by Ava Stone
How had things gone from blissful to miserable is so short a time? Ah, yes, he remembered now—he’d created this problem. He’d created it with his jealousy, but he’d be loath if he would ever admit that to her. She would come around. This would be forgotten soon. The one thing he was sure of was that his wife would share their room. He would not have her things moved; she’d have to face him sooner or later.
He walked down the vast corridor to the yellow sitting room. Tea was waiting, as he’d asked. He poured himself a cup and sulked over his wife. This was not how things were supposed to have gone. She was supposed to fall in love with Gosling Park and with him in turn.
Robert didn’t know how long he sat there when he finally heard someone clear their throat behind him, but the tea had grown tepid. Snapped back to the present, he turned around to see his butler standing in the doorway. “Yes, Dunsley?”
“I will assign Betsy to care for Lady Masten, unless you’re opposed to the idea.”
Betsy was a young maid that had been at Gosling since she was just a girl. She’d spent some time in London with Caroline a few years back and knew her way around a dressing room. Dunsley had made a wise choice. “Thank you. Betsy will do fine.”
“Very good, my lord. Also dinner will be ready in half an hour. Her ladyship has asked me to tell you that she will not be joining you. And I’ve put her in the rose colored bedroom, sir.”
Robert narrowed his eyes on his butler. “The rose colored bedroom? That was not the order I gave you, Dunsley.”
“No, sir, it was hers. You did put her in charge of household matters.”
Why the devil did he ever do that? And how could he have been so stupid? “I am still the master of this house, Dunsley. My orders will always supersede hers. Is that clear?”
“Very, sir,” Dunsley replied, completely unmoved by Robert’s obvious anger. “Sir, if I may…”
“What is it?” he growled.
“Arguments are a part of marriage, your lordship. But don’t let too much time pass before you set things right. The longer it takes, the more damage it does.”
If it had been anyone besides Dunsley who made that remark, Robert would have sacked them right on the spot. But this man had known him his whole life, and had been instrumental in helping Robert rear his siblings. More than anything, Robert knew Dunsley had his best interests at heart. So, he nodded his head appreciatively and asked, “The rose colored bedroom?”
“Yes, sir.”
As Robert started for the door, he turned back to his butler. “You’re becoming insolent in your older years, Dunsley.”
“Yes, I know, sir,” the butler agreed with a wry smile.
The rose colored bedroom was in a completely different wing of the house from their room. His annoyance with his wife grew as he snaked along the labyrinth that was Gosling Park until he stood outside the room that harbored his wife. He knocked determinedly.
“Have you come to tell me the truth, Robert?” she asked from inside.
His jaw was set. Was there a more difficult woman in all of England? He pushed the door open and discovered her seated in a plush chair, knitting again. She did not look up to see him, but kept her eyes focused on her work.
“More socks?” he asked as he closed the door behind him.
“What do you want, Robert?”
Even though he could hear the irritation in her voice, his anger was diminishing just by looking at her. He needed to fix this, for them to start the day over. “I want my wife to come down to dinner and then join me in our room.”
She briefly met his eyes and then refocused on her knitting. “Your wife isn’t hungry, and is perfectly satisfied with this room. As you’ve successfully avoided her all day, I doubt very much that you’ll miss her tonight.”
“Do you always speak of yourself in the third person when you’re angry?” He took a seat on the settee across from her.
“If you have something to say, Robert, then please say it. Otherwise, I’m busy right now.”
He was trying to be conciliatory. Couldn’t she see that? Did she delight in being obstinate? “Damn it, Lydia!” he barked and she finally met his eyes. “Why must you make this so bloody difficult?”
“Why must I make this so difficult?” Lydia dropped her needles to her lap and spoke softly. “Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”
Why did she have to speak so quietly? Why didn’t she yell back at him? That, at least, would have been satisfying. He stood up and paced the room. “What is it you want from me then?”
