‘Watch me,’ Harry advised, as he absorbed Jeremy’s somewhat ominous words. He’d definitely need to look into them. ‘Now is there anything else?’ His heir was spoiled by a doting mother and grandmother, but deep down, up until then, Harry had always been certain a decent and sensible young man lurked, so why on earth had he pitched the story of need, greed and must do? Harry was at a loss. Who, or what, on earth could send his heir into such a deep and imploring mood? Surely young men were supposed to sow their wild oats and not be thinking of marriage. He, of course, should be the opposite.
He wasn’t. Harry went over all the conversation in his mind. As much as he needed to get on, something in the tenor of it all worried him. He’d have to challenge Jeremy, and see how he wriggled out of explaining.
‘Hold on a minute. If my ears do not deceive me, and they never have before, I think you said you wanted her and changed that to love.’ Harry stared at Jeremy long and hard. ‘Which is it? And why? How do you think you can make sure you will have the lady? That strikes me as ominous.’
Jeremy mumbled something Harry didn’t catch. He thought it was ‘how do I know anything about how a woman’s mind works but I need to marry soon’; however, he couldn’t be certain. Harry reined in his ire. ‘What does the lady say?’ Harry asked mildly. Losing his temper at that moment wouldn’t help. ‘Where did you meet her?’
‘I saw her at Lady Finlay’s,’ Jeremy muttered. ‘She is almost on the shelf and needs to marry. Why not me?’
‘Saw her? That is not a very satisfactory reply. And then?’ Harry pressed on and ignored the negative attitude of his heir. Jeremy had the look on his face that intimated he was uncomfortable with the route the questions were taking. The one which, if his mama were around, she would immediately make haste to dispel. Not so Harry.
Jeremy looked mulish. ‘One look was all it took. Once I knew who she was, I knew she was the only one for me. I danced with her and knew. She would do.’
Harry raised his eyebrow. Do? What was behind all this? ‘One look across a crowded room, one twirl around the dance floor, and you decided that how?’ he asked sardonically. ‘What else comes into it?’
‘Nothing and I just did. We’re not all like you, you know. I love her and that is enough. If you persuade mama.’
Harry now understood for certain that his nephew and heir was a fool. Not that he believed Jeremy was in love for one second, but who on earth married for love, anyway? Such a fleeting sensation, soon lost and buried in the annals of time. Was she ill and about to die in the near future? Did Jeremy know how much she was worth? Harry knew to the last pound, for he kept his ear close to the ground where money was concerned, but he didn’t think Jeremy so wise. Over the years the information about Lady Lydia Field’s wealth had, to his mind, been severely downplayed. Most people now thought she had a comfortable fortune, no more. He thought different, but did Jeremy?
‘Do not mistake lust for love,’ he advised Jeremy. ‘And do not think to slake your lust with a lady. There are others more suited for that.’
I bet my fortune, that love has nothing to do with it. Now, to discover why Jeremy needs her.
Chapter Two
Harry stood in the shadows and watched as Lady Lydia Field glanced around the ballroom and limped in a roundabout route towards an anteroom he knew would be empty. Her usual slow and apologetic gait was purposeful, albeit uneven. Had she injured herself somehow? That apart, she seemed… he hesitated in his thoughts. All he could pinpoint was that somehow her persona had changed.
What had he stumbled upon? Harry decided he’d been sadly misled by his peers and deceived by his own eyes, and that flash of something fiery he thought he had spotted a few nights before was real. Once you looked past her unassuming, disappear-into-the-background attitude and usually lacklustre response to anyone’s comments, Lydia Field was stunning. He could well imagine his heir in lust with her; he was halfway towards that condition himself. Nevertheless, she did not conform to his criteria for a lover – widowed or someone who knew the score – and although she was said to be biddable and make that sort of wife, he wasn’t on the lookout for one of them at that moment in time, either. However, he could still look and admire, surely.
Her skin was clear and a soft shade of pearly pink, her blue eyes sparkled and her blonde hair shone like spun silk. He mentally rolled his eyes at his silly, poetic words. Since when had he thought of a woman’s attributes in such a way? Or noticed how this particular woman curved in all the right places. What had he been missing? Obviously he’d walked around with his eyes shut, or his mind on other things. This lady had no need to be ignored. Why had no one seen what he now saw? Then, to his amusement, she blinked, swallowed and almost faded into the background before him. Lady Lydia Field was a conundrum he was now determined to solve.
