by Ava Stone
Lydia innocently shook her head. “Secrets? Does this have to do with Luke? With that bizarre remark he made to me?”
Robert had nearly forgotten about that little episode. Was it possible that Luke knew Lydia’s secrets? The last time they’d seen each other was five years ago, and even then they were barely acquainted a sennight. What could his brother have possibly learned in such a short period of time?
Most likely it was nothing. It simply didn’t make any sense for Luke to know something of importance.
Robert raised one of Lydia’s hands to his lips. “Peter said something earlier, and it’s been bothering me most of the day.”
“Well, I’m sure he didn’t mean to upset you. Whatever it is, I’ll ask him to apologize.”
Frustrated, Robert dropped her hand, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his seat, away from his wife. “Lydia, did you really live in an orphanage?”
She was shocked and nearly fell backward, but Robert moved forward and reached out his arms to catch her. Lydia smiled up at him tentatively. Apparently, she hadn’t expected that question, but she regained her composure and nodded slowly. “Yes. Is that what you’re upset about?”
“I’m upset, Lydia, because I didn’t know about it. Why didn’t I know about it?”
Lydia shrugged, but kept a concerned eye on his face. “I don’t suppose I thought it was important. But it wasn’t a secret, Robert. You can ask James or Bethany if you like. They both know all about it.”
“Why? Why were you sent to an orphanage?” The idea of his sweet wife being subjected to that kind of mistreatment made him see red. In fact, at the moment he’d like to pound Carteret into the ground for allowing such a thing to transpire.
Lydia frowned, but she leaned in more closely toward him and rested her chin on his leg. She met his eyes and spoke quietly. “I was nine at the time. Mama had died suddenly, unexpectedly. I didn’t have any family in England. Papa was already gone, thank God, and Henry was at sea. So, I ended up in a children’s home in Spitalfields. But I wasn’t there long. Maybe a month, maybe a bit longer. Aunt Agnes was in Dumfries-shire, and as soon as she got word about Mama, she left Scotland to find me. And that was it. Honestly, Robert, I wasn’t trying to keep it from you.” She looked at him pleadingly.
When he looked at his wife, he saw the helpless little girl she’d once been. He wanted so desperately to take care of her. “My God, Lydia. When I think of what you’ve been through.”
She smiled at that and sat up straight. “Please, I barely remember it. It was a lifetime ago.”
“I don’t believe that.” Robert heaved a sigh. And he didn’t believe it, not for a minute. No one ever forgot horrors like that. How could she be so nonchalant about it?
“What do you want me to say?” Lydia absently fingered one of the buttons on his waistcoat, looking lost in her memories. “Do you want me to ramble on about the squalid conditions? The rodent-infested hovel we were made to live in, that was rampant with disease? Tell you about the food that wasn’t edible—but that we ate it anyway?” She shook her head and stared up at him. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Robert. It’s all in the past. Remembering it is painful and so I choose not to do so.”
He couldn’t remember a time when she was so open, and he still had questions that hadn’t yet been answered. Robert cupped her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “My darling, I am so sorry for all of that. I don’t want to make you remember unpleasantness. It’s just that sometimes I feel like you’re hiding a part of yourself away from me.”
Lydia stared at him innocently with wide eyes. “Heaven’s, Robert, I’ve given you every part of myself. What can you possibly think I’m hiding?”
She was closing up again and he frowned. He didn’t want to hurt her, but his conscience nagged at him. If he didn’t get the answers he sought now, then when? Robert pressed on. “Your family. Unless it has to do with Carteret, you never speak of them. When I do ask you directly, you change the subject. I just want to know where you come from, Lydia.”
A blank expression fell
“Because it tells me who you are.”
“You know who I am,” she insisted with a shake of her head.
“Not all of you, only the part you choose to show me. I don’t know why you hate your father. You once mentioned a sister who died, but you won’t speak of it. I’ve only heard you refer to your mother in the vaguest of terms. What caused the rift between you and your brother? Why did—”
“Stop!” she wailed with a pained expression. Then she whispered, “Please, Robert, just let it be.”
