Chapter 8

Dazed by the waltz and its abrupt ending, Lydia did her best not to look for William in the crowd, nor to expect that he would seek her out upon his return. She stood against the wall, sipping her drink, convinced that she was in a vivid dream and would wake up any moment.

The way he held me…

Her thighs tingled at the memory, her fingers restless, her skin flushing with a feverish prickle, her bosom heaving as if she were still in his arms.

The way he moved me… The way he gazed into my eyes… The moment he made time stop for a short while…

None of it seemed real. She only waltzed in her daydreams.

"Are you well?" Marina asked, standing beside her in a similarly dazed state.

Lydia blinked up at her. "Quite well, yes. It is… a little overwhelming, that is all. I am adjusting."

"It takes time," Marina said. "I danced with Jasper like that once when I did not know him at all, and I cannot say I was exactly fond of him in the beginning. Now, we dance like that just because it is Tuesday and the sun is shining. And my fondness for him is now a love that knows no bounds."

Lydia's chin dropped to her chest, her gaze falling to the faint bubbles that rose to the surface of her drink. "I have heard your stories and cherished them so often," she said quietly. "I do not think mine is the same. While your love stories rival the most beautiful literature, I believe my marriage would be hidden away in a dusty, forgotten part of the library."

"If I may be so bold—why did you consent to this if you do not like him?" Marina frowned, wiping a bead of condensation from her glass. "We have asked your sister, but she would not say. She told us it was your business, not ours."

Lydia swallowed thickly. "It is… something I had to do. But fear not, I shall find my happy ending." She downed her drink, sensing that Marina would keep probing her until she revealed the truth. "If you will excuse me, I ought to see how Emma is faring. I did not realize that being with child could make someone so poorly."

"No one tells you the important things until it is too late," Marina said with a wry smile. "Nevertheless, children are worth it."

Lydia smiled and darted away before Marina started waxing lyrical about her offspring.

Of course, Lydia adored children and had often wondered what she would be like as a mother, but she did not have the patience to listen to the same stories she had heard a thousand times on this particular night.

In truth, all she wanted to do was find the library.

Losing her way on at least five occasions in the dimly lit hallways of the house that was, technically, now her home, Lydia was forced to retrace her steps through a servants' corridor to the entrance hall. She had just emerged, ready to give up on her endeavor, when a sound from the main staircase made her duck back into the safety of the shadows.

"Stay exactly where you are!" Emma's voice commanded.

A figure kept walking down the curving stairwell.

"I know you heard me!" Emma shouted, her footsteps thudding down the stairs.

The figure made it to a partial landing where the rest of the staircase changed direction and curved down to the floor. There, he turned to face Emma, who had slowed her approach.

"I have had a very tiresome evening, Lady Emma," William said. "Perhaps this could wait?"

"It is ‘Duchess' or ‘Madam' to you," Emma replied, coming to a standstill on the step just above him. "And I will say my piece to you now."

William shrugged. "Very well. What is it you have to say to me, after all these years?"

"If you hurt her, if you upset her, if you do anything that makes her feel unwelcome or unsafe or uncomfortable, I will ruin you." Emma was breathing fast, her knuckles white as she gripped the banister.

William laughed tightly. "I would not have had to marry your sister if you had not left me at the altar, Duchess." His laughter faded. "But I admit, you were right to run that day. We were severely unsuitable for one another."

"Just because I could not stop it does not mean I accept it." Emma shook her head. "All of this for revenge—I hope you know that it will never taste sweet. As I said, the moment you do something to upset her, I will ensure it remains sour."

William tilted his head to one side, a thin smile on his lips. "How arrogant you are, Duchess. I see the years have not humbled you." He made a low, tutting sound that was sure to irritate Emma. "This is not about you. Lydia is a fine, spirited woman, and I believe she will be a far better wife than you would ever have been. Luck brought her to me, and luck shall keep her by my side."

Listening to every word, Lydia could not restrain her smile. After so many years of being in the shadow of her sister's scandals, it was rare that she was the main subject of any conversation. So, it pleased her all the more to hear her sister fighting to protect her, and William defending her in the same breath.

Indeed, it was almost a shame that she planned to prove him wrong.

Deciding that it was beneath her to eavesdrop any longer, for eavesdropping had not served her particularly well as of late, she made a dramatic display of emerging from the servants' corridor and closing the door behind her. As if she had heard nothing, she wandered over to the staircase and looked up, feigning surprise.

"Oh, apologies." She paused. "Am I interrupting?"

Emma shot William a sharp look. "Not at all. I noticed the Duke walking past my guest chambers and wanted to ask him if you were still enjoying the festivities." She smiled down at Lydia. "I am sorry to have retired so early."

"Are you feeling better?" Lydia asked brightly.

Emma nodded. "A little, but this is not about me. Are you enjoying yourself? Is the Duke taking good care of you?"

"Actually, I was about to retire myself," Lydia said, beginning up the stairs. "I have had a wonderful evening, Your Grace, but I am unaccustomed to so much excitement. Is your mother well?"

William's face clouded over. "She is none of your concern."

"Her mother-in-law is none of her concern?" Emma interjected, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course not," William replied, gesturing toward the upper floor. "If you are retiring, your chambers are next to mine. There ought to be a maid stationed outside of it, so you cannot miss it."

Emma folded her arms across her chest. "You are not going to guide her there? She does not know this house."

