Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

“ Y ou did what?” Juliet’s whispered voice narrowed into a high-pitched shriek as Lydia told her the full truth of her deal with Ezra.

“Hush!” Lydia hissed, her eyes darting toward the door.

Her father would find out about the duke’s change of heart soon enough, but he did not need to find out like this. When she was sure no one was coming into Juliet’s room, Lydia looked sternly back at Juliet. Her sister gave her an apologetic glance and blinked as her eyes filled with tears.

“This is not what I wanted,” Juliet sobbed quietly, reaching for Lydia’s hands. “Sister, your freedom is everything to you! You cannot trade it for me!”

Love and sadness poured from Lydia’s heart at her sister’s kind words. It was not what she wanted for herself either. In fact, it made her heart race and her mind reel with anxious thoughts, so much so that she was not sure if she needed to cry or be sick. But, despite her own terrors, Lydia gave Juliet a hesitant smile and pushed her own feelings aside. She would deal with them later. Much later when she was certain that no one would need her or search for her.

“My dearest, my freedom is mine to trade,” Lydia replied warmly, then placed a quick kiss on Juliet’s fisted knuckles before patting them. “And if it earned you your happiness, then it was a trade most worth making,” Lydia let out a little laugh as she stood up and busied herself with getting Juliet’s hair undone. Normally a maid would do such a thing but since Lydia would soon be leaving she wanted to do it as much as possible.

“The Duke of Frampton is a brute among men, to be sure,” Lydia went on, “But in the years that I have had to interact with him at parties, I have noticed that he can collar that brutality when he wants to. I shall simply have to find a way to entice him to do so.”

Juliet turned toward her with an incredulous look as Lydia began to brush her hair.

“Do not underestimate such a task, sister,” Juliet warned, “He may be “collared” by his friends, but that took them years. They are also men.”

“And all of them would tie him up to a horse and whip its flanks if he ever laid a cruel hand on me,” Lydia replied, hoping to soothe the tense conversation with a dash of humor and truth.

She felt relieved when she heard a soft laugh leave Juliet’s mouth as she shook her head.

“Duncan and Alice will not be living with you,” Juliet insisted, her voice again quiet and worried, “They will not always be there to protect you.”

Unable to assuage the fear and worry in her sister’s voice, Lydia quickly finished the simple braid in Juliet’s hair and let out a deep sigh as she walked around the bed to smile at Juliet.

“Do not do this, Juliet,” she commanded softly as she knelt before her and held her gently by her shoulders. “What is done is done. You now have another chance to wait for your darling baron. This was the one and only chance I could give you to wait for him. Use it wisely.”

Juliet’s eyes filled with tears again, making her appear even more childish and innocent.

“You speak as if you are saying goodbye,” she rasped. “Are you going to be leaving so soon?”

Lydia swallowed a sudden, hard lump in her throat and forced a nod.

“The duke had wanted a swift wedding with you. I am assuming that will not change. He only made his decision tonight, but I suspect that he will be alerting Father as soon as tomorrow.”

“The duke will never let me see you again,” Juliet sobbed, then put her hands to her face.

Lydia’s heart broke for her little sister as she wrapped her arms around her and put her down on her bed.

“That is not true,” she soothed, “That is simply not true.”

As she did for her when she was little, Lydia gently stroked her fingernails down Juliet’s back and sang her one of their mother’s lullabies. Eventually, Juliet’s sobs slowed, then so did her sad little hiccups, and by the time Lydia finished the final lyrics to the third lullaby she was sleeping deeply. Gently, so as not to wake her, Lydia slid out from around her sister’s smaller frame and positioned her head comfortably on the pillow. Lydia caught the drying tracks of tears still visible on Juliet’s cheeks and she felt her heart hurt again. She had done the only thing she could to save her sister from heartache, and yet she had somehow broken her heart anyway.

“Lydia,” Owen called as Lydia was gently closing the door to her sister’s room.

Lydia felt her stomach clench as she heard her father’s deep, slightly slurred voice. Why? She pleaded silently, drawing what little strength she had left into her with a breath. Why now?

“Good evening, Papa,” she greeted him cheerily. “Did your engagement go well?”

Owen glared at her, his ruddy cheeks ruddier from the alcohol.