Or maybe, he pondered, as he remembered that recent, impassioned plea from Jeremy Mumford, it seemed Lady Lydia Field was clever and only showed a certain part of her personality. And figure. But why? And how, therefore, had she come to Jeremy’s attention? Harry remembered a half-listened-to conversation from earlier in the evening. Something about a fortune if you overlooked her banality? Was it Lydia his peers had been talking about and her wealth known? Damn, now he wished he had paid more attention but, as trivia bored him, he’d ignored it, and concentrated on his cards. Two threes and a five wasn’t going to win the pot.
Now he stood transfixed as the lady hesitated by the antechamber door, glanced around furtively and then swiftly went inside. Intrigued, he followed her. Was she meeting someone? Was he about to break up a romantic tryst? Maybe even with Jeremy, who he hadn’t as yet spied at the ball. So be it. Harry opened the door and stepped inside the tiny chamber. It was empty apart from the lady he followed.
Lydia looked up from the chair she occupied. As he closed the door behind him, she closed her eyes and sighed. ‘My lord? You should not be here, and please not with a closed door. You will ruin us both.’
Harry leant back on the door and surveyed her thoroughly as she lifted her lashes and stared at him with her deep-blue orbs. ‘Not me, I am already ruined in many eyes, and care nothing about the rest.’
Her luscious breasts heaved under her low-cut dress and a pretty, rosy hue began to spread upwards from them. ‘I, however, am not nor wish to be. Go away and leave me alone. I reiterate you should not be here.’
‘Why not? You are.’
‘That is why.’ Again the flash of something other than docility showed briefly in her eyes, before she blinked and the illusion, if that was what it was, disappeared. Harry studied her absently. What the hell had Jeremy got himself into? Who was this woman, or more to the point, what was this woman?
‘My lord?’ a hesitant voice said. ‘Are you well? You seem troubled.’ Good God, he’d forgotten the woman sat before him. Never mind him, she was obviously in pain; he’d noticed the wince and the way she had trouble formulating her thoughts. Heavens, she’d sounded almost animated for a split second.
Nevertheless, fine blonde hair twisted into a complicated knot, with delicate wispy tendrils loose around her creamy cheeks, blue eyes and an hourglass figure made his body and his mind sit up and notice. He had a weakness for those attributes in a female. That half-formulated plan of earlier began to niggle him again.
Jeremy must be saved from his own impetuousness. After all, hadn’t he finished his diatribe by saying sullenly that, whatever happened, he would have his own way? And admitted love didn’t come into it, even though he had refused to explain why he was so intent on marriage to Lydia and flounced out with the threat that he would get what he wanted come what may. To say Harry was concerned was an understatement. The sooner they got to the bottom of it all, the better for everyone. Even, he supposed, Jeremy.
What had happened to his intention never to get involved with anyone who might have marriage in mind? Until it was the shy, biddable wife he intended many years hence. Disappeared, it seemed. He still had no intention of
marriage, but a little dalliance, without breaking his own rules of no virgins, no innocents and no one who wasn’t up to snuff, would remain in place. For if it solved the problem of Jeremy he would pay attention to Lydia and see what happened.
‘I wondered how you have hurt yourself,’ Harry said slowly as a plan began to simmer in the back of his mind. ‘You were limping.’
‘Oh.’ She bit her lip and the rosy crescents increased in colour. ‘I turned my ankle as I stepped over the lintel. So silly of me. I thought to rest if for a few minutes.’ Alone, her tone implied.
‘And get a respite from the rabble?’ Harry said teasingly.
She chuckled and broke it off abruptly. ‘I would not be so rude, my lord. But yes, it is pleasant to sit quietly for a while.’ She studied him for a moment. ‘Alone.’
‘Alone, I cannot allow. And do not say it is not up to me, for we both know it is.’ To his secret amusement she shut her mouth with a decided snap. So the lady had been going to argue.
