The Mysterious Miss Lydia, page 8
Lydia blinked at their sudden interest in her, as well as the fact that Imogene hadn’t simpered over Wendell’s compliment.
No smiles and now no simpering?
Something was dreadfully wrong.
“How dare you dance with him first.” Imogene huffed.
“With...” Lydia started.
She never finished.
“Now, now, dear,” their mother said with a strained smile and a not-so-subtle glance toward Wendell.
But whatever was troubling Imogene must have been severe, because she paid no attention to her mother’s warning. “No,” she said, stomping her foot. “She knows very well the viscount is mine. I should be the one dancing with him.”
Lydia’s mouth opened and shut. Gone was any bravery or mystery or allure. She was Lydia in all her glory—dull, gaping, and mute.
“I-I—” She was mercifully cut short by Wendell, who was not so dimwitted that he could not see he was interfering in a family moment.
“I shall take my leave, ladies,” he said. To Lydia, he added, “I hope you’ll save me a dance later, hmm?”
She didn’t respond, but apparently he didn’t require an answer. He smiled in the face of her silence as if it was a yes.
And all at once that blank space where her future with Wendell had been filled with images and it became startlingly, abhorrently clear.
She’d be a doormat.
A quiet, subservient, easy-to-ignore doormat. Just like she was with her family.
The injustice of it made her want to scream.
But of course she stayed silent because just like when she was embarrassed, anger held her tongue hostage as well.
As did any emotion, it seemed.
The only times she was able to express herself was when she was with a stranger who didn’t know her. Anonymity was her only loophole.
The thought left her startled and she nearly missed her mother’s hissed comment. “I do not condone sibling rivalry, dearest, you know that.”
Lydia blinked again. Sibling rivalry?
What was she on about?
“He’s mine,” Imogene demanded.
Lydia’s mind grudgingly started to work. Hers. The viscount. That was who she wanted and she seemed to think Lydia had claimed a dance with him.
She could have laughed aloud. Her sister was jealous!
And of nothing.
She swallowed hard to quell another laugh.
“Now, now,” her mother was saying. “If he prefers your sister...”
“Prefers Lydia?” Imogene’s tone suggested her mother had just claimed that this handsome viscount planned to murder Lydia, it was that aghast.
Her mother’s smile was rueful. “I only want my girls to be happy...”
“Mother,” Imogene snapped. “He is mine, and she can’t have him.”
She stabbed a finger in Lydia’s direction and finally Lydia opened her mouth to defend herself.
“I didn’t,” she started.
Her mother and Imogene ignored her as her mother chastened Imogene to lower her voice which led to them both hissing under their breath to one another.
Lydia cleared her throat and tried again. “He...it was not...Captain.”
Oh yes, that clears everything up. Well done.
But at least her mother was turning toward her with some interest.
“Hogan,” she added.
Yes. Much better.
She nearly rolled her eyes, she was so exasperated with herself.
But her mother at least seemed to understand. Her expression cleared and she smiled as she nodded, like she was agreeing with a simpleton. “Yes, dear. Captain Hogan. That was what your father called him before he became the heir to the earldom, of course.”
Lydia’s heart tumbled and her stomach churned. “But...”
“He now has the honorary title of Viscount Galena,” her mother added. With a gentle look of chastisement she added, “But we did agree that your sister would be the one to make that match.” She seemed to think that over. “If he chooses her.”
“Mother!” Imogene shrieked.
Everyone around them turned to stare and her mother shushed Imogene again, while Lydia flushed with a mix of embarrassment and confusion.
What had he been playing at? Why introduce himself as Captain Luke Hogan if he was now Viscount Galena?
Was he trying to trick her?
Her belly tossed and turned, and thinking became difficult as blood rushed to her skull.
Had he been making a fool of her somehow?
Had he known who she was all along...?
Oh, of course he had. Why else would he mention working at the Home Office with her father.
He’d known and he’d been teasing her.
Her breathing grew ragged.
He’d been toying with her like a cad.
Her hand went to her heart which fluttered like a sail in the wind and for half a moment she feared her childhood illness was back. The weak heart and the dizziness that made simply standing a difficult feat...
But a few deep breaths had her feeling the ground beneath her feet once more, and distractedly she registered her mother’s low assurances to Imogene. “...he can have his pick of ladies, and you know it. That’s all I meant.”
“You made it sound like he might prefer her.” Imogene waved a dismissive hand toward Lydia as if she wasn’t standing right there.
As if she couldn’t hear every single word.
“I didn’t mean that.” Her mother made a pshhh sound. “Of course he wouldn’t prefer her.”
Lydia’s lips parted as her breath rushed out at the blow.
“He was being nice, that’s all,” her mother continued. She turned to Lydia, apparently unaware that she’d just managed to wind her youngest daughter with that offhand remark.
“Isn’t that right, Lydia?” her mother prompted. “He was just being kind.”
With a wide-eyed, meaningful look at Imogene, her mother added, “I’m sure your father told him about her.”
About her poor health, and her awkward ways, her mother meant. Lydia stumbled back a step, her cheeks burning with humiliation.
