Love With a Scandalous Lord (21 page)

“Mama, I want to experience everything London has to offer. Concerts, operas, plays, and walks in the park. Dinners and balls and courtship. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for the life you’ve given me in Fortune. I just yearn for more. Besides I’m no longer a little girl.
I’ve become a woman.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rhys stiffen. He knew as well as she did that it was within his arms that she’d truly become a woman. She could reveal everything that had passed between them, and her stepfather would insist on a shotgun wedding in this very room before the sun set.

Only she didn’t want Rhys under those conditions. She wanted time to prove to him that they were meant for each other. Meanwhile, she could enjoy the glitter of London.

“I could stay with Aunt Elizabeth,” she suggested. “Lauren has asked me countless times in her letters to come visit. I know they won’t mind.”

“While we were at Harrington, I offered my protection to Lydia,” Rhys said quietly. “That offer stands. I am practically her uncle.”

He looked uncomfortable as he said it. She was certain her parents would think it was because of his relationship to her stepfather—the bastard. But she understood that his discomfort came about because they were not related at all. And they’d shared experiences forbidden between a true uncle and his niece.

He shifted his gaze to her stepfather. “I assure you that I am well aware you have very high standards regarding the type of man you’d wish for Lydia. I would personally interview any gentleman who expressed an interest in her—as I promised to do before we left Harrington. She could spend each afternoon here, with a chaperone, of course, to receive callers.”

“We don’t want to inconvenience you,” her mother said.

Lydia ground her teeth together.

“It’s no trouble, I assure you,” Rhys answered.

She thought her mother looked as though she’d suddenly aged ten years. But Lydia knew that sooner or later she had to exert her independence. Now, while she was where she wanted to be, was the perfect time.

“Mama, you and Papa have always taught me that if I wanted something I should reach for it, work for it, remain determined to get it,” Lydia reminded her. “I will do whatever I have to in order to stay in London until the end of the Season. I’m here. Why can’t I stay for a while longer with your blessing?

“It won’t cost you a single penny. I have my own funds, money I’ve set aside over the years. I’ll use it for everything I need.”

“Lydia never has been frivolous,” her stepfather said. “I should imagine she has more than enough to get her through the Season.”

Her mother looked at him as though she had no idea who he was. “You’re in favor of her staying?”

“I know what it is to want something and to be told you can never possess it.” He got to his feet, crossed the room, and joined her mother on the sofa. “Lydia is a grown woman. We can’t hold on to her forever. I see no harm in her spending some time here without us. Besides, if you take her home now, she’ll only come back next year. You’ll simply be postponing the inevitable. Lydia has spoken of London for years. It’s a harmless dream. Let her have it.”

“That’s easy enough for you to say. You’re a man—”

“I was a scandalous rogue, my sweet. I know the dangers in London. I know not all men are to be trusted. If Rhys gives me his word as a gentleman that he will protect Lydia, then I believe him. And if he breaks his word, I’ll kill him.”

“You’d have to stand in line behind me,” her mother said.

Lydia knew her mother was not issuing an idle threat. Another reason she thought it wise not to mention how involved her relationship with Rhys had become.

Rhys cleared his throat. “I shall endeavor to ensure neither of you has reason to wish me ill. I’ll look after your daughter as though she were the rarest of jewels.”

Not exactly what Lydia wanted from him. She’d rather he look after her as though she were his wife.

He looked off to the side. “Yes, Rawlings. What is it?”

Rawlings walked farther into the room, silver tray in hand. “An invitation has arrived, Your Grace. For Miss Westland.”

“Oh!” Lydia popped up and removed the invitation from the tray. With trembling fingers she opened it. She pressed a hand to her mouth, smiling broadly.

“It’s from Lord and Lady Whithaven. I’ve been invited to the ball they’re hosting next week.”

She knelt in front of her mother. “Look at it, Mama. Isn’t it the most beautiful invitation you’ve ever seen? I arrived too late to get a written invitation from Gina. She simply accepted my presence because she and Lauren are such close friends.” She flattened the card against her chest. “This is an official invitation.”

She looked at her mother imploringly. “Oh, Mama, please say I can go.”

“Who is this Lady Whithaven?” she asked.

Lydia shook her head. “Lauren pointed her out to me, but I wasn’t actually introduced to her. Someone I met must have spoken to her on my behalf.”

She gazed over at Rhys, who seemed neither pleased
nor surprised by the invitation. “Do you know Lady Whithaven?”

“We have a passing acquaintance.”

“So you can reassure Mama that Lady Whithaven won’t corrupt me?”