“I told you what I want.” Her voice was still soft. “I want you to be honest with me, Robert. I want to know what I did to make you so angry that you couldn’t even sit with me today—that you couldn’t even look at me.”
He continued pacing, but his gait slowed. That pained look he’d seen on her face after their trip to Drury Lane was there again, but this time he’d put it there. He’d been trying to protect her and his pride, but at what cost? He had ended up hurting his wife instead and opened a chasm between them, and after things had been so promising.
He stopped at her chair and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Lydia, please believe me. There is nothing that you did today. Haven’t I always been very open about my displeasure with you in the past?”
Her eyes dropped and she nodded. He sighed and then told her the truth. “I was furious with myself, sweetheart. I wanted to save you from my awful mood.”
Lydia looked back up at him with a furrowed brow. “You were furious with yourself?”
He dropped to his knees so they would be on eye level and took her hands in his. “I’m sorry. I never thought you’d blame yourself, darling. I was trying to protect you, not hurt you.”
Confusion reflected in her eyes as she studied him. Her voice was soft and caring. “Robert, why were you angry with yourself?”
Heaven help their children if they ever did something wrong. She would be after them until they confessed all. He grinned sheepishly. “You are relentless, my lady. I am embarrassed to admit that I was jealous.”
“Jealous?” she echoed in confusion.
This seemed like the last thing she expected to hear, and he winced. “Lange’s son is handsome and young. And he had the same look in his eyes that every other man has when they see you. I wanted to beat him to within an inch of his life.”
“Was he handsome? I hadn’t noticed.”
Lydia was teasing him. He’d opened up his heart like she’d asked, and now she was teasing him! He furrowed his brow and growled, “For God’s sake, Lydia!”
He tried to back away but she held on to his jacket and made him face her. “I hadn’t noticed, Robert.” Her voice was filled with sincerity, not merriment. “After the way you made me feel last night, do you honestly think I would even look at another man?”
Robert’s heart leapt. Did he dare believe her? He stammered, “I—I—”
But she silenced him by gently pressing her lips to his. Robert moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, but backed off quickly when her knitting needles poked him in the stomach. He laughed despite himself. “Honestly, Lydia, we’re going to have to get you a new hobby.”
She threw the yarn and needles over the arm of the chair, and he embraced her again. His kiss was hungry, but she met his passion equally. As his hands moved over the small of her back, she pulled on his bottom lip with her teeth. He moaned and scooped her up into his arms.
Fully aroused, he placed her on the bed and yanked her dress up over her waist. He fumbled with the buttons on his breeches, and once again his wife was more than willing to assist with that endeavor.
He had been so miserable the entire day, riding with Henderson outside of the coach. This is what he’d really wanted the entire time. To be with his wife.
Without an ounce of hesitation, he slid deep inside her as he savored every moment of their joining. This was the way it should be between them. Her breath caught and he smiled against the fullness o
f her breast. Oh yes, Lydia belonged to him.
***
Lydia curled up, content to lie next to her husband. She ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it off his forehead. She smiled at him, trailing her fingers along his cheek and jaw. “You have no reason to ever be jealous, Robert.”
He shifted up on his elbow to look at her. “I know how men look at you, Lydia. I can read their thoughts as plain as day.”
She smiled reassuringly. “I don’t have any control over that, though I think you may be imagining things. But what I meant, Robert, was that I haven’t ever been unfaithful to you, and I hated you for years.”
He grinned sheepishly. “Yes, well, there aren’t any decent prospects in Cheshire. Why do you think I picked Blackstone?”
She decided not to comment on his lack of faith in her. After all, Robert hadn’t known her at all before they were married. He would have no way of knowing that she didn’t take her vows lightly. That she would never break her promise. That she would never be like her mother. “I could have been in London the entire time, and I still wouldn’t have been unfaithful.”
