The Lord's Persuasion of Lady Lydia

by Raven McAllan

  Harry picked up a square-bottomed ship’s decanter. ‘Port? Duty paid.’

  ‘Why not.’

  Harry poured two glasses of the deep ruby spirit and handed one over. ‘Cheers.’ He touched his goblet to hers. ‘Right, what’s wrong. The gossip at the supper?’

  Lydia sipped her drink and then twisted the stem of the goblet between her fingers. ‘Both partly, plus a letter from my papa, that Mr Orsman brought just before I went out, and I had no time to read until Millie and I returned home a few minutes ago. Evidently the mails were late today.’

  ‘Jem said there had been heavy rain around Exeter and the road was boggy. He blamed it on the local member of parliament and his denial with regards to a certain feud between local landowners that every one, but everyone – and I quote – knows about. Evidently a brief but heavy localised downpour doesn’t count.’ Harry regarded her over the rim of his glass. Her eyes sparkled with anger and her cheeks were tinged with a delicate pink, and he could tell by her expression that her temper was held in check by the veriest thread.

  ‘My poor Lydia.’ How he wished he could magic it all away for her. He had an idea how to sort things out, but he was certain it would not be to Lydia’s liking. ‘Life is not all sunshine and roses, is it?’

  ‘Not at all. It is maybe as well it was only stale buns at the supper because my papa’s letter quite ruined my appetite,’ Lydia said in a remarkably level voice. ‘The goings-on and snide innuendos of certain people in the area, who think they are superior and know more about my life, and what I should do, than I do, were enough for me to develop a headache. Which, of course, then I didn’t dare use as an excuse to leave. That would have confirmed what everyone believes with relish anyway. I came here to escape all that nonsense.’ She picked up her goblet and drained it. ‘I swear the world has gone mad.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Harry invited.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It had taken the urging of Millie, and the threat that, if Lydia didn’t go and tell Harry everything she knew, Millie would go instead, to finally convince Lydia to re-don her cloak and change her house shoes for half boots. With Millie behind her to ensure she didn’t renege, Lydia slipped out of the gate from her orchard and into the lane that, with a few twists and turns, passed the gate leading into Harry’s kitchen garden. Once, she stood still in the shadows as she heard voices from the direction of the road the lane crossed, and waited until two people walked by without glancing in her direction; and then she waited again as Jem walked out of Harry’s garden and up the lane, whistling as he went.

  Now, sitting next to Harry, their old camaraderie seemingly back, a sense of relief swept through her. He would help, she was sure of it.

  ‘It started at this darned supper when Lady’s Babbacombe’s housekeeper said, oh so coyly, what a coincidence it was that a Lady Lydia had fled London because of all the rumours about her and a Lord Birnham… and, well, who jilted who or was it all a hum… and look, her mistress gave her the papers with it in. Then she looks at me and says, “I wonder, is she any relation to you, Lady Lydia?”’ Lydia grimaced as her fingers tingled and she clenched them to calm herself down. ‘So I did my best to emulate your lordly, look-down-the-nose thing you do so well, and said, very hoity-toity, that as I never pay attention to lowly gossip, I wouldn’t know. Millie, bless her, stared the woman down, twitched the papers out of her hand, and oh so slowly looked at them before she dropped them to the ground. Then she nodded and said in a very loud voice that only vulgar people paid attention to the scandal sheets. True ladies and gentlemen didn’t lower themselves to that level. I was never so mortified in my life but Millie carried it off to perfection, and added that, as she had met Lord Birnham personally, he was too much of a gentleman to do any of the things the rags intimated. Even that didn’t shut the woman up and she had the audacity to ask her if she’d met you with me.’

  ‘Good lord. Does she have a death wish?’ Harry knew both Millie and Lydia had a short fuse if it was warranted.

  ‘Exactly. One wondered. Anyhow, Millie finished her off good and proper. She just said, Why? In such a cutting tone, I should have been abashed, but I wasn’t. Jem’s mother sniggered, and someone else told the woman to shut up, so she stormed out and we had another cup of dishwater.’

