Chapter 8

"I'm sure Ezra didn't mean it, Philip. And I'm sure you didn't intend for any sort of scandal to occur between you," Lady Walford said.

Philip had barely slept the night before, caught up in the terrible realization as to what had been assumed by Ezra when he had discovered him and Lydia in the garden. It had not occurred to Philip to fear the possibility of scandal. The two of them had been behaving in just the way they always had. But now, both having grown up, what might once have been considered innocent was now interpreted as a scandal…

"I didn't, Mother. But it's how it looks, isn't it? That's what really matters—appearance, rather than truth. If anyone else but Ezra had discovered us together…" Philip trailed off, shuddering at the very thought.

But despite his protests, he knew there was something of a scandal in their behavior. He had been about to kiss Lydia, and she had been about to kiss him, too. It had been a mutual moment of intimacy—entirely natural—surprising at it had been. There was no doubt in his mind as to the shared desire between them, and having it rudely interrupted had brought him back to his senses, even though the feelings remained…

They were entirely unexpected, of course. He had not thought about Lydia in such a way. She was his friend, but that had been in the past. Things were different now, and Philip found his feelings towards her strangely confusing.

"But they didn't, did they? And… well, her brother's hardly going to make a scandal of it. You acted somewhat rashly, Philip. But as for your being punished for it… no, I'll write to Joanna if you want me to. This… incident needn't spoil your chances of happiness with Lydia," his mother offered.

They were sitting in the morning room of their London home. Philip had risen early and taken a walk in the garden, before pacing up and down his study, wondering what best to do. There was no doubt his feelings for Lydia were growing stronger. Or rather, there was no doubt he was rediscovering those previous feelings he had felt but had been unable to recognize in his youth. But what had happened between them in the gardens had been a moment of passion, a seizing of the senses, and a rashness he now found astonishing to contemplate.

"Do you think I can be happy with her, Mother?" Philip asked.

His mother nodded. "I think that a handsome young man like you, possessed of title and wealth, and with all the possibilities in the world at his feet, should by now have any number of ladies vying for his attention. But you haven't. Or rather, you've chosen not to. And why have you chosen not to? Isn't the answer obvious? It's because you've always been in love with Lydia."

Philip blushed. He had not thought of it in quite such stark terms before. Indeed, to his shame, he had given little thought to Lydia in the past years since they had gone their separate ways. But his mother was right. In every encounter, every dance, every introduction, he would compare the woman to Lydia—whether consciously or unconsciously. For seven years, she had been in his thoughts, even when he was unaware of it.

"I… well, I suppose I have, yes," he admitted.

Lady Walford smiled. "Then why not do the honorable thing? Why not ask her to marry you?"

At these words, Philip's eyes grew wide with astonishment. To get reacquainted with Lydia was one thing, but to ask her to marry him…

"Ah, but… can I, really?" he asked hesitantly.

Lady Walford nodded. "If you want to ask her to marry you, why shouldn't you?"

Philip had thought of it, there was no denying that. In their youth, as a childhood game, there had even been a day when they had pretended to be married. Edward had acted as the minister, and Caroline had insisted on being Lydia's bridesmaid. But to actually ask her to marry him…

"Well, yes, I suppose so," Philip said.

"The two of you are perfect together, Philip. And if Ezra believes there's a scandal involved… well, you can disabuse him of the notion. If he's worried about it, he can't very well refuse you, can he?" Lady Walford raised a cunning eyebrow.

Philip shook his head.

But it was not only Ezra he had to persuade, but Lydia, too. Did she want to marry him? What would she say when he asked her?

"No, I suppose he can't," he replied.

His mother smiled. "Then you've got nothing to lose, Philip, and everything to gain."

* * *

"Goodness me, they're moving Thomas Thurlow to be Dean of Winchester. He'll be a disaster. And look at this… Henry Price nominated as Bishop of Carlisle… well, I know a few people who'll have things to say about that," Derek groused, tutting and tossing his periodical aside.

Derek always read the clerical appointments aloud at breakfast, and Lydia would usually humor him by asking him to explain why such-and-such a person should not be apppointed as this or that or made Dean of somewhere she had never heard of.

