Harry thought fleetingly of the many mistresses – and brief encounters – he had enjoyed over the years and decided his heir was both deluded and blinkered if he thought Harry uninterested in women. After his first foray into the realms of sexual fulfilment, Harry had chosen not to flaunt his mistresses or love interests. There was always someone ready to tittle-tattle and he didn’t think it fair or seemly that anyone he bedded should be subject to the scandalous mutterings of the dowagers and the cattish comments their peers might make. He’d been told by more than one lover that he was considered to be the one man no lady would turn down. One potential mistress commented she would be the envy of her friends if their liaison were made public. A specific note in her tone told him the lady would like nothing better, and ensured the undeveloped relationship immediately became a non-starter. Harry had no intention of being that sort of fodder for the gossips. From then on he chose his lovers even more carefully, and enjoyed the time he spent with them, in private.
A germ of an idea began to evolve. This could perhaps work in his favour.
‘Take it from me, there is an understanding between the lady and a certain gentleman.’ That was true anyway, if not in the manner he inferred. Harry stared at his heir, noted the petulant expression and decided to try another tack. ‘Jeremy, what has the lady said about all this? Is she encouraging you to go against all you know and be prepared to live on your allowance?’ Even though he knew the answer, he was determined to make Jeremy say it. ‘To accept straitened circumstances, perhaps be shunned by all and sundry, and ignore her responsibilities?’ It was a gamble, he knew. After all, as they both came from good families, any shunning would be short-lived. Most of their friends and acquaintances would want to know all the ins and outs of how, why and what their families thought about it all.
Jeremy glowered and refused to look at Harry. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know what?’ Harry pressed him.
‘What she would or wouldn’t be happy with, all right?’ Jeremy burst out sulkily. ‘How could I? I haven’t had the chance to approach her and ask her to marry me.’ He sighed dramatically. ‘We have danced and it was heaven. I love her so.’
Harry wondered if he’d died and gone to an alternative universe. Jeremy had just confirmed what Lydia had said. He hadn’t even spoken to Lydia about marriage and where did love come into the equation? What was he trying to put over? With every second Harry was certain Jeremy was up to no good. Was it even worth trying to explain that any true emotion needed something to fuel it? One look at his heir’s face decided it for him. Probably not. He wasn’t interested in anything except what he wanted.
‘All of a sudden you love her? I suggest you do not bother to ask for her hand,’ he said evenly. ‘For if you do, she will no doubt say no and also try to emasculate you at the same time. Save your gonads and your mama’s health and ask your mama for advice on whom to marry. I’m sure she’ll have some suggestions.’
And leave me to try and conduct my wooing before my gonads forget what they are for.
Chapter Seven
‘Did you know there are all sorts of rumours going about with regards to you and your betrothal?’ Esther asked a few days later. Her brown eyes twinkled with amusement and she grinned as Lydia jumped.
‘Pardon?’ Her skin heated and in any other circumstance she would have fanned herself. Had the ton somehow got hold of the wager she and Harry had made? Surely he wasn’t serious about it and was too much a gentleman to let it slip. Lydia had thought it all a bit of fun when she had refused him. After all, they had drunk a copious amount of wine, he’d held her close and kissed both her cheek and… she forced herself not to put her hands to her lips… and the other place he had kissed. She had floated to bed on a wine and Harry induced haze, and if a small part of her wished he had meant it, she squashed it firmly.
She was going to Devon.
‘You heard me,’ Esther said. ‘And you are blushing.’
‘It’s warm,’ Lydia protested. ‘That’s all.’
‘Blushing. It is incredibly galling to be your best friend and know nothing about it.’ Esther stretched her arms high before she sank back into a comfortable armchair, kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes to gain some heat from the fire. Then she sighed blissfully. ‘The weather is foul but this is so cosy.’ Outside it was raining hard, and instead of a walk in the park they had opted for tea and cakes in front of the fire. As old friends they didn’t stand on ceremony, especially in this snug room, allocated to Lydia as her own private sanctuary. ‘I must say I thought, if you were betrothed, you would have told me.’ Esther hovered her fingers over the plate of cakes and selected one. ‘Would you not?’ She took a delicate bite of sponge and closed her eyes in ecstasy. ‘Oh my, this is bliss. I would poach your mama’s chef if I could.’