“Lydia!” her mother exclaimed. “I don’t expect anyone here to corrupt you. I simply don’t know these people. In Fortune I know everyone. It’s so large in London, so crowded, with too many people. I could never be comfortable here. I don’t understand why you think you would be. But I can see you’re determined to at least experience it fully.” Gently she cradled Lydia’s chin. “So stay. Have your Season. Then come home.”

“Promise you’ll write every day.”

“I will.” Lydia hugged her mother tightly. “I will.”

Her entire family was gathered in front of the Ravenleigh house. The Harrington coach was waiting to whisk them off, so they could board their ship and sail back to Texas. Lydia hadn’t expected this moment to be so difficult.

Tears stung her eyes, as she leaned away from her mother. Tears of joy, because she was going to stay. Tears of sadness, because she’d never in her life said good-bye to her mother. She hardly knew where to begin. Her books didn’t advise her regarding this situation.

She could see her mother valiantly fighting back her own tears as she turned to her sister. “Elizabeth, you take care of my little girl.”

“I will. Don’t worry. I’ve had nine years now in this country. It’s much tamer than Texas, believe me.”

Lydia glanced over at Lauren. She was practically bubbling with joy because Lydia had been granted per
mission to stay. She expected them both to take London by storm now.

“Will you write to me, too, Lyd?” Sabrina asked.

She looked down at her sister and tugged on her braid. “Every day. And you’ll have to send me pictures every day.”

“I will.” Her voice warbled.

Lydia knelt and drew her sister close.

“I’m going to miss you, Lyd.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“You won’t stay forever, will you?”

She was very much aware of Rhys watching her. His presence provided her with the strength to let go.

“Not forever,” she hedged. Even if she did marry and live here, she would visit home often. She wondered at what point children stopped thinking of the place where they grew up as home.

She released Sabrina and quickly found Rhys holding her elbow, helping her to rise. Awareness shot through her, and she realized it was indeed wise that she would no longer be staying at his house. She had no will to resist him.

She turned to Colton and held out her arms.

He scrunched up his face and hunched his shoulders. “Ah, Lyd,” he muttered.

“You won’t see me for months and months. Give me a proper good-bye.”

He shuffled over like a man approaching a hanging tree. And then his arms came around her with such strength and tightness she almost lost her balance. How like a male to put on an unemotional display in front of others when he privately felt as sorry to see her staying behind as the others.

Was there ever a way for a woman to understand the
complexities of a man?

Colton suddenly broke free as though he realized he might have revealed too much of what he felt. She ruffled his hair. “Give Johnny a hug for me.”

“Not on your life!” he yelled with disgust. “I ain’t hugging him. Bad enough I had to hug you.”

She smiling gaily, trying to maintain control for what would be the most difficult of good-byes. Her stepfather stepped in front of her and took her hands.

“When I first saw you, you were a skinny little thing with large eyes. You listened to my stories with wonder and awe. How was I to have known then that watching you grow up would be one of the greatest joys of my life? I did not give you to your mother, but she has shared you with me. I could not love you more than your own father would have had he lived.

“Love is a journey, Lydia. Sometimes you have to travel far to find it. Sometimes you discover it has been beside you all along. I lived a good deal of my life without it, and I would not wish that on you.

“But in your search, remember this: choose well and wisely. But should you not, know our affections for you will not falter and that your home will always be where we are.”

“I love you so much, Papa.” She flung her arms around his neck. Tears rolled onto her cheeks. He was the one who’d taught her to dream of things that stretched far beyond Fortune.

He held her tightly, rocking her gently. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

She nodded, her cheek rubbing against his. She moved back and began swiping the tears from her eyes.

“Here, use my handkerchief,” Rhys said.

She took the linen with the single initial, an R, em
broidered in crimson decorating the corner. She dabbed at her tears, part of her questioning if staying was the right thing to do. Part of her knowing she had no choice. Otherwise, she would always wonder what might have been.

Her stepfather held out his hand to Rhys. Rhys hesitated, before grasping her stepfather’s hand.

“I shall do all in my power to ensure her happiness,” Rhys said.

“I’ve no doubt you will,” her stepfather said. “I hope in the process you’ll find your own happiness.”

Rhys nodded brusquely before releasing her stepfather’s hand and stepping back. She wondered if he were capable of being happy.

“You’d best be off,” Rhys said. “I would not want you to miss your ship.”

“Quite so. We’ve already cabled Johnny to let him know when to expect us. Wouldn’t want him to send a posse out to track us down,” her stepfather said lightly.

“Posse?” Rhys murmured. “Yours is quite a different world, Grayson.”

Lydia didn’t think she’d ever heard Rhys call her stepfather by name. She was more surprised by the affection he seemed to have woven into the word.

