The Mysterious Miss Lydia, page 2
“A good wife will be an asset to you, dear,” his mother said. And she was so earnest, he couldn’t bring himself to protest.
“Of course,” he murmured.
“So, you’ll do it then?” She beamed and his father was regarding him with a noticeable lack of disdain.
2
Lydia’s friend Mary stopped walking in the park to clap her hands together in delight. “It will be such an adventure, Lydia. Just imagine it!”
Lydia merely smiled. She was no stranger to adventure...in books.
In fact, one such book was currently tucked under her arm, just waiting until she could steal a moment alone to dive back into the intriguing story of Elsbeth and Demetrius and their dashing escape from swashbuckling pirates.
In real life, however, she had no inclination toward adventure or intrigue or...anything that had to do with interacting with others, really.
And a masquerade was certain to involve socializing, and a lot of it.
The very thought made her heart stutter and her blood run cold.
“It does sound like fun,” their friend Eloise said when Lydia stayed silent.
As both Eloise and Mary had married recently, they no longer lived at the school, and Lydia was grateful for their visit this morning, which had led to this outing to the park.
Miss Farthington, the headmistress of their finishing school, was walking behind them, two maids following a short distance behind her.
Lydia smiled contentedly as Mary and Eloise continued to chatter on about the masquerade Lydia’s parents were hosting, discussing the gowns they’d wear and who would be there.
How her mother would have loved to have a daughter like Mary or Eloise. One who actually enjoyed balls and soirees.
And masquerades.
She hadn’t realized she’d wrinkled her nose until Mary laughed and threw an arm around her shoulders. “Lydia, dear, you don’t have to look quite so horrified. It’s just a party.”
Eloise gave Lydia a hopeful smile. “And you can wear a mask. That ought to help you overcome your shyness, don’t you think?”
Lydia lifted one shoulder as she smiled.
No, she could have said. Not even a mask could help her to overcome the shyness that had been her burden to bear ever since she could remember.
“I think you’ll look quite striking with a mask,” Mary said, squeezing Lydia’s arm. “With your gorgeous red hair and red lips, we ought to find you a black mask.”
“Ooh, with feathers!” Eloise added.
This sent both of her friends into more chatter about what they planned to wear to the event.
Truly, the Season hadn’t even begun in earnest, so a party of any kind was a highly anticipated event.
Or a highly dreaded event, as the case may be.
Miss Farthington came up alongside Lydia while the other two were talking about gowns, and the kind headmistress gave her an understanding smile. “Is your mother insisting you attend?”
Lydia nodded. Miss Farthington was well aware of how badly her mother and her father wanted Lydia to overcome her shyness in order to make a good match.
Her parents might not have the titles of the peerage, but they had wealth and connections most would envy, as well as all the social graces one could ask for. Imogene, as well. It was just a pity that poise and grace hadn’t made its way to the youngest daughter.
Miss Farthington was well aware that the School of Charm was her mother’s last great hope to find herself with a daughter who might flirt and laugh and giggle like the other ladies of their acquaintance.
Really, they’d likely just be happy if she spoke. At all.
And perhaps if she could manage to do so without turning beet red...
Yes, they’d likely be pleased by that, as well.
“I only wish Charlotte could be here for a masquerade,” Mary said with a sigh.
Charlotte was Eloise’s younger sister, and a dear friend to Mary and the others at the School of Charm.
“I’m sure she’d love to be there as well,” Eloise said. “There’s nothing my sister loves more than causing mischief at masquerades.”
Everyone laughed at that.
“When will she return from her travels abroad? Did she say in her last letter?”
Eloise and Mary fell into a conversation about Charlotte’s adventures on the continent with her husband, and Lydia realized that Miss Farthington was still beside her, her demeanor one of expectancy.
Miss Farthington was lovely and gracious and poised and kind...but she was also stubborn. And absurdly patient. She’d decided on Lydia’s very first day at the finishing school that she would wait as long as it took for Lydia to ‘come out of her shell,’ as she put it.
And right now she was demonstrating that fact as she waited quietly for Lydia to contribute to the conversation. When Miss Farthington’s sympathetic stare became too uncomfortable, Lydia wet her lips and asked quietly, “Will you be in attendance, Miss Farthington?”
The petite brunette tipped her head to the side to study Lydia. “Would you like me to be there?”
Lydia nodded so quickly, Miss Farthington laughed.
But while Lydia was grateful that Eloise and Mary would be in attendance, it went without saying that they’d be occupied by dancing with their husbands or chatting with the other couples.
Miss Farthington was well able to hold her own in a crowd as well, of course. The daughter of a viscount, she had more aplomb and grace than anyone Lydia knew. It was only the matter of some broken engagement that kept Miss Farthington from being the belle of the ball herself.
Lydia eyed the woman now. She wasn’t much older than her charges, and she was a true beauty with her dark hair and fair skin. If she wanted to make a match, she could have one. Not even a whiff of scandal would keep most men away.
But in taking the headmistress position, Miss Farthington seemed to have kept herself away. Taking herself out of contention for the marriage mart.
