A Scandalous Wife

by Ava Stone

Robert got very little sleep that night and was relieved when morning finally came. He shaved and dressed quickly before tapping on the connecting door to Lydia’s chamber. She didn’t respond, so he pushed it open and peered inside. “Lydia, we’re leaving within the hour. Get up.”

  Without opening her eyes or saying a word, she reached blindly for a pillow and threw it at the door.

  Robert smirked. “Very amusing. But honestly it’s time to get up. I’ll be back for you soon.”

  He went down to breakfast and enjoyed black coffee, poached eggs, and toast. He made sure that everything had been loaded onto his coach, sent letters off to Caroline about the need for a governess and to Luke about a missing emerald pendant, and then he climbed the stairs back to his wife’s room. As before, there was no answer to his knock.

  When Robert opened the door, he couldn’t believe that she was still sleeping and hadn’t moved an inch since he’d left her. Patience wasn’t really his strong suit, but truly this couldn’t be tolerated. He strode across the room and ripped the covers off her.

  He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to find, but a prudish, cream-colored, muslin nightrail that buttoned to the top of her neck and made her look like a Quaker wasn’t what he had in mind. At the moment, she didn’t seem at all like the harlot he’d always thought of her as. “Lydia, we need to leave.”

  “Go away.” She reached in vain for the covers at her feet.

  Robert sat next to her on the bed and gently touched her cheek. “Come on, my dear, it’s time to get up.”

  Lydia opened one eye and grimaced. “I am sleeping, Masten. Leave me alone.” Then she rolled over, giving him her back.

  With a sly grin, Robert bent down to her ear and whispered, “If you don’t get up, then I’m going to climb in there with you.”

  Both of Lydia’s eyes flew open and she looked back at him in shock. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Robert pretended to loosen his cravat and then chuckled at her aghast expression. With a roguish grin, he chucked her under the chin. “Perfect, you’re awake. We’re leaving in ten minutes. Be ready to go.”

  She sat bolt upright at that, and glared at him. “Ten minutes! I can’t possibly—”

  “Then you should keep that in mind tomorrow morning and get up the first time I ask you. Ten minutes, Lydia. We’re on a schedule.”

  Robert’s schedule meant very little to Lydia. She washed and dressed in her usual speed. Then she made a trip to the schoolroom to kiss both Petey and Penny goodbye. When she saw tears in the boy’s eyes, she gently wiped them away and promised him that she would find the perfect place for the three of them to live.

  Penny looked sad at that. “Wot ‘bout Lor’ Masten? Won’ ‘e be with us too?”

  Lydia shook her head. “No, my dear, Lord Masten will not live with us.”

  “Why not?” Penny’s little lip trembled. “Is it ‘cause o’ me an’ Petey?”

  Did the child actually have tender feelings for the rigid and overbearing earl? Lydia was surprised at that, but tried to explain the situation as best as she could. “No, of course not. It’s just that his lordship is very busy with his stables. But he will visit us every now and then.” Especially if they had children of their own. He’d probably be around more than she’d like.

  “Oh.” Penny nodded understandingly. “Petey don’ like ’orses.”

  Lydia smoothed Penny’s brown hair off her face and kissed the little girl’s forehead. “We’ll make do, Penny.”

  Then she kissed Petey as well and retrieved promises from both children to listen to Mrs. Norris and be on their best behavior. She said a few parting words to the nurse and then went down to breakfast.

  She didn’t get to eat.

  With his arms folded across his chest in the breakfast room, Robert wore an irritated scowl. “I told you ‘ten minutes’ well over an hour ago.”

  “Well, that was just simply not enough time. Besides I needed to say goodbye to the children and reassure them that I wasn’t abandoning them.”

  His dark mood didn’t appear to be appeased by this bit of information. He rushed her out the front door to his awaiting carriage without breakfast. Lydia fumed, but Robert seemed unconcerned about her anger. She folded her arms across her chest and sulked as she rested her head against the window and finally fell back asleep.

  She could not possibly be comfortable in that position. Robert moved from his spot and took the seat beside her. Tenderly, he moved Lydia to his arms and held her. He had to be more comfortable than the wall.

  She looked like an angel as he gazed down at her peaceful, sleeping face. Her hair smelled like gardenias and he wanted to pull out her pins and feel it fall about his arms, though to do so he was sure he’d wake her. She wouldn’t be happy to find him messing with her hair. Robert breathed in her scent and smiled to himself. She had certainly grown up in the last five years.

  As her weight rested against him, he soothingly stroked her arm and then fell asleep himself. When he woke up, she was sitting across the coach from him again, but now knitting. He stretched and yawned, and she smiled at him from her seat. “Sleep well, Masten?”

  “What happened to Robert?”

  “Robert shouldn’t wake me up in the mornings.” She smiled and her light blue eyes twinkled at him.

  “Oh!” He laughed and returned her smile. “You’re punishing me. Well, my lady, it will take more than that.” He watched her knit, intrigued. He’d spent little time thinking about her over the years, but when he did, he never envisioned her knitting—or saving little orphaned pick-pockets for that matter. “What are you making?”

  Lydia briefly met his eyes and then refocused on her yarn and needles. “Socks for my brother.”

  Brother?

  Robert tilted his head toward her with a raised brow. “You have a brother?”

  This time Lydia didn’t look up from her work, but she smiled. Her voice was soft and musical. “Yes, Masten. I’m guessing there are many things we don’t know about each other.”

  He watched the yarn fly quickly over her needles and decided she must be right. “Who is he, your brother?”

  She continued working. “Henry’s a lieutenant in the navy, and he holds me in as much esteem as you do. I’m sure you could beat me liberally and he wouldn’t lift a finger to stop you.”

  Robert frowned. That was an awful thing to say. Did she really think he wanted to hurt her? He hadn’t necessarily been kind over the years, but he’d never harmed her. “And yet you’re making him socks?”

  Lydia dropped her needles to her lap and looked across at her husband with a sorrowful expression. “I’m all he has left in the world.”

  Sobering words, to be sure. Her brother hated her, but she had kept him in her heart. The same could not be said for Robert. He had seen Luke only a handful of times in the last few years, and never had he openly admitted to caring about the reprobate. “I’m thinking there are sides to you I know nothing about, Lydia. Pretend like we’ve just met and tell me who you are.”

  Lydia blushed, apparently unaccustomed to his attention. “Nothing much to tell, Masten. My father was in the navy and gone most of the time. My mother was afraid of her own shadow, and I have an older brother who once upon a time loved me. He used to protect me. Papa died from injuries he received in the Battle of Aboukir Bay, and Mama died when I was barely nine. Aunt Agnes took me in then and…” Lydia smiled at the memory. “Well, then my life was peaceful, more so than it had ever been anyway.”

  “Was it?” He liked it when she smiled.

  “My cousins, James and Hannah, were both gone by then. Aunt Agnes was alone and so was I. She doted on me and for the first time in my life I felt truly safe.” She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall of the coach. “I was her constant companion, which is how I found myself at Staveley’s years later. And you know the rest.”

  “Luke.” Robert frowned. It was bothering him more and more that his brother had ever touched her.
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  “Yes.” She picked her needles back up and worked quickly.

  “But why?” Robert asked. In the time he’d spent with her over the last few days, she didn’t seem at all like the wanton little thing he’d thought her to be. “What was it about my brother?”

  She wouldn’t look at him and stayed focused on her yarn, but she blushed from head to toe.

  “Lydia?” he prodded.

  “You don’t want to hear about that.”

  He crossed the carriage to her side and placed his hands over her needles until she met his gaze. “Tell me.” He had to know.

  She swallowed hard and her shoulders sank. “He looked at me, Robert, like he could see into my soul. I felt safe with him. He showered me with attention and affection. Was there ever anyone more charming? I honestly think your brother could sell wool to a sheep farmer.”

  Robert thought about her words. She was right. When his brother wished it, he could be the most charming of men.

  “And when he kissed me…” She looked down at her hands, unable to meet his eyes any longer. “Well, what you’ve always said about me is true, Robert. I would’ve done whatever he asked of me.”

  Robert studied her face and saw pain reflected there. She had loved Luke. It was as plain as day. That thought was sobering. Did she still harbor feelings for his degenerate brother? “Found the man of your dreams and instead got saddled with his stodgy brother, who takes every opportunity to remind you of your indiscretion.”

  Lydia’s eyes rose in mild amusement. “Are you stodgy?”

  He laughed, happy to break the tension and to see a twinkle back in her eyes. “Chet says I am. Astwick, that is.”

  “I like him.” Lydia smiled and Robert loved the look on her face. “He has an infectious laugh and puts me at ease.”

  “He likes you too. You should smile more often, Lydia. Your eyes light up when you do.”

  Suddenly, they were thrown in the air when their carriage wheel found a hole in the road. Lydia fell to the floor of the coach and heard Robert yell out in surprised pain, “Ahh!”

  Gaining her senses, Lydia turned in his direction and stared in horror at one of her knitting needles protruding out of his shoulder. “Robert!”

  He sank back in the seat and pulled the needle out of his arm. Lydia tried to catch her breath as his shoulder dampened with blood. She knelt at his side to examine the wound, but Robert was attempting to remove his neckcloth and jacket. “Let me,” Lydia insisted.

  She undid his knot and pulled his arms through his jacket sleeves. She dropped his unwanted clothes to the floor by her side. Robert pulled his shirt over his head. Lydia gently placed her hands around the wound and tried to judge the damage.

   Though he could feel his blood pounding toward the hole in his shoulder, her hands brought with them a soothing comfort. He hardened from just her simple touch on his naked skin. It was annoying to discover that his body could betray him at a time like this. “It’s just a flesh wound,” Robert barked and tried to shake her off.

  “Stop moving, Robert, and let me look.” After a few moments of examination, she slid her dress up and ripped off a long muslin section of her petticoat.

  Robert watched her breathlessly, relieved she hadn’t noticed his arousal. He should be focused on his throbbing arm, but instead he hid a smile when she turned back to face him with a strip of fabric. She pressed the material to his wound and then wound the rest of the muslin around his arm. He decided almost despite himself, that the pain was well worth having her hands on his skin and the attention she gave him.

  “I’m perfectly fine, Lydia,” he insisted, more softly this time. When she met his gaze, he winked at her and then pounded the top of the carriage for the driver. “Watch the holes, Henderson, my wife’s going to skewer me down here.”

  “Oh, Robert, I’m so sorry.” Her face was still pale, but he couldn’t help but grin at her.

  “You know, my dear, I’m fairly flush in the pockets, and I’ll be more than happy to allot up to a thousand pounds a year toward socks for Lieutenant Warner. Just put those damned things away, will you?”

  She nodded quickly and threw her yarn and needles back into her valise. The color started to return to her face and she looked sheepishly at her husband. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes.” He smiled at her and pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Lucky, I had such a quick thinking nurse.”

  Why was he smiling at her? Considering the fact that he hated her and she’d plunged a knitting needle into his shoulder, he should have been seething. The Robert Beckford she’d known up until now would have been. Had he hit his head on the wall of the coach? His smile was completely disarming. It made him seem approachable and…appealing. “You wouldn’t have been injured in the first place if it wasn’t for me.”

  “True,” he conceded, and his smile grew larger. “But then we wouldn’t have this tale to tell our children one day.”

  Our children?

  “Are you really serious about this, Robert?”Her throat began to close in on her.

