‘Thank you. I would appreciate that. I do not think you will be disappointed.’ As Lydia said the words she could not help feeling that should Henry’s wife become a client of hers, then it could provide her with something of a dilemma, not to mention an embarrassment, which was something she could do without. But she liked Alex’s sister. She exuded a vitality and good humour and a jaunty self-confidence she could not help but admire.
* * *
As the driver snapped the reins smartly over the backs of the high-stepping horses taking his passengers on their way, Miranda glanced at her brother with some curiosity. ‘I see Miss Brook has taken your fancy, Alex. You always did have an eye for a pretty girl,’ she teased.
‘Miss Brook is no ordinary young lady, Miranda.’
‘Owing to the fact that she is a working girl she has no silken chains to bind her to her family, which puts her on a different plane to most of the young ladies you are acquainted with.’
‘And that fact alone is why I find her a refreshing change, Miranda.’
‘Clearly,’ his sister said, smiling at him. ‘You—like her, don’t you?’
He sighed and nodded slowly. ‘Yes—yes, I do.’
Miranda smiled. ‘I think I shall pay a visit to Miss Brook’s salon. If she is as good at her work as you say she is, then I may place an order.’ She settled back against the squabs, eyeing her brother with a good deal of interest. ‘Tell me more about Miss Brook, Alex. Is she the woman Irene saw you with in your carriage a short while ago, leaving the bank?’
Alex glanced at her sharply. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Irene saw you together. She asked me who the woman was. I told her I really had no idea—which was quite true at the time. Was it Miss Brook you were with and, if so, what is your connection, Alex? Come,’ she said with quiet cajoling laughter in her voice when her brother threw her a belligerent look. ‘You know how I hate secrets. I always manage to wheedle them out of you in the end, so do tell.’
* * *
Emily watched the carriage go, a stunned expression on her face. ‘My goodness, Lydia. How did you come to know him? He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen—and rich by the looks of him. Are you going to see him again?’
‘I will have to, Emily.’
‘You should. Men like him are few and far between.’
‘I thought that when I met Henry and look what happened there. Henry is Mr Golding’s brother-in-law. He is married to Mr Golding’s sister—the lady we have just been introduced to. As a matter of fact, Emily, I—met him in Scotland. After finding out what Henry was up to he came to Scotland to stop the wedding before Henry committed bigamy. I let you assume the bank granted me a loan to start my business. I’m sorry.’
‘You mean it didn’t?’ Emily frowned, clearly bemused. ‘I don’t understand. Then how? Who did?’
‘Mr Golding lent me the money,’ Lydia informed her quietly. ‘I am to repay him in instalments—with interest, of course.’
Emily eyed her quizzically. ‘But? I do sense a but.’
Lydia sighed and nodded. ‘It means I am beholden to him—indebted to him.’
‘Of course you are if he lent you the money. Don’t you want to see him? A man who looks like that?’
‘I know. It’s a dilemma.’
‘It needn’t be. I don’t mind telling you that if he had looked at me the way he looked at you I’d give you some strong competition for him. Grab him, Lydia—although I suspect girls like you and me are too inexperienced to take on a man of Mr Golding’s ilk. I imagine he eats women for breakfast. Men like him are few and far between—and rich to boot.’
‘That is precisely what he is—a very wealthy man. I am a seamstress—way out of his league—hardly worthy of him. A woman like me can only ever have one kind of relationship with a man like that and I will be no man’s mistress.’
‘Of course you are worthy of him. Don’t do yourself down, Lydia. It’s what you are that is important, what you are inside, not who you are and where you come from.’
Lydia smiled. ‘That may be so, Emily, but Mr Golding means nothing to me except as a means of obtaining the loan for my shop. I have no intention of becoming involved with him romantically or in any other way.’
Emily rolled her eyes and gave her an exasperated look, but she did not pursue the subject. In the space of time since meeting the gentleman, Emily considered Lydia’s denial of him. She noted the total absence of her normal warmth and correctly assumed her friend’s current attitude of proud indifference was a facade to conceal some sort of deep hurt. She strongly suspected Mr Golding was the likely cause of the problem.
‘His sister seems nice. Do you think she meant what she said and that she’ll visit the salon?’
‘Perhaps. I don’t know, Emily. We’ll have to wait and see.’
‘Her custom would be not only welcome, but beneficial. If she is satisfied, then she may well recommend us to her rich and titled friends. What a boon that would be.’
‘I suppose so,’ Lydia replied, her mind beginning to drift to Lady Seymour’s brother. ‘It would certainly help pay the rent.’
* * *
It was the evening before the opening. Everything was ready. In the workroom Emily was putting some finishing touches to a hat she wanted to put on display in the window. Lydia was out in the street in front of the shop. It had already drawn a good deal of interest, with people stopping to enquire when it was opening.
It had been a warm, sunny day and Lydia hoped it would be the same tomorrow. Sighing deeply, she folded her hands at her waist, feeling somehow that after all the hard work they had put into it, her business would succeed. But her mind had been elsewhere since her father had re-entered her life. Beneath her calm exterior she endured a nauseating turmoil of conflicting emotions and distress. Deeply troubled by their meeting, she was strangely saddened to have seen how his seven years as a convict had affected his health. She was also regretful of the years she had missed not knowing him.