"She will find it. As I said, she will not be able to miss it," William replied.

With that, he made his way down the stairs, not pausing to bid Lydia goodnight or say anything more. He simply kept walking and disappeared down the hallway, out of sight.

For reasons Lydia could not explain, his abrupt departure saddened her. Just as it had disappointed her when he had informed her that they would not be dancing twice, and he could not have marched away from the dance floor quicker.

But she refused to let Emma see that as she continued up, stopping to give her a hug. "All is well, Emma. Do not fuss. He is right, I can find my way. I have searched enough manors for libraries—it cannot be much different to find my chambers."

"You still do that?" Emma pulled back from the embrace, smiling.

Lydia swallowed, cursing her loose tongue. "Sometimes. Not as often as I used to. I suppose the fear of being caught has increased with my age, for what is considered endearing and mischievous in a child is not quite as endearing in a grown woman."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Emma asked. "I was going to see if I could find some lemonade and bring it to my room, but I can delay that if you need company."

Lydia kissed her sister's cheek if only to hide her dismay. "I will be fine, I promise. I know you are practicing for when your child is born, but there really is no need to fuss. This is… my home now, for a while at least, so I should get used to it."

"I am fussing. I am so sorry, Lydia." Emma hugged her again. "But if you do need anything, just?—"

Lydia groaned and pulled away, chuckling as she headed up the stairs. "You are incorrigible. Your poor child is going to be the most loved, most fussed over, most protected child in existence. Still, at least it will relieve some of the pressure on me."

"Goodnight, sweet sister!" Emma called, grinning. "If I have a daughter, I pray she is exactly like you and nothing like me!"

Lydia laughed. "Be careful what you wish for."

At the landing, she paused and glanced left and right, searching for any sign of a maid. There was a young woman half asleep in a chair about halfway down the left-hand hallway, who looked promising.

Lydia approached cautiously, not wanting to frighten the woman. "Excuse me?"

The woman jolted out of her dozing, wide-eyed. "Goodness, Your Grace! I'm so very sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep, but I thought it'd be hours until you retired for the night." She bobbed a clumsy curtsy. "It's no excuse, I know, but it gets so dark and warm in these hallways. I was drifting off before I could stop myself!"

Lydia liked her immediately. "No need to apologize. It happens to us all. Why, if I had stayed down there much longer, I think I would be asleep in the middle of the ballroom."

"There's nothing as good for the soul as a good rest, Your Grace." The woman opened the door next to her. "These will be your chambers if they're to your liking. If not, we'll find another for you."

Lydia stepped forward, admiring the airy room beyond with beautiful bay windows and a ceiling that had been entirely painted with a frieze of cherubs and clouds. A writing desk was positioned by the middle window while bookshelves adorned the wall to her left, and the four-poster bed looked inviting enough that she really did feel sleepy.

"May I offer you my congratulations, Your Grace," the maid said, ushering Lydia inside. "Truly, you're very lucky to be married to such an honorable man. And you're a charming lady, too, so that's twice the luck."

Lydia had to stop and look at the maid to see if she was quite serious. The young woman's expression seemed utterly sincere, her smile wide and genuine, her eyes warm with admiration.

Honorable is not the word I would use.

As if instructed, Lydia's mind conjured forth the memory of that secret, teasing kiss in the library, her lips burning as if she were experiencing it again. The image whirled into a dance, his arm almost encircling her waist, his fingers intertwined with hers, his thigh pushing against hers so insistently, his foot grazing her ankle.

She resisted the urge to laugh. "I have yet to discover his honor, but it has been a pleasant enough day."

"Oh, Your Grace, I promise you, you are lucky indeed," the maid insisted. "Not a week ago, he sent for a physician to help my sister. She'd been having some trouble laboring, and the physician had to do all sorts of things to save her and the baby. Paid for all of it—His Grace did, I mean. Not many dukes would do that for their servants, let me tell you."

Surprised, Lydia turned to glance at the door, as if she might find William standing there. If he had been anyone else, she might have suspected that he had commanded the maid to say nice things, but William was not the sort of man who would do that. She knew that much.

"That is all true?" she had to ask.

The maid nodded eagerly. "Oh yes, Your Grace. It isn't the first time either. You just ask Jenny Hen. She's got stories for days about his good deeds."

Lydia had no idea who Jenny Hen might be, but she planned to find out.

Maybe William was not as bad as he seemed.

"Now, would you like a bath drawn?" the maid asked. "I've put away most of your belongings, so I can choose a nightdress for you, or you can choose your own. You tell me how you want things done, and I'll do it."

Lydia cleared her dry throat. "A bath would be lovely, and… uh… I will leave you to choose a nightdress."

"Very good, Your Grace." The maid wandered over to a door, just to the right of the bed. "This is your adjoining door. His Grace's chamber is the room beyond. I took the liberty of unlocking it, and the key is on the writing desk."

All the enthusiasm drained out of Lydia as she heard that, her eyes fixed on the adjoining door.

"I'll have that bath drawn for you now, Your Grace," the maid blustered on, oblivious. "You settle in while I get on with it. I'll bring up some supper for you too if you'd like? You haven't eaten since this afternoon, I expect."

Lydia nodded out of habit, feeling a sudden tremor of fear as the maid hurried out of the room to complete her tasks.

Indeed, amid all the bustle of the day, she had quite forgotten about what came after—the wedding night.