Lydia nibbled on her lip. Not for the first time, she wondered why.
If she were as beautiful and confident and brave as Miss Farthington, she’d embrace all life and society had to offer. Even intrigue and adventure.
Lydia hugged her book to her chest with a sigh. Until then she had Demetrius and Elsbeth, and the hundreds of other books that filled her father’s library.
“Oh, look who it is, Miss Farthington,” Mary cried.
Lydia and Miss Farthington looked to where Mary was pointing.
The brazen brunette didn’t seem to realize that perhaps pointing and shouting were not the most subtle way to call one’s attention to a cluster of handsome gentlemen.
“Oh my,” Miss Farthington murmured. “It’s him.”
Who him was, Lydia wasn’t entirely certain. She assumed they were all as awe struck as she was by the tall, broad-shouldered gentleman who stood in the midst of the small cluster of men.
Oh my, indeed.
Her heart beat a little faster and her lungs forgot how to function. And then, just like always...her tongue felt a hundred times thicker.
It had always been like this, her entire life. With her poor health, she’d seen blessedly few people during her childhood. Mostly just her immediate family and their close friends. So perhaps it was no wonder that as she grew older, strangers left her tongue-tied and her mind a terrifying blank. But the older she grew, the more acute her symptoms became.
Especially around excessively handsome gentlemen.
Handsome gentlemen were well and good in her novels, but in real life?
She tore her gaze away from the man with his thick, dark hair, and his strong features. His jaw, nose, and cheekbones like something to be found on a statue.
Like he’d been cut from marble.
She didn’t realize she was frowning over the matter until Eloise turned to her and Miss Farthington with an arched brow. “Goodness, I didn’t expect you both to look so irritated at the sight of handsome men.”
Mary grinned. “Miss Farthington, don’t say you’re not pleased to run into Mr. Grant.” To Eloise and Lydia she added, “We met him before at Lady Dabney’s salon. He’s a brilliant scientist.” Her face lit with excitement. “Perhaps we should go say hello.”
Miss Farthington made an odd sound in her throat, like she’d gone to protest and stopped herself, perhaps.
Lydia blinked in surprise. It was one thing for her to be alarmed at the prospect of approaching a group of handsome gentlemen. But the lovely and accomplished Miss Farthington?
It seemed both Lydia and Miss Farthington were spared the awkward encounter as Eloise grimaced. “Mary, we really ought to get back. The carriage will be arriving to take us to the dinner at the Maxwells this evening.”
Mary’s face fell. “Oh yes. I suppose I lost track of time.”
Lydia felt a wistful smile tug at her lips. It was rather lovely to see her friends settle into married life so contentedly.
Actually, it was rather lovely to see her friends. Period. She’d never really had friends before the School of Charm, and it was still a little overwhelming to be around people who actually took notice of her.
Overwhelming in a good way. Usually.
“Lydia, I cannot wait to meet your parents and see the home you grew up in,” Mary said as she leaned forward to kiss Lydia’s cheek. “The masquerade will be delightful, just wait and see.”
Eloise wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “And we will all be there to ensure that you enjoy yourself as well.”
Lydia’s smile faltered. Her friends really were too kind.
Much too kind.
In that sense, sometimes they were overwhelming in a not-so-good way.
Up until recently it was only her parents who nudged her and prodded her in an attempt to get her to speak more.
Now she had three lovely friends who seemed to have made it their mission as well.
When the two girls left, Lydia turned to Miss Farthington, surprised to see that she looked distracted. Her gaze drifted back to the cluster of men and then away quickly.
After a long silence, Lydia finally broke it. “Would you like to continue to stroll?”
“Oh, er...” Miss Farthington turned to her with a smile. “I don’t think I’m up for much more. And besides, there’s business for me to tend to at the school.”
Lydia nodded, though her heart felt heavy in her chest. The weather was only just starting to be nice enough for strolls such as this one, and she did so enjoy reading out of doors.
Miss Farthington squeezed her arm. “You go on. Kitty can accompany you while Dolores goes back to the school with me.”
They glanced back to see the maids waiting expectantly.
“Are you certain?”
Miss Farthington nodded. “Of course!”
With one last parting smile, Miss Farthington and Dolores departed, and Lydia and a blissfully quiet Kitty walked farther into the park until they found Lydia’s favorite reading spot. There was a bench nearby, which Lydia gestured for Kitty to use so she could work on her knitting. She preferred to lean against the thick trunk of a tree a little ways off, hidden from the path with its pedestrians, and for long splendid minutes she lost herself in the world of Elsbeth and Demetrius and their grand adventure.
It was bliss...until she was interrupted.
“She likely just didn’t see you,” an amused sounding man was saying.
“She did, though. Her gaze connected with mine and—”
“Good heavens, do you hear yourself?” The first man’s low baritone voice was laced with laughter. It was such an inviting sound that Lydia felt a smile curving her lips before she even realized it was happening.
Her lips, it seemed, had a mind of their own.
“Besides, we were discussing something far more important than your love life,” the gentleman with the lovely rumbly voice continued in that same amused tone. “Or lack thereof.”