  He nodded without hesitation. “The more I’ve thought of it, the more it makes sense. I have no faith in my brother, Lydia. I wouldn’t be a good steward of my title to let it fall into his hands.”

  None of that really made any sense to her, though it sounded like it meant something to him. Still it didn’t seem like a good reason to bring a child into the world— spitefulness. “Perhaps he will surprise you after all and be worthy.”

  Robert scoffed at that and shook his head. “If he was going to do that, he’d have done it long before now. I promise to be a very generous father, Lydia.”

  She tilted her head and frowned. Generous? Children needed more than generosity. There was such a difference in the way she was reared and the way she saw James rearing his children, the way she wanted to rear Petey and Penny. In the Carteret home, despite paint-covered morning rooms and the usual squabbles between siblings, the children’s lives were very peaceful. They didn’t have any of the anxiety she had grown up with.

  Robert’s expression was curious and he gently touched her chin. “You don’t believe I’ll be generous?”

  He was so close to her and still shirtless—impressively so. His warm hand on her chin made her blush. She tried to smile and shook her head. “Oh, I have no doubt that you would be, my lord, but—” she retrieved his shirt from the floor and handed it to him— “the happiest children are those who are loved, not those who are needed for some other purpose.”

  She could feel him studying her face and he threw his shirt back on. “You think I’m not capable of love then, Lydia?”

  How should she respond to that? She had never seen any kind of love from him. Only kindness on occasion. “Could you possibly love a child and despise his mother at the same time?”

  He frowned and leaned in close to her, tugging up at her chin to meet his eyes. “Lydia, we didn’t marry under the most suitable of circumstances and I have been less than kind to you over the years, but you are growing on me and I certainly don’t despise you.”

  She wasn’t convinced of his sincerity and moved back to her side of the coach. “Growing on you? Not really the basis for starting a family.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not in love with you,” Robert admitted. “But I’m finding that I like you, Lydia. That’s better than a lot of people have.”

  He liked her? She never would have guessed that, not in a million years. But his words were true. Not everyone’s parents liked each other. She didn’t believe hers had ever gotten along, yet they had three children. But did she trust Robert? Nothing from the last five years demonstrated that she should. She leaned against the velvet squabs and let the rocking motion of the carriage send her back to sleep.

  When Lydia awoke it was dark outside. The carriage wasn’t moving and she was alone. As she tried to orient herself, she could hear angry male voices nearby. One of them sounded like Robert’s.

&n
bsp; She rubbed her eyes, opened the carriage door, and let herself down onto the ground. They were in front of a small inn with a hinged sign blowing in the wind. The Fox and The Hare. It seemed like a quaint little place. Lydia looked up at Henderson in the coachman’s box and the driver shrugged. “I wouldn’t go in there, Lady Masten.”

  But the voices were growing louder. She followed their sounds into the spacious taproom. Lydia stood cautiously in the doorway as she surmised the situation.

  Robert was glowering at an old man. She deduced by his attire and apron that he must be the innkeeper. Though he was much smaller than her husband, he held his own with a proud stance.

  Lydia scanned the room with her eyes. Some patrons were passed out across their tables, some were seated at the bar, and some had been playing cards in the far corner, but at the moment, all awake eyes were fixed firmly on her husband.

  Robert would probably be angry if she was to interfere, but she could tell that the odds weren’t in his favor. The other patrons, who didn’t look too far off from highwaymen, stared at her husband with obvious distaste. She was well familiar with his arrogance. He’d probably already said something that had insulted the entire room. She didn’t have a choice.

  Tentatively, she crossed the threshold of the taproom and started for her husband’s side. Her entrance caused several men to look in her direction. Sly grins crossed a few of their faces. Lydia chose to ignore them, but she did clutch her shawl a bit more tightly around her shoulders in response.

  Robert hadn’t noticed her. He continued to glare furiously at the innkeeper. “Well, that’s not acceptable,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

  Obviously exasperated with the earl, the innkeeper shook his head wearily. “Milord, don’t you think that if I had it, I’d give it to you?”

  Lydia reached Robert’s side and she tugged lightly on his arm. Though she was afraid to ask what the trouble was, she hoped her presence could help alleviate it. Her husband’s eyes were ablaze as he stared down the man before him. She’d seen that look before, and she was impressed that the innkeeper could withstand the heat.

  With the pressure of her on his arm, Robert glanced down and saw Lydia’s frightened expression. Almost immediately, his face softened. “You’re awake? I’m sorry, my dear, but this man tells me there are no rooms to be had.”

  “Oh.” Lydia smiled kindly at the elderly innkeeper. If he had no rooms, there was nothing he could do about it. He certainly couldn’t build onto his establishment in the next few minutes to accommodate them.

  The innkeeper stammered apologetically and seemed to appreciate her understanding smile. “I—I am sorry, Lady Masten. Our rooms are all taken. There’s a hunt in town, you see.”

  “Well, you certainly can’t give us something you don’t have,” she offered softly.

  The innkeeper smiled appreciatively. Robert watched the interaction with his brow raised in interest.

  Lydia continued, “We completely understand, Mr…?”

  “Cass.” The innkeeper nearly blushed.

  Lydia smiled sweetly. “We do understand, Mr. Cass, but if you were us, sir, what would you do? We do need a place to stay for the night.”

  One of the inebriated men at the bar called to her, “You can always stay with me tonight, sweeting. I’ll keep ye nice an’ warm.”

  There were several other drunken seconds to that motion, until Robert shot the chorus of men a look that could kill. “Watch your tongues in front of my wife!” he snapped.

  Lydia tightened her grip on her husband’s arm, willing him to keep his temper. If they made a scene, any help the innkeeper could offer would be non-existent. But it was the second time in as many days he’d come to her defense and she smiled gratefully up at him.

  “Mind yer manners. Don’t speak to her ladyship like that, or ye’ll all be out!” the innkeeper barked to the man at the bar and then frowned, looking to the ceiling as if waiting for holy intervention. It was apparent he didn’t wish to disappoint the countess, and then his face brightened. “My wife’s sister has a house in the village. Her daughter got herself married last weekend. I could see if she’d let you have her extra room for the night.”

  Lydia smiled. “Oh, sir, that would be lovely. We would be most appreciative. Wouldn’t we, my lord?”

  The innkeeper puffed out his chest and grinned at her.

  Robert continued to frown at the innkeeper, until Lydia pinched his arm. “Yes, most appreciative,” he said, echoing her sentiments.

  Mr. Cass nodded obligingly. “Very well. Why don’t you have a seat while I sort out the details for this evening with Mrs. Thompson? We’ve got some meat pie this evening. Mrs. Cass makes the best in Bedfordshire. And when you’re finished, I’ll be back to take you to my sister-in-law’s.” Then he glanced with irritation at Robert. “You’re welcome to have some too, milord. And, no, I don’t have a private parlor available either.”

  Robert grimaced back, but then straightened up when Lydia’s pleading look begged him to behave.

  With the situation settled, the patrons went back about their business, grumbling a little with disappointment that there hadn’t been a brawl to entertain them. A few eyed Lydia from top to bottom, but as they’d all witnessed Robert’s temper with the innkeeper, none made the mistake of addressing her again.

  Mr. Cass made his way from the room and Robert possessively slid his arm around Lydia’s shoulder. When she met his eyes, she was surprised to see amazement and a slight grin on his face.

  “I think our innkeeper is smitten with you, as are all these other ruffians.”

  “Robert!” She blushed as if she could read his mind. She certainly hadn’t flirted with the innkeeper. The man was old enough to be her grandfather. And she hadn’t encouraged any of the other men in the establishment either. Would he always think the worst of her?

  “Not that I can blame any of them, my dear.” Robert’s grin widened. “I doubt that ladies as lovely as you find their way to The Fox and The Hare on a regular basis.”

  Lydia gulped. He now seemed to be looking at her with admiration. No one would ever believe that. She was having a hard time believing it herself. Robert Beckford of all people!

  Watch yourself, Lydia. He may not despise you, but he could certainly never love you. You know exactly who this man is. Don’t be a fool. But despite herself, she enjoyed the warm glow in his brown eyes anyway.

  Soon a short, plump woman wearing an apron entered the room carrying two mincemeat pies. “Hugh said you two looked hungry.” She put the pies on an empty table and added some tankards from the bar.

  “Thank you.” Lydia smiled gratefully and the woman returned her look with a warm wink.

  The innkeeper was right. Nothing had ever tasted as wonderful as the pie Mrs. Cass had placed before them. Of course, Lydia was particularly famished. She had left without breakfast that morning, and lunch had been light. She didn’t look up at Robert the entire time at the table, too afraid of what his eyes would say to her.

  When the innkeeper returned and dinner was finished, they followed him down a small path to his sister-in-law’s home. It wasn’t far away and the light in the window looked inviting, especially after spending the day in a cramped traveling coach. After short introductions to Mrs. Thompson, Lydia smiled back at the elderly innkeeper. “Thank you so much, sir. But if I may trouble you for one more thing tonight…”

  “Certainly, milady, if it’s in my power.” A light blush settled on the innkeeper’s cheeks.

  “Is there a doctor in the area?”

  Mrs. Thompson looked concerned and nodded her head. “Doc Fisher is just down the road. Is something the matter, dearie?”

  “We had a slight accident today, and I’d like someone who knew what they were doing to take a look at my husband’s arm.”

  “Lydia,” Robert grumbled, “I’m perfectly fine.”

  The innkeeper shot Robert a look of annoyance, but Lydia pressed on. “I think the pain’s ma
de him rather grumpy. Please forgive him.”

  With an obliging look, the innkeeper nodded and started down the road. “Of course, milady. I’ll find ‘im for ye.”

  Mrs. Thompson led Lydia and Robert to a small room on the top floor of her quaint home and left them with a reassuring smile. “I’m sure Doc Fisher will be right over, dear.”

  Their hostess closed the door and Lydia turned around to see Robert frowning at her. “That really wasn’t necessary, Lydia.”

  “As I’m the one who found us a place to stay for the night, you’ll just have to humor me,” she cooed back. Satisfied with her small victory, she plopped down on the feather bed. Almost instantly, she looked around the room and then realized, with a touch of anxiety, that she would be sharing this bed with her husband the entire night. Not in five years of marriage had they shared a bedchamber.

  Robert smirked at her, and she was certain he could read her thoughts. “No, not a big room is it? I could always offer to sleep on the floor, Lydia, but my arm…”

  She threw a pillow at him. “I thought you were ‘perfectly fine.’”

  With a charming laugh, he teased her. “Now that you mention it, my arm is very tender. The floor would only make it worse. You’ve developed quite a habit of throwing pillows at me, my dear.”

  “Be glad I don’t have rocks.”

  He sat on the other side of the bed and grinned. “I’ll count my blessings. Anyway, we’ll be sharing a bed soon enough as it is. And, unlike my brother, I can control myself. You’ll be safe enough tonight.”

  Safe enough? What did he mean by that?

  There was a sharp knock at the door and Robert opened it, letting Doctor Fisher into the room. Lydia had no expectations about what the doctor would look like, but apparently Robert did. She noticed that her husband frowned at the handsome, young, black-haired man with wire-rimmed spectacles carrying a doctor’s bag. Did Robert think the man too young to be a doctor? With a pensive look, Robert met his wife’s eyes.

  “You’re Doctor Fisher?” Robert asked with a disbelieving tone.

              The young doctor smiled a handsome grin. “Aye. Mr. Cass said you’ve had some sort of an accident?”

