by Ava Stone
How could he say that? For years it had mattered. But the answer was startlingly simple. Her past didn’t matter anymore because Robert loved her. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the stunning woman in his arms would have ever married him if his brother hadn’t compromised her. He wasn’t the sort of man a woman like her would have picked of her own choosing. He was arrogant, controlling, and difficult to deal with. And her misfortune with Luke had been his stroke of good luck—he just hadn’t realized it before now. “Because it’s true. That’s not who you are now, and where you’ve come from doesn’t matter nearly as much as where you’re going.”
Tears formed in her eyes as she stared up at him. “Robert, do you honestly believe that? Are you saying that my past truly doesn’t matter to you?”
Strangely enough, he did believe it. He never would have thought so even a fortnight ago, and he smiled at the realization. “Your future matters to me, Lydia. You’re my wife and you’ll be the mother of my children. That’s all I care about.”
Tears did fall from her eyes then. “I won’t disappoint you.”
“I know you won’t.” Robert brushed her tears away with his hand, kissed her forehead, and led her through two large doors that opened onto a terrace.
Lydia stared out at the view. The sun was setting in the west over the horizon; pink and orange streaks stretched across the sky. Beneath them was the sea. She took a deep breath. “Oh, Robert, this is breathtaking.”
He smiled. “I’d hoped you’d love it.”
She stepped to the end of the terrace and looked out across the sea. Robert stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, while she leaned her head back against the wall of his chest. He bent his head down until his lips brushed her hair. This was heaven. She realized Robert was right. She didn’t want to live anywhere but here, and with him.
They stood together, reverently breathing in the ocean air and enjoying the comfort of each other until the colorful streaks on the horizon were gone, replaced by a darkening sky. “The ocean makes me think of Henry. I hope he’s all right out there.”
Robert spun her to face him. “I’m certain he’s fine.” He tenderly kissed her, and then led her back inside toward their room.
She looked around at the numerous corridors and narrow passageways. “I don’t think I’ll ever find my way around here, Robert. Without you, I’ll be lost for sure.” The words had more meaning than she’d intended, but they were true nevertheless.
“You won’t have to worry about that, Lydia. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me from here on out.”
Robert then led her to their bedchamber, and it was just as he had described. The room was impressive in its size. A huge four-poster bed stood against the back wall with large bay windows flanking either side. Both windows were left open, and the sheer burgundy draperies rustled in the sea breeze. Lydia smiled when the soothing sounds of the ocean below reached her ears. It was like something out of a fairy tale.
Gently, Robert slid his arm around her waist. “You are happy here?”
She nodded. “I’ve never been on board a ship, Robert, but I wonder if the sea isn’t in my blood. This feels so much like home.”
“It is your home, Lydia.”
Then he welcomed her into their room and into their bed.
~ 13 ~
Every morning for the last fortnight, Lydia awoke to find herself yet again alone in their bed. Her nights were spent in passionate pleasure, wrapped in her husband’s embrace, but her mornings were spent in lonely solitude. It had been so comforting to wake in Robert’s arms while they were traveling the countryside together, and she missed that closeness with him.
When they were together, she could fool herself into believing her husband loved her. He could be so sweet and tender, and she found that pretending was easy to do. What was the harm in hoping for such a thing? He did want her to live with him and to raise their children together. Did it really matter if he only liked her? Was love absolutely necessary? It wouldn’t be as if Lydia was missing something she’d ever had. And yet part of her yearned for more. She wanted his heart as well as his home.
With thoughts of her marriage flooding her mind, Lydia climbed from bed. She rang for her maid Betsy, and began to unbraid her hair. Betsy had been a godsend, and Lydia felt very lucky to have her. The young, plucky, brunette maid was always full of advice, unsolicited or otherwise—but she and Lydia had formed a bond almost instantly as if they’d always known each other.
When the maid entered the room, her brows rose in surprise. “Well, well, well. Looks like you had a busy night in here, my lady.” She gestured to the tousled bedclothes that had nearly been ripped off the night before.