‘Will you give me the pleasure of your company on the terrace for a short while?’ Harry asked his companion, urbanely. ‘If your ankle will stand it. We can be alone but not alone there, if you understand me. Perfectly acceptable, whereas here…’ He let his voice quieten.
Lydia jumped. ‘Oh, my goodness. Yes, I understand.’ She looked up at him from under impossibly long, honey-gold lashes. ‘But why?’
Two words full of suspicion. He couldn’t blame her; he’d never, ever indicated by so much as a wink or a nod that he had even a flicker of interest in her. Now it seemed Lady Lydia Field had more to her than those limpid pools of blue, otherwise known as her eyes, the hair of spun silk and a figure to hold and caress indicated. Good God, now he sounded like one of those awful books he’d heard women loved to read and accused Jeremy of behaving like a character from. Why had nobody brought the lady’s delicious attributes to his attention before?
Probably no one looked closely enough to see them. Including me.
‘The cooler air might help your pain. Plus, it had been remiss of me to neglect you,’ he said smoothly, every inch a gentleman of the ton. ‘I feel behove.’
‘Why? You have never shown the need before,’ she said bluntly, and put her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh, my lord, I do apologise at my rudeness.’
Harry laughed. ‘No, don’t go and spoil it. I like this side of you.’
Did she really say ‘I was afraid of that’?
Lydia shook her head. ‘My mama would be aghast at my lack of respect. Perhaps I best return to her side before I totally blot my copybook. If you would excuse me, my lord.’ She curtsied and began to turn.
Harry stopped her by dint of taking hold of one wrist. ‘To my certain knowledge, you, my dear, when you forget yourself, show you have spirit,’ he replied amiably. ‘It intrigues me. Perhaps we should further our acquaintance. Here, where so many other people are milling around, will attract attention. The terrace is within view and will cause less interest than anywhere else.’
‘If you think that, you are deranged,’ Lydia said bluntly. Evidently she had forgotten her need to efface herself. Harry hoped she would continue to do so.
‘I’m not your type, my lord,’ she continued. ‘Everyone knows a man like you would have no interest in me. Even thus far will have people wondering how much brandy you have taken. So, again, why?’
That was much too complex to reply there and then, and to be honest he wasn’t sure he could answer. He was no longer sure of his motives. Originally he had thought to be unethical and divert some of her attentions from Jeremy to himself. Thence to try and get to the bottom of why Jeremy thought it necessary to wed her. But now, he understood that there was more to it than that. Exactly what more he wasn’t going to try to discover. Not yet.
Now he accepted he wanted to get to know the lady… just because…
‘Are you promised to anyone?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Have an understanding?’ If she had he might need to rethink his tactics.
‘Good lord, no,’ she said, startled. ‘Why on earth would I? I am single by choice and intend to stay that way… Ah.’ She went red and shut her eyes briefly. ‘I mean, my lord, who would want me? I’m past the age of men offering for me.’
‘But you would like some air; I’ve seen you look longingly towards the gardens.’ He hadn’t, but it was a calculated guess. ‘I’ll say Lady Raith asked me to, if you like,’ he said with the lazy smile he was aware usually made a woman turn into a simpering imbecile.
Lydia Field was made of sterner stuff, it seemed. She ignored it.
‘But she hasn’t,’ she pointed out. ‘And that doesn’t answer my question.’ Lydia paused and he swore she counted to three and did her best to compose herself.
Curious.
‘Truly, my lord, you are most kind, but there is no need.’ Her voice had no animation, no expression and again he wondered at her chameleon-like abilities.
Harry grinned. ‘Yes I am, and yes there is. Go into the ballroom and give me five minutes.’
He stared at her until she inclined her head, smiled oh so sweetly, and curtsied. ‘You are too gracious, my lord.’ She somewhat spoiled the meek and mild persona by muttering under her breath. Something along the lines of, God save me from high-handed men?
Really? Surely not? Truly, Lydia Field needed investigating. Harry turned on his heel and went in search of his godmother.
‘You want what? Why?’ Lady Raith asked suspiciously three minutes later, as Harry ran her to ground as she swept up the stragglers in the dining room and shepherded them towards the ballroom. ‘What do you want with her? Hold on.’ She pointed at a young lady who stared longingly at Harry. Lady Raith raised her voice. ‘Miranda Forrester, go on into the ballroom now. Your mama is waiting for you.’
