Chapter 15

"You are very quiet today," Nora remarked.

Lydia's attention snapped toward her friend. "Pardon?"

"I said you are very quiet today." Nora frowned. "Is something the matter?"

It was a warm summer morning, and the two ladies had joined Nancy to promenade at Hyde Park. Emma was supposed to meet them too, but the baby growing inside her had other ideas. She had sent her regards and apologies and urged Lydia to visit soon to tell her all about the opera. But, for now, Lydia needed to be busy until she had liberated her mind of last night's events.

Nancy nodded. "Yes, you have been rather… distracted. Is all well?"

"I am tired, that is all," Lydia hurriedly replied. "I did not return to my husband's townhouse until late last night after the opera, and I could not sleep with all the… um… music ringing in my head. Otherwise, I promise, I am quite well."

It had taken her an age to drift off the previous night, but she must have fallen asleep at some point, for the dawn had awoken her. She had been surprised to find herself covered in blankets, but she put it down to her Will-addled mind that she had forgotten she had pulled them over herself. Either that or a maid had come in and covered her. Still, though she had physically rested, no one had informed her brain.

Nora seemed unconvinced. "Has that husband of yours done something? I do not mind getting myself in trouble if you would like someone to teach him some manners."

"He has done nothing," Lydia insisted. "He keeps his distance, and I keep mine. In truth, I do not know where he is this morning, nor do I care. So, as grateful as I am for your offer, I do not need you to knock anyone on the head today."

With a shrug, Nora appeared to accept Lydia's words. "Well, if you do need someone to do that, just ask. I can be ready with a heavy object at a moment's notice."

"That is good to know." Lydia feigned a laugh, looking toward a squirrel as it ran around and around the trunk of an oak tree.

It was true that she did not know where her husband was that morning. She had gone down for breakfast, fully expecting an awkward encounter, but he had not been there.

The butler had informed her that Will had gone out and did not know when he would return. So, she had eaten breakfast alone with absolutely nothing to take her mind off the sensations he had made her feel.

Lydia frowned, her gaze drawn to something behind the squirrel in the near distance. A familiar face walking along the pathways of the park, arm-in-arm with an older gentleman.

"Am I seeing things, or is that my mother-in-law?" she asked, dumbfounded.

Nancy stared in the same direction. "My goodness, it is! I thought she was supposed to be at Stonebridge."

"She is not supposed to be at Stonebridge. She is supposed to be at the Dower House, a few miles from Stonebridge." Lydia gulped. "She is certainly not supposed to be in London."

With a wicked grin, Nora tilted her head toward the older couple. "Who is the gentleman? Your new father-in-law? They seem rather… intimate, do they not?"

"Nora, please," Lydia groaned. "I have heard enough about Mary's intimate tales to last me a lifetime. Of course, I would never deny a widow or an older lady their enjoyments, but I rather thought open courtships were for the younger contingent of society."

Nancy chuckled. "Aunt Eliza will be furious. If I am not mistaken, that is the very Sir Matthew that they were fighting over at your wedding festivities, dear Lydia." She hid her face behind her fan as she added, "My aunt loathes competition. I suppose that is because the breadth of choice is much smaller. Although, it has never stopped my aunt from trying to flirt with men half her age."

"We must hide," Lydia whispered, for though she liked Mary well enough, she did not want to face her mother-in-law after last night. There would be questions, and she was in no mood to answer them.

Nora gestured around. "There is nowhere to hide. Not near here, anyway."

Even if there had been, it was too late. The Dowager Duchess of Stonebridge had seen them.

"Darlings!" she cried, abandoning the gentleman.

She ran in a rather unseemly fashion, hitching up her skirts in her hurry. But Sir Matthew, who perhaps did look handsome for his age, just smiled at the youthful display. A moment later, he walked in the same direction to catch up to his wayward companion.

"How was the opera?" Mary asked immediately.

Lydia shrugged. "It was very loud."

"No, sweetling, how was the opera?" Mary clasped her hands together as if praying. And her eyes were somewhat desperate.

"It was… pleasant."

Disappointment furrowed Mary's brow. "Are you staying in London with him, at least?"

