The Mysterious Miss Lydia, page 5
Lydia laughed.
“Although, there is a chance Mary or Eloise will come by and then there would be no silence to be had.”
Lydia ducked her head with a smile. Her friend was teasing, and she loved that. But she felt a pang of guilt as well. “I always enjoy their company. And yours.”
“I know that, dear. I’m just having some fun, that’s all.”
Lydia nodded. But still, she felt it necessary to explain. However, like most matters, this was something she’d never been able to put into words. “It’s not that I’m not interested in speaking,” she said slowly. “It’s just that...I never seem to find the right words in time. Or...” She pursed her lips.
No, that wasn’t quite right.
Her mind caught on her mystery man. The devilishly handsome gentleman whose smile filled her dreams every night. But it was his eyes on her that came to mind now. “I do have thoughts,” she said.
She winced. What a silly thing to say.
“Of course, you do, Lydia,” Miss Farthington said with a kind smile.
“It’s just...I sometimes think others must believe I’m a simpleton.”
“No one thinks that.” At Lydia’s arched brows, Miss Farthington added, “Not your friends, at least.”
Lydia smiled. “I appreciate that. It’s just...” Once more she thought of that strange man. “It’s frustrating.” The words held more emotion than she’d intended and Miss Farthington squeezed her hand.
“I imagine it is.”
“The words are there, but then in the face of people’s attention, their eyes on me...” She shuddered as that age old fear crept over her at the mere thought.
“People paying attention to you makes you forget what you were going to say?” Miss Farthington guessed.
“It makes me freeze. It makes my mind go blank.”
“Hmm.” Miss Farthington seemed to consider this for a long while as they walked in companionable silence. “Perhaps there’s some trick you could use to get out of your own head when that happens.”
“A trick?”
Miss Farthington wore an amused expression, her gaze distant. “I had a friend… Well, she’s my ex-fiancé’s friend, if you must know. His wife’s cousin, in fact—”
Lydia gasped. Miss Farthington never mentioned her former fiancé, nor whatever had occurred to put an end to their understanding. But to think that he had another woman!
Miss Farthington laughed. “Oh, it wasn’t like that. I knew he loved her before we got engaged.” She waved a hand. “Anyhow, that’s all over. And he and his wife are quite lovely. But it’s her cousin who became tongue tied in social situations, and she had this...strategy.”
Miss Farthington looked as though she was smothering a laugh. “Well, she had a few lessons she’d learned. But one in particular...” She turned to Lydia. “Have you tried focusing on something other than the conversation? Maybe even something other than yourself?”
Lydia frowned. “Like what?”
“Well, you could try focusing on the person’s hairstyle or what the weather is like, or…” She waved a hand as she searched for more ideas. “Or what one of your characters might say or do in the same circumstances.”
Lydia had been in the midst of forming a protest, but that last comment gave her pause.
Miss Farthington hitched her brows expectantly and Lydia tilted her head to the side with a thoughtful expression. “That is...interesting.”
Miss Farthington chuckled. “It could not hurt to try such a thing this evening, could it?”
The mere mention of the masquerade had Lydia wincing, but she straightened her shoulders determinedly. “It could not make things worse, I suppose.”
“That’s the spirit.” Miss Farthington looked like she might laugh again, but they began walking and soon found themselves in front of the School of Charm.
“Will you come in?” Miss Farthington asked. “Or shall I have the carriage brought round for you?”
“Would it be all right if I went for a walk in the park first?” she asked. “With Kitty, of course.” She drew in a deep breath. “You were right that I need to regain my fortitude before entering the fray this evening.”
And she wanted to turn Miss Farthington’s suggestion over in her mind as well. She’d never been good at thinking things through when others were around. She needed solitude the way most people seemed to require companionship.
“You go and enjoy your walk,” Miss Farthington said. “And I will see you tonight at the masquerade.”
Lydia smiled, and with Kitty in tow, she headed toward the park, and back to her favorite tree.
She’d only just made herself comfortable under the thick branches, Kitty once again situated on her bench, when a voice behind her made her jump.
“I was hoping I’d see you here again.”
She whirled about, her red hair flying into her face before she swatted it away with annoyance. “You,” she breathed.
He leaned against the trunk beside her, all tall and large. And while he didn’t exactly imprison her against the tree, his large frame was intimidating all the same.
His words registered belated.
He’d hoped to see her.
Her heart thumped dangerously fast. The air felt too thin. Her belly was swooping and soaring and...
This couldn’t be real.
This didn’t happen in real life.
And yet, there he was. The most handsome, dashing man she’d ever met. A hero from one of her books come to life.
I was hoping I’d see you here again.
“How...”
She trailed off when his smile lifted on one side revealing a dimple. Oh dear.
That just wasn’t fair.
“I must admit, it’s difficult to track down a mysterious woman when one does not know her name.” He arched a brow. “Are you willing to tell me your name yet?”
