10. A Celebration

A CELEbrATION

L ydia watched as his gaze scanned the room, and the moment it landed on her, he paused, his eyes warming to the color of dark chocolate.

He’d told her that, for the two of them, a future together was impossible, but he was wrong.

The hint of a smile dancing on his lips sent pleasant tingles racing down her spine.

Not impossible at all.

When Lord Westerley stepped forward to greet Jeremy, congratulating hand outstretched, the almost unworldly connection between her and Jeremy was broken, leaving Lydia feeling momentarily bereft.

But then she realized that this was something of a special moment for him, and her disappointment was swept away and replaced with unexpected contentment.

The other gentlemen guests stepped forward as well to express their appreciation, and he was quickly surrounded. Slaps on the back ensued, and Westerley pressed a glass into his hand.

When Lydia next managed to catch a glimpse of the man of the hour, she almost laughed out loud at his expression of confusion and disbelief. He hadn't expected this. Lydia held herself back, happy to witness his triumph.

She didn't really understand the significance of purchasing a shipping company, or why it had been so important, but it was obvious he'd met with great success. Watching him receiving the honor of his contemporaries warmed her heart.

As Lady Westerley edged up beside her, Lydia couldn’t help but ask, “I realize they are all invested, but it’s not as though they have profited yet, have they?”

“They haven’t, no,” Lady Westerley assured her, smiling kindly. “But, for Lord Tempest, this purchase wasn’t really about the money or the business end of things at all—or at least, not entirely. You see, a band of smugglers has been operating through Ludwig Bros. for quite some time now, causing trouble for the military and other legitimate businesses in the area, and he intends to put a stop to it. In the past few years, the gang bosses have widened their territory beyond the docks—to the clubs and to legal trade. Westerley says that they’ll never contain these types of criminals completely, but Lord Tempest… Well, he’s tackled the root of it. I rather believe that this—” she waved her hand toward the doorway where the men were gathered “—isn’t only about the investment but is actually a gesture to signify their support.”

Lydia watched the group of men who appeared ridiculously confident, if not outright cocky, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

He did not have to do everything alone—even if he’d ended his friendship with her brothers. She was happy for him, but she was also a little sad.

What had Lucas and Blackheart done to him? But then that question prompted another—Was it possible that Jeremy’s involvement in this business at the docks was connected to Lucas and Blackheart? She had heard them discussing Ludwig Bros. Shipping and wished now that she’d bothered to actually pay attention.

Before he died, Jeremy’s brother, Arthur, had been involved in an ambush where weapons had been stolen. Weapons that might have been shipped to them by Ludwig Bros., perhaps?

“Do the gang bosses smuggle weapons?” Lydia asked.

“Mostly,” Lady Westerley answered. “That and various libations.”

Lord and Lady Baxter’s manservant chose that moment to announce dinner, and all of her rational thoughts fled when, freed up at last, Jeremy strolled in her direction from across the room. Lady Westerley offered him her own congratulations and then joined her husband, leaving Lydia and Jeremy alone.

He was quiet as the two of them stood watching the other couples drift out of the drawing room, and Lydia did not feel the need to press, sensing he required a moment to ground himself.

It wasn’t until everyone else had exited that Jeremy at last tucked her arm into his and lead her toward the door.

With two actual dukes in attendance, a room full of countesses, and a baroness, Lydia felt positively outranked for one of the first times in her life.

“You look stunning tonight.” Lydia jumped when his breath caressed the side of her face. “You were born to wear that color of blue”.

She’d chosen the gown intentionally. “I remember it’s your favorite.” She glanced down, feeling warmth flood her cheeks.

“Cobalt. The first time I stared into your eyes, I thought my own were tricking me.”

“No tricks.” She felt like humming beside him. She had missed this! And yet another layer had been added to their relationship; something electric now vibrated beneath their conversation.

She’d not really… flirted with him before. They’d been friends who held deep affection for one another, but there had also been a certainty to their match. Or so she’d believed.

“You cannot have been more than six.” He chuckled. “God, but that makes me feel old.”

“You are not old.” She squeezed his arm. “You were eighteen at the time and just returned from school to visit Blackheart.” Her parents had been gone for two years already. “You took tea with Lucinda and me. But you refused to hold my doll.”

“Your brothers never would have let me hear the end of it. As it was...” He bit off what he’d been going to say, as though he’d nearly forgotten he despised them now, and Lydia felt a pang of sadness. But surely, he could not despise them forever, could he?

They entered the long dining room, and he dropped her hand in order to draw out a chair for her to sit. A single seat that was flanked by chairs occupied by the Duchess of Goldthwaite and Baron Chaswick.

He gave a quick bow and then left her to take a seat at the opposite end of the room.

The mention of Blackheart must have reminded him that he had intended to keep away from her.

She tempered her disappointment by telling herself that, at least now, he seemed to be torn, which was far better than his frame of mind four months ago.