“Mind your business. I ask the questions not you. Now tell me. How did your sister perform this evening? Has she won back the duke’s attentions?”

“I believe the duke will be gracing us with a visit to our house as early as the morrow,” Lydia replied, choosing her words carefully.

Relief flooded through her when Owen did not question her, but instead laughed and clapped his hands together gleefully.

“I knew it,” he boasted, smiling wide. “See what happens when you girls obey me? Things go right!”

The start of a laugh came out so sharp and so quick that Lydia barely had time to turn it into a pretend coughing fit. If he only knew what news Ezra would be delivering. She prayed that she would be present in the room to see her father’s face. The surprise. The confusion.

“Yes, Papa, of course, you are right,” Lydia only agreed, curtsying toward him.

“Indeed, I am,” he murmured, nodding more at the wall than her, “now go to bed. We shall need to be up early tomorrow.”

Lydia quickly bid him goodnight and all but collapsed against her locked bedroom door once she’d finally made it inside. Away from her father, from Juliet, away from everyone, Lydia let her thoughts about all else fall away and called forth her own feelings.

She pushed past the moments when she’d wanted to slap and strangle Ezra for his taunting and his games; past her sense of relief, shock, and accomplishment when he’d announced her as his bride-to-be and onward, to the kiss. But it was not a kiss. Not really.

Lydia brought her fingertips up to her lower lip and gingerly felt around until she touched upon the small ridge of the bite mark. It had not hurt at least not really. It was not like the pain she usually felt when accidentally biting her lip or cheek whilst eating. Even now, although it still throbbed under her fingertips, it did not hurt. It just hummed and throbbed, mimicking her heart.

After their encounter she’d looked at herself in the mirror at her earliest opportunity, believing that he had marked her although her friends had said nothing to that effect, there were no marks on the outside of her mouth, no visible proof at all that Ezra had grazed his teeth on her lips and claimed her as his own. And yet she felt it in her entire body. It was strange, frightening, exciting, and she wanted to know one thing more than the rest: what did it mean?

“Your Grace!” Owen sputtered, choking on his morning tea as Ezra strode confidently into the Knight’s dining room.

Ezra felt a rush of enjoyment as he watched Owen sputter and cough as he dabbed at his wet face and ruined surge, but instead rolled his eyes away from him as bored and focused on the two ladies in the room. Juliet still looked as wide-eyed and fearful as usual, but Lydia’s face was a mask of cool, even haughty ease. She kept her eyes on him calmly as she slowly brought her cup of tea up to her mouth and took a slow slip.

Their moment in the garden the previous night flashed vividly in his mind. He felt his manhood stir to life as he recalled the warmth of her body against his; the taste of her lip as he left his mark and the way her body shuddered. Not in fear but in pleasure.

“Welcome to our home, Your Grace,” Lydia greeted politely after enjoying her tea. She rose gracefully and offered him a charming curtsy before motioning him toward a seat.

“Yes, Your Grace, please,” Owen urged, still coughing. “Forgive us, our butler normally alerts us that we have…”

“I insisted I show myself in as I am terribly busy today and have little time,” Ezra announced, cutting him off.

Ezra paused for a moment and gave Owen a look that dared him to delay the purpose of his visit any longer.

“Proceed, please, Your Grace,” was all Owen could manage.

“I have decided that I shall indeed take a Knight daughter for my bride, Sir, but my preference has fallen to Lady Lydia. I applied for an early license first thing this morning and we shall be wed in four days. A private affair. No reception.”

While Owen paled and began to sputter his dissatisfaction at the news, Lydia only continued to eye him coolly. The bronze and gold flecks in her green eyes were not ablaze today, but he knew she was ready for him. She would attack and defend Juliet at a moment’s notice if he misbehaved. He almost smiled at the thought.

Ezra slowly dragged his blue eyes from Lydia to Owen, the subtle shift in his face making the patriarch stop his sputtering in an instant.

“Your disappointment is noted, Sir, and as recompense, you may keep your daughter’s dowry. But my plan remains as it is, regardless. I have business to address in Frampton directly after the wedding, so a trunk carriage will be arriving in two days for Lydia’s things. Now, my solicitor has drawn up an agreement and I suggest you sign it so that we may all move along.”

