Chapter 9

Philip was standing by the window. He was dressed in a blue frock coat and breeches, with a pressed white shirt, a yellow cravat at the neck, and polished boots. He wore a gold pocket watch at his lapel, and his hair was combed back, parted in the middle. It seemed he had made every effort too look pristine, and now he stepped forward with a nervous look on his face.

"Lydia, I hope you don't think badly of me after the events of last night," he said.

Lydia shook her head. "No, not at all. Why should I think badly of you? It's my brothers' ridiculous reaction that I think badly of. I don't understand why they're behaving as they are—Ezra, especially. I hope he apologized to you."

The sight of him had brought back the memory of the last moments of their previous encounter—the closeness of his lips to hers, his hand clasped in hers…

"He did, yes. Once I explained matters a little more fully," Philip replied.

Lydia nodded. She was glad the matter was resolved. It had all been a foolish misunderstanding, though why it had even reached the stage it had, she did not know.

There had been no impropriety, and while the memory of their close encounter was, admittedly, somewhat pleasant, she did not think it had meant anything other than a passing whim—a foolish mistake, one they could laugh about in the future.

"Yes, well, it shouldn't have come to that. We were just talking. We used to roam for hours in the gardens here, didn't we? We were forever getting into trouble. Besides, our mothers positively encouraged the idea of a match, didn't they?" she said.

Philip nodded.

He looked nervous, as though he was holding something back. She had seen the same look in his eyes on the day he had told her he was going away to school, and that their friendship would be quite different from what it had been before.

"What's wrong?" Lydia asked. "Don't tell me Ezra was angry with you? You came to apologize. The matter's over and done with."

Philip shook his head. "Well… there's something else, Lydia. Your brother's no longer angry, that's true, but there's a reason why."

Lydia looked at him curiously. She did not understand what he was talking about, and now he sighed and shook his head.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Lydia, I'm sorry about what happened last night. I sailed too close to the wind. It was a mistake, and if the matter were publicly known, there'd surely be a scandal. I don't want that, and that's why your brother and I have come to an agreement. I've asked for your hand in marriage, and he's accepted my proposal," Philip replied.

Lydia stared at him in astonishment. It might have been a joke, had she not seen the serious expression on his face. But surely it was not true. Had Ezra really agreed to such a thing? It seemed too extraordinary for words. Nothing had happened—their lips had not even met. There had been no kiss, no scandal, and yet Lydia knew perception was everything. She felt certain her cousin had seen something, and if Caroline had made a threat…

"No, you can't! That's ridiculous, Philip. I won't allow you to!" Lydia exclaimed.

It was her first reaction—a sense of shock as to what Ezra had promised and Philip had agreed to. She had no thought of marrying Philip. She did not see the need to, even as he now stepped forward and held out his hand to her.

"Please, Lydia, it's not. We can't allow ourselves to be caught up in a scandal. It would be a terrible injustice for you," Philip reasoned.

Lydia shook her head. She could not believe what he was saying. A sudden anger gripped her. There was no need for this. She was not in love with him, even though she had been surprised as to the feelings he had roused in her—feelings of nostalgia for the past, and the possibility of what might have been.

"And for you, too! You can't marry me," Lydia insisted.

The whole thing seemed preposterous. There had been no scandal, and there was no question of one breaking out either. They would not be caught in a compromising position again. It was ludicrous to even think it…

"But I feel I have to," he said.

"And I feel you don't," she retorted.

He sighed and shook his head. "Please, Lydia, don't be like this. It's not how it needs to be. But we were compromised. I know you've always behaved differently to other women. Perhaps it's why we always got on so well. But in this… well, you can't. We have to do the honorable thing. If anyone saw us… well, announcing our engagement would put a stop to any rumors or intrigue. You have your brother's reputation to think of, too."

Lydia could still not believe what she was hearing. It seemed utterly incredible—ludicrous, even. She would not allow him to sacrifice his own happiness for her, nor would she allow herself to enter a marriage she was not certain of.

"And I'm sure he impressed that fact upon you most strongly in persuading you to this… madness," Lydia huffed, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

But in truth, she knew there could be no arguing. What Philip said was true. They had been compromised, and if the likes of Caroline, or anyone else, had seen them, the consequences could be dire. A kiss would turn into something more—a liaison out of proportion. Lydia shuddered to think of it, and it seemed Philip had thought the same, too.

"It's not madness, Lydia. It's what has to happen if we're to avoid a scandal and save our reputations. I know it's my fault…" Philip trailed off.

But Lydia could not entirely blame him for this.

It was not his fault. The two of them were equally responsible for exposing themselves to the possibility of scandal. If anyone was to blame, it was Ezra, and now Lydia could think only angrily of her brother, and the role he had played.

"And you say that the arrangements were already made between you and Ezra?" Lydia asked.

Philip nodded. "He's going to ask Derek to arrange a special license with the Archbishop. We can be married within a few weeks," he replied.

