Chapter 3

"I'm not, no. Should I be?" Philip asked.

Lydia blushed. "No, but… I'd have thought… Well, it was likely," she stammered out.

Having three brothers and growing up surrounded by their friends—Philip included—had given Lydia a certain predisposition. She was neither prim nor retiring, and she often spoke her mind without thinking. She saw nothing rude or improper in such an inquiry, even though others might have thought her blunt.

"I'm not engaged, nor betrothed, nor courting. Nor nothing," he affirmed.

Lydia smiled. "Then I apologize for my mistake."

"And what about you? Aren't you promised to a gentleman? I was sorry to hear about your father, though I'm sure Ezra has some plan in mind. Does he?" Philip asked.

As it happened, Ezra had taken Lydia's side in the matter of matrimony. While Derek was insistent on a swift match for the sake of morals, Ezra's view was more inclined to freedom of choice. He had already told Lydia she was under no duress to marry, despite their mother's objections.

"He doesn't, no. There's no arrangement. He knows I wouldn't have it," Lydia replied.

"Would you cut your hair if the matter was forced?" he asked.

Lydia laughed.

Philip had always been able to make her laugh, though there were times when she found him infuriating, too. On her part, she had always liked to tease him—not to the point where he grew angry, but enough so as to remind him she could give as good as she got…

"It would depend on the man, I suppose. I've done it once, though, haven't I? I'd do it again if necessary," she said.

Philip shook his head. "Do you mean to tell me there's been no one? Not at all?" he asked.

Lydia shrugged. "I danced with men at balls. I had some call on me the following day. But I think I put them off—or my circumstances do, at least."

Philip narrowed his eyes. "How so?" he asked.

"Well, having three brothers, and preferring gentlemanly pursuits, makes me somewhat intimidating, I think," she replied.

Lydia enjoyed horse riding and carriage racing. She was an accomplished fencer and could shoot pistols better than any of her brothers. Her love of books had led her down many avenues of interest, and she had particular expertise in the sciences and mechanics. It was perhaps no wonder some men found her intimidating, while others simply brushed her aside for women more like Caroline…

"Perhaps, but having grown up with you, I'd say the opposite is true. You don't intimidate me," Philip said.

Lydia smiled at him. "I'll have to try harder then, won't I?" she replied.

He was about to retort—he always had a reply at the ready—when Graham appeared in the ante-room, carrying a tray of empty coffee cups.

"The footman brought it in the end but didn't bother to collect it. But I see you've found your distraction, Lydia. It's good to see you, My Lord," Graham said, setting down the tray on the table and holding out his hand to Philip, who smiled.

"Oh, not you, too, Graham. You don't need to call me that," Philip groaned.

"But that's what you are now. Ezra doesn't balk at being addressed by his title, and neither should you," Lydia said, shaking her head.

Philip smiled at her.

Lydia was surprised at how easily she had slipped back into her old ways. Talking to him, teasing him, bickering with him—it felt just like before, and now she glanced at her brother, who seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Well… we won't stay for long, Lydia. I think Mother's had enough. It's all rather… disorganized. And Caroline and Edward are leaving soon," he said.

"I'll be there shortly." Lydia nodded.

Graham then left them to conclude their conversation.

There was still so much she wanted to talk to Philip about—her earlier dread at seeing him now turned into nostalgia. She felt at ease in his company, and she was beginning to realize the folly of having dreaded their encounter.

"It's really very good to see you again, Lydia. I've… missed you," Philip admitted.

Lydia's heart skipped a beat. It was strange to hear him say such a thing. When he had left, she had missed him, too. But she had learned to live with the fact and had barely given him a second thought in the years gone by. But there was no doubt she did feel glad to have encountered him again—if only to allow a moment of reminiscence.

"I'm glad to see you again," she said.

He smiled. "Well… I'm back in London now. I've finished at Oxford, and now… responsibility beckons. Perhaps we could see one another again?"

Perhaps Lydia should have refused—telling him the moment had passed. She had been fearful of seeing him again, but her fear had turned into curiosity at the sight of him. She was glad to have this conversation with him, and there was still so much she was curious about.

"I'd like that," she replied.