And if the heated glances he persistently sent in her direction were anything to go by, it was possible that his feelings for her had a chance at winning the battle in the end.

She hoped so, anyhow.

“Would you mind driving Lady Lydia home this evening? Her driver’s horse… er… threw a shoe and had to return to Heart Place early?”

Jeremy looked at the Countess of Baxter skeptically. “It threw a shoe in your drive?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been telling Baxter that we needed to repair it.”

“Of course.” He chuckled. “I am at your service.”

It was almost a relief really. Jeremy had been the one to bring up Blackheart, and he’d caught himself all but reminiscing, speaking of the man fondly. With his objectives unbalanced, he’d avoided her, which hadn’t been fair of him. She deserved better—she always had.

And fool that he was, in the end, he’d suffered for it and wasn’t at all certain that he’d actually been successful. Because he couldn’t keep from appreciating her even at a distance. Her hair shone like ebony silk, the flush of her cheeks reminded him of pink and white roses, and not only did her gown match the color of her eyes, but it hinted at the lush curves he’d found himself craving late at night.

And craving in the morning.

And craving at other most inopportune moments.

He wasn’t the sort of man to vacillate with his intentions. He never had been.

In truth, guessing that Lady Baxter had sent Lydia’s coach home herself, doing a bit of matchmaking, Jeremy conceded that he ought to be thanking the clever countess. It was the final push he needed to make this decision once and for all.

He would entertain this blasted indecisiveness no longer.

He wanted Lydia in his life regardless of what her brothers had done. He would live with the consequences—for her.

He would come to terms with the knowledge that by giving into his heart, he would sacrifice a piece of his family’s honor.

He’d do the one thing he’d sworn he never would: betray his brother.

But Lydia would be in his life again. And he needed her.

He exhaled, shakily.

The object of his thoughts appeared in the foyer then, looking tentative and a little confused. “Clarissa says my driver had to leave early and that you’ve offered to provide me with a ride? Mr. Smith is fetching my coat and then I’ll be ready to leave.”

“Very good.” Her scent rose up to tantalize him, the sweetest of flowers. The drive would be a short one, but they would be alone.

“Jeremy, are you… in danger?” Her question had Jeremy glancing at her curiously.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’ve taken on these dock criminals. They cannot be happy about your interference.” Her brows lowered in concern. “I knew dealing with them would become necessary eventually, but I had thought it was mostly children… Like Ollie’s brother, and their friends.”

He didn’t want to lie to her, but neither did he want for her to worry.

Baxter’s butler approached, however, successfully preventing Jeremy from having to do either.

“Your carriage awaits in front, my lord.” The butler turned. “Your coat, my lady.”

Jeremy intercepted Lydia’s coat and held it up. When her gaze met his, he felt more than a little sheepish, remembering that he’d intentionally refrained from helping her into her coat not too long ago at the Wicked Earls’ Club. Instinctively, he had to have known she was a threat to his objective.

Was this still the case?

He let his hands linger on her shoulders before leading her outside.

He’d never find another person like her. Despite everything, she’d not wavered from him in any way—not in her words, her feelings, or her intentions.

Her love for him had persisted, unconditionally.

His heart swelled.

As the door to the carriage closed behind them, with her seated beside him on the front-facing bench, Jeremy realized he wasn’t quite ready to bid her goodnight yet.

“Is your Aunt Emma expecting you home at any particular time? Or would you be amenable to driving around a while?”

She turned in surprise but nodded. “No. I mean, yes. I mean… No, she isn’t expecting me and yes, I am quite amenable to your suggestion.” She laughed. “It’s a lovely night.”

The tightness in his chest eased. He was making the right decision.

He lowered his hand between them and when she did the same, he entwined her fingers with his and squeezed gently.

Being with her had always been good for him. How had he managed so long without her?

He pounded on the ceiling using his cane and, after giving his driver new instructions through the small opening, closed the small sliding door and settled in beside her again.

Lydia was the first to speak. “Quite a banner day.”

“My preparation paid off.” Jeremy exhaled loudly, running his free hand through his hair. “It’s why I haven’t been able to take you to see the progress at the warehouse.” It was the truth; he’d spent his every waking hour gathering documents and sorting through reports.

“I wasn’t sure…”

“I’m a fool. I should have made time for you.” He released her hand and slid his arm behind her shoulders instead, turning so he could see her better. “How are you?”

Such a simple question, and one that usually had an obvious answer.

“The truth?” The mere fact that she’d ask him this was revealing enough.

“Ah, Lydia.” She was so very precious to him—even more precious than before. “Tell me.”

He felt the small tremor run through her and pulled her closer.

“I’m… hopeful. But also afraid.”

He’d hurt her. But she had reason to hope again.

“Because of what happened between the two of us?”

She nodded slowly.

“Come here.”