Chapter 15

Chapter 15

One Month Later

While the days are long, the time still seems to pass too quickly. Short nights spent getting to know one another were quickly coming to be some of Lydia’s favorites even though she knew that the wiser course of action would be to keep her distance.

That night, they were all dressed up to attend their first public event together. As a group, they had spent so much time with the girls that it almost felt strange to be doing something without them present. An interesting opportunity to see if getting to know one another had been an effective way to suppress the feelings within her. Though, if sitting next to him in the carriage was any kind of indication, she was going to say no.

His thighs were spread just enough that she needed to keep her knees clamped tightly together. On the other side of the carriage, her sister kept giving her speculative looks and arching her eyebrow as if somehow Lydia was being too obvious with her current affliction. She could not help the fact that being near to the duke constantly physically affected her.

The conversation had been stilted over the last couple of hours, and they headed to the soiree at Lord Flaty’s home, one of their closest neighbors. The governess was at home with the girls, and Lydia would have opted to stay home for the simple fact that her imagination was running wild.

What was she thinking, attending an event like this again with the duke? But Kitty did technically need a chaperone for functions like this, spinster or not. Though, with the way that William kept looking at her, perhaps she was going to need the chaperone for an entirely different purpose.

Her sister was maturing right before her eyes, and she was allowing herself to be so distracted that she was missing milestones. Over the last few weeks, Kitty had been happily stepping up and performing more of the house duties so that Lydia had more free time on her hands to argue with Weston over the books and ledgers.

Which, naturally, left William and Kitty to get to know one another.

Lydia’s impulse was to intervene, but she was determined to let them figure things out for themselves while they still had the opportunity to do so. At least she would be able to observe them while the pair socialized at the ball. Perhaps they might even share a dance or two. Lydia could not even recall the last time that she had seen her sister dancing with anyone.

What she did not like was the fact that from the moment she stepped out of the carriage, she seemed to be the center of attention in their small grouping. She could feel them looking at her in her black gown with pitying eyes. Lydia did not need, nor did she wish for, their pity.

Her grief was her own to shoulder and she did not wish to discuss it. However, not wearing the black dress would have been far more scandalous and would have caused far more people to speak about her.

Pleading that she needed to attend to her sister, she tried to circumvent their prying questions about the future of their estate and what she planned to do next. But following after Kitty and William caused her to lose the duke in the process.

Though, it was entirely possible that he was lost in the sea of people himself. It was not every day that there was a duke to entertain. Some jealous part of her wondered just how many of the ambitious mamas and their eligible daughters will approach him with offers, or inquiries about his status.

What answer would he give them?

It should not matter. He was a free man; he could answer things however he liked. Yet knowing that did not abate the desire to know if he would indulge them or not. The attendees tended to be rather hungry for gossip and would be only too eager to speak to a duke with such an infamously rakish reputation.

She was not jealous. There was no room or time for her to be jealous.

“Good evening,” A voice from beside her said. Lydia turned slowly to see a tall man with sharp, symmetrical features and sandy blond hair. Deep brown eyes that were almost black and dark brows. Objectively, he was very handsome. But he simply was not her type. Certainly not when the literal man of her dreams was in the same ballroom as her.

“How do you do,” Lydia said politely with a nod of her head in his direction. She hoped that it would not be a lengthy conversation.

“Very well now that I am in the company of a beautiful woman such as yourself.” The man continued. His smile was pretty, and the flattery was always kind but for tonight… it was unwelcome.

Given the dress that she wore, there could only be one reason for him speaking to her—he was after whatever wealth that he believed her to have. Or worse, he was a rake and wished to take advantage of her apparent loneliness.

Lydia hummed noncommittally and turned her focus back to Kitty and William.

“Would you like to dance?” the man asked, seemingly unaffected by the fact that she did not engage in conversation with him. “I will not take no for an answer.”

Another girl would likely be charmed by his forwardness. Perhaps he would be a wallflowers dream partner as he cupped her elbow and guided her toward the dance floor. She was not even given the proper amount of time to react.

He placed his hands in respectable places, pulling her into a familiar dance despite the fact that her feet almost felt too heavy to complete the movements. She could not cause a scene or embarrass herself by storming off the floor. She had to endure it.

Was Weston watching her?