But this morning, Lydia had not yet said a word. She had entered the dining room in stoical silence, sitting at the far end of the table and ignoring her three brothers, even when they had attempted to make conversation.

"Do you think they'll make you a bishop one day, Derek?" Graham asked.

Derek laughed. "No, I hope not. Dean of an Oxford college, that's my ambition," he said, and Lydia rolled her eyes.

"I read somewhere that there are murmurs about the Dean of Westminster. Some scandal about to break," Ezra chimed in.

"Oh, everyone knows about that—three illegitimate children with a mistress who lives in Mile End. He can't remain there for long with a scandal like that hanging over him. But Westminster's a royal prerogative, and the Regent can hardly dismiss a man for adultery, can he?" Derek said, shaking his head and laughing.

They were ignoring Lydia, and she was ignoring them. She had not said a word to any of them after they had arrived home from the ball the previous evening, and she had barely slept a wink, tossing and turning as she thought over the events of the previous evening.

She feared she would never see Philip again. He was surely angry as to the way Ezra had behaved, and perhaps even angry with her for having dragged him into a scandal. It was not the first time Lydia had gotten Philip into trouble, and she could only imagine how angry he was now because of the potential damage to his reputation. Ezra had said nothing more about the matter, but Lydia knew it was far from over…

"And these are the sort of people you want to be involved with, Derek? I'd change my mind if I were you." Graham snorted.

Derek shook his head. "It's a higher calling, Brother. A vocation, just like marriage," he said, and then he glanced across the table, as though his words were meant for Lydia.

She met his gaze and glared at him. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"It means, Lydia, that there comes a point in our lives when we have to realize where our responsibilities lie. You were reckless last night, and thank goodness Ezra managed to save you before you made a terrible mistake," Derek replied.

"A mistake? Oh, how ridiculous. I wasn't caught in flagrante with a servant, and I don't have three children in Mile End, either," Lydia retorted.

For men, it was different, of course. A man could behave however he wished and still maintain his position in Society. But a woman had to step out of line, and she would find herself an outcast.

"That's enough, Lydia," Ezra warned.

But Lydia had not finished saying what she wanted to say.

"No, Ezra, it's not enough. Why should I put up with your judgment? You humiliated me last night," she scoffed, rising to her feet and pointing angrily at her eldest brother, who let out an exasperated sigh.

"I saved you from a scandal, Lydia. If anyone else had caught you… He was taking advantage of you. I should challenge him to a duel." Ezra scowled.

Lydia could not help but laugh at the absurdity of the suggestion. "Oh, Ezra, listen to yourself. You're being ridiculous—all three of you are. It was you who encouraged the match, and now you turn on Philip, suggesting he was taking advantage of me. But he wasn't. We did nothing wrong. I like the idea of rekindling our friendship. It's a pleasant thought. There's nothing else to it," she insisted.

"Try telling Caroline that," Derek drawled.

Ezra and Graham nodded.

Lydia was confused. She did not know what Caroline had to do with it, nor why they should care about her opinion on the matter.

"And why does Caroline matter?" she demanded.

"Because she represents the possibility of your downfall, Lydia. One word from her, and what occurred in the gardens—whatever happened between the two of you—will be known in every drawing room across the capital. It only takes one word, and you and Philip are ruined. He's the Earl of Walford, and I'm the Earl of Morton—people look up to us, and they look up to those we associate with, too," Ezra replied.

Lydia sighed. It was an argument she was never going to win. She knew the truth, and her brothers—and whoever else might be involved—knew the consequences of whatever untruth was waiting to be exposed.

What had actually happened made no difference. It was how it was perceived that mattered. But as for Caroline revealing the matter, why would she? She had no reason to do so.

"Very well. What are you going to do?" Lydia asked, fearing her eldest brother would not let the matter rest.

"Well… I won't challenge him to a duel," Ezra said.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Don't be so foolish, Ezra," she scoffed, scowling at him across the table.

"But I won't let the matter rest. I intend to—"But before he could finish, the door opened, and the butler stepped into the dining room.

"Lord Walford to see you, My Lord," the butler announced.

Lydia's eyes grew wide with astonishment. Ezra, too, looked surprised. The last person any of them had expected to see was Philip.

"Here? Oh… and he wants to see me, Burns?" Ezra asked.