Was that it? Had he pitied her?
She couldn’t breathe properly and she needed air. Badly. Her gaze darted left and right, blood roaring past her ears because everywhere she turned there were people.
So. Many. People.
Lydia’s mother grasped her arm. “Come along, darling,” she said, already tugging her toward the far side of the ballroom.
“W-where?”
Imogene was walking on her mother’s other side, her nose tilted toward the ceiling as she pointedly ignored Lydia’s question.
“Why, to speak to Lord Galena, of course,” her mother said. “We must thank him for showing you such consideration.” Her smile broadened. “And introduce him to Imogene, of course.”
Lydia wished she could pull out of her mother’s grasp. She wished she could dig her heels in and refuse to go.
But any hint of bravery was gone now.
She was no Elsbeth, no heroine, no feisty young lady a viscount might seek out.
She was the sacrificial lamb...being led to slaughter.
11
Luke’s smile was plastered on his face as he waited for Sir Cedric to cease chatting with one of his guests.
This was the first opportunity he’d had all night to speak to his former employer without Wendell nearby and he was impatient to get it over with. The sooner he got to the bottom of this mystery, the sooner he could get her out of it.
That was all that mattered right now. His sole focus.
Well, that and national security. But somehow while holding her in his arms, saving his mystery woman had become paramount even to that.
The last he’d seen of her she’d been talking with Wendell before she’d run off.
Where to?
He felt like some feral animal was clawing at his insides as impatience and impotence ate at him. All anyone here wanted to talk about was his new title and his family and his thoughts on marriage.
And all he cared about was running away right this moment. Possibly into danger. Definitely with a certain redhead at his side.
As Sir Cedric wrapped up his conversation, Luke shifted from foot to foot. He knew it was a risk. There was every chance Sir Cedric wouldn’t believe him about Wendell. Again.
And if the circumstances were different, he’d wait. He’d do his due diligence, and he’d hold off on speaking with Sir Cedric again until he had irrefutable proof.
As it was, he had circumstantial evidence, at best, and a gut instinct.
But if anyone ought to have faith in his instincts it was the man who’d overseen his missions these last few years.
With that thought in mind, he took his chance the first moment he could. “Sir, I really need to speak with you.”
“Are you enjoying the party, Lord Galena?” he asked, all smiles.
A muscle in Luke’s jaw twitched as he stressed the honorary title.
Sir Cedric looked around them. “I saw your father around here somewhere.”
Luke’s brows hitched up at that. His father was here? He shook off the thought. It could very well just be Sir Cedric’s way of reminding him of his new responsibilities.
“Now where did he get to?” the older man murmured.
By the man’s too-casual air, Luke suspected his guess was right. But it wouldn’t work. He could do his duty to the earldom after he’d ensured that his mystery woman was safe and there were no threats left in the Home Office.
“It’s about Wendell,” he said quietly.
Sir Cedric’s easygoing demeanor dropped swiftly. “Galena,” he murmured his name in a low warning tone.
“I know you don’t want to believe it—”
“I’d believe it if you had one shred of proof,” the other man shot back. But by his quick, aggressive turn, Luke didn’t believe him.
Sir Cedric was a good man. An honorable one, and a strong leader. But even the strongest man could be fooled by love, and there was no question that Sir Cedric thought of Wendell as a son.
“Do you have proof?” Sir Cedric snapped.
No. Luke gritted his teeth, his nostrils flared. “I have something better.”
Sir Cedric hesitated. “What are you talking about?”
“The redhead you’re looking for,” he said, his voice low and his words quick, trying to make the most of Sir Cedric’s attention. “The actress. She’s here. At this party.”
Sir Cedric’s brows snapped down. “What?”
“I saw her,” he said. “I spoke to her.”
Sir Cedric’s gaze began to scan the crowd. “I don’t believe it. What would she be doing here?”
Luke felt a twinge of hesitation. Not because he doubted his instincts but because...
Because he didn’t want to hurt his former mentor.
“Well?” Sir Cedric snapped.
“Last I saw...” He drew in a deep breath. “She was talking to Wendell.”
Sir Cedric’s eyes snapped with emotions. Disbelief. Anger. But there was a hint of doubt there as well. Still, when he spoke, it was with the defensive anger Luke had expected. “How dare you—”
“I’m telling you what I saw.”
“You’re telling me what you want to believe,” the older man cut in.
Luke’s mouth opened but no sound came out.
“You’re resentful, and I can understand that,” Sir Cedric said, the anger clear in his voice. “But don’t drag another man’s name through the mud just because you’re angry with the hand fate dealt you.”
“That’s not—”
“Any man would be happy to trade places with you,” he continued, his face turning red as his voice quivering. “You’re in line to inherit an earldom, for heaven’s sake. You have more power and wealth than most can imagine. And yet you stand here jealous and accusatory toward a man who’s only doing the job that I assigned him?”
“I...you—” Luke cut himself off with a shake of his head. “You told him to set up a meeting with the actress?”
