Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Lydia stood against the far wall, her back perfectly straight, pensive as she searched yet again for Charlotte. The girl had a mind of her own, which infuriated Lydia beyond measure. Try as she had to shape Charlotte, she had been unable to. That father of hers had given Charlotte far too much spirit for Lydia's liking, and it was difficult to break now that the man had passed.

She pursed her lips as her eyes wandered over the guests. She had not wanted to come to this blasted ball in the first place. There were far too many distractions, too many handsome gentlemen who might capture the young and wealthy heiress' eye—and not least the Duke of Ashbourne. He was entirely unsuitable, regardless of what the girl thought, and Lydia would not stand for it. She had better ideas.

Lydia glanced over at the dark corridor opposite just in time to see Charlotte creeping out of it. Lydia narrowed her eyes. She knew a guilty expression when she saw one, and the girl had been gone for far too long. Did she really think her aunt wouldn't notice?

She considered for a moment marching over to her niece and demanding to know where the girl had been, what she had been doing. But the truth was, Lydia wasn't certain she wanted to know and besides, the girl would lie. Lydia doubted she had any shame at all. She was just like her awful father; that entire family had loose morals dressed up as modern ways of thinking.

But he certainly had financial prowess , she reminded herself.

She watched her niece scamper through the crowd, looking for someone to talk to, and soon she was dancing with a rather staid looking man. Charlotte's expression was one of polite acceptance, and Lydia nodded her head in approval. There would be no love match there, that was for certain.

Next, she searched for the Duke of Ashbourne. She had seen him arrive, seemingly in a flurry. As soon as he'd entered, his eyes roved around the room as if searching for someone. Charlotte? Perhaps, but Lydia hoped she was wrong. Or maybe that the man would use her and discard her. As long as marriage was far from either of their minds.

He looked sheepish too, or perhaps Lydia was merely imagining it. Either way, she needed to put a stop to whatever relationship he had with Charlotte, even if it was perfectly innocent. She watched as he stepped out onto the balcony, probably to cool his pink cheeks, but quickly behind him followed a young lady with golden locks and bright eyes. She had a furtive way about her, glancing around her as she stepped out to ensure no one saw her.

Lady Lucille.

Lydia waited for a brief moment then dashed across the room to follow them. This could be exactly what she needed to make things go her way. She stopped just outside the doorway and listened. She was not quite brave enough to peer in, but she could hear well enough.

"What do you want, Lucille?" the duke demanded. His voice was thick with irritation.

"Oh, don't be like that, Alex," Lucille said with a pout.

"My name is Alexander," the duke retorted. "But you may call me Your Grace."

"After all that happened between us?"

Lydia's mind raced. Lucille was the daughter of an old friend, though Lydia didn't know her well. She had heard something of Lucille's break up to some duke, but she hadn't connected her to this duke.

"Do you mean when I thought you would become my wife, or when you decided to marry my best friend instead?" The duke's words were cold, harsh. Lydia could tell he had been hurt in the past, but now he would not allow Lucille back in.

"I was foolish," Lucille said. "Did you not receive my letters?"

"I received them all right," he replied. "Though I did not read them. Did you know that parchment makes excellent kindling?"

"There is no need to be cruel, Alexander. Are you certain you cannot find it in your heart to forgive me?"

"There is every need to be cruel to the one who was cruel to me," the duke retorted. "And if it helps ease your conscience, you can consider yourself forgiven. I am coming to believe that your behavior was a lucky escape on my part. I do not wish to see you again, Lucille, do you understand?"

They slipped into silence, and Lydia strained to listen. The conversation seemed to come to an end, a thought confirmed when Lucille blustered back into the ballroom, her expression a mix of irritation and determination. She marched across to a passing waiter, nudging people out of the way as she went, snatched up a glass of wine, and took a big gulp.

Lydia followed.

"Lady Lucille?" she said. "Is that you?"

Lucille spun around and narrowed her eyes at the older woman. "It is, though I do not recognize you , my lady."

Lydia allowed herself a chuckle. "No, I don't suppose you'd remember. It has been many years. I'm good friends with your mother. Lydia Fairchild."

"I don't remember mother ever mentioning a Lady Fairchild," Lucille replied.

Lydia again allowed herself a self-deprecating chuckle. "As I said, Lucille, it's been many years. It would be good to become reacquainted, would it not?"

"I suppose so," Lucile replied, though Lydia could see the suspicion in her eyes. "I shall mention you to Mother and—"

"Or perhaps you could visit?" Lydia interrupted. She couldn't allow Lucille to get away. Though her plan was only beginning to form in her mind, she knew for certain that Lucille would be central to it. "Better yet, stay a few days. Our house in Kensington is superb. You'll love it."

Lucille hesitated for a moment. "Forgive me for my impertinence, Lady Fairchild, but why on earth would I want to do that? You are no more than a stranger to me, and my family's home is in Mayfair, far closer to the center of London and somewhat more impressive, don't you think?"

Lydia sighed, frustrated by her failure, though she couldn't help but admire Lucille's boldness. There was a certain ruthlessness in her so rarely seen in ladies these days.

"Very well," she replied. "I understand completely, but you ought to know this: I can help you get what you want."

Lucille snorted with amusement. "And you presume to know what I want, do you?"

"I know you made an error in breaking off your engagement with the Duke of Ashbourne in search for financial wealth," Lydia replied, making Lucille roll her eyes.

"Everyone knows that. The ton is nothing without its gossip, and I was the talk of the scandal sheets for some months."

"Indeed," Lydia replied with a nod. "But not everyone knows that you now wish to win the duke back, do they? Not everyone knows that you have seen the error of your ways. I overheard your conversation on the balcony, and I promise that I can help you get what you want. The duke visits my home often."

Lucille laughed again, shaking her head and looking away. "But I don't understand. Why would you do such a thing?"

Lydia took a deep breath. She knew she had to give Lucille something in return if she had any hope of winning her over. "It's my niece," she said. "She and His Grace have… well, they've become friends."

Lucille's smile grew. "And you don't approve?"

Lydia shook her head. "And if their relationship develops further, then you will have no chance of getting what you want, either. If we work together, then we can both win."

"Well, well, Lady Fairchild," Lucille replied. "I do believe you have yourself a deal."