by Ava Stone
That night as she lay in bed, the unkind words he’d said to her all those years ago echoed over and over in her mind. He had been an imposing figure then and had towered over her, a regal and dignified gentleman. He had intimidated her and she’d cowered from him. He’d called her a little whore right after they’d finished their vows, nearly spitting the words at her. She was a disgrace to his name, undeserving of his charity, and unwelcome in society. But despite all of that, he would see that she lived well at Blackstone Manor; and she was to be grateful for his generosity.
Lydia cringed as she stared up at the ceiling and prayed for the strength to deal with whatever it was her husband had planned.
Lord Masten’s carriage arrived for her at ten the next morning, but he wasn’t with it. The coachman loaded her things on board and helped her inside. She tried to remain strong, though she would have been lying to say she wasn’t nervous. She had been bold and daring when she thought she had James’ support, but now she had no one again. She was at the mercy of her husband. And that did not sit well.
When she arrived at Masten’s large Berkeley Square home, Lydia felt ill at ease. It felt as if she had butterflies flittering around in her stomach, and her heart pounded rapidly with worried anticipation. As the footman lowered the steps, Lydia took a deep, steadying breath and squared her shoulders. She was determined not to let Masten bully her.
Phelps, the elderly butler that Masten should have probably already pensioned off, greeted her at the front door. He led her to a well-decorated parlor where the earl had requested she wait for him. She waited and waited—at least two hours. Her nerves were on end, but she refused to be outwardly flustered. If Robert Beckford had taught her anything throughout their marriage, it was how to wait.
Finally, she heard voices in the hallway and a booming laugh that she knew could only belong to Lord Astwick. Moments later, the robust marquess entered the room and was surprised to find Lydia sitting patiently on the sofa. “Lady Masten! Whatever are you doing here?” He raised his brow expectantly.
“This is my husband’s home, Lord Astwick. Where else should I be?” Lydia answered with a haughtiness she didn’t feel. Though she put up a brave front, she wasn’t quite able to meet the marquess’ eyes—especially after their awkward encounter in the park the day before when her bad temper had gotten the better of her.
Apparently Lord Astwick could sense her trepidation, because he smiled, as if to put her at ease. “Of course you should be here. I was just under the impression that you were staying with Carteret, my dear.”
Lydia took a deep breath. She wouldn’t allow Lord Astwick to see her at her worst again. She would remain composed and save her venom for her intended victim—Robert Beckford. “It appears my husband has other plans for me.” She managed a weak smile.
“I’ll just bet he does.” Astwick tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress a smirk. “I am surprised though. He didn’t seem like he could work up the courage to talk to you at Staveley’s. That’s what Clayworth and I had wanted to talk to you about.”
“He didn’t have the courage?” Lydia shot back incredulously. Lack of nerve was not something she’d ever considered of her husband. Bully, yes—coward, no. But Lord Astwick did seem sincere in his estimation.
Then the marquess winked at her and took a seat next to her on the settee. “He’s good with animals, great in fact. But with people, well, Rob’s always been a bit shy around pretty girls. Now if you were a horse—not that you in any way resemble one—”
The idea made her laugh—there was no way to hide it. In the limited time she’d spent with Robert Beckford, shy was not a word she would use to describe him. The words she would use were…well, not things she could repeat in polite society or even to Lord Astwick for that matter. “I would be surprised if he thought of me that way, my lord.”
The charming marquess took her hand in his. Shyness was obviously not something that plagued him. “I happen to know he does, my lady. Told me so himself.”
Before Lydia could compose a response to that ridiculous notion, the door opened and her husband walked inside. If she wasn’t so furious with him, she would’ve thought he was devastatingly handsome—that was a bit shocking, in itself. His buff doeskin breeches snugly fit his muscled thighs, and the cut of his midnight-blue jacket displayed the strength of his broad shoulders. Lydia caught her breath. He was an imposing sight. And that was a bit scary.
Robert looked first at Lord Astwick and then at his wife. “Oh, my lady, I nearly forgot you were coming today.”
Lydia scowled back at him. No, Robert Beckford was not shy and did not lack courage. He was simply a bastard who had made her wait for him all day long and then forgot that she was arriving. How charming! How she loathed him. “Well, I’ll be more than happy to leave, Masten. If you’ll—”
“You’ll stay right where you are.” He cut her off and then glanced back at his friend. “Chet, our excursion will have to be postponed. Please make my apologies to Bren, will you?”
Lord Astwick stood from his place and smiled devilishly at his friend. “Don’t think on it, Rob. If I were you, I’d stay here too. But I would be honored if the two of you would join me tomorrow night at Drury Lane.”
Robert noticed his wife’s fiery glare and then shook his head. “Next time, perhaps.”
“No, not next time. Tomorrow,” Chet insisted. “And I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Mother is attending and I need a buffer from her constant harping. I was going to force Brendan to accompany us, but…”
“Clayworth turned you down flat?” Robert raised his brow.