Seeing her so miserable nearly broke his heart, but now he was certain he was right. There was something important she wasn’t telling him. How could he convince her to trust him? To confide in him? “Sweetheart, please tell me.” His voice was soft and caring.
But she just shook her head, sadly. “I’ve given you all I have to give. I’m sorry if that isn’t enough.” She pushed up to her feet, but couldn’t meet his eyes and started for the door.
He couldn’t let her run away from him. Robert jumped to his feet and stepped in front of her, effectively blocking her path. He pulled her into his embrace and rested his chin on her head. “What is so bad, Lydia, that you’re afraid to tell me? Do you think I won’t love you anymore, sweetheart?”
She went limp in his arms and then she shook as sobs wracked her body. There was nothing Robert could do except hold her close and whisper soothing words into her hair. God, he hated seeing her like this. If he could only understand.
Slowly, Lydia started to compose herself and she pushed away from him. “Wh—when you told me that my p—past didn’t matter to you, that it was my future you cared about—were you lying to me?”
Robert felt numb. That wasn’t what he’d meant when he said those words all those weeks ago. He closed his eyes, wondering what awful thing had a hold of his wife. “I meant that I don’t hold your past against you. I certainly do care about who you are, and your past is part of that. Tell me you see the difference, Lydia.”
“I am who you see. There’s nothing more to me.”
He didn’t believe that any more than she did. All he wanted to do was make it better, and he couldn’t do that if he didn’t know what it was. “Sweetheart, if you tell me what it is, I’ll do everything in my power to fix it. You know I will.”
She scoffed and wiped away the vestiges of her tears. “Some things can’t be fixed, Robert.” She turned her back to him and paced around the room. “Can you bring justice for my baby sister? Killed at the hands of my father, who is now dead, himself? God curse his soul.”
Robert stared at her, speechless. There was nothing he could say to that.
“No, I thought not.” Lydia’s gait increased. “Can you take away my memories of Mama’s broken bones and her shattered soul—all at the hands of that bastard and others like him? Can you bring back my brother to me? The sweet boy who protected me? Because that boy is gone, Robert. He doesn’t exist anymore.”
Again, tears fell freely down her face and Robert’s heart ached for her. Why had he forced the issue? What an arrogant bastard he was. Had he honestly thought he could fix whatever it was she was keeping from him? He couldn’t take away her past or comfort the little girl she’d been.
Robert couldn’t hold back any longer. He crossed the room in just a few strides and hauled her back into the strength and warmth of his arms. “I’m so sorry, my love. God, Lydia, I am so sorry. I won’t make you speak of it. Please, forgive me, my darling.”
Her arms tighten around his waist and he breathed in a sigh of relief. He shouldn’t have pressured her. Shouldn’t have forced her to talk of painful memories. He brushed his lips across the top of her head.
~ 16 ~
Gosling Park was in a mild uproar, and all over a mere dinner party for twelve measly people. Since Luke had descended upon the household and would be present at dinner, Lydia had asked Miss Mitford to attend as well, to r
ound out her numbers. At first the governess had balked at the invitation and seemed nervous to learn there was going to be a dinner party at all. But Lydia had enticed the girl with an extra day off the next week if she would attend. Besides, it was a good opportunity to meet the local magistrate and vicar. Finally, after she’d secured Miss Mitford’s acceptance, Lydia offered her the use of one of her gowns for the party.
Miss Mitford had politely refused the dress. “I don’t think that would be proper at all. I’m sure I have something that will be suitable, Lady Masten.”
Lydia smiled warmly. “If you change your mind the offer still stands. And one more thing, Miss Mitford.”
“Yes, my lady?”
Lydia took a deep breath and pursed her lips. How did one go about warning young women in regards to the dangers of Luke Beckford? “My brother-in-law—well, Mr. Beckford can be very persuasive with his attentions. I just want you to keep your guard up and be careful around him.”