Lydia’s smile broadened at his wry aside.
Curiosity warred with timidity, but after a heartbeat’s hesitation she gave in to the urge to sneak a peek at the man whose voice was like that of Demetrius or one of her other favorite heroes come to life. Or at least, how she imagined them to sound.
She peeked around the trunk of the tree and gasped as she recognized the same absurdly handsome tall gentleman she’d spied earlier with Mary and the others.
He and that scientist friend of his that Mary recognized had stopped on the path near where Lydia stood.
For a long moment she let herself take him in, from the chestnut lock of hair that fell over his forehead as if rebelling against his perfect looks, to the animated features that were so very mesmerizing.
The scientist—Mr. Grant, Mary had called him, sighed with exasperation. “What were we talking about then, Hogan?”
The tall man’s gaze roamed in her direction, and with a start she ducked behind the tree again, her pulse racing.
Goodness, how embarrassing. She’d almost been caught spying on the men.
No sooner had she thought it then the handsome gentleman answered, “We were talking about espionage.”
3
Luke’s friend sputtered and then laughed outright at his pronouncement.
“Espionage,” Richard muttered. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
As if the idea were ridiculous.
As if he wasn’t talking to a man whose life until recently had included a good deal of espionage.
But Luke hardly noticed Richard’s laughter because he was too busy peering into the trees for another sight of her. The mystery woman who’d been there one moment and then ducked behind a tree the next.
How very odd.
He was about to look away when...there. He caught another glimpse of red hair, a vivid contrast to the brown trunk and green leaves.
A second later she ducked back to her hiding spot. Was she...eavesdropping?
With a frown he walked a little farther away, out of earshot, with Richard following at his heels. Their other friends had left them already, and Luke had been hoping to talk to his closest friend about the sensitive matter he’d been investigating.
But why on earth would a young lady be spying on them?
Luke peered back toward the odd creature hiding behind a tree, but he couldn’t catch sight of her.
“Hogan, what are you looking at?” Richard said.
Luke turned to his friend just as the other man winced. “I have to stop calling you that, don’t I?”
Luke just barely held back a sigh.
“Not Captain, either,” Richard muttered. “I guess I can call you by your title, eh? Or would you prefer my lord?”
Luke sighed as he caught Richard’s sly smile, still as mischievous as when they were boys despite the fact that there was some gray now in Richard’s beard, and the area around his eyes bore distinct creases. “You find yourself very amusing, don’t you?”
The revered scientist shrugged. “It’s not every day one of my friends becomes a viscount.”
“Yes, well...” Luke tugged at his cravat. “Not exactly a cause for celebration, is it?”
Richard flinched, and Luke felt a pang of guilt.
“I didn’t mean...” Luke said, at the same time Richard said, “Of course no one’s happy about it...”
They both trailed off and shared a rueful smile. They’d been friends since their school days, and while their lives had gone in very different directions in the decades since, he was still more like a brother to Luke than...
Well, than Luke’s own brother had been.
But that thought did nothing to ease his discomfort now. He might not have been close with his older brother, but he’d never once envied him the honorary title of viscount, nor his place in the succession of the earldom.
“Shall I call you—”
“Just call me Luke, Richard. It’s not as though you’ve never called me by my given name before.” Though for most of his adult life he’d been called either by his surname or by his military title.
Shakespeare might have had his theories about a rose by any other name, but as far as Luke was concerned, a name held quite a bit of meaning.
It was jarring to have to change one’s identity so late in life.
He crossed his arms, his gaze trailing back to that tree and that mysterious redhead. What was she about?
And what were the odds that her being back there was some coincidence after all the nefarious happenings going on around him these days.
“So, you really think there’s some sort of criminal activity going on at the Home Office,” Richard said.
“I do, yes.” Luke kept his gaze on the tree, waiting for another glimpse of the lady.
“But I thought Sir Cedric said it was an error in communications,” Richard said.
Luke glanced over at his friend. “You’re supposed to be the smart one, Richard.”
Richard arched a brow. “And I am. In science. But I don’t see how—”
“He only told me that because he wants me to stay out of it.” Luke huffed.
Blast. He sounded like a peevish old spinster. But really, it was difficult not to be offended at the way he was so unceremoniously being tossed out of the only place he’d ever really belonged.
Richard tilted his head to the side, a silent rebuke for his admittedly childish outburst. “You know as well as anyone it’s not Sir Cedric who wants you out of government work, but your father.”
Luke gave a grunt of acknowledgment.
There was truth to it, of course. His father didn’t care about his career or the fact that he’d devoted his life to protecting this country. First as a captain in the army and then working far more delicate assignments for the Home Office.
Up until he’d become the heir, his father hadn’t cared what he did with his time. But everything had changed the day James died. Suddenly all those duties and obligations had fallen on Luke’s shoulders, and he was expected to just walk away from the life he’d built to take up his brother’s mantle.
“But honestly, Luke,” Richard continued. “It’s not your concern any longer. If Sir Cedric says there’s nothing to worry about—”