The butler looked somewhat bemused. "As I said, My Lord, Lord Walford is here to see you. I've shown him into your study," he replied.

Lydia's heart was beating fast. She did not know why Philip had come. Was he here to apologize, or was he angry with Ezra for the way he had been treated?

"I should speak to him," Lydia stated.

Ezra shook his head. "No, I'll go and speak to him. It's me he's here to see. Stay here with Derek and Graham. I won't be long," he instructed, before tossing aside his napkin and leaving the room, followed by the butler.

Burns closed the door behind them, and Lydia rose to her feet, pacing up and down, unable to imagine why Philip had come. She glanced at Derek and Graham, the two of them exchanging nervous looks.

"Perhaps he wants to make amends—to apologize to Ezra. I'm sure he's not angry with you, Lydia," Derek offered.

"He doesn't have anything to apologize for," Lydia pointed out, glaring at him.

"A man can—" Derek began, but he fell silent when Lydia turned her back to him.

She went to the window, looking out over the garden, then turned to pace the length of the room. Ezra's study was right across the hallway, and she could picture her brother and Philip facing one another over the large desk in the middle of the room.

For a moment, she thought about going to listen at the door, but she knew her brothers would only stop her from doing so. But what were they talking about? Lydia had not expected to see Philip again. She had assumed she would be prevented from doing so—or worse, discover it was Philip who did not want to see her…

"Why is it taking so long?" she asked, and her brother shook their heads.

"I don't know, Lydia. Oerhaps they have some further business to discuss?" Graham replied.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Lydia inhaled sharply as the door opened. But it was only their mother, and she now looked at the three of them in surprise.

"What's going on? Why are you looking at me like that?" Lady Morton asked.

Graham sighed.

"We thought you were Ezra and… Philip," Derek replied.

Their mother's eyes grew wide with astonishment. "He's here? Philip? Is Lucy with him? Why didn't someone come to tell me? I've been upstairs, but I was out of bed," she said, sounding indignant at having not been apprised of the morning's developments.

"He's only just arrived. He wanted to see Ezra. They're in the study now," Derek explained.

Lady Morton glanced at Lydia, who had returned to pacing impatiently up and down the room. "But why is he here? What's happened? Did he give any indication as to why he's come?" she asked.

"We don't know, Mother, and Ezra won't let me talk to him," Lydia complained.

She felt angry at being excluded—at being spoken about rather than spoken to. It was always the same. A man was expected to discuss his own affairs, but a woman was not. Her affairs were not her own. She had no autonomy over them, and what was decided in the study would be decided for her, and not in consultation with her.

"I'm sure your brother can deal with the matter adequately," Lady Morton tried to reassure her.

Lydia scowled at her—she had scowled at all of them that morning. "And what choice do I have in the matter? Why can't I talk to him? I can have a chaperone, can't I?" she retorted.

Her mother tutted, but at that moment, footsteps sounded again in the hallway. A moment later, the door of the dining room opened, and Ezra appeared. The others looked at him expectantly.

"Well?" Derek prompted.

"Would you come with me, Lydia?" Ezra asked.

Lydia was taken aback. She had expected Ezra to tell them he had dismissed Philip, but now he beckoned her over.

"I don't understand," she said as he closed the door behind them.

Ezra looked somewhat bewildered, as though Philip's visit had brought with it an even more surprising revelation. "He's waiting for you in the drawing room. You can go in by yourself, but I'll ask Mother to come in shortly. He's got a question for you, Lydia," Ezra said quietly.

Lydia's eyes grew wide with astonishment. Her heart skipped a beat, as she realized there could be only one question for Philip to ask. It seemed extraordinary, and yet it made perfect sense…

"A question? For me? And what am I supposed to reply?" she asked, for she knew she required her brother's permission either way.

Ezra looked at her and sighed. "I wasn't expecting him to come, and I certainly wasn't expecting this. But… well, now that he has, I suppose it's a matter of believing his sincerity. Let him ask his question. You can answer it however you wish. He's doing the right thing—I'm surprised, but I can only think better of him for having done so," he relented.

He stepped back, gesturing towards the drawing room.

The door was closed, and Lydia stepped forward, not knowing whether or not to knock. She decided against it, and, taking a deep breath, she opened the door…