“If I had it to do over, Rhys, I would have taken you with me,” her stepfather said quietly.

“But life does not give us second chances. We must make the best of what we have and be content.”

Like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings, her stepfather’s gaze came to rest on her briefly.

“Do not be so certain second chances do not exist,” her stepfather said. “The secret is to recognize them when they are offered, seize them with both hands, and make the most of them.” He turned away. “All right,
now! We need to be off.”

Another flurry of tight hugs and hastily given kisses on the cheeks followed. Lydia stayed as close to her parents as she could, while everyone clambered into the coach.

“Remember to write!”

“Have a good journey!”

“We love you!”

“Take care now!”

“Don’t worry! We’ll look after Lydia!”

“Have fun, Lyd!”

“I will.”

A last squeezing of hands, a final farewell.

Then the coach was rolling away, clattering over the street. Lydia pressed a balled fist to her breast to prevent the unexpected ache in her heart from growing.

Rhys came to stand behind her. She felt the warmth in his nearness; the strength and sturdiness in his presence.

“You’ll be too busy to miss them,” he said somberly.

She shook her head. “No, love doesn’t work that way.” She angled her head thoughtfully and gazed back at him. “But you don’t know enough about love to realize that, do you?”

Lauren grabbed Lydia’s hand. “Come on. We need to begin planning our strategy for the Whithaven ball.”

With one last look at Rhys, Lydia followed Lauren into the house. What she intended was to plan her strategy for convincing Rhys they belonged together.

“T
he seamstress did an excellent job in so short a time,” Lauren said.

Glancing at her reflection, Lydia had to agree. The gown of white satin revealed her shoulders and the barest hint of her breasts. The sleeves were puffed and made of lace. Draped gauze and ruffles flowed across the skirt and along the train. Everything was trimmed in the palest of pink. A pink that matched the rose buds nestled in her hair, hair piled on her head in the loveliest of curls.

Lydia, Lauren, and Aunt Elizabeth had made the rounds of all the best shops in London. Lydia felt as though she was truly ready to make her debut. Her new debut. Tonight she would be a success.

And Rhys would be beside her.

She looked at Lauren, sitting up in bed, beneath a mound of blankets.

“I wish you were going with me,” Lydia said.

Lauren sneezed and wiped her nose. “I feel rotten. A cold in summer is the worst. But it should only last another day or so, and then we can go to the balls together. Besides, it won’t hurt for Harrington to have you all to himself.”

“He tells me that he loves me, but he won’t marry me.”

Lauren laughed. “He may change his mind after seeing you tonight. Make him jealous. Flirt and dance with every man save him. Drive him mad from wanting you.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

A brisk knock and the door opened. Aunt Elizabeth peered inside. “The Duke is here.”

Lydia took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

“You won’t need it. You look smashing.”

Clutching her fan, she followed Aunt Elizabeth down the stairs. “I don’t know why I’m more nervous tonight than I was before.”

Her aunt squeezed her arm. “You look lovely. Harrington is determined that things will go well for you tonight, so I’m sure they will. Besides, Lady Sachse is offering her endorsement, and that should go a long way.”

“Lady Sachse?”

Her aunt looked surprised. “I thought you knew. She’s with Harrington. She’ll serve as your chaperone, and she’s well connected among the aristocracy. More so than I am. I simply never could force myself to care about all these things.”

They entered the foyer, and Lydia nearly forgot to breathe at the sight of Rhys dressed in his evening finery. His black, swallow-tailed coat fit him perfectly.

“My goodness, Rhys, you failed to tell me that she was beautiful.”

Only then did Lydia become acutely aware of the woman standing beside him. She was much younger than Lydia had expected of a chaperone. Her brown hair was swept high on her head. Her brown eyes took in every aspect of Lydia’s appearance.

“I was under the impression you’d seen her before,” Rhys said quietly.

“Well, yes, but since we weren’t properly introduced I paid little attention.”

He bowed slightly. “Lady Sachse, may I present Miss Lydia Westland.”

“You may indeed,” Lady Sachse said. “My dear Miss Westland, Rhys has spoken so highly of you. I am quite honored to make your acquaintance at last.”

Lydia curtsied. “I’m honored as well.”

“Although most of my friends consider Americans to have atrocious accents, I must admit I find yours quite charming,” Lady Sachse said.

Lydia wasn’t certain why she felt as if she’d been insulted. She smiled. “Thank you.”

“You will be thanking me for a great deal more before the evening is over.” She patted Rhys’s arm. “Come. We must be off to pick up Lord Sachse.”

“Your husband?” Lydia asked hopefully.