‘You’d have to join the queue,’ Lydia said as she forced herself not to colour or look guilty. She picked up an iced bun and stared at it as if she’d never seen such a thing before. ‘I believe Alphonse, the chef, already turned down two earls and a duchess. Luckily, he is devoted to mama and told them in no uncertain, and very Gallic, terms that he would never leave her employ.’
‘Not even if you got married and asked him to go with you?’ Esther asked with a grin, and more than a hint of curiosity in her expression.
‘Not even then, and as marriage is not on my agenda, it’s not worth thinking about,’ Lydia retorted. ‘Whatever bee you have in your bonnet.’ She took a small bite out of the bun and forced herself to eat it, even though she had her doubts she would be able to keep it down. In a matter of days she’d be out of the ton’s orbit, and was sure that they’d soon forget about her. ‘Put that nonsense about marriage out of your mind, and think of other things. Like what cake to eat next.’ With her tummy churning as much as it was, Lydia knew it was going to be a hard-fought contest to see if her mind or her nerves won out. But to show trepidation would not further her insistence that there was no substance to the rumour. She took another nibble of the bun.
‘It’s not a bee,’ Esther said indignantly. ‘It’s not even me, it is other people. And you still haven’t answered my question. You would tell me as soon as it happened, wouldn’t you?’ She sounded hurt to think Lydia had withheld something so important from her. ‘After all, you could be secretly attracted to someone as good and loving as my Edward.’
Her tone made Lydia bite back the first snappy retort she had been about to utter. When she thought about Esther and her husband, a pang of something like envy hit her. If she could be sure to have what they had, it might even change her mind about the wedded state. Sadly, though, she knew such bliss was generally unlikely. Plus, Esther was of a milder and less assertive disposition and thought her husband could do no wrong. No person was such a paragon.
‘Of course I would,’ Lydia said as a lump of something nasty lodged in her stomach and stayed there. ‘However, I believe there is only one Edward and you have him. Oh, I don’t want your husband,’ she added hastily, in case Esther thought otherwise. ‘I’ve never thought of him other than as a brotherly type and a good friend, and I do not for one moment think there is anyone else like him to be had.’ Lord, now she was tying herself in knots. ‘Nevertheless, if such an unlikely thing ever happens, you will be the first to know after me and my poor, unfortunate betrothed.’
Her mind remembered all Harry had said and done. Surely he wouldn’t force her hand in this way? He was too honourable. Lydia poured two cups of tea and handed one over to her friend. ‘Out of idle nosiness, whom am I allegedly betrothed to?’
‘Ah now, that, my dear, is the interesting part. Thank you.’
Esther took the cup Lydia proffered, had a long swallow of the contents and leaned forward, all ready to impart the tittle-tattle she knew. As she was an insatiable gossip, Lydia accepted anything Esther didn’t know was not worth knowing. She also knew that if she told Esther anything in confidence it would never be passed on. A contradiction,
but a fact.
‘No one seems to have discovered where the rumour originated or from whom,’ Esther said. ‘I think, though of course no male will confirm it, there is a book on who, when, where and why.’
‘You what? How dare they!’ Lydia was enraged. It was one thing to have a private wager, but another for something like a book to be run.
Remember it may well have nothing to do with Harry. Ask him first, then fly off the handle if necessary. ‘The cads.’ Men were beyond the pale. This was her life they were playing with, not some nebulous entity. ‘It is not right.’
Esther shrugged elegantly. How she managed that every time Lydia had no idea, but she was envious.
‘Of course it isn’t, but it happens all too often. They are males, what more can I say?’ Esther asked. ‘They’d bet on two snails if enough people were prepared to put down their guineas. Anyway, do you want me to share all I have discovered or not?’
Lydia nodded and forced herself to calm down. ‘Yes, please.’