"I have not decided yet. I am still hopeful that I can convince him to return to Stonebridge, but we shall see." Lydia paused. "You must know, as well as I do, how stubborn he can be."

Mary chuckled at that, but it was a sad sort of sound. "I do. Very well." She waved a dismissive hand. "No matter. You will have plenty of opportunities to dazzle him again. What did Society think of you?"

"I did not dare to read the scandal sheets," Lydia replied, "but I was… well received. Several invitations arrived this morning, and I plan to respond to them when I return to the townhouse."

Mary nodded. "Excellent news. Yes, that is truly excellent. The more you have other gentlemen talking about you, the more obsessed your husband should become."

Sir Matthew slowed to Mary's side. "What is all this talk of obsession?"

"It is nothing, Matthew." Mary beamed at him. "Just some light pleasantries with my darling daughter-in-law."

The older gentleman bowed his head. "Your Grace, congratulations on your marriage. It was an exemplary celebration—I have not enjoyed such a night in many years. Please, do send His Grace my regards."

"Of course." Lydia curtseyed politely.

Bending his head, Sir Matthew whispered something in Mary's ear. A rude thing to do in company, Lydia thought, but as a shining smile broke across the Dowager's face, she was reminded of the previous night—how a whisper had made her heart race—and fighting a smile had been nigh-on impossible.

"If you will excuse us, sweet Lydia," Mary said, hesitating. "Shall we have tea while you are in London?"

Lydia smiled. "I should like that."

"Very well." The older woman looked pleased. "I shall write to you in due course. My son does not read your letters, does he?"

"I should hope not."

With a mumble that was not quite intelligible, Mary offered her farewells, and taking Sir Matthew's arm, she made her way back out into the sprawling greenery of Hyde Park. She was leaning into him, giggling girlishly, and for a moment, Lydia could see exactly what she might have been like in her youth. The kind of woman that every gentleman wished to have, but only one had been lucky enough to wed.

I must ask Will what sort of relationship they had—the former Duke and Duchess.

Whether he would answer her was another question entirely.

"Now, this is exactly what I need," Nora sighed as if she had seen the love of her life. Perhaps she had, somewhere among the displays of cakes and delicacies or the steaming teapots that were being carried out on silver trays.

Thirsty and hungry from their walk around the park, the ladies had decided to seek respite at the nearest tearoom. It had a rather lovely terrace that looked out on the park, and Nora immediately darted toward a spare table, claiming it for the ladies.

If the waiter was annoyed by the bold act, he covered it quickly. "Please, follow me."

Lydia and Nancy were passing through the hectic tearoom when a figure stepped out in front of them, blocking their path. Lydia looked up in alarm, her fright turning into joy as she recognized the gentleman before her.

"Lord Portshire!"

Marcus laughed. "I hear I am to call you ‘Your Grace' after your recent nuptials."

"Oh goodness, no. Lydia will suffice."

Marcus shook his head. "I could not do that, Your Grace." He took her hand and kissed it chastely. A friendly kiss. "How are you faring? Should you not be enjoying your honeymoon?"

"I am enjoying my honeymoon with my friends," Lydia replied, chuckling. "My husband is ‘tending to things.' I do not know what that means, and I am not inclined to find out."

Marcus nodded in understanding. "Us gentlemen are always tending to things. You must forgive us."

"Oh, I do." She beamed, so happy to see the second man her sister had jilted. "And what of your lovely beloved? I apologize, I cannot remember her name. Maria, was it?"

She knew better than to declare in such a public space that the object of Marcus's affection was a maid, though she remembered that much. Indeed, the maid in question was the sole reason that Emma had not gone through with the wedding so that the star-crossed couple might have a chance.

"Mary," Marcus said softly. Dreamily.

Lydia tried not to flinch, her mind conjuring up images of Marcus and the Dowager walking down the aisle together. "Has there been any success? Shall we be invited to the wedding soon? We have been waiting for the news, Emma and I."

"Next month," Marcus replied in a hushed tone. "Mother has finally accepted that it will be Mary or no one, and she has come to realize that she would prefer the former, or she will never be a grandmother. It is not the approval I might have hoped for, for Mary's sake, but we shall have each other. That is enough."

