Chapter 16

"The Lindon ball, Lord Mayor's dinner, the reception at Guildhall, the first night of A Midsummer Night's Dream at the theater in Covent Garden—oh, and there's an invitation to dine with the Earl and Countess of Wexford. Terrible bores, I refused it," Philip said.

Lydia looked at him and smiled. They were sitting at breakfast—their first as a married couple. She had not expected to be so immediately thrust into the social whirl of the ton. But her new position demanded her presence in certain events.

Before, she was simply Lady Lydia Reeves, the sister of the Earl of Morton—one of many young women who moved in the aristocratic circles of the capital. But her marriage to Philip had changed that, and not necessarily for the better. Now, she was the Countess of Walford, and her new position came with considerable responsibilities.

There was the expectation of entertaining and being entertained, the patronage of various charities, as well as setting an example at all times. Her mother had told her to expect as much, but as Philip mentioned some of the upcoming social events, Lydia wondered whether she could truly live up to the expectations…

"And the others? Have you refused them?" she asked.

Philip sighed. "I wish I could. But I can't. We don't have much of a choice, I'm afraid. With title comes responsibility. I've simply got to go to these things—unless we think again about the possibility of a honeymoon."

Lydia sighed. She was still wary of the thought, but she reminded herself that a threat could come whether they were on their honeymoon or among the ton. That was the nature of her fear, and the thought of it made her terribly anxious.

"I don't know, Philip. I'm worried. I know… oh, I'm just being foolish. Yes, the ball, and the dinner, and the theater, too. We'll do it all," she said.

Philip smiled. "I don't think we need to go to every event. But we'll need to show our faces at one or two."

Lydia wondered if he had come to believe her yet—or did he still think she was being foolish? She had had a restless night, imagining all manner of calumny against them.

"But do you believe me, Philip? About Caroline and Edward?" she asked.

Philip sighed, reaching over to take her hand in his. "I believe we need to be careful, yes. There's no harm in vigilance. But I doubt anything's going to happen. These are public events. It's not as though someone could walk up to us with a pistol and shoot us on Edward's behalf," he replied, laughing at his own joke.

He seemed somewhat blasé about the whole matter, as though his words were meant only to humor her. But Lydia wanted him to take her seriously, knowing what Caroline was like. She was subtle in her means, Lydia knew that from their childhood. Her cousin would never openly fight, but when she was wronged, she would find a way to take her revenge.

Lydia remembered a nanny whom Caroline had not liked for combing her hair too roughly. Caroline had confided in Lydia she had slipped a piece of her mother's jewelry into the nanny's pocket, and the woman had been sacked hours later.

"No, but… perhaps she's more subtle than that," Lydia mused.

Philip squeezed her hand. "Try not to worry about it. You've got enough to be thinking about without worrying about Caroline and Edward. Let's just get used to being married. It still feels so strange to speak about it in such terms. I can hardly believe it. Did you ever think… well, when we were children…" he trailed off.

Lydia smiled. She had certainly never thought about such a thing when they were children. Philip had been like a brother to her, and in their childhood innocence, there had been no thought of anything more between them. No match had been encouraged, no arrangement was made. And yet, now, they were husband and wife.

"Not at all. How could I? But… there's something I wanted to ask you," Lydia confessed.

It was a thought that had been on her mind for some time, though it was hardly something she had felt able to ask before, even though it was a question for herself, too—one she did not know the answer to.

He looked at her and nodded. "You can ask me anything. We're married."

Lydia blushed. "It's just… I was wondering… why did you kiss me that night? I mean… we didn't kiss, I know. But since everyone thinks we did, we might as well have done it. I've asked myself the same question, but I don't have an answer to it. We hardly know one another, and it just seems… strange to think we came so close to kissing," she said.

For a moment, Lydia wondered if she had offended him. Would he assume she had not wanted him to kiss her? It was not that, not at all. But she was still trying to understand where her own feelings towards him had arisen from. In the past, there had been no question of anything between them. They had been too young for such things, and yet it had taken only a handful of encounters for something more to blossom between them.

But to her surprise, Philip, too, blushed.

"I've been asking myself the same question. I'd gladly have kissed you that night had we not been interrupted by your brother," he admitted. "It felt… entirely right to do so, though I hope you won't think I was taking advantage."

Lydia shook her head. She had not thought so at all. But rather, she had been curious as to why they had both fallen so easily into a moment of stolen intimacy—of passion.

"You weren't, no. Not at all. Please, don't think that," she replied, for that had not been what she had been implying.