Lydia flushed a bright red. “Betsy, watch yourself. What would Lord Masten say if he heard you say such a thing?”
Betsy smiled broadly. “Well, since his lordship is always out and about at the crack of dawn, I don’t think there’s much chance he’ll hear me say such a thing.”
“You are insolent.” Lydia laughed.
“Yes, and that’s why you love me. Now, Dunsley says you’ve received a letter from that crusty old vicar, Mr. Lovelace.”
Lydia nodded. “He must be responding to my invitation to dinner.”
“A dinner can only be so much fun with that old stick and his harpy wife.”
“Betsy!”
“You’ve yet to meet him, my lady. And you can mark my words, they’ll be a drain on that party you’re havin’. Now, into the tub with you.”
After Betsy bathed her and dressed her hair, Lydia made her way back down through the maze of passageways to the dining hall. Dunsley awaited her presence. “His lordship has gone out to the tenant farms today.” Then he sat her at the massive table and offered her an envelope on a silver salver.
Lydia smiled in response and opened the letter. The vicar, Mr. Edward Lovelace, and his wife had happily accepted her invitation to dinner. That made four couples she was to host—Mr. and Mrs. Lovelace; Sir Philip Cressley, the local magistrate, and his wife; Lord and Lady Edgecroft, whose property bordered Robert’s to the west; and Mr. and Mrs. Vaughan, neighbors that Caroline had apparently been close to at one time. Lydia was beyond nervous about hosting this dinner. She wanted so badly to be accepted by these people, to find a place for herself in this community, to prove herself to Robert, and make him proud of her.
She knew Robert didn’t understand her anxiousness about the event. He’d shaken his head at dinner the night before, and mumbled something about silly female nerves. He couldn’t possibly understand her fears and concerns in this regard. He was known and accepted in the community; she was an outsider. Until now she had never stood shoulder to shoulder with her husband in society. This was important.
After just a few days at Gosling Park, Lydia had discovered her late mother-in-law’s gardens. If they weren’t the most spectacular in Dorset, she would be amazed. There were beautifully sculpted topiaries, a hedgerow maze, and more flowering plants than she could possibly name. She had never been more aware of her inexperience as a gardener until she walked through Gosling’s garden and couldn’t identify even half the plants that resided there. Despite her ineptitude in gardening matters, this was her favorite place at Gosling. She often found her way to a secluded stone bench surrounded by stunning topiaries. The gardens were soothing and flooded Lydia with a feeling of serenity whenever she was there.
Today when she stopped at her stone bench and sat down, she did so with a feeling of anticipation. Petey and Penny were to arrive tomorrow with Mrs. Norris and Miss Mitford, their new governess. She was certain the children would love Gosling Park, and then her days would be filled as well as her nights.
She tipped her head back to the cerulean sky, closed her eyes, and basked in the warmth of the sun.
“Watch yourself,” a smooth male voice said from behind her. “You don’t want to get freckles. Most unbecoming on a countess.”
Lydia knew that voice and she w
inced. Her heart pounded feverishly and she suddenly felt dizzy. Slowly, she opened her eyes and spun around.
Blast it! Of all people in the world.
Luke Beckford stood right behind her. Lydia’s mouth fell open in shock. He was even more devastatingly handsome than when she first laid eyes on him all those years ago. His golden hair hung rakishly across his brow and his haunting green eyes seemed as if they could see straight into her soul.
When her face flushed red and she took a deep intake of air, Luke laughed with an easy charm. “It’s been a long time, Lydia.”
“Mr. Beckford!” she managed to choke out. “Good Heavens! What are you doing here?”
With a heart-melting grin, Luke raised his brow. “What a warm reception from my dear sister-in-law.” Then he patted his coat pocket. “King Robert has summoned me, and like the good subject I am, I’ve answered his call.”