Nora squealed, having wandered back in from the terrace. "Did I just hear what I think I heard? Are you to be wed to your darling, at last, Lord Portshire?"

"I am." Marcus blushed.

"Congratulations!" Nora clapped him on the back as if she were a gentleman and they were old friends. "About time, I say!"

Lydia laughed brightly, her grim mood swept away by the joy of the moment. "Yes, sincerest congratulations. Goodness, I am so very happy for you. I am sure I am not the only one who worried that it would never happen, so consider this a great triumph."

"I already do," Marcus replied, clearly uncomfortable with so much affection.

"Will she be attending Joanna's ball with you?" Lydia asked.

Marcus pulled a face. "She has been invited, but… I do not yet know. We shall see. She wants to, but… she does not know how Society will respond. I suppose all I can do is warn her."

"You will have us all as protection," Lydia promised, gesturing to Nora and Nancy.

The latter nodded eagerly. "Certainly, you shall. We have all had our fair share of difficulties when it comes to Society's view of us, so we will make it so that she does not feel their barbs and spiteful words. In the end, they only say unkind things because they are jealous."

"I would be grateful indeed if you—" Marcus halted, his gaze flicking to something over Lydia's shoulder. Worry flickered in his eyes. "Is that… the Bear?"

Nancy frowned. "Who?"

"The Bear, the Beast, the Cruel Duke," Marcus whispered.

The three ladies turned, but it was Lydia who gasped. She did not even see the Duke who was causing such a furor, the Duke who had not been seen in public in years, for her eyes were fixed on the gentleman at his side. And Will was staring right back at her with a look so frosty that she felt the temperature in the tearoom drop.

"I will speak with you again soon," the Cruel Duke said to Will. "I have lost my taste for tea."

Will nodded. "Thank you for your time."

"Indeed, thank you for yours." With that, the Cruel Duke left the tearoom, and the rest of the patrons relaxed in his absence. Although, a few whispers still darted around, no doubt asking why Will and that supposed Beast were conversing together.

Lydia's heart almost beat out of her chest as her husband approached, no mirth or welcome in his eyes.

"Excuse me, ladies. Lord Portshire." Will gave a faint tip of his head. "I must borrow my wife for a moment."

He did not wait to hear their agreement, taking Lydia by the arm and ushering her outside onto the terrace. He did not release his hold on her until they were practically back in the park, far enough from the tearoom that no one would hear what he had to say to her.

"How is it that you have managed to break two of my rules at the same time?" he asked evenly.

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "I do not know what you are talking about."

"I saw you conversing with my mother," he replied, leaning in. "And I have seen you just now, not being very discreet at all with your smiles and affections. Why, I do believe I even saw him kiss your hand."

Lydia dared to smirk. "That is not… jealousy I detect in your voice, is it?"

"You would like that, I think." He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "But no. Remember, kitten, you are free to do as you please, and so am I. It is only the bonds of your rule that are preventing me, and I am abiding by it."

An odd sting caught Lydia in the chest. "You were not very abiding last night."

"Nor were you." He laughed softly, seductively. "Goodness, how you gasped my name."

"Enough!" she hissed, her cheeks flaming.

He took her hand and kissed it, his lips lingering longer than was proper. "What a pity I will not get to hear that again for weeks. Although, I will have to think of a suitable punishment for today's transgression."

"There was no transgression," she hurried to reply.

"But you broke my rules."

She met his gaze with defiance. "You would like that, I think," she parroted. "But you are mistaken. Your mother approached me. She offered no advice, so I did not have to listen to any. As for Lord Portshire, he is to be married in a month. Indeed, you ought to speak to him. I believe you have a lot in common."

"Lydia," he said in a soft, warning voice, "this is all very amusing, but allow me to be clear. Do not break my rules again. You are adjusting, there are bound to be mistakes, but this is the last time I will tolerate your disregard for my commands."

Lydia glanced down at his hand holding hers. "Then do not touch me."

"Pardon?"

She removed his hand. "Do not touch me, for this is the last time that I will tolerate your disregard, too." She smiled slyly and turned to walk back to her friends. "And it is such a shame, for I have quite the gown prepared for Joanna's ball."