Lords of Misrule (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 4)

by Stella Riley

  Too shocked, as yet, to recognise she’d just been hoist with her own petard, Lydia stared back at him feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of her. It was several moments before she had any idea what to say or was actually capable of saying anything at all but eventually she managed to mutter weakly, ‘That’s not true. None of it is.’

  ‘No? I’m relieved to hear it. Odd as it may seem, we men like to believe our conquests are owed solely to our good looks and charm.’ Having recovered his temper, Eden felt mildly ashamed of himself. Not too much, however … because now at least there was some chance of clearing the air once and for all. He said quietly, ‘What was it, Lydia? Did you think I’d mind?’

  This time she had the sense not to ask what he meant.

  ‘Yes. Didn’t you?’

  ‘Not in the way you may have thought. And the real issue, as you must surely have realised, was not that you were a virgin but that I didn’t know you were. However, I can understand your difficulties in broaching the subject.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ mumbled Lydia.

  He hid a smile. ‘It’s just that it would have been better if I’d known.’

  ‘Better for whom?’

  ‘You,’ he said simply.

  ‘Oh.’ She searched through her disordered thoughts – now, thanks to him neatly turning the tables on her, more confused than ever – and said awkwardly, ‘But afterwards you were … different. Cold and distant. Angry, even. I thought that’s why you walked out.’

  It was Eden’s turn to struggle for the right words. He frowned down into the untouched glass of wine in his hands and, deciding that he needed it, took a hefty swallow. Then he said baldly, ‘It was. And yes, I was angry. But with myself – not you.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘No. I suppose not.’ He drained the glass and set it aside. Partly because he was curious and partly to evade what was obviously going to be her next question, he said, ‘May I ask something? It’s not my business and you don’t have to answer if you’d rather not … but why didn’t Stephen consummate your marriage?’

  Lydia stared into the fire for a long moment.

  ‘He said that, at his age, he didn’t need a second wife but that marriage would give me standing and security. He also said that I deserved a young lover, not an old man. He even hinted that if I were to meet someone and … well, he wouldn’t mind very much so long as I was discreet.’ She sighed and then said meditatively, ‘At first I thought he preferred to remain faithful to his wife’s memory or that perhaps he simply didn’t want to sire more children. Later, I wondered if there hadn’t been someone else in his life … a woman circumstances prevented him being with. Either way, he made it clear from the beginning that he’d no intention of lying with me. I didn’t mind. We were happy as we were.’

  ‘And you were never tempted to take advantage of his offer?’

  She looked puzzled. ‘His offer?’

  ‘Yes. You said he more or less gave you permission to take a lover.’

  ‘No!’ She sat up very straight. ‘I mean – yes, he did. But I’d never have done so – never! After his kindness to Aubrey and me … God! How can you even ask that?’

  ‘Ah.’ Eden looked down at his hands. ‘You’re insulted.’

  ‘Of course I’m insulted!’ she began. And then stopped, remembering. ‘Oh. How stupid of me. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ The hazel eyes rose to meet hers, their expression enigmatic. ‘The fault was mine for being crass enough to ask a question to which I already knew the answer.’

  ‘You like blaming yourself, don’t you?’

  ‘I don’t believe so. What makes you think it?’

  ‘You said you were angry with yourself earlier,’ she replied simply. ‘Why?’

  Eden suppressed a groan.

  Damn. I hoped I’d got away with that.

  He said baldly, ‘I’d intended to reduce the chances of getting you with child. I didn’t.’

  Lydia stared at him. ‘I don’t understand. How is that possible?’

  Hell. He really didn’t want to explain this but could see that he was going to have to.

  ‘It’s done by withdrawing at – at the optimum moment.’

  He watched her trying to figure this out and finally doing so. Tilting her head and in a perfectly matter-of-fact tone, she said, ‘That sounds … awkward.’

  Awkward? He wanted to laugh and tell her she had no idea. He wondered how she’d take it if he said, It’s not awkward, darling. It’s bloody murder. But after Jude was born it was the only way Celia ever let me near her so I got fairly good at it.