Philip smiled. "Then I'm sure we will, as and when time allows."

There was no definite commitment, and neither did Lydia wish to make one. He had let her down before, and as much as she knew seven years was a long time, she did not want to feel that same hurt again. For now, it was enough to get reacquainted, and to leave the possibility of seeing one another again hanging in the air.

"I'm sure you're very busy now," Lydia said.

She could not resist a slight dig at him. If Philip had a fault—and Lydia was well aware of her own, too—it was a disposition to self-importance. She remembered it well, his eulogizing over the importance of a good education, and his insistence on Eton being a place where the leaders of the future were taught.

Philip blushed. "Yes… the demands of the county take up much of my time. But I'm sure there's a chance of us meeting again soon—certainly in less than seven years," he said.

Lydia smiled. "I'm sure."

She wondered what he was thinking. Had he suspected she would be at the wedding? The thought had occurred to her as soon as she had received the invitation—a fact she had found curious in itself, after all this time. But still, she was curious about it. It had surprised her to learn he was unmarried, not even dallying or courting. But whether purposefully or merely the result of circumstance, she did not know.

"Well… I should say goodbye to our hosts. My cousin has been… most generous," Philip said.

Lydia laughed. "That's one way of putting it. My aunt's livid over the marriage. She thinks my cousin has married beneath her station. Not that she has a title herself, or two pennies to rub together. But never mind, I'm sure they're very happy."

"Do you remember when we were children?" Philip asked. "It was always the four of us, and your brothers. We made quite the impression, I'm sure."

Lydia nodded. She remembered long summer days in the garden or in the park, running and chasing, delighting in the simple pleasures and pursuits of childhood.

But all that was gone. They had grown up, and what had been was no more. She had a nostalgia for the past, and it had been that sense of nostalgia she had mourned when she and Philip had gone their separate ways.

"We did, yes. But that was a lifetime ago. We should say our goodbyes now," Lydia said.

Philip nodded and smiled at her, giving her a curt bow.

Lydia curtsied.

It had been a joke they had shared when they were children, always greeting one another formally, and saying their goodbyes in a similar way.

"It really has been so nice to see you again," he said as he straightened.

"My Lord," Lydia replied, grinning at him, and he shook his head and laughed.

"Oh, there you are, Lydia. I thought we'd lost you," Lady Morton called as Lydia entered the drawing room a few moments later.

The tables were being cleared, and the guests were getting ready to depart. Derek helped Lydia put on her shawl, and the five of them joined the line to say goodbye to the newlyweds.

"You and Philip had a lot to talk about, Sister," Graham remarked, winking at Lydia, who blushed.

"I'm so pleased to hear that the two of you spoke again after all these years," Lady Morton piped up.

"It was only a brief conversation, Mother," Lydia pointed out, glancing at Graham, who was still grinning at her.

"Still, from the smallest seeds…" Lady Morton insisted, and Lydia rolled her eyes.

The line for farewells stretched through the three rooms where the dining tables had been set up. It seemed all the guests were eager to leave, and the harassed-looking woman with the trolley was barking orders at the two footmen, who scurried back and forth with piles of dirty plates in hand.

Ezra shook his head. "Did Aunt Letitia even bother to show her face? I must say, I don't blame her."

"She complained of a megrim almost as soon as she arrived and retreated upstairs, though goodness knows what she found there," Lady Morton murmured.

The house was covered in dust, and an atmosphere of faded grandeur hung in the air. There were rumors about Edward's fortune—or lack thereof—his father having apparently gambled it all away and left his son with nothing but a title and a crumbling estate. But to look at the happy couple—Caroline's mood had improved somewhat during the celebrations—was to see two people obviously in love.

Lydia was happy for her cousin, even as she felt certain Edward's lack of wealth and resources would cause them problems later on.

"I'm sure Edward can improve things. He's a resourceful man," Ezra said.

"You should encourage him in business—ask him to join you in an investment. You're related now," Lady Morton suggested.

Ezra raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't go that far, Mother. And we're hardly related—cousins-in-law. Is that even in the table of kindred and affinity?" he asked, shaking his head.

They were almost at the front of the line now, and up ahead, Lydia could see Philip and his mother congratulating the newly married couple, the two cousins shaking hands.