“I...” Miss Lydia Baker. The answer was simple but the moment her gaze locked with his, the words scattered, leaving her mouth empty and her tongue thoroughly tied.
But then... Maybe she shouldn’t answer, anyway. He was a stranger. And one who’d apparently tracked her down intentionally. Her brows drew down. No, that couldn’t be right.
He looked over her shoulder. “Are you alone?”
Warning bells rang in her mind. Did he think she was some vulnerable prey, perhaps?
Her father had warned her about men who’d prey on her docile nature. His gaze was still diverted and so she managed, “Did you seek me out?”
He looked far too pleased. “Indeed I did. As I mentioned, not easy to do since I know so little about you. I had to hope that you frequent his park often and hadn’t just come here to follow me the other day.”
“I...”
He leaned in a bit as if eagerly awaiting her next words.
So much pressure. Her tongue swelled to double its size, she was sure of it. I was here first! That was what she meant to say. Twice now he’d made it seem like she’d been following him.
She hadn’t.
But now he was following her. Or...waiting for her?
“Why?” she said.
He blinked. “Why what?”
“Why...” She gestured to him and then the tree in what had to be the world’s worst pantomime.
“Why was I searching for you?” His expression grew gentle at having to finish for her. Tender, almost. It was at once heartachingly sweet and frustratingly unwanted.
She didn’t want his sympathy. She got enough of that from her friends.
But the gentleness in his gaze was sweet, all the same, and it made her inclined to trust him. Which was foolish, of course. He was a stranger.
A stranger who’d wanted to see her so badly he’d sought her out.
Her silly heart went wild again.
He spoke slowly. “I want...”
She found herself holding her breath, her mind filling in the blanks with some of her favorite quotes. I want to hold you and never let go, dear Elsbeth. I want you as my wife so I can watch the sun rise and set with you every day until death we part.
“I want to help you,” he finished.
She blinked, nearly certain she felt her feet landing on solid ground with a thud. “Help me?” she repeated with a quizzical frown.
“I can help you, love.”
Love.
It was a meaningless endearment, spoken by a man clearly trying to ingratiate himself, but her mind relished it all the same. It was a word she’d only ever read, not heard aloud, and her mind latched onto it.
Love. My love. His love.
“All I need is for you to trust me,” he continued.
And she was back on solid ground once more. “Pardon?”
“If you trust me, I think I can help you to avoid the unpleasant arrangement you’ve been forced into.”
All at once she thought of Wendell. Of the match her father was so insistent on making. He’d be there tonight at the masquerade, and both of her parents had been sure to let her know it. To encourage her to accept his offers of a dance, and to accept his attentions.
She hadn’t said no. She hadn’t said anything at all really, just sat there at the dining room table and let her mother and Imogene do all the talking for her.
So, she wouldn’t say she was being forced, but this stranger’s offer was still oddly welcome. Like Demetrius riding in to save Elsbeth from the tower where she’d been held captive, he was offering to steal her away and...what exactly? What did he have in mind?
“You can help?” It came out a whisper.
His expression grew frightfully solemn. “You have my word.”
She gave her head a shake, reality at war with the daydream she couldn’t quite shake.
Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she really did read too much.
“You don’t even know who I am,” she pointed out. Although it came out so breathlessly, she wasn’t certain he’d heard her. She wet her lips and tried again. “I don’t know who you are.”
“No,” he agreed, his expression still serious, but kind as well.
So very kind, it made her want to lean into him. To trust him just like he asked.
She blinked. Goodness, this man was dangerous.
“You don’t know me...yet,” he said. “But we have acquaintances in common.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I work for the Home Office.”
She gasped, and he tilted his chin like he’d been expecting that. But she...had not been expecting this at all. The Home Office. But then...he worked with her father?
Were they friends? Why hadn’t he just said so?
She was more confused than ever, and she had more questions than she knew what to do with. They crowded her throat and went to war with her useless tongue.
“I...I cannot,” she started. I cannot speak with a stranger. I cannot make sense of what you’re telling me. I cannot understand what you want with me.
What came out finally was a sputtered, “I-I cannot talk.”
Oh sweet heavens, she truly did sound like a simpleton. Heat surged into her cheeks and she glanced around somewhat wildly.
“I know,” he said
She blinked. He knew?
He knew.
“You cannot speak here.” He glanced around as well. “It was wrong of me to ask you to. We can meet again. You choose the time and the place. Somewhere you feel safe. Anywhere.” His voice lowered to a rumble that made her belly flutter as he reiterated, “I will meet you anywhere at any time.”
“I...” Her heart was already beating too quickly, but then he smiled and the dratted thing made a serious attempt to escape her ribcage altogether.
“Say yes,” he urged. “Say you’ll meet me again.”
Her lips parted. She ought to say no. She really ought to. But all at once she remembered how she’d felt the last time she’d run from him. Once the relief passed she’d been rather...crestfallen.