It was a fait accomplit. Derek had friends at Lambeth Palace, and it would not take long for them to secure a special license.

Lydia sighed. It seemed she had no choice. But now, this realization gave rise to another question—many, in fact. What would it be like to be married to Philip? She had never thought about it before.

But why would she have? She had never thought of Philip in those terms, not when they were young. As children, they had been just that—innocent in their play, and with no thought to anything beyond their youthful exuberances. There had been no question of their being in love, for they had not known what love was. And now, Lydia had no means by which to make up her mind. She was not in love with Philip—they barely knew one another. But she had found some pleasure in his company, in reacquainting herself with memories, and in the prospect of a kiss too…

"I see. And is this what you want?" Lydia asked, for it seemed Philip was only acting out of chivalry.

Did he really want to marry her? It seemed an astonishing thought, and Lydia could only feel foolish for having allowed herself to be so caught up in the moment they had shared in the garden the previous evening. She did not know if she was ready to marry, and the thought of it now having been arranged for her was in opposition to everything she had ever believed in. Ezra himself had told her he would not force her hand, but it seemed the prospect of scandal had outweighed any other possibility.

"Well… it's what's right, isn't it? I admit, it's not the way I'd have liked it to happen. But we've always got on well, haven't we?" Philip pointed out, as though a friendship of some seven years was enough to warrant wedding bells and the exchange of rings.

"Yes, but that's hardly a reason for marriage. I get on well with lots of people, but…" Lydia hesitated. "We hardly know one another."

Philip's face fell. He looked disappointed, as though he had hoped she would readily accept. She did not want to hurt him—she did not want to hurt either of them. And in agreeing to Ezra's demands, they were surely paving the way to unhappiness.

"Well, I suppose we'll get to know one another again, won't we? Please, Lydia, why does this have to be difficult? It need only be for show. We can marry and lead… separate lives, if that's what you wish. But I just think… well, I don't want you to be compromised, and I don't want to find myself compromised either," Philip reasoned.

Lydia nodded. It had taken two of them to create the apparent circumstances, and that meant it would take two of them to set things straight. It was not ideal, of course—far from it—but she had to admit she would far rather marry Philip than any other man her eldest brother would choose for her.

It was a strange thing to admit, but despite the shock of the circumstances, Lydia had to admit she was grateful for Philip. There were men who sought out women caught in scandals—they preyed on them, offering marriage in return for renewed respectability. But such men were lecherous, seeking their own gain, and a compromised woman would have no choice but to accept. In this, at least, she was being given a choice, and it was a far better choice than any other. She knew she was compromised, and if Philip was willing to help her—to help them both—so be it.

"No… I know. It's just… a lot to take in," Lydia said.

He put his hand on her arm and smiled at her. "It won't be that bad, will it?" he asked.

Lydia laughed. "No, it won't be. I just hope you're not as irritating as you used to be," she teased.

Philip smirked. "The same could be said for you, too."

Lydia raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm not irritating. Name one occasion when I was, I dare you," she demanded.

But before he could answer, the door opened, and Lady Morton almost fell through, followed by Ezra and the others.

"Lydia… I… well, it seems the two of you have reached an agreement. How glad I am to hear it," Lady Morton stammered out, making no attempt to disguise the fact she had been listening at the door.

Lydia glared at her—and at Ezra. This was a matter entirely of her brother's making, and it angered her to think he had interfered so readily in her future—in her happiness.

"Is everything arranged?" Ezra asked, fixing them with a questioning look, as though he had expected her to protest the matter more than she had.

Lydia nodded. There was no point in arguing. To refuse would be to create even more difficulties for Philip, and she had no wish to do that. As for a scandal, she did not particularly care what others thought of her. She found it astonishing to think anyone should care about a kiss in the shrubbery at a ball. But apparently, they did, and the look of relief on Ezra's face was palpable.

"Good. That's a relief," he sighed, shaking his head.

Lydia glared at him. "I'm glad we've saved your precious reputation, Ezra," she drawled.

Lady Morton looked at her sympathetically. "Oh, but this is wonderful, Lydia. The two of you will be very happy together, I'm sure. Lucy and I said as much the other day at the ball, and while we might not have wanted the circumstances to be as they are, the outcome is certainly pleasing," she said, beaming at them both.

Lydia did not understand why everyone thought she and Philip made such a good match. Granted, they had been friends—close friends—but there had never been any question of anything more. It was not as though this marriage had been arranged when they were babes or children. They had just happened to meet again, and the possibility of a kiss had arisen in the heat of the moment—it had been deliberate.

"I'm grateful to you, Lydia," Philip murmured.

Lydia smiled.

She reminded herself again that it was not his fault. But it was not hers either. She reserved her displeasure for Ezra, and when Philip had departed—promising to call on them in the coming days—she poured her wrath on her brother.