But to Lydia’s surprise, Miss Mitford had laughed out loud at her warning. “Oh, Lady Masten, don’t worry about me. I know Mr.VI know all about Mr. Beckford. Remember, my cousin works for Lady Staveley.”
Lydia had smiled at that, putting her mind at ease. Thank heavens. It was one less thing to have to worry about. Though her list of other worries concerning her party were growing by leaps and bounds. She soon discovered that Betsy was a fountain of information regarding her guests. At first the knowledge was comforting, but that feeling had quickly turned to troubling.
Betsy had convinced her that she should watch Sir Phillip Cressley’s intake of spirits. Apparently, the magistrate was known to get foxed whenever he was in close proximity with the vicar. Lydia made a note: Place Sir Phillip and Mr. Lovelace at opposite ends of the table.
Lord Masten had been heard cursing Lord Edgecroft’s name earlier in the week and was itching to give their neighbor a piece of his mind. Apparently, Edgecroft’s sheep had recently started jumping the fence onto Gosling’s property and were eating everything in sight. Lydia made another note: Persuade Robert not to thrash Lord Edgecroft in front of the other guests.
Betsy felt certain that Lady Cressley would try to monopolize the handsome Mr. Beckford’s attention in an attempt to make her husband jealous. The baroness had been put out with Sir Phillip ever since he’d been found enjoying another woman’s company. Her ladyship now seemed dead-set on making her husband pay for his pursuit of other pleasures. Keep Lady Cressley away from Luke. Seat her near the Reverend Mr. Lovelace.
The list went on and on. How was there so much to keep in mind for such a small gathering? Lydia’s respect for Caroline’s ability to entertain swarms of people now knew no bounds. What she wouldn’t give for her sister-in-law’s sage advice.
On the plus side, Kistler had finally stopped sulking from the set-down Robert had apparently given him the night before. The earl had been in no mood to deal with his prickly valet, and he had made sure that Kistler understood—in no uncertain terms—that he would have to share his dressing room with Betsy from now on. While the valet had originally bristled at such an arrangement, he came around after being subjected to a burst of Robert’s quick temper. In the end, Kistler had swallowed enough pride to actually smile in Betsy’s presence. Lydia was hopeful that this was another situation she wouldn’t have to worry about anymore.
Betsy convinced Lydia to wear her new rose colored gown, and then gushed over how beautiful she looked in the creation. The maid piled Lydia’s hair up high on her head, but left a few tendrils out to curl around her face.
Lydia looked at her reflection in the floor-length mirror and her eyes grew wide with alarm. Robert would never approve of the revealing bodice on this gown. What had been going through her mind when she’d ordered it? Oh, yes, she had intended to punish her husband at the time. “Betsy, please fill this in with a fichu.” Lydia touched the top of her exposed bosom. “I think it would give Lord Masten heart palpitations to see me like this.”
Betsy smirked. “More like it would give him palpitations somewhere else.”
“Betsy!” Lydia tried to suppress a smile. “I don’t have any idea what you mean.”
The maid laughed as she tucked in the lacy material at the top of the countess’ dress, making it a bit more conservative.
The door to the chambers opened and Robert strode inside. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw his wife in the middle of the room. Then he smiled and crossed the room to inspect her more closely. “My love, you look gorgeous.”
Lydia blushed from his praise and then spun around in her new gown. “Do you really think so, Robert?”
He kissed the top of her head. “Aye, and the dress is nice too. Is this one of the new gowns from Madam Fournier?” He looked her over, front and back.
“Yes.” Lydia nodded as she looked up at him.
“It’s worth every penny. Remind me to thank Caroline for taking you shopping.”
Now she laughed. “Even though it was to teach you a lesson?”
“Even though.” He tapped her nose affectionately.
Betsy quietly cleared her throat. “Will that be all, my lady?”
“Yes,” Lydia responded, though she never removed her eyes from her husband. Then she snapped back to reality. “I mean no. I need my pearls, Betsy.”
The maid curtseyed. “Of course, my lady.”
“Wait.” Robert stopped the maid. “Betsy, leave us, will you. And tell Kistler I’ll be ready for him in a trice.”