Esther took her time answering. She tilted her head and looked at Lydia speculatively for several seconds before she smiled. ‘Unfortunately, not much. I’ve been approached by no less than four so-called gentlemen and offered what can only be called a considerable bribe by two of them to divulge what I know, and the other two appealed to my better nature. Which is non-existent, anyway, so they stood no chance. I almost took the bribes, but as I know nothing it would have been immoral… probably… sadly. And Cranny wouldn’t have liked it.’ Esther licked sugar off her fingers and pointed at Lydia in mock accusation. ‘Are you sure it’s all make-believe? I’ve been informed you and Lord Birnham were mightily friendly the other night.’ She tilted her head to one side and looked at Lydia with speculation in her eyes. ‘You never said.’
Oh lord, no. ‘Nothing to say,’ Lydia said briskly as she leaned forward to stir the fire and therefore negate the need to look at Esther. ‘I told you. You know Lady Raith. Can’t abide to see anyone enjoying their own company. A few days earlier, I’d had to put up with bloody Lionel Baxford over supper, been bored out of my skull once more at Lady Raith’s, and was hoping for some minutes’ respite from the idiots who bray and bleat. Ha, no chance. Lady Raith pounced and poor Lord Birnham had to do his duty for a few moments. I’m not sure who was most embarrassed, to be quite honest; it was painful to see. We walked in the gardens and then he made good his escape.’
‘Harry Birnham does not bray and bleat,’ Esther said, indignantly. ‘He is a friend of my dear Edward.’
‘That’s as may be, but I did not want to be with him, and no doubt stultified him senseless.’ Not for one minute was Lydia going to tell Esther what actually transpired on the terrace. ‘He did the pretty and no more.’
‘Oh.’ Esther sounded disappointed. ‘That’s too bad. I really expected to learn more from you.’
‘If I knew any more, you’d be the person I told,’ Lydia assured her, not altogether truthfully. ‘I do wonder just how widespread these silly stories have got? It is somewhat annoying and, to be honest, rather depressing that people have to resort to such make-believe.’ She hoped her usual negative words would appease Esther. ‘I can’t think that the gossip is well known. Mama has said nothing and you know what she’s like. Probably started by some idiot in his cups with nothing better to do. Or else someone trying to make sure his own misbehaviour went unnoticed.’ Or so she hoped.
‘Hmm, I suppose many on-dits start like that, but they fizzle out,’ Esther said shrewdly. ‘This doesn’t seem to. As you would know if you’d been out and about.’
‘I had the snuffles. Mama decided it was best I stayed at home,’ Lydia said defensively. She had been more than happy to agree, for if she was not abroad, Harry could not try to continue his wooing.
‘It’s not like your mama to let you renege so easily.’ Esther drank some wine and studied her half-empty glass. ‘She must have some ulterior motive.’
‘Of course she has, when does she ever not?’ Lydia loved her mama but was under no illusions about her character and determination when she desired something. Attila the Hun could not even dream to compare. ‘We are to go to the opera tonight, and she really wants me to be there. The Barber of Seville.’ She sighed. ‘In Italian no less.’ She rolled her eyes and Esther giggled. Esther was under no illusions about how Lydia would feel with regards to the forthcoming evening.
‘Mama thinks it will be a good education as she says I am sorely lacking in musical appreciation. Which is true. I am, as you well know, tone deaf, but why after all these years she believes she can change me I have no idea,’ Lydia continued. ‘Plus, as you well know, I am lacking in Italian. All I can say in that tongue is va via and I learned that when that count person made a nuisance of himself to all and sundry a few years ago. It was incredibly useful, especially accompanied with a stamp of the foot.’
Esther spluttered into her glass. ‘I learned that at the same time.’
‘Yes well, it was needed. Horrible little man.’ Lydia looked at Esther’s glass, stood up to get a fresh bottle, and topped her friend’s wine up. ‘I do wonder sometimes if my mama has lists of things she wants to happen and goes through them in rotation ad nauseam, sadly unable to tick any of them off. She does, at regular intervals, tell me I’m uncooperative. And in her eyes I suppose I am. In mine I am merely exercising my right not to be coerced into anything abhorrent. Mama will not accept I am not like her. Therefore she harps on, perhaps thinking she will wear me down. She won’t, but still she tries, bless her. I am a sore trial to her ambitions. She still does not believe I will leave it all behind soon.’ Plus, Lydia was certain, without such things her mama would be truly alone and isolated. It was one reason she was not so vehement in her refusals to participate in the excursions her mama arranged.