“Of course not,” he snapped. “But I’m not convinced you know what you saw. You’ve been making accusations without any proof.”
“You want proof?” His own anger finally rose to match Sir Cedric’s. Sure, this Wendell fellow might have been the son of a friend, but Luke had worked side by side with this man for years. He’d been his friend, blast it all. He’d been nothing but loyal and obedient.
And this was what he got in return?
Leaning forward and lowering his voice he nodded toward the far side of the room where he’d last seen her. “She’s here, Sir Cedric. The girl is here, and she’ll talk.”
He gave a snort of disbelief.
“She trusts me,” Luke said. He looked over to the far side of the room just as the crowd beside them parted. And...
There she was.
Beautiful and graceful, she slipped through the crowd like an angel.
“She’s here,” he said. He felt winded as he watched her.
Was he really going to out her to Sir Cedric?
Doubt made him hesitate as Sir Cedric turned to follow his gaze.
“Lord Galena...” The other man’s tone was a warning.
Luke swallowed hard. It was the only way to save her. Once she told them what she knew, he could take her away somewhere. He’d keep her safe.
“That’s her,” he said finally.
“Surely you don’t mean—”
“The redhead right there with...” He tore his gaze away from her to see Sir Cedric’s wife and elder daughter walking on either side of her. His brows came down. His lips parted.
“Lord Galena,” Sir Cedric said again, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. His whole body quivered with that anger. “Please tell me you are not pointing to my daughter.”
“I—” He stopped short, shock a blast of ice sliding through his veins.
No, it couldn’t be.
Then all at once he remembered where he’d run into her. Outside the Home Office.
Where her father worked.
Never in his life had he been rendered speechless so fully.
The ladies were rapidly approaching, the two who were not his mystery lady beaming at him as though he’d just done something novel.
Like accused their daughter and sister of espionage, perhaps.
“We will talk about this later,” Sir Cedric hissed just before they were joined by two smiling women...and her.
His mystery woman. Except, she didn’t seem like her at all. Her head was tipped down, her cheeks pink and her shoulders stooped as if she could disappear into thin air if she tried hard enough.
Inexplicably, his heart ached to see her like this. So...not the woman he thought he knew.
Because she wasn’t. Of course she wasn’t. That much was immediately clear when Sir Cedric made the introductions. “You’ve met my wife and my eldest daughter, of course.”
He discovered belatedly that he was smiling politely. At least some part of him knew how he was supposed to act, and he found himself going through the motions, nodding and murmuring something that he hoped sounded correct.
But all the while his heart was thudding wildly in his chest as his gaze met hers.
She peeked up at him, her mask a frustrating obstruction now because he couldn’t read her every emotion. Had she known who he was all along?
Had she been fooling him intentionally?
Confusion warred with disbelief, but no rational thoughts made it far. His heart was demanding attention as it kicked and revolted at this turn of events.
She couldn’t be Sir Cedric’s daughter. She was...
Well, she was his. That was the only way he could think of her, even though it made no sense whatsoever.
“I don’t believe you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my youngest, Miss Lydia,” Sir Cedric said.
If Sir Cedric’s voice was stilted and still held a tinge of anger, the ladies present didn’t seem to notice. Or the mother and eldest daughter didn’t. Miss Lydia, however, spared a curious glance in her father’s direction before glancing at him.
The glance barely lasted a heartbeat, but it was enough for him to see her panic. Her fear.
No. Something settled in his gut. No, she hadn’t realized who he was. That much was clear. She had a bewildered air about her, and her eyes flared with panic when her father said, “Lydia, have you met the viscount?”
Luke turned to Sir Cedric, but the other man was peering at his daughter.
He was suspicious...of Luke.
It was almost comical. Here he’d been trying to warn him about Wendell and yet here he was. The cad who’d all but accosted his daughter alone in the park. And then on the street. And again at the park. And then he’d gone and claimed a dance.
He nearly groaned aloud, but then to his shock...Miss Lydia came to his rescue.
“We were introduced earlier,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper, and very nearly drowned out in this crowd. “Just before he asked me to dance.”
She cast him a sidelong look. She was lying. To save herself? Or to save them both?
Did it matter?
He’d put her in this position, and she was covering for him.
“Who introduced you?” Sir Cedric asked.
“Miss Farthington,” she said.
He blinked in surprise. He didn’t know the woman, but he knew of her, thanks to Richard’s ceaseless prattling.
“Your headmistress?” her sister said. Her tone was peevish, but she quickly covered it with a giggle and a broad smile. “My sister attends the School of Charm, you know.” With another laugh she added, “She needs all the help she can get, as I’m sure you noted during your dance.”
He opened his mouth, but he had no idea what to say.
He’d already offended Sir Cedric by accusing his youngest daughter of espionage. He couldn’t exactly chide his eldest for being rude toward her sister.
And then he was too late because his Lydia was turning to her mother and whispering something that made the other woman frown, but then she gave a quick nod and Lydia slipped away.
There was no other way to explain it. She slid through the crowd like a ghost, and somehow no one seemed to notice her.
