meaning of her visage.
“I’m sure she justified it to herself. Either way, she interrupted the stability of my life and—”
“Is that all you care about? Your life? What about John? He never asked to be abandoned, and he certainly didn’t ask to be treated with such disdain,” she said acidly.
Victor was about to retort when the baby started crying. The wailing screech was loud, immediate, and demanding. It pierced Victor’s mind, and he winced, wondering how on earth anyone could stand such a terrible noise.
“Look what you’ve done now,” Lydia said although her words were barely audible over the baby’s cries.
She carried John past him. Victor pursued her, unable to let this matter go because it did not seem fair at all that he should be tarred with this brush, as though this was his responsibility.
He wasn’t the one who had brought John into his chamber after all.
If anyone was at fault, other than the mother, then it was Lydia.