He caught one of her curls between his thumb and fingertips. Lydia leaned in to him, wanting the safety of him to envelop her again. He smiled at her and kissed the top of her head. “Have I misjudged you, sweetheart?”
She looked up, wide-eyed at him. The past dissolved as love for her husband threatened to be her undoing. She wanted desperately for him to believe in her, but that was out of her control and she was wise enough to know it. “You’ll have to be the judge of that. I know there isn’t anything I could ever do that would erase my indiscretion with Luke. I don’t know if you can ever trust me completely, but I know my own heart, Robert. And I pledge to you, as your wife, that you have nothing to worry about from me. You’ll have to decide if you can trust that or not.”
Robert stared intently at her, but she couldn’t read his expression. “There was no one else, ever?”
“No,” she whispered and shook her head.
“And there never will be?” he asked hopefully.
Lydia pushed back the tears that had formed in her eyes. After the closeness they’d just shared, it hurt that he even had to ask. “No, Robert. I only want you, for now and always.”
Seemingly reassured, he leaned down and kissed her. She needed that, needed to feel his acceptance of her. But acceptance was one thing, and love was another. Did she dare to hope that she could ever have both from this man?
Suddenly, Robert broke their kiss and looked panicked. “Damn, I forgot about dinner.” He jumped up and stepped into his breeches. “Quickly, pull yourself together. We don’t want Cook angry.”
Completely taken by surprise, Lydia giggled but did as he asked. “Are you afraid of your Cook?”
He nodded as his fingers rushed to button his breeches. “Our cook. And if you’re smart you will be too.”
Within minutes, he was ready to go. He took her arm and they raced back through the myriad of passageways toward the dining room, both laughing like gleeful adolescents. “If Cook is angry, we’ll be better off with bread and water for the rest of the week.”
When they reached the room, Dunsley was standing sentry in the corridor. Lydia watched as Robert’s gait slowed and his face dropped. “Are we too late?”
The butler looked the earl and countess over and raised his brow in amusement. “Lord Masten, I took the liberty of postponing dinner. It should be ready momentarily.”
Robert’s face beamed in relief. “Insolent and presumptuous, Dunsley.”
The butler nodded in agreement. “Yes, sir. You really must do something about me.” Then he looked at Lydia and she gulped under his scrutinizing eye. “Lady Masten, please see to it that your husband is presentable before he enters the dining hall.”
With that said, Dunsley walked away and Lydia turned to look at her husband. How had she missed that? She put her hand to her mouth and giggled. He’d missed several buttons and his breeches were about to fall off of him completely.
“Heavens, Robert! Have you always had a valet? Can you not even dress yourself?” She pulled his waistband northward and her fingers quickly flew to his buttons, giggling while she finished the job. “And I thought you had a reputation for always looking impeccable.”
When she finished, she stood up and saw that her husband was grinning mischievously at her. “Lady Masten, mind your manners. Not in the hallway,” he flirted shamelessly.
“Really, Robert, when did you become so brash?” She blushed despite herself.
Robert kissed her and moved her into his arms. “Ever since I’ve had you this close to me, my love.”
My love?
Lydia nearly tripped as Robert led her into the dining hall. Had she heard him correctly? She was afraid to ask him to repeat himself. Things had changed so fast. Little more than a month ago she was at Blackstone Manor preparing to visit James and Bethany for the season in London. Now she was in the middle of her husband’s castle in Dorset and she believed he’d just called her his love. Of course, it could have meant nothing, just a term of endearment. He certainly hadn’t said he loved her outright. But still she was left in a world all her own.
Over dinner, Robert raved about Cook’s culinary creation, but Lydia couldn’t even taste it. She knew she was eating because her food vanished little by little, but she couldn’t remember the meal at all. Nothing had ever turned out well for her, not ever. Was it possible that her husband actually loved her? It was too much to contemplate. Too good to be true.
Dessert was served, some sort of fruit torte, but Lydia barely noticed it. She felt nothing at all, until Robert offered her his arm and led her from the room. His touch was warm and he nearly took her breath away.