Lady Sachse laughed. “Oh, no. My dear husband, may he rot in hell, has long since passed away. Archie is a distant cousin whom we will also introduce to London tonight. He graciously took up residence in a smaller Sachse property while allowing me to remain in the larger house. And Harrington graciously offered us his carriage for the evening. So shall we be off?”

They picked up Lord Sachse and introductions were made. Lydia liked him immediately. He had a ready smile and seemed as fascinated with London as she was. While they traveled to their destination, she and Lady Sachse sat side by side while the gentlemen sat opposite them.

Now they were walking up the steps into Whithaven’s residence, following the flow of people. When Lydia entered the entrance hallway, she realized that although Gina’s party had been pleasant, it was apparent Lady Whithaven enjoyed giving parties much more.

The festivity was obvious. Fresh flowers adorned almost every inch of the floor and tables. A small group of musicians played in the entrance hall while people walked through. A distant doorway led into what Lydia could see beyond was the ballroom.

“I must confess this is my first ball, and I am terrified of putting my foot wrong,” Lord Sachse whispered near her ear.

She smiled at him. “You’ll do fine.”

“I wish I could look as calm as you.”

“I’m nervous as well,” she assured him.

“Do you know Whithaven?” he asked.

“No. I’ve seen the couple, but I haven’t been introduced to them.”

He grinned. “Then I shall follow your lead as introductions are made.”

As they neared the doorway, with Rhys and Lady Sachse entering the ballroom, Lydia could see the couple Lauren had pointed out as being Lord and Lady Whithaven.

Lady Whithaven was truly lovely. She had the greenest eyes Lydia had ever seen. Eyes that suddenly
widened when they fell on Rhys. All blood drained from her face as though she’d seen a ghost. Lydia thought the poor woman might swoon as Lady Sachse made introductions.

“I must say,” Lord Whithaven said in a booming voice, apparently not noticing his wife’s reaction, “that we’ve all been rather curious about you, Your Grace. It seems no one could remember meeting Quentin’s younger brother.”

“Quentin and I were not close in years. Neither did we run in the same circles.”

Lady Whithaven lowered her gaze and said softly, “Your Grace, we are most honored to have you in our home.”

“I am most honored to be here, Lady Whithaven, and to make your acquaintance at last,” Rhys said in a low voice.

She lifted her gaze to him, but it seemed to Lydia that the woman wanted to be looking at anyone other than Rhys.

“And may I present Lord Sachse,” Lady Sachse said too loudly, as though she, too, had noticed Lady Whithaven’s discomfiture and was hoping to distract everyone from it.

“Lord Sachse,” Whithaven said. “This seems to be the Season of unknown lords.”

“Unknown lords, unknown ladies, to me as well. I daresay I shall have a time of it, trying to remember who everyone is,” Lord Sachse said.

“I wouldn’t worry overmuch,” Whithaven said. “Lady Sachse knows everyone. She’ll no doubt help you put names to faces.”

“Indeed I shall,” Lady Sachse said. “On behalf of the Duke, allow me to present Miss Lydia Westland. The
Duke and I have high expectations regarding the success of her Season.”

It was as though her pronouncement was edged in gold.

Lord Whithaven smiled fully at Lydia, giving her his undivided attention. “We are honored to have you.”

She bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Ah, an American. Not to worry. We shan’t hold that against you, will we, my dear?”

Lady Whithaven still seemed rattled as she looked from Rhys to Lydia. “Of course we won’t hold it against you.” She held out her hand. “Come, I shall introduce you around.”

And with that, Lydia was led into the throng.

While Camilla escorted Sachse around the room, introducing him to those who mattered, Rhys stood off to the side near a pot of large fronds. He could sense whenever a lady’s startled gaze came to rest on him. He would offer her the barest of nods in acknowledgment, and the lady would quickly look away.

A few gentlemen tried to engage him in discourse. But he had no interest in a lengthy conversation. He merely used the opportunity to make them aware of his relationship with Lydia, and his desire to see her well settled.

Beautiful Lydia, who tonight was the brightest star in the room. No matter where she wandered, he saw her. Smiling with such warmth and joy. Dancing with the finest of gentlemen. Her confidence illuminated her face. He could imagine many a gentleman falling under her spell as he had.

His chest tightened with that thought. He would not deny her happiness, and yet he didn’t like to think of her experiencing it with another.

The music ended, and the gentleman with whom she’d been dancing escorted her off the floor and returned her to Rhys.

He waited until the man was out of earshot, before saying, “You liked him.”

“I like them all. Tonight is
exactly
what I thought London life would entail.” She peered up at him. “You haven’t danced.”