  “My wife won’t let me have any peace until someone takes a look at it.” When Robert started removing his jacket and blood-stained shirt, Lydia found herself staring at his magnificently sculpted chest. She blushed profusely and went to the window to look outside—anywhere but at her gloriously half-naked husband.

  “What happened here?” she heard the doctor say in surprise and she turned around, worried that the injury was worse than Robert had let on.

  Her husband was sitting on the bed and the doctor began removing the strip of petticoat she had wound around Robert’s arm.

  Robert winked at her and grinned mischievously. “My wife stabbed me with a knitting needle. Can you believe that? I’ve married a shrew.”

  “Masten!” She was appalled that he would say such a thing. “I assure you, Doctor Fisher, it was an accident. Though at the moment I’m wishing it had plunged a little deeper.”

  The handsome doctor chuckled. “Well, from what Hugh said, he probably deserved it, my lady.” He opened his bag, took out a little brown bottle, dabbed its contents onto some gauze, and then cleaned the area on his patient’s shoulder. When Robert winced in pain, Lydia cringed right along with him.

  Doctor Fisher smiled at Lydia’s empathy and he tried to soothe her. He talked about his studies in Edinburgh and how he’d come back to the district so that his father, the previous doctor, could retire. “The hours, as you can see, are a bit unpredictable. You never know when you’ll be needed and have to rush off at a moment’s notice.”

  “Your wife must be very patient, Doctor,” Lydia remarked as the young man massaged a salve over Robert’s wound.

  The doctor shrugged with a grin. “I’m not married, Lady Masten—much to the chagrin of my mother, Mrs. Thompson, and all of the other village matrons. They all think I need a wife to organize my life.”

  Robert frowned at the doctor. “They don’t all bring organization. Good luck in finding one who does.” Then he avoided Lydia’s scowl from that remark.

  Doctor Fisher wrapped Robert’s wound with clean gauze, then gave Lydia instructions to make sure his lordship kept it dry for the next several days. He smiled, bowed slightly, and then took his leave.

  She breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn’t a serious injury and began pulling the pins from her hair. “Thank heavens you’ll be all right.” Like a cascade, Lydia’s soft light red hair fell neatly past her shoulders and half way down her back. She was oblivious to the affect the sight had on Robert, who stared in awe.

  “Thank heavens?” Robert repeated with a lilt in his voice as he gazed admiringly at her, suddenly in a much better mood now that the doctor was gone. “Aren’t you the same girl who wished me to the devil?”

  Of course he would remember that! After their vows, when he had ruthlessly disparaged her and sent her off to Blackstone, she had wished him to the devil, but it had been under her breath. She didn’t know that he’d heard her.

  She narrowed her eyes on him, glad that he’d reminded her again why she hated him. “Yes, that was right after you were perfectly ghastly to me.”

  She ran a brush through her hair, and Robert rolled onto his side and watched her with anticipation. “Was I ghastly?”

  “You know very well that you were.” She braided her hair feverishly and turned her back to him.

  He waited until she was done with the chore and then tugged at the hem of her dress until she sat on the bed and looked at him. “I was just being practical, Lydia.” He took one of her hands and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. His lips were warm and the gentleness of his touch surprised her. Tendrils of sensual anticipation raced up her arm and settled deep in her belly.

  That would never do.

  She sighed and reclaimed her hand from his grasp. “It was five years ago, Robert. I don’t want to argue about it now.”

  Robert looked at her genuinely. “Neither do I.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and undid his boots and then his socks. “I’m sure you’ll feel more comfortable if I leave my breeches on.”

  “Is Henderson not bringing our bags?”

  He didn’t look at her as he flung back the coverlet. “No. I didn’t want him to come all this way and back. He’s at the stables at The Fox and The Hare with the coach.”

  “Oh.” She looked down at the dress she’d worn all day. Not the best for sleeping in, but he wasn’t giving her much of a choice. “Well, do you mind if I wear my chemise to bed then?”

  She thought she could detect a grin cross his face, but it was quickly gone. “Whatever will make you comfortable, my dear.”

  Yes, she should be comfortable. Lydia undid the lacing on her traveling dress, slipped it over her head and removed her petticoat, leaving only her sheer chemise. Then she quickly dashed under the sheets and pulled them tightly around her.

  Robert watched the entire display with a playful grin. “Modest are we, Lady Masten?”

  She glared at him and then gave him her back as she turned away.

  He rolled onto his side and stroked her arm gently. “Actually, I think I prefer this—” he fingered the ribbon strap of her chemise— “to that stuffy nightrail from this morning.”

  Shocked by his intimate touch, she kept her back to him. “Do you? And here you’d told me you were stodgy, Robert.”

  He chuckled and nuzzled her neck. “That doesn’t mean I’m dead. Now, my dear wife, did I notice that you looked away when I took my shirt off?”

  His hand felt so good on her arm, and his lips against her neck were like heaven. She closed her eyes and wished him away. She didn’t want to feel that way about him, which she now realized would be very easy to do. “Contrary to what you think, Robert, I haven’t seen all that many hairy chests in my days.”

  “You haven’t?” h
e whispered in her ear. Her heart fluttered.

  “Only your brother’s.” That should make him leave her alone.

  His hold loosened on her arm and then after a moment it tightened again. “I don’t want to think about that right now, Lydia.”

  She rolled over to face him. They were just inches away from each other. He brought his hand to her chin and caressed her lips with the pad of his thumb. “You are very beautiful.”

  He was closing in to kiss her, but she put her finger to his lips. “Robert Beckford, you told me you could control yourself. If your arm hurts too badly, I could always move to the floor.”

  He looked dejected. “You are my wife, you know?”

  Lydia hated to see that look in his eye and she tapped his chin gently, hoping it would go away. “Only in name, Robert. Where we go from here has not yet been decided.”

  He had decided, but he’d give her time to come to the same conclusion. “Very well,” he gave in. “I said I’d behave and I will.” He kissed her forehead and then turned his back to her.

  Robert couldn’t close his eyes. He lay perfectly still until Lydia’s breathing became rhythmic and he was certain she was sleeping. He turned back toward her. When he did, the mattress dipped and she rolled closer to him. Some of Lydia’s magnolia-scented hair slipped from her braid and fell over her face. He gently smoothed it away and was left staring at the face of his beautiful wife. She had perfectly arched eyebrows, an adorable, pert little nose, and those lips, full and begging for him to kiss them.

  Her arm wrapped around him, and she snuggled into him as if he were a pillow. Robert sighed heavily, and knew he was in trouble as he held her against him. He had first suspected it when he’d seen her at his sister’s ball. He was more certain of it when he’d agreed to take in her little pick-pockets. But now there was no doubt in his mind. Robert Beckford—the staid, ruthless, horse-mad, beastly, boorish, stodgy Earl of Masten—wanted to bed his wife.

  Lydia’s head rested against his chest, and he sighed. Perhaps she hadn’t yet decided where they went from here, but Robert had never been more certain of anything in his life. He needed her. His whole body ached for her. And now, holding her, he was finally able to close his eyes and rest.

  When Lydia awoke, it was still dark outside and she found herself in Robert’s embrace. It was the second time since they’d started this journey that she’d awoken in his arms. If she was to be honest, the sensation was one she quite enjoyed—but she could never admit that, not to him. Then his hand moved on her uncovered skin, and her eyes grew round. She hadn’t realized that her chemise had worked its way up around her waist or that her husband held her hip in his grasp.

  Her eyes flew to his face, but he was sleeping. Thank heavens! She sighed against his bare chest. If he were awake, she’d have to demand that he unhand her, but as he was not, she could safely enjoy his touch. His warm hands on her skin were so comforting. Oh, how she hoped that he never learned that. He already wielded too much power over her as it was.

  A week ago, he was the very last man in England she would have felt comfortable with. Though she hated to admit it, he was growing on her as well. That made him much too dangerous. Better than anyone, she knew who he really was. Trusting him was not an option.

  If she went through with this plan to give him an heir, she knew she would have to give him her body. But under no circumstance could she ever give him her heart. That was simply out of the question. Trusting anyone with her heart was a dangerous prospect, but trusting Robert would just be foolish.

  But still, feeling his strong masculine body pressed against hers was heavenly. He smelled wonderfully of sandalwood and she closed her eyes to breathe him in. Without thinking, she kissed his chest and then whispered aloud, “Oh, Robert, you are very dangerous for me.”

  His embrace seemed to tighten and she let him hold her. For some reason, she felt so safe with him like this. It was a feeling she had yearned for and she easily fell back asleep.

  “Lydia!” Robert’s voice sounded annoyed.

  “What?” she groaned.

  “Do you ever get up in the morning?”

  She rubbed her eyes and squinted. Light was pouring in through the window and she held her hands over her face. “I’m sleeping, go away.”

  He laughed. “Yes, you’ve been saying that. Come on, my dear, we only have half a day’s ride left.”

  Half a day? Then why was it necessary to get up now? Blast him, he had no respect for her need of sleep! She rolled away from him, burrowed her face into a pillow, and tried to block him out of her consciousness.

  She felt his lips on her ear and his hands on her waist. “Do you remember how I woke you yesterday?”

  She nodded her head and talked into the pillow, unsure if he could hear her. “You threatened to climb into bed with me. As I spent last night with you, I don’t think that will work today.” Then she tried to push him away, but to no avail.

  His whispering in her ear continued. “Do I have to remind you, my beautiful wife, that I only promised you’d be safe from me for the night? It’s now morning, Lydia. All bets are off.”

  She smiled into the pillow, glad he couldn’t see her reaction to that threat. But she knew, even as groggy as she was, that she needed to feign resistance. She pushed up on her arms and turned to face him. “You are a pest, Masten.”

  He wore a charming grin. “That I am. And here I’d hoped you’d force my hand, my dear. I’ll have to spend the day thinking up ribald remarks to wake you with tomorrow morning.”

  “I’m going to ignore that comment.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes again, then looked down at her naked legs. Self-consciously, she clutched the sheets and pulled them tight around herself. “Do you think you could give me some privacy?”

  He chuckled and then kissed her forehead. “You are the last woman I would think modest, Lydia.”

  She glared at him. “Have I mentioned yet this morning that I hate you, Robert?”

  He laughed again and then started for the door. “No, my dear, but I wouldn’t believe you anyway.”

  Then he shut the door behind him and Lydia sank back onto the bed. No, she wouldn’t believe herself either. Try as she might, she couldn’t force herself to hate him. She could still remember the safety of his arms. “You are a fool, Lydia!” she remarked aloud.

  She quickly threw on the dress she had worn the previous day. Then she ran a brush through her hair before tying it in a knot at the base of her neck.

  “Lydia!” she heard him call her from below stairs.

  She hurried to the door, but stopped to glance at herself in the mirror. “He’ll only hurt you,” her reflection warned. Funny, it made more of an impact when she saw herself say it. She nodded determinedly and started down the stairs.

  Robert was waiting for her at the front door. The way he looked at her with that crooked, roguish grin of his made her inhale deeply. She immediately forgot all about the warning the mirror had given her and made her way to his side. He slipped his arm around her waist. “Are you ready to see Beckford Hall, my dear?”

  She met his gaze and nodded enthusiastically, finally warming to the idea of visiting his homes. They said their goodbyes to Mrs. Thompson and thanked her profusely for her kind hospitality. Then they made their way back down the path to The Fox and The Hare, where the innkeeper had prepared a knapsack with apples and currants for the ride, in addition to the basket Robert had ordered. Lydia rewarded the old man with peck on the cheek for his troubles. “Thank you for everything, sir. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

  Mr. Cass blushed brightly and then sent them on their way.