  Harry laughed. ‘I got a slightly different version from Mrs Troup via Jem, but not much. Although the fact I am Lord Birnham, and here, will soon, if it isn’t already, be spreading through the area like the plague.’ He explained what had happened earlier in the day. ‘So someone is pretending to be me,’ he finished grimly. ‘And once I find out who it is… Well, I have a temper I try not to let loose, but on this occasion…’ He didn’t bother to finish his sentence.

  ‘Do you have any thoughts?’ Lydia wriggled her booted feet as near to the fire as she dared.

  Harry nodded. ‘Some, especially after you think you saw Jeremy, but vague thoughts aren’t facts. I’ve asked a friend to look into it all for me.’ He nodded to the letters on his desk. ‘I can do no more until I hear back.’ He stood up and walked to the sideboard. ‘A little more?’

  ‘Why not, I have nothing of importance to attend to. Millie knows where I am, and is not going to wait up for me.’ Lydia looked at Harry from under her lashes. Did he understand what she was saying? That she could stop as long as either of them desired. That here, away from London, she felt able to meet him on equal terms and perhaps discover their closeness again and more, and was tired of fighting her emotions.

  Lady Babbacombe’s meddling had given her a few bad moments, and then, with her new, grown-up, ‘I am my own person’ persona firmly in place, she had decided it need not be relevant unless she allowed it to be.

  ‘Good to know,’ Harry said lazily, although with a glint in his eye she appreciated. ‘So we can enjoy our port and ponder over things outwith our control, eh?’

  ‘Oh yes… oh help, I forgot my letter from Papa. It’s in the pocket of my cloak and it is strange. Very strange.’ She began to stand and Harry waved her to sit.

  ‘No need to disturb your toe toasting’

  Lydia sniggered. ‘Oh good.’

  ‘I’ll get it, if I may?’

  ‘Of course.’ Especially as you will have to twist and bend and that will give me a perfect view of you… oh my, I must stop it and concentrate.

  ‘It’s partly about you as well, so read it and tell me what you think.’ She sipped some more port. The smooth, rounded liquid soothed her as good as a hug from Harry, she decided.

  A hug? When not long ago I fought everything he said? As Harry bent to fish the letter out of her cloak, Lydia’s mouth went dry. His tight pantaloons showed every inch of his lower body off to perfection. His torso, clad only in a soft, billowing shirt that clung as he moved, left little else to the imagination. Oh yes, for this is the new me. I intend to do as I want now, and if Harry is happy, then who am I to deny either of us what is right for us? She made her mind up that, the next time he gave her the opportunity, she would tell him she loved him. The decision made, very correctly, she averted her eyes and sat quietly, as she wondered what Harry would make of it all. Combined with the innuendo and so-called facts in the gossip sheets, it was definitely a scandal in the making. The stillness was broken only by the rustle of paper and a coal slipping in the grate. Somewhere a clock chimed the half hour.

  At last Harry set the paper down on the table and looked up. ‘Interesting. What do you make of it?’

  Lydia ran over the contents of the missive in her head. Every word was etched on her brain,

  It has come to my notice that more people than ever assume that either you have eloped with Lord Birnham or fled from him. As neither of you is here, the rumours are growing apace. Now I have Jeremy Mumford asking for your hand in marriage, and he says he wishes to place an announcement of your betrothal in The Times.

  Do you know him? What is going on? I thought you betrothed to Harry Birnham. For the love of God, Lydia, I might not have been
the most attentive parent in the word but I love you and want what is best for you. I have told Mumford that on no account can he relay anything anywhere until you respond and he has grudgingly given me two weeks for you to answer him. He seems to think, if necessary, he will issue an ultimatum, though I have no idea how, or when.

  Please, my dear daughter, either come up to London to sort it out or tell me how to. He has, I fear, information that could hurt our family.

  Your loving but exasperated papa.

  ‘Your heir is a snake,’ Lydia burst out as she stood up and began to pace the room. As she reached the edge of the rich Aubusson carpet, she trod heavily on the parquet flooring it didn’t cover and her heels rapped out loudly. ‘A poisonous one. What is he playing at? Why on earth would I marry him? I’m betrothed to you. If he thinks he can force my hand, he does not know me well. Actually,’ she said thoughtfully, now the red mist had dispersed from in front of her eyes and she could think rationally once more, ‘as I said on an earlier occasion, he doesn’t know me at all. So what is this all about? What could he know about my papa that is so awful I would be persuaded to marry him rather than let the information become public? Papa is an honourable man.’