“Yes, Lord Masten.” Betsy smiled one more time at Lydia and then bustled from the room.
Robert withdrew a long, slender box from his coat pocket and offered it to Lydia. “I hope you don’t mind, darling. I managed to pry out of Betsy what you would be wearing tonight and I’d hoped you’d wear these instead.”
Lydia tentatively took the gift from her husband and opened it with shaking hands. Inside the velvet-lined box, there was an opal nearly the size of her fist that hung from a slender cream-colored ribbon. There were also two smaller matching opal ear bobs. They were, in a word, stunning. Lydia looked back up at her husband in awe. “Oh, Robert.”
“They were my mother’s. But I want you to have them now. I sent Betsy into Lulworth to find a ribbon that would work.” He removed the necklace from the box and tied it around her neck.
“Robert, they are beautiful,” she remarked breathlessly, gently touching the opal around her neck.
He smiled while Lydia slid the ear bobs into place. “Much better than those virginal pearls,” he remarked, then stood back and admired his wife and her new baubles. “It’s almost perfect.”
“Almost?” Lydia asked in surprise and tried to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.
But before she could step away from Robert, he smiled devilishly, snatched the fichu from her dress, and flicked it over his shoulder. “Now it’s perfect.”
Lydia looked down at herself and then met his eyes in surprise. “You don’t think this is too daring? The Robert I knew in London would have hated this dress.”
Robert pulled her into his arms. “Oh, who cares what that Robert thought? He was a fool.” Then, very softly, he kissed her.
They were interrupted by a light scratching at the door. Robert rolled his eyes and whispered to his wife, “You’d best leave me to Kistler. The man is temperamental as it is. He won’t want you hovering.”
Lydia grinned. “I’ll check in on the children.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, love.” Robert cringed. “They’re down at the stables with Mrs. Norris. They wanted to check on Star Dancer.” The scratching got louder, and Robert frowned as he barked, “Stubble it, Kistler!” Then he smiled at his wife. “That man will be the death of me. Unfortunately, he’s the best damn valet to be found.”
Lydia giggled as she stepped toward the door and opened it. Kistler nearly fell to the floor, but he caught his balance and managed not to look flustered. She nodded politely to the valet. “I’ll leave his lordship in you
r very capable hands, Kistler.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Then the valet actually smiled at her before he started across the room to the earl.
Then Lydia turned back to look at her husband. “Oh, Robert, I nearly forgot.”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Promise me you won’t thrash Lord Edgecroft tonight at dinner.”
Robert’s mouth fell open. “How did you know I’d planned to?”
Kistler snorted. Loudly. “I’d bet you a year’s salary that Betsy Bowman told her. That woman has a loose tongue.”
Lydia smothered a smile. “Well, Robert?”
Her husband’s eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. “His sheep are a nuisance. And they’ve gotten into to my special crop of hay, Lydia.”
“Then you can make plans to see him tomorrow to discuss it. Please, Robert. You know how important this dinner is to me.”
His expression softened and he shrugged, looking like a troublesome boy. “You’ll have to use your wiles to convince me, darling.”
Kistler made some sort of choking sound from the corner of the room. When Robert glared sternly at his valet, Lydia giggled. “Oh, Lord Masten, I promise you’ll be amply rewarded for your good behavior.” Then with that, she left him to his toilet.
***
The guests were all assembled in the formal drawing room. Robert stood close to his wife and was glad she seemed more relaxed somewhat now that everyone had arrived. Mrs. Vaughan, an attractive young matron, asked Lydia all about London and how her old friend Caroline was getting along. Mr. Vaughan said very little, but walked around the drawing room, stopping every now and then to peer at one antique item or another.
From the moment she arrived, Lady Cressley flirted shamelessly with both Luke and the dour Lord Edgecroft. However her husband, Sir Phillip Cressley, the aging magistrate paid her activities little, if any, attention at all. Instead, the baronet focused on the thin and balding vicar, and he quickly downed two and a half glasses of whiskey as soon as Mr. Lovelace arrived.