  The Fox and The Hare was barely out of sight before Robert remarked, “Told you he was smitten with you.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes at the suggestion. “You have an overactive imagination, Masten.”

  “Do I?” He grinned and propped his feet across her legs, and she strangely enjoyed his display of ownership over her la
p. “No one else this morning got apples and currants from the old cantankerous innkeep, you know.”

  “He was only cantankerous with you. You bring it out in even the nicest people.”

  His eyes twinkled as he watched her. “Then you’ll have to stay with me from now on, as you seem to put everyone at ease.”      

  “Stay with you?” She almost laughed. “Robert Beckford, I know very well that you’re removing me from London to keep me from tarnishing your pristine name. Once you have me securely situated in the prison of my choosing and awaiting the birth of your child, you’ll leave and only think of me when necessary.”

  What could he possibly say to that? She was right, of course. That had been his intent in the beginning, but as he heard her say those words, his heart ached from the truth of them. “Lydia, this won’t be like last time,” he tried to reassure her.

  She seemed to have a hopeful look in her eye, but it was quickly gone. Take it slowly, Robert, he warned himself. All morning long, he’d thought of the words he heard her whisper the night before, when she thought he was sleeping.

  How exactly was he dangerous to her?  He’d pondered that half the night as he’d lain awake, just holding her in his arms. Perhaps she meant physically. But he rejected that thought almost immediately. She knew he wanted her. He hadn’t made a secret of it, but he hadn’t acted on it. Yes, he had placed his hand under her chemise, but she didn’t seem to mind. She hadn’t wriggled free from his grasp. Instead she had leaned against him and kissed his chest. No, he didn’t believe that she considered him physically dangerous.

  Could she possibly have wanted him as badly as he wanted her? Was she afraid to act on those wants because of all the awful things he’d said to her in the past? He cringed as those memories flooded his mind. Caroline was right, he had been a beast.

  Or was Lydia afraid of him emotionally? That made some sense. When he’d sat in Carteret’s drawing room and decided to embark on this little adventure, the last thing he’d considered was that he’d actually want his wife—that it was even possible that he could develop feelings for her—and yet he had. If she was experiencing similar feelings for him, she might definitely have conflicting emotions. How could she ever trust him after their history, brief though it was?

  It was easy for him to look past the last five years. His life hadn’t changed all that much. He’d built up his stables, ran the Masten estates and holdings, and gone about life as usual. So, he had a wife in Cheshire? She had been absent in his life and she rarely, if ever, crossed his mind.

  But life for Lydia had been turned upside down. She lost the safety of her aunt’s protection and love. She was kept away from anyone that could offer support or guidance. She had been completely alone, and he had single-handedly seen to it. Robert had to admit that she would be a fool, no matter how strong the spark between them, to trust him. He’d have to prove to her that he was worthy of that trust.

  One step at a time.

  “I don’t think you’ll like Beckford Hall,” he remarked soundly as he removed his feet from her lap. Robert leaned across the carriage and took Lydia’s hands in his. “We can still go if you like, but there’s someplace else I’d rather take you.”

  “Where?” She stared at him with a concerned look.

  “Gosling Park, in Dorset”

  “Dorset?” Lydia’s clear eyes grew wide with confusion. “But that’s where you live. Where your stables are.”

  Robert nodded, warming to the idea. “It’s about two days from where we are, but it’s the only place I can truly see you, Lydia.” Indeed, he could see her there, with the ocean breeze whipping about her hair and skirts. They could ride horseback across the coast. He could make love to her while listening to the sounds of the sea from their bedroom windows.

  When Lydia smiled in surprise to his offer, Robert’s heart raced. She should always smile. He should dedicate his life to constantly seeing the delicate upturn of her very kissable lips. “That’s where I grew up, and where I’d like to see my—our—children reared. But if you don’t like it there, you can return to London, with or without me.”

  “You’d let me stay in London?” she asked, appearing stunned by his suggestion.

  Why had he been so cruel to her in the past? he wondered with a degree of guilt. “I won’t make you a prisoner, Lydia. Not again. I’m ashamed I did it in the first place.”

  Her countenance lifted and his heart leapt right along with it. “But take a look at Gosling Park first, won’t you? If you don’t fall in love with it, I’ll be astounded.”

  When she nodded happily, he couldn’t resist touching her anymore. He pulled her across the carriage to his lap. She was breathing hard and staring timidly into his eyes. His wife. God how he wanted her.

  Robert glanced at her lips, the ones he’d wanted to kiss for three days. Without any further delay, he lowered his head and kissed her. 

  Lydia’s lips were so soft beneath his, and she felt heavenly in his arms. She sighed against his mouth and slid her hands up his chest, to finally settle around his neck.

  Robert’s body was on fire. His blood coursed through his veins. As Lydia’s fingers danced across the nape of his neck, he groaned from the pleasure it instilled inside him. He felt wild and reckless, like never before. Neither Miss Haddon, nor Cecily Rigsley, nor any of the others ever had affected him like this. He’d never felt so alive, as if he’d waited his whole life just for her. Just for Lydia.

  For the first time in as long as she could remember, Lydia felt truly safe. Part of her was screaming that she was a fool for falling for him, but the rest of her was helplessly lost in Robert’s strong embrace. How comforting he felt! His arms tightened around her and she mewed from the joy of his strength.

  It was hard to believe that this was her husband, the man she had despised for so long. But his touch, though firm, was so gentle and loving. She melted against him. Robert’s tongue crossed her lips and Lydia clung to him. He nipped at the corner of her mouth and then pulled himself away to look at her.

  As Robert stared into her eyes, Lydia thought she’d sink into the golden brown abyss of his. There was nothing he could ask that she wouldn’t do. But it was this exact feeling for Luke Beckford that landed her in this situation in the first place.

  If she’d follow any man who kissed her like that, then all the things Robert had ever thought about her were true. She forced those thoughts from her mind and rested her head against his shoulder. He was her husband after all. Why shouldn’t she enjoy this? Happily, she heaved a giant sigh.

  Robert leaned his forehead onto hers. “Amazing,” he muttered reverently.

  Lydia giggled and then blushed. “Stop, Robert. You’re embarrassing me.” She felt a deep need inside her to have him, but she tried to force that need away. It wasn’t possible for her to fall for him that easily was it? It was just one little kiss, after all.

  Grinning widely, he tapped her chin. “Then I hope to embarrass you over and over again, Lady Masten.”

  She chewed her bottom lip as she met his eyes and searched for a change in topic. “So, Gosling Park?”

  Robert nodded exuberantly. “Yes, though we’re headed the wrong way.” He gently slid her from his lap and rapped on the roof of the coach with his cane. Then opened a window and called to the coachman, “Henderson.”

  “Yes, Lord Masten?” The coachman replied.

  “Change of plans, Henderson. Gosling Park instead, please.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  Robert closed the window and refocused on Lydia with desire-filled eyes. Her cheeks began to burn as the coach turned around and headed back toward The Fox and The Hare.

  “Now where were we?” he asked and settled Lydia back into his embrace.

  “Gosling Park,” she reminded him.

  “Ah, yes.” He rested his chin on her head and ran his fingers along her arms. And though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew they twinkled by the sound in his vo
ice. “Wait ‘til you see it, Lydia. You can see the ocean from my—our—bedchamber. Mama had the most amazing gardens in Dorset. The north lawn is like a soft carpet of green. I remember playing there myself as a child. Our sons will have a grand time there. I’ll teach them to ride, and their legacy will be—”

  “Our sons?” She sat up to look into his eyes, her heart pounding wildly. “Will we not have daughters?”

  “Later, Lydia.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “First we need sons.”

  Gleefully, she smiled up at him. “I don’t think I have any control over that, Robert, but I’ll pray for a boy.”

  “You will do it then? You’ll give me my heir?” He stared at her in awe as she leaned against his shoulder again and nodded her consent.

  “At this moment, Robert, I don’t think there’s anything I’d refuse you.” As soon as those words left her mouth, she wished they hadn’t. It sounded too much like the harlot he suspected her to be and she cringed. She was relieved when he simply kissed her cheek in response.

  “You’ll never regret this, Lydia. I promise you.”

  They spent the next little while discussing names. Robert liked Bartholomew, as it was his father’s, but Lydia found it not at all pleasing. What a big name to force upon such a tiny child. And she was strongly opposed to Gordon, her father’s name. “Honestly, Robert, I wouldn’t plague a stray dog with his name, but we don’t need to agree on something today. We will have plenty of time to come up with just the perfect thing.”

  “All right.” He smiled in agreement as he stroked her arm. “Tell me about Lord Carteret then. He was a complete mess when I went to see him—not at all what I expected. It looked like his children had run him ragged, but he smiled like a fool. Is that the way with children?”

  Lydia smiled. James was probably the kindest man she knew. “I don’t know if it is that way for everyone, Robert. That may just be the way James is. He’s a very doting father. Though his children are all very different from each other, he loves each one tremendously. You know, you’d think with five children, that they’d share some similarities, but really they don’t.”

  Robert smirked. “What are they like?”

  Lydia smiled as she thought of them. “Liam is the eldest. He’s ten. And he’s like a little old man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s very serious.” She moved so she could see Robert’s face better. “Do you think all oldest brothers are that way? You’ve always seemed very serious to me.”

  Robert shrugged. “Perhaps. I suppose we know from a very early age that we’ll take on our father’s title and all that that means.”

  She frowned. “He never has any fun, poor little fellow. Please tell me that you won’t put that sort of pressure on our son.”

  “Until what age, Lydia?” He laughed, and gently ran his thumb along her jaw. “It won’t be a secret that our first-born son will someday be the Earl of Masten. That’s why we’re doing this.”

  “Yes, of course,” she agreed, but her heart sank as she realized that she was a fool. Perhaps Robert wasn’t the monster she’d always thought him to be, but this whole situation was meant solely to give him a son. No, an heir. That kiss had meant much more to her than to him. She needed to keep that in mind.

  Robert needed her to carry his children. There was nothing more to it. Many marriages weren’t based on love or affection, and at least hers wasn’t fueled by hate anymore. They had an understanding now. She could live with the terms Robert offered. They were certainly better than what she’d had before, even if they weren’t exactly what her heart wanted.

  “What about the others?” she heard him say and she snapped back to the present.

  “The others?”

  “Carteret’s children; you were telling me about them.”

  “Oh.” She took a deep breath and tried to remember where she’d left off. “Katriona is eight. She’s very prim and proper. Everything with her needs to be just so.” Lydia forced a smile to her face. There was nothing to be gained from Robert knowing what a fool she was. Better he never found out. “And then there are the twins, Morgan and Madeline. They are a pair. They have such a strong bond, but the difference of their sex separates them as well. Morgan tries to emulate Liam, and finds his older brother to be the most exciting thing in the world. He’s forever trying to get his brother to play with him, but as I told you, Liam has very little want for play. And poor little Morgan is left with just his sisters for company.”

  “How old are they? The twins?”

  “Six. His twin, Madeline, is often in her own little make-believe world, with her head constantly in the clouds. She’s soft and everything feminine. And she’s the perfect image of Bethany. That fact causes James anxiety even at this age.”

  “Lady Carteret did turn many heads before she was married, didn’t she?”