Ezra produced the document from his inside jacket pocket as well as a portable pen and laid them both on the table in front of Owen. The man spared one more pleading glance toward Ezra, but with a simple raise of his brow, Owen bowed his head and signed his name on the document.

“You are sure it is Lydia that you desire?” Owen asked as Ezra plucked the pen from his hand to sign his own name.

“Juliet is younger and sweeter. She will be the better wife for you, I promise you, Your Grace.”

Ezra finished his signature with a flourish and then tucked the pen back into his pocket before he coldly replied, “Tell me, Lord Knight, do you intend to be so open about your dependency upon your eldest daughter’s parenting skills, or are you truly not aware that you are so obvious?”

From behind him, Ezra heard Lydia’s startled laugh, and this time he could not help the smile that grew on his lips. He could not love her or be tender with her, but he appreciated that they seemed able to impress one another. As she’d proven last night, she would do well in drawing him the business he needed to get him out of his father’s debt and had decided he had indeed made the right choice.

“Please forgive me, Your Grace. I…no, of course, I do not feel such a…I mean, I love my daughters, truly, but I…”

“That is enough,” Ezra sighed boredly, tucking the now-dry document back into his pocket. “Our business has been concluded. I shall send you the details of the ceremony by the end of the day. Lady Lydia? Walk me out, would you?”

Ezra did not check to make sure that she followed him, but he could not help feeling a sense of relief when he heard her heels clicking behind him in a slow, ladylike fashion. He paused briefly outside the dining room, waiting for her to catch up, and bowed his head toward her.

“If I did not despise the position you have put me in I would say that I was impressed with what you did to my father,” Lydia said by way of a greeting.

Her blatant welcome shocked him as much as it impressed him, and he huffed out a breath of a laugh.

“If only,” he retorted dryly, letting his eyes roam down her figure.

She wore a long-sleeved, soft, creamy-white linen dress cut close to her lithe figure, with a neckline that ended just at the base of her throat, where a cameo dangled on a thick black ribbon. Her brown hair was once more styled primly and prettily atop her head; never too gaudy or overdone, just neat and clean. And yet, somehow, she was so much more than what the eye could behold.

His sights fixed on the cameo again. It was a young woman carved into the ivory; a silhouette so similar to Lydia’s it was uncanny. But what drew him more was the intense black of the thick, glistening ribbon that kept it strung around Lydia’s slender neck.

Delightfully slender, Ezra silently noted, then wondered what it would feel like to hold such a delicate neck in his grasp; to feel the pulse in her jugular vein beat rhythmically into his palms as he squeezed.

“You will have to forgive the rush but as I stated before, your presence will be required in certain social and business situations,” he forced himself to say as he pulled his eyes back up to her face. “Now that you have won our little game, I suspect that will not be a problem for you?”

“Not at all,” Lydia replied.

Though her voice was serene, the bronze and gold flecks illuminated her eyes once more.

“However, once my responsibilities are fulfilled, I will be sending for my sister for an extended visit.”

So fierce, Ezra chuckled silently to himself. He shrugged in response and studied his nails.

“Do what you wish as long as it does not interfere with my plans,” he replied in a bored tone.

Lydia balked at his retort as she had expected him to put up a fight, and he smirked as he bowed with mock enthusiasm.

“See you in four days, Duchess,” he said in a cold taunt.

Without another word, Ezra turned and left. Deep need railed inside of him as he climbed into his carriage, his entire body reacting to Lydia. When he had first caught her scent he had mistakenly believed it to be lark. He now realized her skin wafted with the heady scent of black heart cherries, which contained juice so dark and potent that it would stain everything crimson. It was so intense, so pure, that he could not believe it emanated from Lydia.

He recalled he’d smelled the same scent the previous night. It had been part of what had driven him to do what he had done to her. Even for him, the bite was much more forward than how he would normally go about being with a woman. This morning, when he’d smelled her intoxicating aroma for the third time, he had nearly launched himself at her.

She was going to be an annoyance, he realized darkly, as well as a distraction. Then, as if understanding it was already becoming an issue, he snapped his attention back to his valet.

“Start from the beginning,” Ezra demanded curtly, knowing he had not heard a single word.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the valet replied dutifully and obeyed. As the servant began to reread his notes, Ezra’s mind kept flashing back to Lydia and all the tiny details he was gathering about her. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he had made a grave mistake.