Summoned him? What would possess Robert do such a thing? Luke was certainly the last person Lydia wanted to see, now or ever. How was someone to act around their one-time lover and now brother-in-law? It was hard enough to live down her past without Luke hanging about.
Luke offered Lydia his arm, which she regarded with the warmth of an approaching asp. Again Luke laughed. “I promise not to bite, Lydia—unless, of course, you ask me to.”
She scowled at him. “At the risk of being rude, Mr. Beckford, I think I’ll remain here. Following you got me into a spot of trouble last time. Besides, I don’t think my husband would approve.”
Luke sank onto the bench beside her and smiled—that charming smile of a rogue that never failed to melt women’s hearts or lead them into trouble. “Oh, Robert never approves of anything, my love. So, tell me, however did you break out of Blackstone? Chisel and hammer? Or something more dastardly? Really, I’m dying to find out.”
She was not going to do this. She was not going to have this conversation with this man! Not here, not ever. Abruptly, she stood up and backed away from her brother-in-law. “Forgive me, but I have things to attend to. Good day, Mr. Beckford.”
Quickly she started down the garden path toward the manor house, but Luke easily caught her, snaring her waist in his hands. “Not so fast, Lady Masten.”
Lydia turned in his arms to look up at him. The man was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was so strikingly handsome and looked like a perfect gentleman, but he was the devil incarnate—and she knew that first hand. “Unhand me this instant, you cad!”
Immediately, Luke released her, with just a ghost of a smirk on his face. “We’re not yet finished, Lydia, you and I.”
“We were finished when you abandoned me to your brother’s wrath.”
“That hasn’t been such a bad deal, has it? I mean, the fool did marry you. You’re now the Countess of Masten—not a position you could’ve aspired to without my help.”
Lydia’s face heated up. How dare the lout act as if he’d done her a favor by ruining her and then deserting her! “That kind of help I can do without, thank you.”
“So spirited, Lydia.” Luke stepped back to take in her form. “And you’ve filled out so nicely in all the right places.”
With pursed lips and a pounding heart, she stormed back to the house, leaving Luke alone in her wake. Why would Robert ask that bounder to come to Gosling Park?
The last thing she heard him say as she walked away was, “You should be nice to me, unless you want Robert to learn all your dirty little secrets.”
She didn’t even bother to turn around. What had he meant by that? No, she didn’t want to know. It was just Luke being Luke. She had no secrets. Well, not many, but certainly none that Luke could know. No one knew those dark secrets.
***
Robert hadn’t planned on patching the leak in Mrs. Perkins’ roof today, but his steward had needed extra help. The process had gone as well as could be expected, but after lifting several pounds of straw thatch and balancing precariously on a rickety ladder for what felt like hours on end, he was hot, sweaty, and exhausted.
As he rode his stallion back toward Gosling Park, every muscle in his body seemed to ache. Dinner would be served soon, and then he could enjoy the pleasures of his wife. Robert smiled and released a sigh just thinking about it. There wasn’t a better way to end the kind of day he’d had.
But Robert’s day was not going to get any easier, and he realized it as soon as he stepped inside the castle. He was instantly assaulted by the smell of freshly smoked cheroot and the familiar citric scent of his brother’s shaving lotion. The combination of odors permeated the entire front hallway. Almost immediately, Robert’s nerves went on edge. He didn’t even need the sullen look he received from Dunsley to let him know that Luke had indeed arrived at Gosling Park.
Robert handed his hat to Dunsley and was afraid to ask, but did so anyway. “Where is my brother?”
“Mr. Beckford is in the green salon, my lord.”
A headache formied right behind his eyes. God, what an awful day. “And Lady Masten?”
The butler shook his head. “I believe she is in your chambers, sir. Betsy says that the countess is not feeling well today.”
Robert scowled. Not feeling well, indeed. Well, neither was he. His temples throbbed painfully. Best get the unpleasantness of his brother out of the way. Robert stalked off toward the green salon and his stomach dropped with every step he took.