  No. He wouldn’t say that. She didn’t need to know and it demeaned him. So he merely said, ‘It’s … difficult … but not impossible. I should have done it. Having discovered it was your first time, there was even more reason to be careful. But I wasn’t. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Is that really why you …?’ She stopped and waved a hand in the direction of the door.

  ‘Fled? Yes. And for what it’s worth, I apologise for that as well. It’s hardly surprising that you wanted to flay me. I deserved it.’

  Lydia smiled for the first time since he’d re-entered the room.

  ‘I forgive you. And as for the other thing … there’s very little chance I’ll conceive. It – it was only once, after all.’

  ‘It only takes once,’ he replied a shade grimly. ‘You must know that.’

  ‘Yes. I suppose so.’ She swiftly suppressed the foolish quiver of warmth at the notion of having Eden’s baby. ‘However, I still think it unlikely enough not to be worth worrying about. We’ll know in a couple of weeks, anyway.’

  Eden finally looked into the heart of the truth that had been hovering about him since he’d first left her bed. He didn’t want to wait two weeks. Neither did he want it to be ‘only once’. He wanted it to be as often as they both felt inclined. He also wanted her … in his life, every day, in every sense there was. And there was only one way he could have that.

  He cleared his throat and said slowly, ‘You could marry me.’

  Lydia stared at him, struck dumb with shock and feeling something painful twisting inside her chest at the certain knowledge that he couldn’t really mean it – or, at least not for the right reasons. He’d always been very clear about his views on re-marriage; understandably so. And though as Venetia had said, that might have become a habit, it wasn’t one Lydia could see him breaking without a struggle. She wished he hadn’t said it. She particularly wished he hadn’t said it in that odd tone of voice.

  Managing something resembling a tiny laugh, she said, ‘That’s a bit extreme isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Purely on the remote possibility I may have conceived? Yes. I think so.’

  ‘It isn’t …’ He stopped, wondering why it suddenly seemed so difficult. ‘It wouldn’t be purely for that.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it?’ The sceptical note was back again but, before he could respond, another thought occurred and she said impatiently, ‘Oh for heaven’s sake! Please don’t tell me it’s because you’ve deflowered me. That sounds so ridiculous I can barely bring myself to say it.’

  ‘I know. And that’s not --’

  ‘I’m a widow, Eden. No one expects a widow to be a virgin. You certainly didn’t.’

  ‘No. But it isn’t --’

  ‘So if you’ve some muddle-headed ideas about honour and making an honest woman of me, you can forget them. I can share my body with anyone I like – and I didn’t share it with you out of any notion of entrapping you into matrimony.’

  ‘I know that,’ he said irritably, a part of what she’d said stabbing through him like a knife. ‘And none of this is why I asked you.’

  ‘Actually,’ she said acidly, ‘you didn’t. Ask, I mean. It sounded more like a suggestion – and a reluctant one at that.’

  It was at this point that Eden realised that exhaustion was robbing him of the ability to think and reducing him to the point
of bumbling idiocy. It was just a pity that the same wasn’t true of Lydia who, it seemed, was still fully capable of tying him in verbal knots.

  An experienced campaigner always knows when to make a tactical retreat and how to do it in good order. Eden decided that this was that time.

  Coming to his feet, he said, ‘Perhaps we can resume this tomorrow. Meanwhile, if you’re half as tired as I am, you need to sleep.’ Crossing to her side, he kissed each of her hands in turn and added, ‘Goodnight, my dear. Everything will be clearer in the morning.’

  I hope.

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  FIVE

  Shutting his own door behind him, Eden crossed the room shedding his clothes as he went. He told himself he’d been sensible. If he’d stayed any longer with Lydia firing broadsides at him, he’d probably have done something both stupid and unhelpful … such as grabbing her by the shoulders and telling her to stop ripping up at him and listen. As it was, if she was left alone perhaps the night would bring, not just counsel, but a grain or two of tolerance.