Astwick chuckled. “That he did. But lucky me! Since you’ve cancelled our plans for the day, you owe me and I’m enlisting your help in distracting Mother from her needling of me at the theatre tomorrow.” Chet turned back and smiled at Lydia. “And you’ll bring this delightful creature with you. Don’t fret, my dear, his bark is worse than his bite.”
Lydia smiled back. It was nice to see someone bully Robert. Good to know it could be done. Her husband took a deep breath and shook his head. “All right, Astwick. Lady Masten and I won’t be in London long, so I’ll give you tomorrow night.”
Won’t be in London long?
Lydia furrowed her brow as she cast her eyes on Robert. “I am not leaving London.”
Robert looked at her with disdain, just like he had when they first met. “Not now, my lady.”
“Don’t ‘not now’ me, my lord.”
Astwick looked from one to the other, which must have caught her husband’s eye, because he turned his darkening gaze on his friend. “Don’t you have someplace else to be?”
The marquess smirked. “I suppose I should be on my way, actually.” He started for the door, but then turned back and winked at Lydia. “Worse than his bite, my lady. My money’s on you. See you both tomorrow. Oh, and, Robert? Be on time, will you? I don’t want to have to go searching the corridors for your bloody arse.”
Robert scowled and gestured toward Lydia. “Watch your manners, Astwick.”
Chet’s rich chuckle filled the room with warmth. “Pardon me, Lady Masten, if I offended your delicate sensibilities. Somehow, I’m certain you’ve heard worse.” With that, the marquess tipped his head and then left the room and the house to the squabbling Mastens.
Lydia stood and matched her husband’s disdainful look with one of her own. She folded her arms across her chest and took a deep breath. “I am not leaving London.”
Robert ignored her stance and took a seat in one of his upholstered chairs. “You also told me that you weren’t living under my roof, and look how that turned out. As I told you before, my lady, you’ll do exactly what I say.”
Fire shot from her eyes. “Short of you tying me up and dragging me from here, I’m not going anywhere.”
That image made Robert smirk but he responded coolly. “Well, that suggestion does have merit. Thank you, I wouldn’t have thought of that myself.”
She stood pe
rfectly still and glowered at him. Robert was surprised to note how stunning she was, even as she looked at him with such hatred. Her blue eyes shot icy daggers at him, but they were lovely nonetheless. Then again, his brother wasn’t the sort to chase after homely girls. Robert had inherited the title, fortune, and good sense, but Luke possessed the handsome looks, charm, and bravado. Other than their sister and shared parents, they had little else in common.
After he had left Carteret’s home the day before, he’d thought about their discussion. What he’d said was true—he didn’t have an heir and he did not want the line to pass to Lucas. That would be a disaster. If Lydia was occupied with raising their children, which apparently she would be good at, he wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore either. She didn’t have to go back to Blackstone if she hated it that badly. She could go to any of his other estates to raise his family. It was the perfect solution to all of his problems.
“Now, let’s not start off on the wrong foot, Lady Masten. We’re going to need to get along.”
“We haven’t needed that for five years. Why start now?” she shot back indignantly.
“Did Carteret share with you the nature of my visit with him?”
Lydia’s glower softened and she shook her head. “No. He said that was something for the two of us to discuss.”
Robert sat forward in his seat and looked at her from top to bottom. If their children looked like her, that would be a blessing. “Perhaps you should sit down.”
She stamped her foot. “I will not have you order me about. I feel like standing.”
“Suit yourself.” Robert frowned at her independent streak—just another reason why she needed to leave Town. “I’m at the point in my life where I am looking at what I have, and more importantly what I don’t have. It’s no secret that there is no love lost between us, but that certainly hasn’t stopped others. If you think you’re the only unhappy wife in England, you’d be wrong. And like it or not, we are stuck with one another.”
“You could divorce me. Let me go, Masten,” she begged.
Divorce?
She was even more scandalous than he had thought! It was one thing to have a wife that was a harlot, quite another to divorce her. “That is completely out of the question, and you well know it.”
“An annulment then? We never consummated.”
Robert shook his head with determination. He would not be made to be a laughing stock. “After five years? No one would believe that, and it’s not as if you can prove your virtue.”
“I don’t care what people believe. It’s the truth.” She stamped her foot.
“The truth, my wife, is that your actions five years ago have led us to this point in our lives.”
“Then what do you want from me? To send me back to Cheshire where I will rot until you die?”
“I’m afraid it’s nothing quite so dramatic.” Robert stood from his seat and reached for her arm. How did one say this sort of thing? Her skin was warm beneath his hand and he felt inexplicitly drawn to her. But apparently she felt nothing, as she looked at him with contempt. So he continued matter-of-factly. “I need you to provide me with an heir.”
She yanked her arm from him, stumbled backward, and stared at him in horror as if she didn’t quite believe her ears. Eyes wide, she took a deep breath and slumped down onto the settee beneath her. “You cannot be serious.”
He didn’t know what reaction he expected, but her looking at him as if he had a forked tail and horns wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. “Caroline sings your praises and Lord Carteret is convinced you’ll make a wonderful mother. He says his twins adore you.”
“James knew what you had planned and he turned me over to you?” She stared at him incredulously.