“It is so impressive for a woman in your situation to come out so soon.” The bachelor started, though Lydia did not think that it was a very good start to a conversation. “I cannot imagine how stressed you must be trying to shoulder the burden of her late husband’s fortune and navigating such uncharted waters without his guiding hand.”

She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck starting to prickle. Did he truly think that was a polite inquiry or statement to make? It was offensive. She smiled tightly, choosing not to answer him.

“Do you have plans to remarry? There are a great many eligible men here tonight. Though, I would like to say that I was the only one yet to have the gumption to approach you.”

The man chuckled, smiling with such a winning air about him that no doubt he was the sort of man who was highly accustomed to women falling at his feet. Did it not bother him that she had not even spoken more than a few words to him, or that he was carrying the whole conversation?

Irritation started to bubble within her as he took it upon himself to pull her closer. Lydia’s hand braced against his upper arm, attempting to push him away from her but she was slipping.

Mercy found her in the form of the duke tapping the gentleman on the shoulder. “Might I cut in?”

“Actually—” the man started to protest.

“It was not actually a question.” Weston insisted, shouldering the bachelor out of the way. The man gave an indignant full and pouted right off of the floor. “I hope that you do not mind the intrusion.”

“You have rescued me again, my lord.” Lydia said with a quirked eyebrow.

“I could see the irritation radiating off of you in waves, my dear.” Weston answered as he effortlessly stepped into the rhythm of the music. Silence fell between them for a long moment. It felt too familiar to be there in his arms. The setting was of course different; the dance, and the fact that she could see his face now… but it was still too familiar. She could not help but to allow herself to drift back to the memories that were imprinted upon her very being.

“Is that what it was?” Lydia could not resist teasing him. “I would have thought that you were jealous, Your Grace.”

“Me? Jealous?” Weston said, pretending to not know what she was saying at first. “Absolutely.”

She almost did not think that she heard him correctly. He added the acknowledgement in as almost an afterthought. This possessive side of him was something new. She should not find it so alluring that he wanted to have her all for himself.

“Or, perhaps I only intervened to spare you from the odious man, I suppose you will never know the truth.” Weston added, and she could not help but smile up at him. “There was talk from some of the other ladies that that particular gentleman is something of a fortune hunter. I suppose that it would not be fair to call him a true gentleman.”

Lydia knew that Weston could say what he wished, but the grip of his hand against her waist and the fact that he seemed incapable of pulling his striking eyes from her own told her otherwise.

“If you ever choose to remarry, I hope that it is not too bold of me to offer my opinion, but it should not be to a man such as that.” Weston added, pulling her slightly close as they moved into the next section of the dance.

The air in her lungs felt as if it were growing thinner with every inch of space between them that was lost. She could not stop the question burning in her mind from tumbling out of her lips. “So, what sort of man should I marry, then?”

“Somebody who can handle you, obviously.”

He spoke as if the answer ought to have been obvious to her. The duke’s gaze upon her was fierce, steady, and she was helpless to keep her body from responding to him.

“You deserve a man who understands how intelligent you are. Somebody who can properly challenge your stubbornness and push you further.” Weston paused, the corner of his lip curling upward. “Perhaps an older man, wise… and experienced…” He leaned in closer to her, whispering in a way that let her feel his breath against her ear. “One who knows how to properly pleasure a woman.”

Lydia nearly tripped over her own feet at his forward words. Heat blossomed in her core and traveled lower. Instantly, she wished that they were not surrounded by others and that she might have the freedom to answer such words in the way that she wished. It was nearly impossible to conduct herself in the manner expected of her. Though, that was no doubt his intention. He did like getting such a rise out of her.

It only served to make her even more aware of the way that he was touching her—the hand that heated her skin through her dress, then dancing along the line of her waist as if promising that he was exactly the sort of man that she needed.

Once again, as she had so very many times before, her imagination supplied every way that she had ever fantasized about him, playing over and over in her mind. It was the least helpful thing to be thinking about when one is attempting to appear unbothered.

The dance came to an end and she swayed unsteadily on her feet the moment that he released her. She could still feel the ghost of his hands upon her, and wished desperately to know the feeling of them against her bare skin.

Weston took half a step back from her, bowing at the waist as he placed a chaste kiss to the back of her gloved hand. No doubt the man was delighted in rendering her speechless. Uncomfortable in her own overheated skin, she mutely curtsied before hurrying off the dance floor.

She needed to get a hold of herself, and quickly.