* * *
Across the street, having climbed down from his carriage, Alex took a moment to watch her. Her shining black hair, doing its best to escape from its arrangement, curled about her brow and ears, giving her a youthful look. Attired in a dress of dark blue that clung to her breasts and small waist, he admired her regal poise and outward beauty, but he was far more intrigued by her inner attributes, her unmistakable presence that made her stand out so clearly in the slowly shifting throng on the street.
She was looking attentively at the contents of the bow windows but, sensitive to her mood, he felt she wasn’t really seeing the elaborate display. He had enough experience with women to know when one was upset and on the verge of tears. When they had met in the park he had sensed that all was not well with her. He was curious. After all her hard work getting everything ready for the opening, why the dejection? He thought that perhaps he should leave before she turned and saw him, but he hesitated, torn between an urge to avoid a scene involving an upset female and a less understandable impulse to offer her some sort of strength and support.
The latter impulse was by far the stronger and won.
* * *
As she continued to stare at the window display, Lydia was oblivious to Alex—to everything except the bewildering emotions she had felt since her meeting with her father that had almost sent her spiralling out of control. She had veered between a kind of lethargic helplessness to sudden bursts of angry energy that resulted in a frenzy of mindless activity as she prepared for tomorrow’s opening.
The swift plunge from the excitement that had gripped her since she had moved into the premises to the grim truth of her father’s return that she had feared for so long had affected her deeply and left her bewildered and unprepared to know how to deal with it.
Aware that someone had come to stand beside her, she turned, her heart doi
ng a little somersault when she saw the identity of her visitor. His unexpected arrival stirred hidden pleasures and emotions and for the moment every emotion and every thought was lost to her. All she could think about for the moment was being with him again and how happy that made her. Just when she had thought she might get over him, that he no longer affected her, he appeared again and all her carefully tended illusions were shattered. The depth of her feelings for him continued to shake her and shock her. His eyes, warm and appreciative, did a quick sweep of her face. Immediately, the touching sadness Alex had witnessed a moment earlier was wiped clean from her face and replaced with a smile.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Is everything in readiness for the opening?’
‘Yes—at least I sincerely hope we haven’t overlooked anything.’
‘Not you. I am sure you have everything planned down to the last, minute detail.’
‘I do hope so.’ She sighed deeply. ‘But I can’t help being apprehensive.’
‘That’s understandable. But I have every faith in you. You will be a success—how could it not be with your determination and your will of iron you have clearly inherited from your mother?’
An unforgettable smile curved her lips. ‘Yes, she might have something to do with that. Why are you here, Alex?’
‘I have to go away in the morning and I didn’t want to leave without seeing you and wishing you well tomorrow.’
His words warmed Lydia. ‘Thank you, Alex,’ she said, her smile bright and amenable. It was the effect he always had on her. ‘How long will you be away?’
‘Two—three weeks at the most. You know I am a businessman and a number of speculative ventures have come to my attention. I am interested in investing in several companies in France. Arrangements have been made for me to meet some prominent businessmen over there.’
‘And it is important that you go there in person?’
‘Absolutely. I wish to know the real position of the companies I am to sink my money into, to be sure in my own mind that they will not fail to meet their liabilities. If they do, and my investments collapse, then I will only have myself to blame.’
‘I know very little about business on the scale you speak of. You are very astute.’
‘I have to be.’
‘Yes, I can see that. I hope you have a safe journey.’
‘Lydia, when I saw you yesterday, I sensed you were troubled about something. Is everything all right?’
He made a close study of her until she stirred uncomfortably beneath his scrutiny and looked away. It had nothing to do with her business and everything to do with her father’s reappearance in her life and the obvious fact that he was an ill man, but that was not Alex’s problem.
Alex stared at her profile, at the brush of thick ebony lashes shading her cheek. ‘Would you like to tell me what is wrong?’
Lydia was tempted to tell Alex the truth. She thought about it, but then decided against it. So she told him it was nothing more serious than the opening that worried her—which, in part, was true, feeling she would have to reveal too much if she told him about her father, everything that remained private and unacknowledged and needed to stay that way until she had sorted things out in her own mind.
She did it with such spurious indifference that Alex wasn’t fooled in the slightest, but he chose not to pursue the matter as she clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it.
Chapter Six
‘It is very quiet. Hopefully it will not be so tomorrow and you will find yourself inundated with clients,’ Alex commented.
‘I sincerely hope that will be the case,’ Lydia said, focusing her attention on the window and the publicity for the opening ensured by a conspicuous display of goods.
‘Although being the end of July, London is quiet. The aristocracy desert the town at this time of year for their country estates, so they can indulge in country pleasures. They will begin to drift back in the early months of next year and by May the whole round of frivolity will begin again.’
‘I don’t think that will affect my business,’ she said. ‘Will you be one of those deserting London?’
