Chapter 18

"And you're absolutely certain you want to do this, Mother? You're welcome to stay here with us for as long as you wish," Philip reiterated as he helped his mother into the waiting carriage.

The Dowager Countess looked back over her shoulder and smiled, catching Lydia's eyes in the process.

"I don't want to be in your way. It wouldn't be fair. You're a newly married couple, and the last thing you need is for your mother and mother-in-law—whichever way round it might be—to be lingering like a bad smell. We mothers will be quite happy in Berkshire," she insisted.

Philip nodded. "Very well, Mother. It's your choice. We'll see you in a few weeks. I hope the dower house will prove to your liking," he said, stepping back as a footman closed the carriage door.

His mother pulled down the window and beamed. "I'm already in love with it. I've got so many plans for the garden!"

"I'll make sure my mother brings her pruner—she's always happiest in a rose garden," Lydia called out.

She and Philip waved to the retreating carriage as they stood on the front steps.

"Well then, it's just the two of us now," Philip said, turning to her and smiling.

Lydia nodded. She knew why his mother had left. It was a charitable gesture, but somewhat misplaced. She and Philip did not need time alone. There was no intimacy that the Dowager Countess's presence would have intruded upon. Her leaving now created an awkward atmosphere between them.

Would they find things to talk about? Would they soon grow tired of one another's company?

"Yes, I suppose it is. Apart from the servants," Lydia replied.

"Why don't you invite one of your brothers—or all of your brothers—to dine with us? I'm sure we'd have a most interesting conversation, reminiscing over times past," Philip suggested.

Lydia smiled. She did not think she could cope with all three of her brothers around the same table—they would be forever trying to outdo one another—but having one brother at a time would be pleasant, even though she had not entirely forgiven them for forcing her to marry Philip.

"Yes, perhaps Graham first—not all of them at once," Lydia said.

Philip laughed. "No, perhaps all three might be a bit much," he agreed as they made their way back inside.

The butler was standing in the hallway, and now he handed Philip an envelope, presenting it on a silver tray.

"This arrived earlier, My Lord. Shall I wait for a reply?" he asked.

"Let me see what it is. Another invitation, no doubt. I can't keep refusing them," Philip said, glancing at Lydia, who smiled.

He opened the letter, and Lydia watched, curious to see who it was from.

"Another ball?" she asked.

Philip shook his head. "No, it's an invitation to dine with Caroline and Edward."

Lydia's heart skipped a beat, and it was clear Philip knew what she was thinking, for he steered her to the drawing room, leaving the butler standing in the hallway.

"We have to be very careful," Lydia whispered as Philip closed the door behind them.

He showed her the invitation—a letter written by Caroline, requesting the pleasure of their company at dinner the following evening.

"Oh, but there's no danger, Lydia. They're not going to poison the soup," Philip said, but a note of doubt crept into his voice.

"But they might. Don't you see? It's the perfect opportunity!" Lydia exclaimed.

Her suspicions were such that she could not dismiss the possibility—that Caroline and Edward wanted to kill Philip. But her husband seemed not to take them seriously.

"It's just an invitation to dinner, Lydia. We can hardly decline it. They're our cousins," Philip argued.

It was a strange coincidence, of course—two cousins marrying two cousins. But the relationship only made matters worse. There was motive—blood thicker than water, the wronged party, the belief in rightful inheritance.

"No, I suppose we can't. But… oh, please, we must be careful. And besides, what do you think it'll be like? The two of them, I mean. Will we have to endure a terrible atmosphere?" Lydia asked.

The thought of dining with her cousin—whether or not her suspicions were true—did not appeal to her. They were related, but they were not friends, and had they not been cousins, Lydia did not think she would ever have had anything to do with a woman like Caroline, as different from her as one could imagine.

"Perhaps they've worked their differences out. I'm sure Edward works hard. He's a good person, just dealt the wrong hand at birth," Philip replied.

"But that's just it, isn't it? That's why she's so bitter. I think she married him out of ambition. Perhaps she thought he would better himself and make money. But she has soon come to realize she has to make her own fortune. That's why?—"

"And that's why she intends to murder me as we pass the port?" Philip asked, laughing and shaking his head.