  He’d expected to fall into oblivion as soon as his head touched the pillow. Instead, his mind was awash with images of everything the last few hours had brought. His fear when the note had arrived; the sight of Lydia, bound and blind, with a knife-wielding killer at her shoulder; the fight to get out of that bloody cellar; and later, joy greater than any he could ever recall.

  Dwelling on the memory of Lydia lying naked in his arms was not going to let him sleep. Unfortunately, neither was dissecting the conversation that had followed. He began by framing things he might have said or should have said … from whence it was a short step to searching for the words he’d need in the morning. He could only think of three.

  Three words didn’t seem very much. Perhaps it was all in the way one said them?

  * * *

  He finally slept like the dead and didn’t wake until the morning was well-advanced. He washed, shaved and dressed as quickly as he could, then tapped on Lydia’s door in the hope she might still be there. She wasn’t – but, given the hour, that wasn’t so surprising. Eden ran smartly down to the parlour, expecting to find her at breakfast. Instead, the room was occupied only by his brother, sitting at the table attending to some paperwork.

  ‘Where’s Lydia?’

  ‘Gone,’ replied Tobias absently.

  There was a moment of dangerous silence.

  ‘Gone?’ said Eden flatly. And then on a note of incipient temper, ‘She left … and you let her?’

  ‘Yes.’ Tobias cast Eden an oblique considering glance. ‘What was I supposed to do? Keep her prisoner here until you heaved yourself out of bed?’

  ‘After what happened yesterday, you were supposed to keep her safe, damn it!’

  ‘Me? Perhaps you ought to keep better track of your women.’

  Eden’s fists clenched and he swung away towards the door.

  ‘Go to hell.’

  ‘Stop.’ Tobias laid down his quill and turned round. ‘She’s perfectly safe. According to Alice, she was up while the fires were still being lit and determined to leave. Fortunately, her maid and a clutch of other women arrived bearing the usual female paraphernalia without which a woman can’t set foot outside the house. They were accompanied by Sir Aubrey and that young footman.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Eden, weak with relief. ‘I see. Good.’

  ‘The women clucked round Lydia like mother-hens and made enough noise to wake the dead – though it obviously didn’t disturb you. And then the whole tribe left.’ He stood up and smiled invitingly. ‘I don’t know what went on between the two of you last night … but whatever it was seems to have sent Lydia running for the hills. If you need some advice for next time, I’ll be happy to help.’

  Not without difficulty, Eden ignored this provocation. He said curtly, ‘Where did she go?’

  ‘How would I know?’ Tobias shrugged and resumed his seat. ‘Home? The lorinery? One of them, I suppose. I’m sure you’ll manage to find her.’

  Eden swallowed a curse and strode out.

  * * *

  Lydia had decided her first priority was to assess the damage at the lorinery. Before that, however, she needed to dismiss her protection squad. Assuring everyone that, in broad daylight, Peter was sufficient protection, she told Nancy to go home and sent Mary, Lily and Rachel off to their work, promising to visit later and tell them the whole story.

  Aubrey was less easy to dismiss.

  He frowned at her and said, ‘I should have thought that, after what happened, you’d be content to stay at home today. In fact,’ he added disapprovingly, ‘I don’t see why you couldn’t have returned home last night. I’d have come for you.’

  ‘I know – but my clothes were wet.’ Lydia turned away before he saw that she was blushing. ‘And Colonel Maxwell didn’t want anybody at risk out there in the dark when Quinn’s men might have been anywhere.’

  Aubrey huffed a little. ‘Well, I still think you could leave the men to the clearing up.’

  ‘I probably will once I’ve seen the state of the place. Now stop worrying and get yourself off to Shoreditch. Mr Morrell is probably wondering where you are.’

  He was finally persuaded to leave and, sighing with relief, Lydia turned towards Duck Lane … aware that Peter was shadowing her a step or two closer than before.

  Mr Potter met her in the workshop, looking both worried and harassed.

  ‘Miss Lydia – thank God you’re safe! We were all that worried when we got here this morning and saw the state of things – what with your cloak on the floor and your petticoats on the cellar steps. But Sir Nicholas told us what happened.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a mercy the Colonel was here. If he hadn’t been there’s no telling what might have become of you.’