  “I wasn’t around her much then, but that’s my understanding.”

  “So, Liam is serious, Katriona is prissy, Morgan idolizes his brother, and Madeline will break hearts like her mother?” he asked with raised brows.

  Lydia smiled, still trying to shake off the disappointment she felt from the realization that Robert was only interested in her womb. “And then there’s Fiona.”

  “Ah. The painter.” Robert’s eyes danced, and Lydia tried not to look into them. She didn’t need to be drawn to him anymore than she already was.

  “The painter?” she echoed hollowly.

  “When I spoke with Carteret he was covered in paint. Apparently it was Fiona’s handiwork.”

  Lydia laughed at the memory of that day. She and Bethany had scrubbed the little girl’s skin nearly raw trying to get blue paint off her. She had felt like such a part of the family. How comforting that had been. Things had been wonderful up until James told her that he was turning her over to Lord Masten. “Yes, paint and anything else she can get into. She’s a tyrant at three and I believe she could give ol’ Boney a run for his money. I’ve never seen a more troublesome child—spoiled rotten by her father but everyone adores her.”

  Robert grinned. “The youngest are always spoiled rotten. Although you don’t seem to be, Lydia. You are the youngest, are you not?”

  “No.” She moved to the other side of the coach and slid her feet under her and leaned against the interior wall. “I had a baby sister, Melody. I was five when she died.”

              “Oh, I am sorry.” Robert’s grin vanished, replaced by a look of concern. “What happened?”

  Lydia cringed and shook her head. “I’d really rather not discuss it, Robert.” And she’d rather not think about it, either. But the image of her lifeless baby sister’s body being shaken by their awful father flooded her mind, and she winced at the memory. Then her mother wailing when she realized Melody was gone. If Lydia could only forget all of it...but that would mean never remembering her sweet little sister, and that seemed an even worse prospect.

  Robert watched as Lydia slept with her head resting against the side of the rumbling coach. Tendrils of reddish-blond curls fell over her slender shoulders, and she clutched tightly to a lightweight lap blanket. She looked so young and innocent, peaceful.

  His wife was such a stunning woman, but from time to time she seemed so haunted, like earlier at the mention of a baby sister who had been gone for sixteen years. That pained look troubled him. He frowned, wondering about the secrets his wife held. As he studied her, he couldn’t help but wish that he could unburden her, to love and comfort her.

  One step at a time, he reminded himself. If he told Lydia how he felt about her, she’d think he’d lost his bloody mind. After all, he had kept her secluded for half a decade. She’d never believe that he’d started to fall in love with her. He sighed and thought and about how funny life was. What were the chances that after everything, he’d actually fall in love with his own wife?

  Lydia moved in her sleep, then blinked open her eyes and looked at him curiously when she found him staring at her. “What is it,
Robert?”

  He shook his head. “Just admiring you, that’s all.”

  She laughed, and Robert was mesmerized by the charming sound and the delightful way her eyes crinkled when she smiled at him. “Who would have ever believed that you’d admire me?”

  He ignored the remark, not wanting to be reminded of the way he’d treated her in the past. “Did your mother—”

  “No more questions about my family, Robert.” Lydia interrupted him. “Besides, you know all there is to know, anyway.”

  He was certain that was not the case, but decided against pushing her. There would be plenty of time to have all his questions answered, and he enjoyed listening to her light and melodic voice. The sound of it sent his heart racing.

  “But I know very little about yours. You’ve been acting like a Bow Street Runner. Why don’t you share your secrets with me now, Lord Masten?”

  He had thought so little about her since their wedding, and now five years were gone. He’d wasted too much time as it was, and he wanted to know everything there was about his wife. She was intoxicating. He craved to learn all about her. But he supposed that he had been overly inquisitive. It was only fair to answer her questions as well. “Ask away, my lady.”

  “Everyone says that you’re a remarkable horseman.”

  He just grinned at that. Everyone had better say a whole lot more than that about his equestrian skills. “Was there a question in there, Lydia?”

  Saucily, she made a silly face at him. “I wasn’t finished yet. You are forever interrupting me.”

  “My apologies, sweetheart. Pray continue.”

  “Fine. Why, my dear husband, do they call you ‘Merciless Masten’ at Tattersall’s?”

  With a devilish tilt to his head and a roguish smile, Robert tapped his chin. “My sister has apparently been telling tales about me.”

  Lydia’s blush confirmed his suspicion that he had been a popular topic of conversation between his sister and his wife. She cleared her throat and smiled sheepishly. “So they don’t call you ‘Merciless Masten’ then?”

  Robert’s grin widened. “I have heard they do, however I didn’t know Caro was aware of it. Staveley must have been smarting after our last bout there.”

  “Do you always talk in circles, Robert? It was a very simple question. You’ve danced around it, but still haven’t answered me. Why the unflattering nickname?” She tilted her head as she surveyed him on the other side of the coach.

  Robert’s brow raised in amusement. “I know that’s how I’m referred to, Lydia, but no one’s actually ever called me that to my face. So, I’ll have to surmise that my opponents find me a worthy adversary when it comes to filling my stables. I always get what I want.”

  “Do you?” She giggled in response.

  “Always.” Robert looked at her as if he could see clear into her soul, and Lydia couldn’t help but blush from his attention. She quickly found herself falling under his spell again. She could feel it, and was powerless to stop herself.

  It was as if she were in the middle of a long tunnel. Robert was on one side and she could see him, but her sixteen-year-old self was at the opposite end, begging her not to trust him. She struggled for purchase, but wasn’t in control of her emotions. Against her better judgment she was being pulled toward her husband.

  Lydia took a deep breath as she kept her eyes steady on Robert. She had been so proud of herself when she’d stood up to him at the Staveleys’ ball—proud that she had finally taken control of her own life. But now he seemed to have even more power and control over her than he had for all those years. Lydia didn’t want to desire him; she was certain there was only heartache down that path. So, she would give him his heirs, and she would raise their children. Life would be rewarding, but loving Robert Beckford was not a wise choice. She needed to keep that in mind. Now if only she could get her heart to listen to reason.

  “Lydia, you look distressed.” Robert’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  But before she could respond, the coach came to a stop. Robert looked out the window and a smile appeared on his face. “We won’t have a problem finding a room tonight.”

  Lydia looked out her window as well. An inn, The Knight’s Arms, stood before them.

  “Wonderful, Henderson. We made excellent time,” Robert remarked as the coachman opened the door and lowered the steps. After exiting the coach, Robert offered Lydia his hand and helped her to the ground.

  He glowed with happiness. Lydia hadn’t seen him giddy like this before and she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, enjoying the experience of an exuberant Robert.

  Soon they were inside the taproom of the quaint establishment and the robust innkeeper beamed when he spotted them. “Lord Masten!” He quickly left his spot behind the bar and rushed to greet the earl.

  Robert glanced around the room and gestured with his hands. “Hello, Lange. It appears that everything is going well.”

  “Only thanks to you, my lord. What can I do for you?” Lange seemed eager to please, and Lydia was intrigued by the man’s obvious enthusiasm. What a different experience from the inn they were at the previous night.

  With a smile for the rotund innkeeper, Robert motioned to Lydia. “Lady Masten, this is Mr. Lange of The Knight’s Arms. Lange, this is my wife.”

  Lange’s eyes grew round as he looked at Lydia. Apparently, he hadn’t noticed her at all until Robert introduced them. “Lady Masten!” The innkeeper’s wide smile put her at ease. “Welcome, welcome, my lady. So happy to make your acquaintance. Your husband is a most generous man. I don’t know what we would have done without him.”

  Robert waived off the accolade and shook his head. “Please, don’t mention it, Lange. I’d say we’re even.”

  Lange eyed the earl with a dubious look and shook his head. He muttered under his breath, “Even, indeed.”

  Ignoring the remark, Robert motioned toward the staircase. “I assume I still have a room here?”

  With a hurt look, the innkeeper frowned. “You know you do. You built the place and the master’s suite always awaits you, my lord.”

  Robert grinned. “Perfect. Can you have Mrs. Lange show my wife to the master’s suite, then?”

  After Mr. Lange nodded in response and bustled off to find his wife, Lydia stared up at Robert in astonishment. What exactly was going on here? “You built this place?”

  “That’s a long story, Lydia. Why don’t you go upstairs with Mrs. Lange, take a nice long bath, and I’ll have dinner sent up.”

  A nice long bath. After two full days of travel, that sounded like heaven. Lydia sighed at the thought of soaking her tired muscles in soothing hot water.

  Soon a lean woman in her fifties with unruly black and grey curls that poked out of the edges of her mop cap entered the room. This had to be Mrs. Lange, as the innkeeper was right on her heels. Lydia thought she saw tears well up in the older woman’s eyes when she spotted Robert in the taproom.

  “Oh, Lord Masten!” Mrs. Lange gushed. “We’re so glad you’re here.” Then she turned her attention to Lydia. “And Lady Masten, is it?”

  Lydia nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Lange’s face lit up brightly. “Come along, my lady, I’ll show you to your room.”

  “Thank you,” Lydia replied quietly, still trying to get a handle on the enthusiasm the Langes showed for her husband. While Robert was growing on her, she’d never seen anyone so happy to see the earl before—he usually instilled either respect or fear in most people.

  As the older woman started toward the back staircase, Lydia hastened to follow her.

  “Mrs. Lange,” Robert called after them, “I promised my wife a long, hot bath.”

  “Then we shall see to it, my lord.” The innkeeper’s wife smiled cheerfully over her shoulder at the earl and then met Lydia’s eyes. “You are simply stunning, my lady. And I can’t tell you how glad I am that Lord Masten has finally married.”

  Lydia giggled despite herself. “We
’ve been married for some years, Mrs. Lange. For five years, actually.”

  The older woman stopped on the staircase and looked back at their husbands conversing in the middle of the taproom. Mr. Lange was pointing at a spot on the back wall. Robert was listening and nodded with some sort of understanding then he glanced at his wife’s disappearing form. “Five years?” Mrs. Lange echoed. “I thought certainly that you were newlyweds. He never mentioned a wife. Not that he should have mind you. And just look at how he gazes at you.”

  Stunned by the older woman’s remark, Lydia looked over her shoulder at Robert. When she caught his eye, he tipped his head in her direction and then quickly refocused on Mr. Lange’s ramblings.

  Mrs. Lange smiled kindly. “Just rare, that’s all.”

  “What is?”

  “For a man to still be so much in love after so many years.”

  Lydia almost choked. “I beg your pardon?”

  They reached the landing and Mrs. Lange directed her down a long and slender hallway. “That was a bit too intimate, wasn’t it? I apologize, your ladyship. We’re just so fond of your husband. And ‘tis good to see him smile is all.”

  “Yes,” Lydia replied quietly as Mrs. Lange opened the door to a most magnificent set of rooms. “You don’t think most men love their wives after five years, Mrs. Lange?”

              The innkeeper’s wife pursed her lips. “Well, obviously yours does, my lady. We just see couples all the time in our business and while many of them may love each other, the look of pure admiration I saw in your husband’s eyes usually fades away with time.”

  “Oh,” was all Lydia could say to that. While Mrs. Lange was obviously mistaken in her assessment in regards to Robert’s feelings for her, Lydia knew better than to reveal the truth. So, she simply smiled instead.

  “There’s a bath tub through those doors, and I’ll have hot water sent up immediately, my lady.” Mrs. Lange pointed to a small room located at the back of the magnificent master’s suite.