But the question remained a pertinent one, and she was not about to hold back from saying—and asking—the things on her mind. Having three brothers had made her used to making herself heard. Had she not been able to speak up for herself, Ezra, Derek, and Graham would have always done so for her, and she had learned not to hold back when it came to speaking for herself.

"Then in all truth, I don't know why what happened happened. It all seems so ironic, doesn't it? Here we are, married, and all because of a perceived indiscretion—one that didn't even occur," he mused.

Lydia smiled. It was ironic, and had it not been so life-changing, she might have even found it amusing.

"But do you think you could ever be glad it did?" Lydia asked.

Philip smiled at her. "I think so, yes," he said, just as the dining room door opened and his mother appeared.

Lydia had not seen her mother-in-law since they had parted ways at the chapel, and now old Lady Walford came and embraced her, kissing her on both cheeks.

"I trust you slept well in your new home, Lydia. It's so lovely to see you, and wearing another pretty dress, too," she gushed.

Lydia smiled. She had chosen a peach-colored dress with a lace trim at the neck that morning. The day was warm, and she had not taken a shawl, fearing she would be somewhat uncomfortable.

"Thank you, that's very kind," she replied as the Dowager Countess sat down at the table.

"Your mother's so proud of you, Lydia."

Lydia smiled. "I really haven't done anything."

The Dowager Countess shook her head. "A mother always wants what's best for her children. I feel just the same. I'm so lucky to have you both to call my own—daughter-in-law is a daughter, too. I want us to be the best of friends. But there's something I want to talk to you both about," she said as she helped herself to a piece of toast and began to liberally spread marmalade on it.

"What is it, Mother?" Philip asked, glancing at Lydia, who was looked curious, too.

The Dowager Countess smiled. "Well, I've been thinking. It's really not fair for the two of you to have me here all the time. You're young and in the first throes of married life. That's what dower houses are made for—getting rid of the mother, though still close enough to enjoy one another's company. I've decided to go back to Berkshire and live in the dower house on the estate. I presume the two of you will spend the rest of the Season in London and then return to Berkshire. By then, I'll be well settled in my new home, and you'll have the main house to yourselves," she said.

Philip seemed surprised at these words, glancing at Lydia as though not entirely certain of their implication.

"But, Mother, what about your life in London?" he asked. "I thought you were enjoying being here. And Lady Morton is delighting in renewing your acquaintance."

Lydia wondered if he would feel uncomfortable at their being left in the house alone, apart from the servants. But there was no scandal in it. How could there be? They were married, and far beyond any potential scandal.

"Oh, I've invited her to join me at the dower house. She was only too pleased to accept. Now that you and Lydia are married, Joanna doesn't feel the same necessity to remain in the capital. She's free to do as she pleases," the Dowager Countess explained.

Lydia raised her eyebrows. Her mother had always been free to do as she pleased. There had been no reason for her to hold back—not on Lydia's account.

"She didn't tell me that," Lydia spoke.

The Dowager Countess smiled. "She didn't want you to think… well, she's just glad to see you married, Lydia. That's what she told me."

Lydia nodded.

It did not trouble her to think her mother-in-law would leave the two of them alone—it could be a blessing in disguise. Lydia knew the two of them needed time to get to know one another, again. Their childhood friendship seemed a distant memory, and if they were to spend the rest of their lives together, they had to begin by rekindling what had been. Time alone was just what they needed, even though Philip looked doubtful.

"But are you sure you can manage, Mother?" Philip asked.

The Dowager Countess laughed. "It's not as though I'll be doing the moving in myself, is it?" she said, shaking her head.

"No, but… you know what I mean, Mother. Will you manage on your own without company?"

"I'll have Joanna. She's promised to come soon—in a week or so. It won't take me long to move into the dower house. My mind's made up, Philip. You won't persuade me otherwise," the Dowager Countess declared.

Philip could only shrug and agree. "Very well, Mother. If you're certain, and it seems you are, there's nothing I can do to stop you—nor would I wish to. We'll join you later, in a month or so."

His mother clapped her hands together in delight. "Do you know, I've always thought the dower house to be a rather special place. When your grandmother lived in it, I always enjoyed going to visit her there, and I hope it'll be the same for you, Lydia. I hope your mother will stay for some time. Meeting her again has been a real blessing. Truly, it has."

Lydia smiled. She was happy for their mothers—the rekindling of a friendship thought lost. Had circumstances been different, she was convinced her friendship with Philip would have grown, and perhaps romance would have followed. But as it was, the two of them now found themselves in a curious situation—strangers, yet with a past, and now brought together on the most intimate terms.

"I'm pleased," she said, before returning her attentions to her breakfast.