  ‘I have a few thoughts on the matter, but for sure?’ Harry shrugged, his expression watchful. Why hadn’t he commented on her assertion she was betrothed to him? Did he think she was about to throw a tantrum or poke him in the eye? She wouldn’t. It wasn’t his fault he had a slimy lizard for an heir.

  Good lord, what is it with the reptilian theme?

  ‘Share them, I won’t scream,’ Lydia said frankly. ‘Although if the crocodile were around, I might find a spear to stab him with.’

  ‘Crocodile?’ Harry sounded bemused. ‘You’ve lost me.’

  ‘Jeremy. I have already used all the other reptilian similes I can think of. Sorry.’ She took a deep breath. No wonder he was nonplussed; she was talking nonsense. ‘I am somewhat overset. You were saying?’

  ‘You have every reason to be upset, my dear, and I admire your fortitude and resilience, for screaming would achieve nothing except giving you a sore throat and me a headache. I am not certain what is going on with him, but I think we need to find out and soon. I’ll fess up and tell you that when I spoke to your papa in London a while ago he said he was worried Jeremy might find something out that could hurt his family, but didn’t expand on that theme. I’ve made some discreet enquiries and all I can find out is something about an affair before he married your mama and...’ He coughed and broke off, seemingly embarrassed.

  ‘Oh, you mean I have a half-brother?’ Lydia said as relief settled over her like a warm blanket. ‘Mama and I know all about him, although I would imagine other people do not know we do.’

  ‘Interesting. Does your papa know you know?’

  ‘Hmm.’ Lydia considered. ‘Probably not, to be honest, and I imagine he would be horrified to discover I do in case it belittles him in my eyes. It wouldn’t – he has behaved honourably. I only know because I saw a letter Mama had written to the lady concerned, explaining she knew about the affair and the child and, as it was before her marriage, it would not upset her. She also wrote that she was happy with the monetary arrangements Papa had made. Not that I believe it for one moment, especially after she produced no son and legitimate heir, but there we go. Sydney is at present in Barbados and his mother married and living in the Highlands.’

  Harry spluttered. ‘And you know all this and your papa doesn’t know you do?’

  ‘I imagine so. After all, he probably thinks least said, etcetera. But it could work in our favour, don’t you think?’

  ‘Indubitably. So we can work from there, and clear it up once and for all, I hope.’

  At last; something positive to cling on to. ‘Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,’ Lydia said earnestly.

  ‘Really?’ His speculative look really should have warned her, but she ignored the gnawing suspicion that his solution might not be to her liking.

  ‘Really,’ she reiterated.

  Harry waited for a second or two and then inclined his head. ‘Very well, then – marry me.’

  She looked him in the eye. ‘Do you truly love me?’

  ****

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said gravely. ‘More than life itself. Let me show you how.’

  If it wasn’t so serious it would be amusing, Harry thought, as he watched myriad emotions chase over Lydia’s face. When he’d originally made his marriage suggestion it was half in jest. Now he wanted to marry her at some point, but he had hoped it would be a proper betrothal, and a wedding in his or her ancestral home church, with all the pomp and circumstance ascribed to a wedding as befitting their status. It wasn’t just to show the world, once and for all, that Harry Birnham was spoken for, but also for them. As a couple. Whatever others did, he had no intention of continuing with his rakish ways once he took a bride, and it would take something very decisive to make some of the more forward matrons accept that. Or, he amended silently, once he took Lydia as his wife, the only woman he would want or need was her. He experienced those emotions already, but hoped – prayed – he was enough of a gentleman to rein them in. He didn’t want to scare her.

  ‘So?’ he said as his pulse jumped and his stomach fluttered with nerves. ‘What do you say?’

  ‘That I would love to be wooed properly, without the worry of who does what, why your heir is stalking me, and how can we do it?’