‘You could be correct.’ Esther nodded sagely. ‘It is a trait of parents until their children, especially females, do as they – the parents, I mean – think is suitable. Luckily, I wanted Edward as much as he wanted me.’ She blushed. ‘We still both feel that way.’
Lydia suppressed the pang of envy she had at that statement. ‘You are incredibly fortunate.’
Esther blinked and nodded. ‘Thank you. I know and I do not take it for granted, believe me. It’s a pity it’s not true about you and Harry Birnham, you know, Lydia.’ She smiled slowly and winked. ‘I reckon he’d shake and stir you up a bit.’
So did Lydia, but she wasn’t going to share that tidbit of information. ‘Esther, really,’ she said indignantly. ‘You make me sound like a pot of soup.’
‘Well,’ Esther said, unrepentantly it seemed to Lydia. ‘He does have a reputation for stirring ladies and well, you know…’
No she didn’t, but she did wonder if she was soon to find out.
Lydia waved her friend goodbye and, with a sigh of relief, watched Imray, her parents’ major domo, close the door. She nodded her thanks before making her way slowly upstairs to change for dinner. In the back of her mind was the hope that, by removing herself from the sitting room so early, she’d miss any interrogation by her mama until they were about to depart for the theatre. Maybe by then she would have some responses sorted out. Because if Esther had heard rumours, there was no doubt in Lydia’s mind that her mama, and more than likely her papa, would have as well.
A few weeks, that’s all. I only have to get through the next couple of weeks. Then, whatever her parents said, she would be independent. Unbeknown to them – or so she hoped – Lydia had sent word to the Orsmans, who looked after her cottage, to have it ready for her to move into on her birthday. Even though she knew she might not be quite so prompt to arrive there, it was important to Lydia to know it was all ready and waiting as soon as she was of an age to enjoy it without interference.
In an abstracted silence she let Millie, her maid, dress her hair, and muttered a thank you without really taking much notice of what it looked like. It wouldn’t stay as it was supposed to anyway, so it was all a bit of a waste of
time. Nevertheless, she’d hopefully make her mama happy for a short while. Lydia waited until her eau de nil-shot silk gown was slipped over her head and laced up before she took a proper look at herself. Her reflection pleasantly surprised her.
‘Millie, you have done me proud.’ Tiny curls escaped an elaborate plaited bun at the nape of her neck, and little diamonds shone between the tresses. The tiny diamante decorations on her dress drew attention to her curvy figure in a tasteful, not overblown manner. Long diamond and emerald earrings were an unusual addition to her dress and, Lydia thought, a welcome change from sapphires to ‘match her eyes’.
‘Perhaps tonight Mama will approve of me as I am and not lecture.’ Lydia twirled around, just once to check her appearance. ‘Although perhaps I’m wishing for the moon. Something will not suit her, I’ll be bound. However, I promise I’ll do my best, bite my tongue and not be snappy when she gives me the look.’
‘Ha, that’ll be the day.’ Millie had been with the family for years and was not given to mincing her words. ‘This move of ours can’t come soon enough, if you ask me.’
‘You’re still coming?’ She hoped Millie would. She was the one person who stood up for Lydia through thick and thin.
‘Wouldn’t leave you, my girl. You need me.’
****
With an apologetic cough, Hill, his major domo, announced in sepulchral tomes that Harry had a visitor.
‘I hesitated, my lord, as I know your time is precious, but the Earl of Ibstock has called to see if you are at home. He is most insistent he sees you before this evening’s activities.’
More intrigued than worried, Harry had instructed Hill to bring the Earl to the study and waited in his chair behind the desk. When Foster announced the older man, Harry had stood up and held out his hand. ‘My lord? To what do I owe the pleasure?’
Eustace Field – the Earl – bowed before taking Harry’s hand and essaying a firm handshake. ‘I’m not sure you’ll think it a pleasure, my lord, not after I’ve told you what I’m worried about. Have you been in the clubs lately?’
The Lord's Persuasion of Lady Lydia Page 11