  “Thank you.” Lydia looked around the room. This was nothing like anything she’d ever seen in a country inn before. The dark walls and furnishings had a distinctly male feel to them—forest green and burgundy, which reminded her instantly of Robert’s study in Masten House. How interesting!

  While she waited for the hot water to arrive, Lydia walked about the master’s suite. There was a comfortable sitting room and large bedroom, both with a distinctly masculine feel. Mr. Lange must have done the decorating. Lydia couldn’t imagine that the innkeeper’s slender wife had such taste.

  When she was finally alone, she entered the small tiled room that held the porcelain bathtub. She stripped down to nothing, touched the water gently with her toe, and found it to be the perfect temperature to soothe away her aches, pains, and stiffness from days of traveling by coach. Slowly, she immersed herself in the tub and enjoyed the warmth that enveloped her. She sighed blissfully from the comfort. The Knight’s Arms was definitely an oasis for weary travelers.

  After washing her hair with the provided lavender soap, Lydia closed her eyes. For the first time in so long she felt relaxed. She was so lost in the comfort of the soothing water that she didn’t even hear Robert enter the small room.

  She first felt his breath against her cheek. “You smell delightful,” he whispered in her ear, “though I prefer your usual scent—gardenias isn’t it?”

  Lydia’s eyes flew open and she folded her arms across her bare breasts. “Robert!”

  Her husband chuckled, crouched down behind her, and gently put his hand on her shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He dropped a gentle kiss on the top of her still wet head.

  “No, I’m fine, but just a bit indisposed at the moment.”

  He whispered again, “You told me today that you wouldn’t refuse me anything, darling.”

  Lydia could feel her heart pounding in her chest and she turned her face to look at him. She knew what he was going to ask for. She could see the desire in his eyes. And she swallowed. “Am I to take it you want something from me?”

  The hand on her shoulder worked its way to her neck and he gently massaged her shoulders. “I don’t want a repeat of last night. I could barely get to sleep, I wanted you so badly. Give yourself to me tonight, Lydia. I need you. I need to make you mine.”

  Though she knew it was coming, hearing him speak the words aloud was still startling for her. Lydia couldn’t find her voice to answer him, so she stared at her husband with wide eyes and nodded slowly.

  Robert smiled in response and nuzzled her neck. “Good girl.” Then he stood and Lydia could see a silk robe draped over his arm. “When you’re done, put this on.” He placed the robe on a nearby chair and left for the other room, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Lydia released her breath. She hadn’t even realized she was holding it in. Was she truly going to step out of her bath and into Robert’s bed? Just like that?

  Was she ready for this step? She wasn’t sure. Certainly she desired him, she just didn’t want to give her heart to him. How could she separate the two and keep from being hurt in the process? Some women were able to do so—her mother, for example. But, she didn’t know if she could. She nibbled at a fingernail—a habit she’d thought she long ago broke.

  She just needed to keep reminding herself that Robert needed an heir and she’d promised to give him one. That’s all this was. There was only one way to go about fulfilling that pledge. Though she craved his touch and wanted to be with him, this wasn’t about her desires. This was about fulfilling an obligation—an obligation all noblewomen were expected to perform.

  She gulped at the thought of climbing into Robert’s bed. The prospect was terrifying. She was already foolishly falling in love with him. And she was well aware that he could never love her in return.

  When he was finally through with her, would her prison at Blackstone not seem so bad anymore? It was one thing to hate her husband, but quite another to love him and know the feelings were not reciprocated. How much more difficult would it be after the intimacy they were about to share?

  When Lydia felt the water in the tub start to cool against her skin, she knew it was time. She toweled off, dried her hair, and picked up the robe Robert had left for her. It was huge. It was his. It smelled of his familiar sandalwood scent. She threw it on, but it hung off her small frame and dragged on the floor. She wrapped the belt around herself twice, but it still drooped open at the top, revealing her breasts. So she clutched the base of the robe with her hand and started toward her fate.

  Robert was waiting for her in the sitting room, where her dinner must be getting cold. Lydia had actually forgotten about eating, and she heaved a sigh of relief, grateful for the reprieve.

             

  “Ah, there you are!” Robert jumped to attention from his seat and gazed at his beautiful wife. “I was starting to think you’d fallen asleep in there.”

  Lydia giggled nervously and Robert crossed the room to put his arm around her shoulders. He was surprised to find her trembling. “Are you cold?”

  “No.” She met his eyes and smiled warmly. “I’m just fine.”

  She was lying. He could tell it.

  Had he been too forward? Had he scared her off? He knew she’d agreed to all this, but was she regretting that decision now? Perhaps the idea was unsettling to her. “I hope you like mutton.”

  She nodded. “Oh, yes, thank you.”

  Robert deposited her in a seat and poured her a generous glass of Madeira, then took a spot opposite her. He slid a plate of mutton, carrots, and peas in front of her with a warm smile.

  “Aren’t you eating?” Lydia asked.

  “I ate while you were bathing.”

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  Then she released her death grip on his robe and it fell open at the top, just as he’d hoped it would. Her perfect, round breasts were beautiful and he couldn’t help but stare at them. He couldn’t wait to touch t
hem.

  Was he simply a licentious beast for wanting his wife so badly? She seemed terrified at the moment—very unlike her, this wife of his that took on London pick-pockets and was even able to hold her own against him. Perhaps she just didn’t desire him, though the kiss they shared that morning had led him to hope otherwise. He would take his time, make her comfortable, slowly ease her into it. “Do you feel a bit more refreshed, dear?”

  “Oh, yes. Much better.” She began picking at her food and looking around the room. “This is a very odd place, Robert.”

  He sat back in surprise. He had hoped that she would like The Knight’s Arms. “Odd? I find it quite comfortable, myself.”

  Lydia shook her head apologetically. “It is comfortable, that’s not what I meant. It’s just not like any other country inn I’ve ever been in before. Everything seems very masculine…especially the décor of these rooms.”

  Robert chuckled, she was very astute. “I’m sure the rest of it is exactly what you’d expect, Lydia, but these are my rooms. No one else ever stays in here. Anyway, it’s decorated to suit me.”

  She furrowed her brow and dropped her fork. “Why does no one else stay in here?”

  “If you finish eating, I’ll tell you.”

  With enthusiasm Lydia retrieved her fork and speared a carrot. Robert couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness. His wife did nothing by half. “The old Knight’s Arms burned to the ground a few years back.”

  “Oh, that’s awful.” She frowned empathetically.

  “The Langes have always been very kind. This place is just half a day’s ride to Gosling Park, and I’ve stayed here several times a year for most of my life. So, anyway when their establishment was gone, I had it rebuilt.”

  His wife looked at him in awe. “That was very generous of you, Robert.”

  “At the risk of being completely honest, I’m not generally such a philanthropist. But since Luke is the one that accidentally set fire to the place, I felt a responsibility to them.”

  Lydia grabbed the top of the robe again and frowned.

  Robert couldn’t imagine why she had reacted like that, so he continued cautiously. “Anyway, Mr. Lange knew he could never repay me, which I wouldn’t have asked for, but he is a proud man. So, we agreed that in exchange for my help, I would always have this set of rooms waiting for me.”

  Lydia still looked upset, which Robert couldn’t understand. With a furrowed brow, he reached across the table and took her hand in his. “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “How many of his mistakes have you had to clean up over the years?” She sorrowfully met his eyes.

  Robert cringed. God, he was such a dolt! Of course, she was troubled by the story. She too had been one of Luke’s mistakes. He squeezed her hand and answered honestly. “More than I care to remember. Can you see now why I don’t want him to come into my title at some point?”

  Lydia nodded and picked at her food again. “I was such a fool, Robert. You don’t know how that decision has haunted me.”

  Seeing her so distraught was painful to watch. Robert didn’t know how to console her. He was never very good with emotions. So, she had been foolish with Luke, but it was many years ago now. “There’s no point in fretting over the past. What’s done is done, Lydia. And you have me now. I promise to always take care of you.”

  She nodded with an enigmatic smile and finished her wine. When she stood up, she still held tightly to the top of the robe. “Robert, why did you want me to wear this thing?”

  He nearly blushed. He certainly couldn’t tell her the truth. “I find it comfortable. Do you not like it?”

  “It’s a bit big, and I can’t keep it closed.” Lydia let go of the robe and once again it fell open, revealing her slender form and perfect breasts beneath the soft folds of burgundy silk. Robert let his gaze drift over his wife’s beautiful body. He couldn’t help himself.

  With a roguish smile and a raspy voice, he leaned toward her. “I think it’s delightful. Please don’t feel that you have to keep it closed on my account.” He enjoyed the blush on her face and he inched even closer to her. Robert moved his hand along her jaw line. “I haven’t made a secret of it. I want you, Lydia. Please tell me that you’re ready to be my wife in more than just name.”

  Lydia gulped as she stared up into his eyes. “I’m scared, Robert,” she shyly admitted and then let her gaze drop to the floor. “I’ve only done this once before. It was so long ago and it didn’t turn out very well.”

  She was so beautiful to him and her concerns only made him want her even more. He wanted to show her how loving he could be, how perfect things could be between them. “Trust me, Lydia.”

  “I do,” she whispered.

  “Good.” Robert tipped his head down and kissed her softly. She stepped closer into the safeness of his embrace. Then he scooped her into his arms and started for the bedroom.

  Nervously, Lydia gazed up into her husband’s eyes. She could see his desire, and knew in her heart that she wanted him just as badly. She tried to relax and to rest her head against his shoulder as he carried her. Then before she knew it, he had placed her among the soft folds of his bed.

  Robert fell in beside her and nuzzled her neck while his hands snuck inside the opening of her robe. He found one breast and outlined her nipple with his tips of his fingers. She moaned from his touch—it felt heavenly. She hadn’t thought she’d ever feel like this again. And now as desire pooled inside her, she was anxious to give herself to her husband.

  With his crooked grin, Robert lifted his head and gazed at her. “My beautiful wife.” Then he un-tucked his linen shirt and pulled it over his head.  

  Lydia’s eyes were wide and he could tell that she was still a little frightened. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to put her at ease, to take his time and love her. Gently, he took her hand, kissed the backs of her fingers and then placed it on his bare chest. “Don’t be afraid to touch me, Lydia. I need to feel you.”

  She obeyed his request and ran her fingers along his well-formed chest that was lightly dusted with golden brown hair. His muscles tensed beneath her touch and her eyes flew to his. He felt incredibly strong. Then she outlined his bandaged shoulder. “I am so sorry about that,” she whispered.

  “Don’t think of it, sweetheart. It doesn’t bother me at all.” He removed the sash from her robe and opened the garment so that he could gaze upon her fully. She watched him smile, as if he was happy with what he found there.

  Robert ran a finger along her side, tickling her until she turned in to him, and then he suckled one breast while his hand played with the other. The sensations he inspired in her drove Lydia completely wild with desire. She arched her back, pushing her breast further in his mouth. He chuckled and nipped her lightly. “Like this, do you?”

  “Mmm,” Lydia answered and ran her fingers through his hair. Her enjoyment pleased him, and he caressed her hip with one of his strong hands.

  Lydia looked down at her own body. He had enticed her rose-hued nipples into tight, little buds. Now she was ready for him. Her whole body ached for him.

  Robert fumbled with his breeches. Lydia sat up and leaned forward. “May I?” she offered softly.