“I’m in mourning.”

She tapped her fan on his arm and batted her eyes. “I’m not certain I like Lady Sachse.”

“You should like her very much. She is well connected. Many of these ladies owe a great deal to her, and
these
ladies influence the gentlemen. Do not be fooled. A gentleman may carry the title, but by God, it is his wife who wields its power.”

The orchestra again began to play.

“My dance card has an empty spot on it for this dance,” Lydia said quietly.

“That will not do.” He held out his hand.

She gave him a deliciously wicked smile. “I thought you were in mourning.”

“For you, I will make an exception.”

She slipped her hand into his, and he led her onto the dance floor. He placed a hand on her waist, while she placed her hand on his shoulder.

“You were made for this,” he said quietly, as he guided her through the waltz. “The glitter of London. I’ve never seen anyone wear it so well.”

“I didn’t think you’d attended many social events.”

“I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t an opinion on the matter.”

“So many ladies seem surprised to see you here.”

“Because I am in mourning.”

“That excuse will only take you so far, Your Grace. There’s an undercurrent that I can’t quite explain.”

“Let it go, Lydia. Secrets shared in the dark are best kept there.”

“If it’s a secret, why do I feel as though everyone knows what it is?”

“Only a very few know, and they will hold their tongues. You should not concern yourself with the ladies, but rather the gentlemen. You are husband hunting, after all.”

She glanced around. “I don’t think I could ever grow tired of this. It’s everything I’ve always dreamed of and more.”

And he intended to ensure she held on to it.

Whithaven was grateful he’d finished welcoming his guests. Although their parading by him gave him an opportunity to scrutinize every man, he had yet to determine who was fornicating with his wife.

The desire to know burned within him. It had taken every ounce of breeding he possessed to stand beside her and not let it show how much he’d come to despise her.

“Still searching for a phantom?” Reynolds asked quietly.

Whithaven glared at Reynolds and Kingston. “No phantom. I went to get a piece of jewelry out of the drawer for her, and I found this stuffed in a back corner.”

He unfurled his fingers.

“I take it that is not your handkerchief,” Kingston murmured.

“With an R embroidered on it? In crimson? I should
say not. Perhaps it’s yours,
R
eynolds.”

“Good God, don’t be ludicrous. Does it stand for his first name or his last? Or his title?” Reynolds asked.

“Perhaps it stands for roué,” Kingston speculated. “Not the man’s initial at all, but rather a symbol of how he has decided to dedicate his life.”

Whithaven crushed the cloth in his fingers and returned it to his pocket. “I would suggest you gentlemen search through your wives’ things.”

“Invade her drawers?” Reynolds asked, clearly appalled by the notion.

“This man exists. Whether he is one of us or not, he exists. And by God, I shall rout him out.”

“Come, Rhys. It’s time for you to make your announcement,” Camilla said.

Rhys stared at her, uncomprehending. “What announcement?”

“That we are to be married. I told you that I would want an announcement made at the first ball we attended.”

He remembered now that she
had
told him. He’d simply been so focused on what he wanted for Lydia that he’d forgotten what he owed Camilla. He glanced around the room, his gaze quickly finding and settling on Lydia. She was laughing, enjoying herself, a gentleman escorting her back to him.

“Our solicitors have yet to meet in order to work out the details,” he reminded her.

“A mere formality. Patience has never been my strong suit. I wish people to know that you intend to make a duchess of me.”

“Perhaps we should wait for a more opportune mo
ment,” he said.

“Whithaven will be calling for you at any second. What can be more opportune than that?”

As though her voice had reached Whithaven’s ears, the Earl was suddenly standing on the platform where the orchestra was seated and calling out in his large, booming voice, “May I have your attention, please?”

The murmuring fell into immediate silence. Lydia and her escort stopped and turned to look at Whithaven. Rhys remembered the debacle of Grayson’s arrival, because he’d put off what he knew would be unpleasant.

This moment promised to be ten times worse. Not for the world would he hurt Lydia, but a part of him could not help but wonder if this way was for the best. Any hope she had of a life with him would die as surely as the flame on a candle was snuffed with little more than the pressure of two fingers.

“I know we all felt sorrow at the passing of the Duke of Harrington. Tonight we are honored to have his successor in our midst, and we welcome him. I have been informed he has a rather special announcement to make.”

“Make it count, Rhys,” Camilla whispered. “Or your lady shall find this is the last ball she attends.”

“For you, Camilla, I shall follow in my father’s footsteps.” He made his way toward Whithaven, realizing that indeed he had far more in common with his father than he’d ever realized. He would marry one woman while forever loving another. How had his father managed to find the strength to do it?