  He lifted her out of her chair and swung her around in a circle. One shoe fell off and hit the fireguard with a clatter. Her skirts lifted up and he got a swift, and arousing, glimpse of a silk garter. Harry laughed, deliriously happy as she giggled and pressed her lips to his neck.

  ‘Are you ready to play a waiting game, love? Because it could be tricky, and it might be worrying, but I will keep you safe.’ He put his lips over her and drew her into a long, lingering embrace.

  His betrothed followed his lead and her lips moulded to his. Harry let his hands run over the luscious rounded globes of her buttocks and revelled in the low groan she gave. How easy it would be to forget his resolutions and take her there and then. He gentled the kiss, did his best to ignore his hard-to-the-point-of-pain cock, and watched her breasts heave as she drew one shuddering breath after another.

  ‘I, we… I think I will like being wooed,’ she said in a rush, in a voice that was not quite steady. ‘What next?’

  ‘Next, my dear delight, we start to plot and plan. To foil Jeremy, we need to find out what he is doing here.

  ‘If it is him.’

  ‘I’d wager it is,’ Harry said bluntly.

  ‘He is deranged.’ She thumped the chair arm. Harry was relieved when no dust flew out. ‘And now I am betrothed I resent him trying to spoil things. I want to enjoy it.’

  She was magnificent when annoyed. Her bosom heaved enticingly under the low neckline of her gown, and if she wasn’t careful there would be more of it on show than she realised. Her blue eyes were dark, the colour of a stormy sea, and she clenched and unclenched her fists so rapidly that he couldn’t follow the movements easily.

  ‘Unfortunately, Jeremy is such a sulky, immature person, he is nasty when thwarted. He can’t imagine things not going his way, and I’ve already refused to allow him to take control of his inheritance until he shows he is mature enough to use it wisely. He is spoiled by a doting mother who can see no wrong with him. I’ve tried to sway him but…’ Harry spread his hands. ‘That is not an easy task. So now we have to produce an answer to satisfy your papa and, yes, thwart my stupid heir. And…’ Dare he say it? Harry decided he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. ‘One good thing – when we marry and have sons, he will be thwarted for good and all.’

  ‘Sons? We might have girls.’ Lydia grinned. ‘Then what?’

  ‘One boy please, or Jeremy will still be the heir.’

  ‘I promise I will do my best.’ She rolled her eyes.

  ‘Oh, we will, and I vow it won’t be too long until
we do,’ Harry said. ‘Now, where was I? Oh yes. To get things started we write to your papa, and reiterate we are betrothed. I suggest we say something like we wish to marry at the start of next season at my ancestral home, and will go up to town in the next month or so to tell your parents what arrangements we have made. But I’ll make you this promise as well. You say you do want to marry me, and I pray you do not have a change of heart.

  ‘I won’t,’ she said positively.

  If we find Jeremy is involved in something nefarious, and if he is trying to ruin your papa, you might change your mind. I promise, if that is the case and you do not want to be associated with my family, I will take it upon myself to be the one who reneges.’

  Lydia blinked. ‘You…’

  ‘I promise to be the one who pulls out. Changes their mind. Acts the bad person. However you wish to phrase it, no dirt will stick to you. I will make sure of that.’

  A wind must have sprung up as several branches of a nearby tree tapped on the window pane and a gust of smoke came out of the chimney. Harry stood up and rearranged the coals before he turned to look thoughtfully at Lydia. As if she felt his gaze, she looked up at him and, to his relief, smiled. ‘Wouldn’t that cause lots of trouble and upset?’

  He shrugged. ‘Not as much as if we married against your will. I dread to think what would happen if, when the vicar asks if you will take me, with my plethora of names, as your lawful wedded husband, you say no, or when he asks if anyone knows about the impediment thing, you say you do.’

  Lydia spluttered and then giggled as tears ran down her cheeks. ‘Oh lord, what a picture you paint. Are you sure?’

  ‘Oh yes. So what do you say?’

  He held his breath.

  ‘I have no intention of changing my mind,’ she said quietly. ‘How else will I discover what it is like to be wooed by a rake?’ And maybe enjoy a little of what those matrons of the ton talk about when they think themselves not overheard by those who have not experienced any of Handsome Harry’s lovemaking. Or their husbands.