“We are agreed,” Richard said, shaking Micah’s hand, and using the tone of voice he hadn’t used since the Wars. “I will woo and win your sister. I will show her that there is only one man suitable to be her lord husband. I will make it quite apparent that she will never be able to depend upon a man the way she can depend upon me. I vow to make her mine, and only mine, and any other man who tries to take her from me shall rue the day we ever met.” The last word came out more like a guttural growl. He was surprised by the intensity of it.
“Jolly good. I knew you wouldn’t disoblige me,” Micah said, his eyes sparkling. “I say, that is exactly what I’ve always wanted to hear. I thought that nothing could light the fire burning deep within your soul, Richard. I feared that the Lovett spirit had failed to possess you. I see that I was quite wrong on that front, and I am so very glad for it. You will be the best husband she could ever wish for. You will give her exactly what she needs.”
“And what does she require in your wise estimation, old chap?”
“She requires a good and thorough taming. She’s become altogether too wild…and I fear it’s because she’s rebelling against life. She sees herself as having nothing else left to lose.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because dear fellow, she’s already lost the one thing she prized above everything—and everyone—else. She lost you.”
Lydia was his mission, and he had never failed to execute a mission before—and he jolly well wouldn’t start now. Winning her hand would be the adventure of a lifetime, one he readily welcomed.
No man would ever come between them again. And if James Newson wouldn’t move aside…he would bloody well make him. As for the formidable Mandeville, if he decided to throw his hat into the ring—he’d deal with him without hesitation.
Micah grinned at him. “That determined expression of yours sets my heart at ease. You’re going to get what you want this time around. This is now my time to take my leave. I shall see you this evening.”
“Indeed, you shall, sir.”
“Good day, Tisbury.”
Well, if that didn’t show that Micah was serious, nothing else would. They rarely used formal titles with each other. Micah left and closed the study door behind him. Richard looked down at the discarded document. He was going to commit himself wholeheartedly to Lydia. He had a beautiful English lass to win and wed.
“I’m coming for you, Lydia,” he whispered.
He would make Lady Lydia Radcliff his countess, and he would cherish her for the rest of his days.
ady Lydia Radcliff wanted to punch her brother right in the nose.
Slamming her bedroom door shut, she leaned against it, as she attempted to cool her raging hot temper. It would do her no good to actually go down and confront Micah. She would end up being terribly sorry for it, and they would both say things in the heat of the moment they’d later regret, and poor Rose would be caught in the middle trying to appease both sides, to no avail. No, she couldn’t do that.
Her mama kept reminding her that she was no longer a child. It was time for her to act like it. She had to look upon this situation with more than a modicum of maturity. Unfortunately, her anger would continue to burn hot for at least a few more minutes before she completely calmed down. Her bedchamber was the safest place for her right now. At least here she could not make a fool of herself.
She flounced down upon her bed. Anger continued surging through her in molten hot waves. How dare he do that to her! She had overheard him boasting to Rose about what he’d done. He was as pleased as Punch with himself about the whole thing. She’d slipped noiselessly away, shocked beyond belief. So, he wanted Richard to offer for her hand, did he? And he thought that Richard should ruin her, did he? Well, he was in for a ruddy good shock himself. He was going to find out that she wasn’t a pawn of his. Now she had to deal with her brother’s machinations, and Richard’s! Richard already knew too much. He knew she was masquerading as a man, and he could use that against her. She was slowly being forced into a corner and it was too much to bear. Her anger turned gradually to frustration. Tears welled up inside her, as she once again felt lost on the sea called life. Settling back against her pillows, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep, dreamy slumber.
“Lydia, Lydia, Lydia, where are you?” Her father’s strong voice carried to her from the direction of the vicarage. The rain fell in fat drops around her head. She stood on the viewing platform of the King Edward Folly Tower that sat not far from Castleton Court. She came here often whenever she needed to find a sanctuary to collect her thoughts and her temper. Usually, she needed the sanctuary to escape her mother during one of their infamous rows.
Sometimes, Richard Lovett was here, or his sister, and they would give her comfort when needed, calming her emotions so she could return to her family. Richard had a particularly good knack for it. Whenever she was around him, her worries just slipped away. If only he were here now. She had felt so forlorn when she’d arrived to find no trace of him.
The elements howled around her, lashing her with rain and wind, and nearly forcing her off her feet a few times. To be at the top of this folly during such a fierce storm was sheer folly, indeed. If Richard was here, he would have dragged her down the steps into the warmer interior of the building and the cozy sanctum it provided. Her hair was untidy, and her mother would have said it was far too blowsy. Inching toward the crenelated parapet, she stared out over the valley; now she was really taking a chance. Her sense of decorum had completely vanished. She was, as her mother had called her many times before, a hoydenish little hellion.