Almost immediately, she recognized Dunsley in the hallway. The elderly butler seemed pleased with himself as he eyed the earl. “I took the liberty of having Lady Masten’s belongings moved into your chambers, my lord.”
“You have been taking a great number of liberties lately, Dunsley,” Robert responded with an unabashed smirk. “In the morning, please have a list of local gentry for us to pore over. We’re going to throw a dinner party.”
“We are?” Lydia looked at her husband in shock.
Robert stared back at her in surprise. “We discussed it all over dinner, my dear.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Lydia blushed to her roots. To her chagrin, the butler noticed and almost cracked a grin. Almost. But his eyes twinkled, and Lydia felt an immediate sense of safety with the elderly man. She smiled in relief.
“I’ll have the list ready for you in the morning, my lady.”
Robert nodded his thanks to the butler. Then he placed Lydia’s hand in the crook of his arm, and led her down another corridor. “Must you charm every man you meet, my dear? You make it very difficult for me to keep my jealousy under control.”
Lydia’s eyes flew to her husband’s face. She was grateful that he was smiling and not really chastising her. “Every man? Really, Robert, you give me too much credit.”
“Crotchety old butlers; innkeepers, their sons, and patrons; young country doctors; theatre-going gentlemen; as well as Lord Astwick, who is notoriously picksome—and that, my lovely wife, has just been in the last fortnight.” He put his hand over hers and squeezed it lovingly.
Lydia giggled and rested her head against his arm. “I had no idea. Well, I did know about Lord Astwick, but he’s not very shy.”
“No, he’s not,” Robert agreed with a playful frown. “Holding my wife’s hand at Drury Lane! No wonder his mother, that awful dragon, was so upset.”
Lydia stopped walking and Robert came to a halt as well. She had been meaning to ask him about that night. “How did she know, Robert? I didn’t think anyone did, save the few that were there.”
Robert sighed uncomfortably. “Chet and I theorized that she must have learned of it from the late Lady Staveley. The two were very close friends. I don’t think anyone else would hav
e said anything.”
That was true. James and Bethany certainly wouldn’t have done such a thing. Aunt Agnes went to her grave with that secret amongst others. The Duke of Kelfield was one James’ dearest friends, besides being a scandalous figure in his own right. He would never sully Lydia’s name. Caroline and David had been mortified by the situation, but they wouldn’t have uttered a word about it.
“All of Staveley’s sisters are both featherbrained and loquacious, but the situation was kept from them. So that only leaves Staveley’s mother. I’d confided in Chet years ago, but he’d never tell anyone—especially his dragon of a mother.”
Lydia frowned.
Robert brushed his lips across her brow. “I am so sorry that she said such awful things to you, sweetheart.” Then he took her hand in his and started back down the corridor.
She didn’t necessarily feel better—not when she thought about the sheer number of people who knew she’d been compromised. No, not compromised—ruined. Most of them were friends or family now, but still when she thought about the situation it was humiliating. “Oh, Robert. Why did Lord Staveley have to open that door?”
***
Robert knew exactly why Lord Staveley had opened that door. Grace Benton, his youngest daughter was unaccounted for and had last been spotted in the company of Robert’s dissolute brother, Luke. The old man nearly passed out when he found Lydia instead. Her hair color was very similar to Grace’s, and Staveley momentarily thought his own daughter had been ruined by the scoundrel. But that was neither here nor there, anymore. Lord Staveley had opened that door, and he had found Lydia and Luke together. The whys didn’t matter now at all.
Still, when he looked at his wife’s anguished expression, he wanted to take her pain and sadness away. He cupped her face in his hands and stared into her wounded soul. “My dear, it was a very long time ago.”
“Not that long,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes.
He lowered his head and kissed her lips. “Lydia, it doesn’t matter now. None of it does.”
“How can you say that?” she asked in amazement.