"Once again, my congratulations to you, Cousin. To you both," Philip said, smiling at Edward.

Edward placed his hand on his cousin's shoulder. "Thank you, Philip. I couldn't have done it without your support," he replied.

Philip turned to Caroline.

"Thank you for welcoming me into your family so readily, My Lord. I must say, it's an honor to find myself now related to such an esteemed figure," Caroline said.

Lydia rolled her eyes, glancing at Graham, who was trying hard not to laugh.

"Like mother like daughter," he whispered, and Lydia nodded.

Caroline was a snob, just like her mother. She was gushing over Philip, who now looked thoroughly embarrassed.

"Well, that's very kind of you to say," Philip replied.

"Yes, the Earl of Walford is a most esteemed title. And to think I'm related to you… well, the very mention of the name is surely enough to excite any drawing room," Caroline continued.

Lydia groaned, and her mother elbowed her in the ribs.

"Lydia," Lady Morton hissed, but Caroline was too caught up in her fawning over Philip to notice.

Further compliments were given, and Philip eventually left, assuring Caroline he would be a frequent visitor. As he and his mother left, he turned back, briefly catching Lydia's eye. She smiled at him with a knowing look, and he smiled back at her and shook his head.

Lydia knew he knew what he was thinking. She was glad to have seen him again, and she readily admitted to herself her own part in their having drifted apart…

"Caroline, what a wonderful celebration, and such generous hospitality!" Lady Morton exclaimed when it was their turn to congratulate the happy couple.

"We're so glad you could make it, Aunt Joanna—all of you," Caroline replied, turning to Lydia's brothers, and then to Lydia.

"Thank you, Lord Westborough. We must… repay your generous hospitality at some point," Ezra said, shaking Edward's hand.

Edward smiled. "Thank you, Lord Morton. You honor us with your presence. I must say, isn't it nice to all be back together after so long? Philip, too."

"I was just saying as much to Lydia. I'm so pleased the two of them got reacquainted," Lady Morton said.

Lydia detected a hint of resentment behind Caroline's smile. Her cousin hid it well, but Lydia could not help but wonder if Caroline was not jealous at these words, for she would surely have preferred an earl to a baron for herself

"Ah, yes, the uniting of two families. How delightful," Edward agreed, oblivious, it seemed, to his new wife's opinion on the matter.

"Do you plan to honeymoon?" Lady Morton asked.

"A few days in Bath, nothing more than that," Edward replied.

Again, Caroline looked somewhat resentful. It was as though she was torn between her obvious feelings for her new husband and the fact of her now diminished prospects.

Upon debuting, a woman was feted with offers if she possessed the right qualities. She had choices, but in marriage, choices were made for her.

Caroline had made her bed, and now she must lie in it. Perhaps she was now realizing this, destined to live a life of limited means, unless her husband's fortunes dramatically increased.

Lady Morton smiled pleasantly. "How nice."

After exchanging more pleasantries, they said their goodbyes, but as Lydia left the house with her mother and brothers, she could not help but think back to Caroline's words to Philip.

"Don't you think it's strange how obsessed she is with rank and privilege?" Lydia asked as they climbed into their waiting carriage.

"I don't think so—not considering what her mother's like. She's beginning to realize she's married into neither, I think," Ezra replied.

"But she has no choice now, has she? Why resent it? He's a handsome man, and perhaps his fortunes will improve," Lydia mused.

Ezra shrugged. "No, I suppose not. But that's her problem, isn't it? She knew he was penniless before she married him. I'm sure he's put himself into further debt with the celebrations today. But perhaps she's got plans for him—she's ambitious."

Lady Morton tutted. "Hardly a celebration—watery soup, undercooked fish, burned beef, and melting ices. There wasn't enough wine, and the servants had no idea what they were doing. Still… a happy occasion, I'm sure. I'm just glad to be leaving," she said as their carriage took off.

But Lydia would remember the wedding, not for its terrible food and obvious lack of organization, but for the fact that she had encountered Philip.

She had been anxious not to see him, but having done so, she had been reminded of all they had shared together—of memories of a past she had thought forgotten. And now she found herself wondering if they really would see one another again.