‘I do not follow the same routine. I am a businessman, after all. I do not spend half the year in idleness persecuting dumb animals.’ Raising his eyes, Alex noted the impressive name of the shop, clear and distinctive, painted in large gilt letters over the doorway.
‘Lillie’s.’ Alex looked at her in puzzlement. ‘I’m curious. Why did you choose Lillie’s?’
‘Lillie was my mother’s name. To own her own shop was what she always wanted. I vowed that if ever I opened my own establishment that was what it would be called—as a tribute to her. I owe her a great deal.’
‘That is a lovely sentiment, Lydia. I am sure your mother would be very proud of you.’ He eyed the window display with interest. ‘I see the items you have placed in the window have their prices clearly marked. Is that wise?’
‘It was my idea. I am hoping that the passers-by will be so impressed by the quality and range of goods in the window that it will excite them and tempt them inside—and hopefully buy something.’ She looked at him, noting his frown, and sighed. ‘You don’t think it’s a good idea, do you?’
He grinned down at her. ‘Being a mere male, I am hardly in a position to offer a qualified opinion.’
‘Oh, I know the fact that high-class clientele prefer to purchase their clothes at well-appointed premises run on the lines of a French couture house—the establishments that do not advertise and are recommended by word of mouth, which I would like my own establishment to become eventually, when I am in a position to think about expanding the business—but until I have enough funds behind me and have established myself, which will enable me to make the transition, this is how it will be.’
‘You are ambitious. I wish you all the luck in the world, Lydia.’
‘Besides, there are numerous smaller establishments that are used by society ladies to purchase garments to be worn on social occasions not considered grand enough to merit the considerable outlay required for an outfit from an exclusive dressmaker.’
‘I see you have it all worked out.’ He admired her brightness, her intelligence and cleverness and her determination to be more than a seamstress. He also admired her sheer perseverance in mastering the challenging task of how a business should be run. ‘Where are your employees?’ he asked, looking beyond the glass windows into the interior of the shop. ‘I imagined they would be rushing about putting the finishing touches on things.’
‘With everything prepared for the opening I gave the two girls I am employing the afternoon off while it is quiet. I’m hoping that we get sufficient orders so they will be busy in the coming days helping me complete them.’
‘And the young lady you were with in the park yesterday?’
‘That was Emily. She’s retired to her room to do some sewing of her own. It was lovely to meet your sister. She...seems nice.’
‘She is. You made quite an impression on her. I expect she’ll visit your salon.’
‘She may not be so amenable if she were to know who I really am. I hope she never finds out—how we became acquainted, I mean. She would never forgive you. She would feel herself cruelly betrayed if she knew of it.’
‘By Henry?’
‘No. By you—a brother she clearly adores. For her sake, I hope the truth of it never comes out. The scandal of having her husband’s dirty linen aired in public would discredit them both. I’m still angry that he made bets amongst his friends and that I was so smitten with him as to do anything he suggested. Is it possible that you can dissuade her from coming to the shop?’
‘Why?’
‘Come, Alex, I should not have to spell it out. I am sure you’ll be able to think of something to stop her. I...can perceive the trouble it could cause. I would not feel comfortable selling clothes to the wife of the m
an I almost married bigamously. You must understand that.’
Alex nodded. ‘I’ll see what I can do. I have no wish for you to be distressed over this.’
‘I am not distressed—nor am I likely to be,’ she told him with a trace of indignation and amazing candour. ‘For the duration of our...arrangement,’ she said, for want of a better word since she was unable to describe what it was that held them together other than the loan, ‘I would be obliged if you would restrain your ardour and do not behave as you did in Scotland again.’
‘But if I did, you would be tempted, wouldn’t you?’
Alex’s smile was infuriating, and the warm sensuality of his voice almost stole Lydia’s breath. If he was trying to destroy her resistance, he was succeeding admirably. At that moment some indefinable alchemy made them extremely aware of each other, and their eyes became caught in that age-old way of lovers. Lydia’s vulnerability was laid bare for him to pierce the guard she had resolved to keep on her emotions.
‘I can feel it in your response to me, Lydia, so do not try denying it.’
‘Am I so predictable?’
‘You are to me.’ He was speaking softly, his eyes perusing her beautiful face. ‘I would like to promise you that whenever we meet I shall try to keep my ardour under control and my hands to myself—but there will be times when desire overwhelms me.’
‘We have no reason to meet,’ she told him bluntly. ‘I will make my payments to the bank. I suspect you are a busy man and that your accountant takes care of such things.’
‘That is what I pay him for,’ he said, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on her face. Reaching out, he pushed a tendril of hair away from her cheek. His hand lingered there. The skin of her cheek felt warm beneath his fingers. They moved down to her lips. How could they feel so soft? ‘But that will not prevent me from seeing you on occasion.’
Lydia looked at him, her eyes wide with shock that he was being so familiar, but there was also something else, something that reflected what she was feeling. A wave of longing and anticipation swept over her. Desire was in her eyes and in the warm breath against his fingers. It was in her stance, poised like a young animal about to flee.
Carrying the Gentleman's Secret Page 12