Her one chance at a romantic encounter, and she’d fled like a ninny. Well, maybe not romantic. She had no idea what he wanted with her. But it had still been her one and only chance at an adventurous encounter. Something mysterious and different and...exciting.
And she’d run before she could see it through.
Determination filled her, along with fear. She didn’t want to do that again.
This time fear would not win.
She straightened slightly, her shoulders going back and her chin coming up. Her tongue was still too thick and her mind too scattered.
What was it Miss Farthington had said to do?
Imagine what Elsbeth would say. What would she do?
She wet her lips and let her gaze fix on that lock of hair of his, the only imperfection in his otherwise intimidatingly charming persona.
She imagined Elsbeth meeting Demetrius for the first time. She’d been scared too. But she’d still managed to make a plan. Somewhere you feel safe, he’d said.
Somewhere they could speak without endangering her reputation.
A party.
“The masquerade,” she said. And a gleam of triumph slid through her because…it had come out audible. And with confidence.
Not unlike Elsbeth, really.
The thought had a smile curving her lips as she brought her gaze back to meet his. “Meet me at the masquerade tonight.”
7
Luke was stunned.
For the first time in his life, Luke was speechless.
That smile. It ought to be illegal. And her voice, when it wasn’t a whisper, it was...
It was beautiful and melodious and...
Who was this woman?
She’s a victim, that’s what, he reminded himself. The thought had him shaking off the temporary delirium. “The masquerade...at Sir Cedric’s—”
“Yes, that’s the one,” she said.
That smile was fading, along with that sudden burst of confidence, and he didn’t want to see it go.
“Will you save me a dance?” he asked, his tone teasing.
Her eyes widened in surprise, and her lips parted...and his heart reacted as if she’d just punched him in the gut.
Lud, but her eyes were hypnotic when they glinted with surprise and pleasure. And her lips...
His lungs seized as the urge to tug her into his arms overtook him. His fingers clenched and unclenched as he fought the urge.
They were in public. In broad daylight. And this woman was working with the enemy.
But nothing in him believed her to have dastardly motives. His gaze took in her gown. It was simple, but good quality. She did not seem poor, but who knew what her story was?
Maybe she had family that relied on her. Siblings or even children of her own.
Protectiveness swelled in him so quickly it threatened to destroy reason.
“I will take care of you,” he said.
Mainly because he couldn’t not say it. He needed her to know that whatever it was that troubled her, he would handle it.
And then what? His mind was already racing ahead. Would he make her his mistress?
The thought was unsettling. This girl was delectable, yes, but she should not be a mistress. She ought to be cherished and protected and...
He blinked.
And he needed to keep his head on straight until this was all over. Once she was safe, then he would decide what to do with her.
Her brows drew together in confusion. “T-take care of me?” she repeated. “But—”
“I meant I will find you,” he said. “Tonight. I will find you and we will talk.”
Someone called after a child in the distance and the mystery woman looked over her shoulder. “I ought to go.”
“Yes, of course,” he said. And yet, he didn’t want her to go.
He didn’t want to lose her again.
He wondered if she felt the same because she lingered for a moment, and then her head tipped to the side as she considered him. “Until tonight?”
His smile was so very real it terrified him. The pleasure that bloomed in his chest, the rapid beating of his heart as his mind began to count down the moments...
What was wrong with him?
But he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her gloved hand and bringing it to his lips. When he glanced up, he saw her eyes grow dazed and, sweet mercy, all he wanted to do was hold her close and kiss those lips.
His voice was too gruff as he said, “Until tonight.”
He watched her walk away and smiled when she cast a glance over her shoulder, her answering smile shy and sweeter than honey.
What was he doing?
That was the question his mind asked him at least ten times as he walked back to his own home.
He was still asking himself that question hours later as he prepared for the evening.
He didn’t have an answer. Not for himself, and certainly not for Richard, who’d made himself at home in his quarters as he watched Luke prepare for the masquerade.
“I thought you hated these sort of parties,” he said, his tone vaguely accusatory.
Luke made a vague ‘mmm’ sound. Truthfully, he was more than a little embarrassed by his own eagerness for tonight’s encounter.
He was Captain Luke Hogan. He was an agent of the crown.
Or...he had been.
His hands stilled as he adjusted his cravat. He’d sent his valet away as he always did when the man started to fuss too much.
His father had been right the last time they’d spoken.
Luke was bound to make a terrible Earl. He couldn’t even stand being fussed over by his own valet. And that was the man’s job!
And as Richard so helpfully pointed out, Luke despised these sorts of self-indulgent parties. They were nothing but an excuse for gossip and a place for beautiful people to see and be seen.
“So...” Richard prompted.
“Yes?”
Richard huffed. “You know, for a former spy, you’re not nearly as difficult to read as you might think.”
Luke grinned. “You’ve never seen me try.”
Richard chuckled. “Fair enough. But even so, it is abundantly clear to me that you are up to something. You might as well tell me what it is.”