  Her husband grinned and placed her hands on one of his buttons. “Please.”

  As Lydia worked on the buttons, Robert’s hands explored the curve of her back. The feelings he stirred within her were distracting, and her hands shook as she slid the buttons free from their holes. She took a firm grasp of his waistband and tugged his breeches and drawers downward toward his knees.

  She wasn’t surprised to see his erection as it sprang free. She had brushed it with her hands as she’d unbuttoned him, but still it was an amazing sight. Lydia wanted to touch it, to feel him between her hands, but she was afraid that would be too wanton for him and decided against the action.

  Robert slipped his breeches off completely, saw the look of reluctance that flashed across her face, and stopped. He couldn�
��t lose her. Not now. Not after he’d envisioned her like this. Not after he’d suffered with an anxious erection for days, just from spending so much time with his wife. “What’s wrong, darling?”

  “No—nothing,” she stammered innocently.

  With a heartfelt sigh, Robert leaned forward and rested his head on hers. “God knows I need you, Lydia. But I won’t take you unless you want me. I couldn’t live with myself.”

  Softly, she ran her fingers across his cheek. “I do want you, Robert. I swear it. I—I just…”

  When she stopped talking, he lifted up and stared deeply into her pool of blue eyes. “You just what?”

  A pretty blush crept up her entire body and she couldn’t maintain his gaze. “I just want to please you, Robert. I don’t want to be that wanton little thing you always thought of me.”

  The bed shook. Lydia turned her face to look back at her husband, who was chuckling so hard the entire bed was moving. “You’re laughing at me?” she sputtered in surprise.

  But he shook his head and dropped a kiss on her nose. “Oh, my darling, I’m hoping you are the wanton little thing I’ve always thought you to be.”

  Slightly embarrassed, she closed her eyes. “Truly?”

  “Mmm.” He lowered himself on top of her and buried his face against her soft breasts. When he felt her body relax beneath him, he balanced himself up on his arms and kissed her perfect lips.

  She responded by licking his bottom lip and grinned when a low growl escaped his mouth.

  Robert had wanted to take things slowly, but he didn’t know how much longer he could wait to sheath himself in her warmth. When she arched her back toward him, he was beyond pleased that she wanted him, too. “My beautiful, willing wife.”

  His erection was barely touching her wetness and she inched toward him. “Robert, please,” she whispered and wrapped her legs around his hips.

  He couldn’t wait any longer if his life depended on it. He thrust inside her in one deep stroke and was nearly overwhelmed with the immediate pleasure that coursed through his body. He stilled, caught between wanting to prolong the sensations and the need for immediate release.

  He looked into Lydia’s eyes, saw the beginning of passion blossom, and brought his lips against hers. “You feel amazing,” he murmured against the softness of her mouth.

  She smiled from the compliment and held tightly to him as he thrust again, this time deeper, and again until he found a slow rhythm that seemed to suit them both.

  With each stroke inside her, the ghosts of Lydia’s past began to fade away, replaced with pleasures she’d never thought possible. This wasn’t like last time or anything she’d ever felt. These sensations were new and threatened to overwhelm rational thought. For the first time, she thought it was possible that her husband could heal all that was wrong with her.

  She couldn’t imagine ever feeling more desired or content. This is what she dreamt it felt like to be in the arms of a man who truly cared for her, not like before. Those old memories were being washed away, replaced by new ones of her husband, of this night.

  He had a handful of her hair and brought her head up to meet his lips. He brought her someplace she’d never been before and she gasped in amazed surprise that she could feel like that. She called out his name, shuddering around him. Robert smiled at her reaction, pleased with himself.

  Then she felt it as he moaned one last time in her ear. He exploded inside her and his warm seed made her entire body tingle with pleasure. He collapsed against her and she lovingly stroked his back, wondering at the ripples of pleasure that were still running through her body.

  Robert stroked her side with his fingertips and pressed his lips against her skin as he breathed in the fragrance of their lovemaking. “Oh, Lydia,” he whispered breathlessly.

  When he regained his strength, and his mind was functioning more clearly, he rolled off her to keep from crushing her beneath him.

  But Lydia didn’t want him to move. He had still been inside her and when he rolled away. She missed the feel of his body so intimately connected with hers. So, she snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart as she held him tight.

  He kissed her hair, closed his eyes, and smiled. “Lady Masten, you are a most magnificent woman.”

              “I’ve never felt like that, Robert,” she admitted shyly.

              He stroked her arm and confessed, “Neither have I.”

  As Lydia slept in his arms, Robert thought about Chet’s words to him in London. Astwick had predicted that after Robert enjoyed the pleasures of his wife, he wouldn’t be able to walk away from her. He smiled to himself in the dark. His friend knew him very well. He couldn’t imagine anything that would make him walk away from the tender embrace of this woman.

  She had never felt like that before? Robert was secretly ecstatic that Luke hadn’t made her climax. Only Robert had given her that pleasure. Lydia was truly his—no other man could ever have her now.

  Gently, he touched her abdomen. His children were going to grow there. They would grow inside this woman—his wife whom he had discovered he was desperately in love with. He’d promised her that she could rear their children. Would she object to him rearing them with her? After five years of very little thought of his wife, he now couldn’t imagine spending his life without her.

  His touch, though gentle, woke Lydia. She kissed his neck and whispered, “Robert, are you awake?”

              “Mmm,” he answered, enjoying her warm lips against his skin.

  She lifted herself up on one arm as she gazed upon her husband’s masculine form. “I was just dreaming of you.”

  “Oh?” He inched upward to look into her eyes. “A good one, I hope.”

  He could even see her blush in the dark, which pleased him to no end, and then she giggled. “A very good one.”

  Robert cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. Her body responded to his touch and he rolled her beneath him. Then he made love to her again and again.

       

  When Lydia awoke in the morning, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so content with life—or being quite so sore, but that was a concession she was more than willing to make. She happily stretched her arms above her head, rolled over, and was surprised to find herself alone in the bed.

  The curtains had been pulled back, and sun poured into the room. “Robert?” she called, but there was no answer.

  After the closeness they’d shared the night before, she’d expected to wake up in his arms this morning, but he wasn’t there. In the light of day, had he regretted his decision to make love to her last night? A quiet panic surged through her. Had she done something wrong?

  Lydia sat dumbfounded for a moment and tried to contemplate the last series of events. Apparently, Robert felt that last night had been a mistake. While she had foolishly fallen even more in love with her husband, he obviously didn’t share her feelings.

  He had been honest from the beginning when he told her he wasn’t in love with her. But last night they’d been so in tune, so intimate. She had hoped that this morning would bring a new sense of togetherness for them.

  What a fool she was. When would she ever learn? She knew she had never been worthy of love. Wanting it from Robert wouldn’t make her deserving of it.

  Clean clothes waited for her in a chair in the corner of the room. At least he’d thought to leave her something to wear. She washed, threw on the light blue muslin traveling dress that waited for her, and slipped on her half-boots.

  Then she sat in front of the mirror and brushed her hair out. She should have braided her hair before going to bed, but she’d been too caught up in the moment. Last night’s activities had certainly left some knots.

  She brushed and brushed at her tangled hair, trying to forget how it felt to be in her husband’s arms. She yanked and pulled until she was finally satisfied that all the
knots were gone. Distracting herself with the job at hand, she pulled her hair high on her head and admired the image that looked back at her.

  She knew she was pretty. She’d been told that her whole life. But besides her looks she didn’t have anything else to offer Robert. Perhaps he’d discovered that last night. What a disheartening thought that was.

  But whatever the case, she’d have to go downstairs eventually. She couldn’t hide out in this room forever. It had been a long time since she’d been a coward.

  Determined to be strong, she left the room behind her and started down the steps for the taproom. From the top of the staircase, she heard Robert’s voice. “No, I’m letting her sleep. I’ve been waking her up very early the last few days and my wife loves to sleep in late.”

  Just the sound of his voice made her smile. She sighed as she remembered the things he’d whispered in her ear the night before, and her heart beat faster in her chest.

  Once on the landing, Lydia could see that her husband was talking to Mrs. Lange.

  The innkeeper’s wife smiled at Robert. “Your kindness never ceases to amaze me, Lord Masten. I don’t think Stan has ever let me sleep in, not even after childbirth. But such is the way with gentry, I’m sure.”

  The floor creaked beneath Lydia, and Robert turned his head in her direction, pinning her with his intense gaze. “There you are, sweetheart. We were just talking about you.” His voice was like a caress, and her heart leapt when he winked at her.

  “Good morning,” Lydia replied as she met his eyes. It was a relief to see him looking so content. Her anxiety began to fade away.

  Mrs. Lange giggled. “Truly amazing. I have never seen a couple married for years that gaze so adoringly at one another.”

  As Lydia blushed at the remark, Robert grinned at the innkeeper’s wife. “I’m just a very fortunate man, Mrs. Lange. My wife is the most amazing creature. I continue to learn new things about her every day.”

  The older woman smiled warmly at the earl. “Well, I’ll go fetch her breakfast, my lord.”

  After Mrs. Lange left, Robert crossed the floor in a few strides to his wife. He slid his arm behind her waist and pulled her into his embrace. “You look lovely this morning.”

  Lydia chewed her bottom lip. “I missed you when I woke up.”

  Robert chuckled. “Oh?” Then he kissed her lips gently. “Did you want to ravish me this morning as well?”

  “Robert!” Her blush deepened.

  He tipped his head down to whisper in her ear. “We have the rest of our lives for that, my little minx. But I’ll make sure to have you morning, noon, and night once we reach Gosling Park.” Then he kissed her cheek.

  Having him so near, she felt like the wanton he’d always thought her to be. If he’d dragged her back upstairs to their room, she would have gladly gone.

  But before she could comment, Mrs. Lange was back from the kitchen with baked eggs and sausages. “Here you are, Lady Masten. I hope you’ll enjoy it.” Mrs. Lange placed the food on a nearby table.

  “Thank you.” Lydia smiled gratefully at the woman as she took a seat in front of her breakfast.

  Robert touched Lydia’s shoulder and smiled at Mrs. Lange. “Why don’t you keep my wife company while I make sure our coach is ready to leave?”

  Mrs. Lange nodded. “Of course, my lord, I would be honored.” She took a seat across from Lydia and Robert ventured outside.

  “This is delicious,” Lydia remarked. And it was. She hadn’t realized what an appetite she had worked up.

  “I’m glad you’re pleased, Lady Masten. If you don’t mind my saying so, you shouldn’t let your husband travel alone.”

  “Oh?” Lydia stopped mid-bite.

  “He just usually seems so lonely when he comes through here. But this time he’s more personable than I’ve ever seen him. He must miss you terribly when you’re separated.”

  Lydia smiled politely and nodded. She knew very well that for the length of their marriage Robert hadn’t missed her terribly. But was that starting to change? He did seem amorous this morning, and all night as well. Though she didn’t dare get her hopes up. She and Robert had an agreement. When she was expecting his child, she imagined things would go back to normal. She might see him more often, especially if he truly wanted her and the child installed at Gosling Park. He would probably see them regularly.

  But would it ever be more than that?

  An attractive, young, blond-haired man came in from the kitchen. “Mama?”

  Mrs. Lange smiled. “Yes, Thomas?”

  “Father is looking for you.”

  Mrs. Lange’s face fell. “Oh, I’m sure he’s looking for that bread to take to the Wilsons.” She stood up and started for the back door. She touched her son’s arm on the way out. “Thank you, dear. Oh, Thomas, this is Lady Masten.”