“He certainly wouldn’t begrudge me an heir, Lady Masten—not when he has more than one of his own.” Robert took a seat next to her. “Now don’t look so horrified. You found my brother’s bed to be accommodating. I’m sure mine won’t be unpleasant.”
She started to cry, which made him speechless. He’d never seen her cry. Not when she’d been discovered with Luke, not when she took her vows, not when he’d explained that she’d live out the rest of her days at Blackstone alone. But now tears streamed down her face. He hated seeing her like this. He much preferred the sparring partner she’d so easily become.
“And th-then you’ll take my child away from me. I think not.”
“No.” His look softened and he moved closer to her on the settee. He took her hand reassuringly. “I would never do that. I swear it, my lady. Have I ever lied to you?” After she took a staggering breath, Robert continued softly, “You can have your pick of any of my estates, and you can rear our children wherever you want.”
For the first time since their interview began, she looked at him hopefully. “Here, then? May I stay here?”
Robert shook his head. There were too many men in London, too much trouble she could get into in Town. The dance with Kelfield flashed in his mind. No, it was far safer for her to be in the country. Safer for him too. “London is not an option, my lady. Besides, I’d prefer to know that my heirs are actually mine. Don’t want someone else’s brat to come into my title and estates someday.”
Her crying stopped and she stared at him angrily as she wiped away the last of her tears with the back of her hand. “I know how highly you regard my character, sir. I don’t need a reminder.”
Silently, he was glad to see a bit of her fire back, but when he spoke his tone was unemotional and matter-of fact. “I don’t enjoy reminding you. But that is why London is not an option. I don’t care where else you want to go. I keep hearing that you’re lonely. That won’t be a problem for you anymore.”
“I’m beginning to think that loneliness isn’t quite so bad as I originally thought.”
“Well, you know what they say. Be careful what you wish for, because from now on I’ll be your constant companion, at least until you’re carrying my child.”
“If I have a room, I’d like to go up to it now.” She spoke so softly it was almost a whisper.
This was a different Lydia than he’d seen up until now. She looked defeated, as if her spirit had been broken. For a moment he felt a twinge of remorse. But only for a moment. “Of course.” Robert rang the bell and soon Phelps arrived to escort Lydia to her chambers.
***
Lydia stared blankly around the pretty room that connected to her husband’s chambers. The soft, yellow walls had a warm feel to them and normally, she would have enjoyed the ambiance her bedchamber offered, But at the moment, her fate was the only thing on her mind. She threw herself across the large, four-poster bed, rolled over onto her back, and stared up at the sheer canopy above her.
How had she ended up in this situation? Just the idea of that man, whom she’d hated for years, touching her made her ill. Yet if she was to go through with this, would he really let her keep her child? Not that she was seriously considering his proposal. After all, she knew what kind of man Robert Beckford was.
Still, if he wouldn’t let her out of their marriage and was now demanding his husbandly rights—well, she did want a child of her own, didn’t she? Would he really let her rear the child?
She stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours, but no solutions came to her. She was all alone. Her family was gone. Her mother and father were both dead, as was Aunt Agnes. Her brother was at sea, not that he’d be of any help if he wasn’t. Henry had changed from the caring, protective brother she’d loved as a child. Her cousin Hannah was following the drum and her husband around the peninsula from battlefield to battlefield. All Lydia had left was James’ family, and he’d handed her over to Masten without a second thought. Now there was no one she could turn to for help. She was, quite simply, alone.
There was a light knock at the door and Lydia frowned . There wasn’t one person in this household she wanted a visit from—least of which was her husband. “Please, just go away,” she mumbled before rolling onto her
side, away from the door.
“Lydia?” Caroline’s voice filtered through the door. “May I come in?”
Lydia lifted her head from the pillows and bounded off the bed. “Caroline?” She raced to the door and opened it to find her sister-in-law waiting with a pensive expression in the hallway.
As Caroline embraced her, Lydia felt comforted for the first time all day. Caroline drew back from her to look her over. “As soon as Bethany Carteret told me what happened, I rushed right over here. Are you all right, darling?”
Relief washed over Lydia. She had an ally, maybe two. Thank heavens. Caroline took her hand and led her back to the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. With pursed lips and arms folded across her chest, Caroline looked like a woman possessed. “Do you know, Lydia, what I do when David is an unreasonable beast?”
Though Lydia wasn’t feeling like herself, she tried not to smirk at that comment. The quiet and scholarly Lord Staveley was the least beastly man of her acquaintance. Instead, she merely shook her head.
“I go shopping. I spend his money on anything and everything that catches my eye—until I feel he has sufficiently paid for his beastliness.”
“I don’t know think Masten has enough money to make me feel better, Caroline,” Lydia remarked dryly.
Caroline’s face brightened. “Of course he does, darling. He’s as rich as Croesus. Come with me and we’ll make him pay dearly.”
Lydia shook her head. “I’m just not feeling up to it.”
But Caroline wouldn’t take no for an answer and pulled Lydia toward the door. “Come along. I promise you, it will infuriate Robert if you were to go shopping with me.”
“It would?” Lydia skeptically eyed her sister-in-law.