"Oh, Philip, please take this seriously," Lydia pleaded.

She hated to think he found the whole thing amusing. It was not in the least bit amusing, and the thought of what Caroline might be plotting filled her with dread. She did not want anything to happen to Philip—the very thought of it was unbearable.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she took his hand in hers, pressing it to her chest.

"Lydia…" Philip began, but she shook her head.

"No, please. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you—left a widow just a few days into my marriage."

Lydia knew she sounded hysterical, but there was no doubt in her mind as to the very real possibility of the threat Caroline posed.

"It's not going to come to that, Lydia. I promise you. We'll accept the invitation to dine, and we'll reciprocate. That'll be it—duty done," he said.

Lydia nodded. It sounded so simple when put like that, but her fears were very real, and as she readied herself for dinner the next evening, she could not help but imagine the worst of what might be…

* * *

"The red dress, I think, Catherine," Lydia said, staring absentmindedly out her bedroom window.

It was a beautiful evening, the sun shining over the garden, and the pleasant scent of roses and lavender perfuming the air. The thought of dinner with Caroline and Edward was hardly appealing, but Lydia knew she had no choice but to accompany Philip on what was surely to be an attempt on his life. She had convinced herself of it, even though he had dismissed the very idea as folly.

"Yes, My Lady. And pearls to go with it?" Catherine asked.

Lydia shook her head. "No, I don't want to dress up," she replied.

If Caroline was already jealous of her, she had no desire to make her more so by flaunting the good things she enjoyed. The pearls had been a gift from her mother on her wedding day, and Lydia knew that if she wore them, Caroline would only be angry at not having them for herself.

"Very good, My Lady. Just your hair now," Catherine said.

Lydia sat at the dressing table, staring at her reflection as the maid busied herself with combing and plaiting her tresses. She wondered what the dinner would be like. Would the conversation flow freely, or would there be an uncomfortable atmosphere between their hosts?

"Thank you, Catherine. There's no need for you to wait up. I'll dress myself for bed," Lydia instructed.

The maid curtsied and left the room.

Lydia sighed. She felt like Daniel walking into the lion's den, but a knock at the door startled her. Looking up, she found Philip standing in the doorway. He was smartly dressed in a green frock coat and white shirt with a matching cravat. His shoes were polished, and he was wearing a new pair of breeches.

"You look very pretty, Lydia," he said, stepping into the room.

She smiled at him and rose to her feet. "And you look very handsome," she returned, walking over to him and straightening the lapels of his frock coat.

He smiled back at her, offering her his arm.

"Shall we go? I know you don't want to, but we really don't have much of a choice, do we? We have to go, and we have to behave as though everything's normal. I know you have your suspicions about Caroline. I have mine, too. But we've got to put them aside for the sake of… harmony."

Lydia raised her eyebrows. It was hardly harmonious to think there was a threat on his very life. Such things did not make for a convivial dinner…

"And will it be harmonious when you fall to the floor in convulsions?" she asked.

He laughed and patted her arm. "Come now, Lydia, let's not be melodramatic. We'll be late if we don't hurry."

Lydia nodded in acquiescence.

There was no point in arguing, but she vowed to herself she would be vigilant, even though Philip appeared entirely blasé. They took a carriage to Edward and Caroline's home. Lydia had not been there since their wedding, and if anything, the fa?ade appeared even more shabby than before. Paint was peeling from the shutters, and the front steps had not been swept, nor the brass door knocker polished.

"It's terrible, isn't it?" Lydia whispered, looking up at the house in dismay.

"I really thought Edward would make something of himself on his own merit. I know he hasn't been fortunate, but inheritance isn't the only way to succeed. I'm surprised he hasn't bucked his ideas up," Philip said, shaking his head.

Lydia nodded. It was surprising, and had Caroline known the full extent of Edward's situation, she would surely not have married him. Before their betrothal, she had boasted about his prospects, but perhaps the things he had told her and the truth of his circumstances had not matched. Lydia could only imagine how angry her cousin would have been to learn of it—to discover that her ambitions wouldn't be realized, and as for what she might have done about it…

"Come on, let's get this over with," Lydia said as the two of them alighted from the carriage.