  Thomas bowed. “How do you do, your ladyship?”

  Lydia smiled. “Very well, thank you.”

  “I hope your stay was satisfactory?” The young man crossed the room and stood before her.

  “Yes, thank you.” She nearly blushed when she thought of just how satisfactory her stay had been. The Knight’s Arms would always hold a special place in her heart—the first place she made love to her husband.

  “Can I get you anything else?” Thomas asked.

  Robert walked back inside The Knight’s Arms and his brow furrowed immediately as young Thomas Lange fawned over Lydia, adoration in his eyes. In the past, he’d been annoyed with the looks other men gave Lydia because he was afraid that their attention and her obvious lack of self-control would cause a scandal with his name attached.

  But this was different.

  This was jealousy, pure and simple.

  Thomas Lange was an attractive man and much closer to Lydia’s age than he was. The young man’s hair was also the same golden hue of Luke’s and he didn’t her want to think about his brother. No, Thomas Lange wasn’t the Earl of Masten, but Lydia had never really seemed to care overmuch about titles. After all she’d taken up with Luke in the first place.

  He was being ridiculous and he knew it. There was no reason to be jealous over the innkeeper’s penniless son—but he was. To see that smitten look on the man’s face—well, it was enough to make Robert scowl and think up numerous ways to dismember the younger man.

  How long would it be before Lydia met someone she could actually love? Someone who hadn’t caused her five years worth of pain and misery? “Lydia,” he barked, “Henderson is ready. If you’ll wait in the carriage, we’ll be off momentarily.”

  She looked confused by his sharp tone, but stood anyway and smiled at him. “Of course, my lord.”

  As soon as the words had left his lips, he was ashamed of the way he sounded. He couldn’t look at her. She was only talking to the innkeeper’s son. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and deep down he knew that. He knew he was being foolish, but he couldn’t help it. The simple fact remained—men were enamored with his wife and eventually, one of them would strike her interest. The thought that she could someday leave him was pain inducing.

  Lydia had agreed to share his bed, but her heart didn’t belong to him—not yet anyway. And he knew he wasn’t going to win her over by acting like some ogre, but at the moment he wasn’t in complete control of himself. He needed to have a clear head when he spoke to her next, no matter how long that took.

  He climbed the stairs back up to their room, unceremoniously threw their remaining belongings into his valise, and looked around. What they had shared here was special, and he didn’t want to lose it. He knew himself well and was certain he would bark at her out of frustration. If he was going to win her heart, he couldn’t let that happen. Their intimacy was too new for him to destroy it with his mood. He’d have to protect her. In this case, from himself.

  He took his time descending the staircase as his mind developed his plan. He said goodbye to the Langes and had Henderson secure the bag to the top of the coach.

  H
e opened the door and saw Lydia’s confused look as she waited for him to join her. But Robert still didn’t trust his mood enough to face her. He had no idea what to say. He couldn’t very well explain that he was a jealous lunatic, or that he was in love with her and hated the attention she received from other men. He’d sound like a bloody Bedlamite. “I’m going to ride up top with Henderson for a while.”

  Robert didn’t wait for her response before he closed the coach door firmly. Perhaps a little fresh air and the company of his coachman would put him a better mood for later.

             

  Lydia was completely puzzled. She’d been so insecure when she found him gone that morning, but when she saw her husband, he’d pushed her fears aside. He had seemed just as loving this morning as he had been the night before. Then he went outside to check on their coach and had returned a changed man.

  Had the coachman upset him? She didn’t believe that. If that was the case, he certainly wouldn’t want to ride with the man. And why couldn’t he look at her all of a sudden? She had to have done something to anger him. Though for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine what it was. But there was one thing she was certain of—her husband was angry at her.

  Without him to keep her company, the ride to Gosling Park was a torturous affair. Her mind conjured up all sorts of wild explanations for Robert’s behavior. Each mile that passed made her more and more unsettled and anxious.

  She hadn’t really thought of him as moody before. Sometimes he was gruff or arrogant, sometimes flirtatious, but she hadn’t ever seen his mood change so quickly. At least if he’d ridden inside with her, she could have ascertained what was wrong, what she’d done to upset him. Instead, the not knowing was driving her mad.

  The night before, Robert had asked her to trust him. But he obviously didn’t trust her in return or he would have told her what was wrong. That realization was painful, and she sulked until hours later when the coach finally came to a stop.

  The carriage door opened, and Lydia heaved a sigh when Robert offered her his hand. She grudgingly took it, but avoided his gaze as she looked past him upon one of the most magnificent estates she’d ever seen.

  Was this Gosling Park? An enormous medieval castle loomed high above them, basking in the beautiful Dorset sun. Lydia stared at the place wide-eyed, and only remembered that Robert was with her when he slid his arm around her shoulders and whispered, “Welcome to my home, Lydia.”

  She turned to meet his eyes. The warmth was back in his voice and he seemed to be the Robert she’d held in her arms the night before. Tentatively, she smiled back, but she didn’t trust him. How could she?

  Robert placed her hand in the crook of his arm and led her up to the main entrance. The large wooden doors opened widely and they were soon greeted by the entire staff, headed by an elderly butler. Lydia was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer number of servants—more than three or four times what she’d had a Blackstone.

  Robert nodded to the butler. “Thank you for gathering everyone, Dunsley.”

  The butler nodded in return. “Of course, Lord Masten.”

  With the commanding tone that Lydia had become accustomed to, Robert addressed the servants that were assembled before them. “It’s good to see everyone. I wanted to make sure you were all here to meet Lady Masten.”

  Lydia blushed uncomfortably as several sets of eyes focused in on her. She smiled shyly at the large group before them and held tight to her husband’s arm.

  Robert placed his hand over hers and continued. “I have turned over all household matters to my wife, and I’m sure you’ll all love her as much as I do.”

  Lydia gulped. Did her husband just say he loved her in front of a large group of people, his own servants no less? The staff looked her up and down. Some smiled while others seemed more restrained in their assessment of her. Robert was turning over his household matters to her? She hadn’t expected that. He apparently did want her to stay here. She looked around. Could she do it?

  Introductions began, and Lydia felt sure she’d be lucky to remember even a third of the staff. Maids curtseyed and footmen bowed, and soon Robert had dismissed everyone until only Dunsley remained. The butler bowed to Lydia, and she thought she saw a kind gentleness in the old man’s eyes. “Welcome to Gosling Park, Lady Masten. I’m certain your stay here will be pleasant.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled gratefully. “Dunsley, is it?”

  “Yes, my lady.” The butler nodded and then glanced up at the earl. “Do you need anything else, your lordship?”

  “Actually, if you’ll have tea setup in the yellow sitting room, Dunsley.”

  “Of course.”

  “And please have my wife’s things settled into my room.”

  A look of surprise briefly cross the old man’s face. It wasn’t unheard of for married couples to share a room, but it certainly wasn’t done in the vast majority of households. Dunsley nodded his head in a dignified manner and set off on his errands.

  Lydia looked up at Robert, who smiled flirtatiously at her. “He was this close to losing that dignified façade of his.”

  “Is that why you told him to put me in your room? To unnerve your butler?” She eyed him curiously, still desperately trying to unravel the mystery that was her husband, and still not trusting him.

  Robert’s lips curled into a smile and he pulled her into his embrace. “No, Lydia, I’m putting you in our room because I plan to keep my word to you from earlier today and have you morning, noon, and night. You’ll be much more accessible when you’re right there with me. These halls get cold at night. I don’t want to have to search you out.” He bent down and nuzzled her neck.

  She had his attention. He was focused solely on her at the moment. It was time to find out why he had ignored her all day. She couldn’t relax or enjoy any of this until she knew. “I thought for certain that you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

  Robert studied her face and frowned. “How could you possibly think that? I spent quite a bit of time last night proving the complete opposite to you.”

  Lydia sighed and managed to extricate herself from his hold. “Then why did you ride up with Henderson and leave me all alone? What did I do wrong, Robert? I’ve thought all day, and I haven’t a clue.”

  He seemed to freeze at these words.

  She had hoped for the truth, but she got a lie instead. She knew it as soon as she heard it. “I often ride with Henderson. I like to see Dorset from the coachman’s box.”

  She couldn’t even look at him. What a complete fabrication. Whatever she’d done must’ve been truly horrific, if he wouldn’t even tell her. “You’ll have to do better than that, my lord. I’m not a complete fool. The Earl of Masten doesn’t ride on his coachman’s box. People would talk, and that is unacceptable.”

  “Please, Lydia,” he begged, “just let it be. I won’t do it again if it upsets you.”

  She finally met his gaze with hurt eyes. “I don’t care about you doing it again, Masten. I want to know why you did it today. If I don’t know how I’ve upset you, I can’t keep from doing it in the future.”

  “This has nothing to do with you. Surely, after last night, you must know that.”

  How was she to know that? He couldn’t even look at her when he’d closed her inside the carriage. In fact, the look on his face had actually reminded her of when he’d sent her off to Blackstone all those years ago.

  Her confusion turned to fury that he wouldn’t answer her, that he didn’t trust her. “I have absolutely no idea what I know, Masten. One moment you’re a passionate lover and the next you’re a scowling martinet.”

  She could tell he was growing angry as his lips pursed and he stepped closer to her. But she wouldn’t back away from him and stood her ground. He muttered between clinched teeth, “The open hallway is not the place for this discussion, Lydia.”

  Of course not! We must keep up our appearances! What would the servants think if they overheard th
is conversation? “That is the one part of you that never changes, Masten. I’ve never known a man that was so overly concerned with how he is viewed. I’m certain your staff is intimately aware of your drastic changes in mood. Nothing I’ve said will be a shocking revelation.”

  He whispered bitingly in her ear, “And I’ve never met a woman who is less concerned with how she is viewed. If you had a bit more restraint, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”

  Without hesitation, Lydia slapped him across the face. Her hand stung from the contact. No matter how close they became, she would always be his brother’s whore—she was just now coming to realize that. How could she have been so naïve to think differently? Didn’t he reminded her every chance he got? But now she was a countess, and no man was going to speak to her like that—not even her husband.

  As Robert’s hand instinctively flew to the cheek that she’d assaulted, Lydia folded her arms across her chest and looked him straight in the eye. “I suggest you find Dunsley and have my things delivered to a room far away from yours, my lord.”

  Robert glared back at her. “I’ll do no such thing. We have an agreement, my lady.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she leaned into him. There were some things even she didn’t want servants to overhear. “Perhaps your seed took hold last night, Masten. We’ll just have to wait and see. Because until you tell me the truth, I won’t be sharing a room or anything else with you.”

  She stormed off, having nothing more to say to him. As she turned down a corridor with her skirts swishing behind her, she wished she’d waited to unleash her anger on him until after she knew where she was going in this maze of a house. But she wouldn’t turn back. She wouldn’t face him until he could be honest with her, even if that meant forever.

  Furious, Robert could only gape as she fled from him. He had drastic changes in mood?  He wanted to yell after her, but he held his tongue. Would he ever understand women? Hell, women weren’t the problem—just his wife. One moment Lydia was an innocent, shy girl and the next she was a formidable opponent. The girl that just left him was the one he’d met at Staveley’s ball, the one he’d dealt with in London, the one who was unreasonable and difficult. He’d almost forgotten that side of Lydia existed.

  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 of 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 a
way.

  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 have 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.

  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.