  ‘No. He was very … resourceful. Now tell me – how bad is the damage?’

  ‘Nothing to speak of in here but the office is a mess. Papers everywhere. And I’ve got Cooper and Hayes outside sealing up the coal-chute as best they can. There’s no working on it from inside yet – the water’s up to about four feet. Worst it’s ever been.’

  Lydia swallowed, grateful it hadn’t been that deep last evening.

  ‘And upstairs?’

  ‘Best go and see for yourself, Miss Lydia – but watch your step. They’ve ripped up half the floorboards and Sir Nicholas is up there now trying to sort out what’s best to do.’

  At the top of the stairs, Lydia stopped dead and stared. The crates normally stored tidily, section by section depending on their contents, had been shoved against the back wall. Between them and where she stood, the space was largely bereft of floorboards – except where a few had been laid back down to allow access. Amongst all this, Nicholas was directing his immediate attention to the crates containing partly made-up orders while some men – those in possession of two good legs – gathered up the items Quinn’s crew had let fall into the gaps between the joists and others started attempting to re-laying the foot-wide oak planks.

  All these immediately stopped work to express both their pleasure in seeing her safe and their fury at what had happened to her. Lydia smiled, answered as best she could and was about to step into the room when Nicholas said, ‘Stay where you are, Lydia. Moving around is tricky if we’re not to have somebody putting their foot through the ceiling. We’ll get as much of the floor back as we can – but perhaps not all of it, thanks to the amount of damage.’

  ‘Do you think they got what they came for?’

  ‘Maybe – maybe not. It’s impossible to say.’ He shrugged slightly in his usual lop-sided fashion. ‘We can but hope. Meanwhile, are you all right? They didn’t hurt you?’

  ‘No. It was just very frightening. And if Eden hadn’t got us out …’ She stopped and then said, ‘I don’t know how on earth he managed it – yet somehow I just knew he would.’

  Nicholas suspected it was a fairly safe bet that Eden hadn’t been so confident. But he said merely, ‘I imagine he had something to say to you afterwards ab
out having come here at all.’

  ‘Less than I deserved.’ She looked around her. ‘There doesn’t seem much that I can do here apart from get in the way. I’ll go and see if I can restore order in the office so Mr Potter’s free to do other things.’

  An hour later and still up to her elbows in a muddle of loose pages, Lydia heard a familiar voice say crisply, ‘Where is she, Mr Potter?’

  ‘In the office, Colonel. And if I may, I’d like to shake you by the hand. That was a remarkable thing you did last night.’

  ‘Not especially. It was mostly brute force and ignorance.’

  Lydia had barely got up off her knees before Eden was in the doorway. He said, ‘Why are you here? And where’s Peter?’

  ‘Why do you think I’m here?’ she retorted, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the pages in her hand in an attempt to stem the tide of feeling the mere sound of his voice sent rushing through her. ‘And Peter’s upstairs helping Nick and the rest of them put the floor-boards back. If you’ve nothing better to do, you could lend a hand – though I’d have thought you’ve work of your own.’

  ‘Delegation,’ said Eden, shutting the door behind him, ‘is one of the advantages of being a Colonel. Why did you run away without seeing me?’

  ‘I didn’t. You weren’t up and Nancy had brought me some clothes, so --’

  ‘You ran away,’ he said blandly, ‘leaving behind unfinished business. And now you won’t look at me. Why?’

  She looked at him then and immediately wished she hadn’t. He was smiling at her with an expression she’d never seen before and which made her body remember things for which this very definitely wasn’t the time.

  She said feebly, ‘Surely there’s no more to be said about – about last night.’

  ‘There is … though not here and now.’ He paused and stepped back from her. ‘I’ll join Nick’s team, then. But tell me when you’re ready to leave and I’ll walk home with you.’ At the door, he turned back and added, ‘Don’t ask me to forget it happened, Lydia. I can’t.’

  As soon as the door closed behind him, Lydia dropped abruptly into Mr Potter’s chair.