Had Lydia seen Luke? Is that why she was in hiding? What a stupid question. Of course she had seen the reprobate. But had his brother made an advance toward her? His jaw tightened with just the mere thought. The scoundrel slept with everyone else’s wives. Why would he behave himself around Lydia?
But what had she done? What had she said in response? The last few weeks with his wife had been such heaven. Suddenly, he felt lightheaded. Whether it was from the physical exertion of roofing or the idea of facing his brother, he wasn’t sure.
What a lie that was.
Never in his life had he been wary of meeting his brother. Angry at him, sure. Irritated, often. Disappointed, always. But never wary, until now. In all his years as earl, Robert had held the upper hand in his interviews with Luke, but now… Well, now Robert had something he was afraid to lose.
Did Lydia still harbor feelings of love for his degenerate brother? Had the utopia he’d been living in come to an abrupt end?
Would Lydia leave him?
He steadied his shoulders and pushed open the door to the green salon. Luke was lounging like a man without a care in the world across the brocade settee. He was flipping through one of Robert’s horse breeding periodicals and sipping some of Robert’s best whiskey.
Had the lout sampled anything else that belonged to Robert?
Purposefully, he shut the door to the salon with such a force that it could only be described as a slam. He immediately regretted the action, as the sound echoed in his pounding brain. But luckily he also got the reaction from Luke that he was looking for.
The sudden jarring sound caused his generally unflappable brother to start, and he sloshed some of that aforementioned whiskey onto his embroidered waistcoat. “Damn it, Robert. There’s no need to come blazing in here like a pack of elephants.”
“Herd,” Robert corrected as he paced a path in front of the door.
“Heard what?”
“No, a herd. Wolves travel in packs, elephants in herds.”
Luke rolled his eyes and rested his head against the back of the settee. “Blister it, Robert. You know what I meant.”
“What are you doing here, Luke?”
With a weary exasperation, Luke retrieved a letter from his pocket and hurled it toward his pacing brother. “Answering your summons, brother.”
Robert snatched up the letter, but didn’t bother to look down at it. He knew very well what it said, and there was no request for Lucas to travel to Dorset. “I didn’t summon you here. I told you to take care of that business with the Ridgemont pendant.”
Luke threw his head back and laughed. “Yes,
thank you for your faith in me, as always.” Then he stood and dropped his glass, and the remaining amount of whiskey left in it, on the mahogany table in front of him. “I didn’t know that you’d reconciled with Lydia. Hell, Rob, I didn’t know you were on speaking terms with your fair wife.”
Robert stopped mid-pace and glared at his brother. “My relationship with my wife is none of your concern, Lucas.”
With a lazy smirk and a raised brow, Luke retrieved his whiskey and motioned with a mock toast toward his brother. “Really, Rob, Lydia was much warmer with her welcome to me earlier, you know.”
There were some things that Robert could talk over rationally with his brother—horse breeding, estate management, even Tory politics—but Lydia did not, and would never, fall into that category. Taking in Luke’s smug expression, and wondering anxiously what exactly his brother had meant by ‘warmer welcome,’ Robert lost a silent battle with his temper. Despite his sore, aching muscles and his pounding headache, he moved with the speed of lightning and had Luke in a choke-hold in a mere matter of seconds. “Stay away from my wife!” he hissed. “Do you hear me, you lecherous bastard?”
With surprising strength, Luke was able to pry his brother’s fingers from around his throat then doubled over while he gasped for breath. “Blast you, Robert!” He heaved heavily and slowly took in air. “What the devil has gotten into you?”
Robert narrowed his eyes, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “All I asked was that you give back the bloody pendant, Lucas. I didn’t request that you pay me a visit.”
“For God’s sake, I don’t have any damned sapphire pendant.”
The look of complete surprise on Luke’s face was just a bit startling to Robert, but he kept his gaze steady on his brother. He knew Luke well—well enough not to let his brother’s feigned innocence shake his resolve.