The young deb, in a dress that Harry considered was first cousin to a meringue, blushed, curtsied and left the room.
‘Silly chit,’ Lady Raith said with a chuckle. ‘What do they see in you?’
‘My charm? Wit?’ He shook his head. ‘Lord only knows, I do nothing to encourage them. They just keep appearing in my vision like flies.’
His godmother snorted. ‘Really? Poor deluded things. As you insist you give them no encouragement, it’s more likely your fortune. Now, where were we? Lord, Harry, you do confuse me.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘Stop changing the subject.’
Harry laughed. ‘Of course, my dear, and of course I would never cast aspersions on your summing up of the situation.’
Lady Raith guffawed. ‘Bad boy. Ah yes, Lydia Field. Why her and what are you up to?’ She narrowed her eyes and stared at Harry with suspicion. ‘She is not for you.’
‘I’m up to nothing, Rosie, not a thing.’ Harry spoke soothingly. His intended dalliance was for only him – and, when it happened, Lydia – to know about. ‘The lady in question turned her ankle on the way in. I thought a breath of air might help. Especially after the last ball she was at, where Donkin hit her accidentally on the cheek and was sent home bosky. Him not her. She seems to be accident prone.’
‘I should hope she wasn’t bosky,’ Lady Raith said indignantly. ‘We women do not get bosky. And you can hardly call her accident prone if it was Donkin’s fault,’ she pointed out acerbically. ‘And, do not call me Rosie – I feel like an apple if you do. Rosemary,’ Lady Raith said automatically, as she patted Harry’s cheek. ‘Always Rosemary and you know it. You are a good boy.’
The ‘boy’, well into his late thirties, grinned and ignored the niggle of remorse for not owning up to his true intentions. How could he, though, when, all of a sudden, he wasn’t totally sure of them himself? ‘I try.’
‘Hmm. Very well, where is she?’ Lady Raith asked as Harry bussed her cheek. ‘No need for that. I know damned well you’re up to something, and no doubt you’ll tell me what in your own good time.’ She patted his arm. ‘Let’s go and see if we can find young Lydia for you.’
‘I believe she is sitting outside the antechamber to the right of the b
allroom. The one you call the blue room,’ Harry said. ‘For the love of God, Rose… Rosemary, do not intimate I asked for the introduction. It might make her faint on the spot. I rather think the lady in question would prefer not to be the centre of gossip. If people think it’s you being your usual medd… oh, you know what I mean.’ What a load of twaddle he was spouting. Not the meddling bit – that was oh so true, as he had often found out to his detriment in the past – but the rest.
‘I never meddle,’ Lady Raith said with a twinkle in her eyes.
Harry snorted.
‘Bad boy. Not unless I deem it necessary, anyway. Now, promise me something. Be gentle, Harry, she’s not the sort who understands innuendo and the badinage you men enjoy with ladies of a more robust nature. Lydia is a quiet, biddable, sweet young thing. She’d make any man a dutiful wife.’
He nodded. ‘I hear you.’
‘But are you taking heed, I wonder?’ she asked shrewdly. ‘All I’ll say is remember your rules. Shy and biddable is not for playing with.’
His godmother sounded so certain about Lydia’s mindset, Harry wondered if he had imagined those few times of vivacity. Maybe it was down to her situation at that moment? Although the thought of that young lady, naked, and writhing under him in ecstasy as he discovered the true woman beneath the prim and proper and boring persona she presented, was enough for him to rue how tight his clothes were.
Harry smiled vaguely, discreetly adjusted his now more than interested cock, and ran his finger around the top of the immaculate cravat that threatened to choke him.
Whatever, he still intended to go on with his plan. She was a puzzle he aspired to solve.
‘You don’t need to worry, love,’ he said emphatically. ‘I have no intention of getting leg-shackled any time soon, and as for setting up my nursery? Really, can you see me willingly with a hoard of scrubby offspring?’ The mental picture that conjured up – of blond-haired, blue-eyed moppets – struck an uncomfortable chord he couldn’t define in his mind.
The Lord's Persuasion of Lady Lydia Page 3