“Lydia?” Her father drew closer, as he ascended the steps to the top of the tower. He sounded worried for her. She couldn’t remain quiet any longer.
“I am fine, Papa, you needn’t fret,” she called, her voice almost lost on the wind.
“You will catch your death up here, at least go down and sit in the small but cozy library that Lord Tisbury has so lovingly furnished. It is warm down there, and we shall be protected from the harsh weather. As for not worrying about you, Lydia, I shall worry about you until the day I die, and perhaps I shall worry about you even then. You…are far too reckless for your own good, and sometimes you require a protector to keep you from doing something foolish,” he exclaimed, taking off his greatcoat and wrapping it around her shoulders. “That muslin you’re wearing is far too thin to be out in this, you take far too many chances with your health, my dear daughter.”
“Mama is cross with me,” she said, shivering despite herself. She was soaked through, and when she sniffled, her father quickly handed her his handkerchief.
“Your mama’s anger has already faded away, she is quite distraught about you. She shall not rest until I bring you safely home. I fear she shall quite wear a hole in the drawing room rug from her incessant pacing. You must have learned by now that her anger burns bright, but goes out like the snuffing of a candle. You must endeavor to keep that in mind. She does that with everyone who raises her ire.”
“Not with me,” she said stubbornly. “She…I think she hates me sometimes.”
“Balderdash. She just believes that you need a firmer guiding hand than your sisters required. She sees far too much of herself in you, my dear. It troubles her greatly sometimes. What were the two of you arguing about?”
“I…I might have planted a jolly good facer on Tommy Wilson. I never knew that much blood could come out of someone’s nose. But I did it, and I regret nothing.” She jutted her chin out in that defiant manner that usually raised her mother’s ire even more.
Lydia glanced over at her father to spy on his reaction to her rebellious behavior. The rain was starting to die off. The fierce storm had been quieted, as quickly as it had come up. Her father’s blue eyes twinkled, and the corners of his mouth twitched, almost as if he was attempting not to laugh.
“Why…” he said hoarsely. “Why…” He tried again, still not able to keep his composure. Looking away from her, s
he thought she heard him give a small chuckle. “Why did you do that?” He finally managed to ask.
“Tommy said that…he told me that he would marry me someday, and that he would kiss me now to seal that promise. And then the revolting little toad tried to kiss me, so I…”
“Landed a facer on him.” Her father supplied for her, nodding his head in that wise manner of his.
“I did.”
“Did you tell your mother the whole story?” he asked patiently.
“She didn’t wait for me to explain. Tommy’s mother brought him to her, with blood running down his face, and pointed at me, and said, your dreadful daughter did this to my son, and then, Mama horrified by it all, turned to me and reproached me for my unladylike behavior. She said that as the vicar’s daughter…”
“I understand,” her father said quickly, holding up his right hand.
“I didn’t want him to kiss me,” she said flatly. “Tommy the Toad had other ideas. His face just kept coming closer to mine, and he had his eyes closed, whilst his mouth moved in a rather fishy way, and his lips were wet with his disgusting spit, and I wasn’t sure where his lips were going to land, so I did the only thing I could think of. I am sorry, Papa, but…I didn’t want his lips to contact with any part of my anatomy. You should have seen his eyes pop back open once I punched him and he cried ever so. He kept saying I would pay for what I had done once he told his mama about it. He was right on that point, wasn’t he, Papa?”
“I will take care of this troubling matter, you needn’t worry any longer about it, my child,” her father said comfortingly. “If anyone else tries to kiss you against your wishes, you take the same course of action, do you understand, Lydia?”
“Yes, but…Mama shan’t like it. She will continue to reproach me for my unladylike manners, and tell me that I must give up my tomboyish ways, if I am ever to become the proper little daughter that a vicar deserves.”
“Your mama will expect it, once I tell her the entire story, and I shall remind her of her own reckless youth. That shall weigh upon it heavily, I assure you.”
“Papa?” she asked softly.
“Aye?”
“Will there be a scandal?” She found herself holding her breath until he replied.
“No, my love, there will not,” he laughed. “You are far too young to cause a scandal with how you reacted to Tommy’s advances. If anything, Tommy deserves a good thrashing, and I shall tell his mother exactly that the next time I see her. Had it been your mother in your place, he would have received more than what you gave him. I fear he might have been limping back home to his dear mama.”
“I won’t have to marry Tommy, will I? I fear it is a fate worse than death, Papa.”
He laughed. The deep rumbling of it echoed around them. “My dearest daughter, you shall marry whomever you want to marry. You shall chart your own destiny. I won’t allow anything else, and on this matter, I know your mama and I are in full agreement. She chose me, and I in turn, chose her. We fought to be together, Lydia, and one day when you are older, you shall hear the entire story of how we met and fell in love. Your mother doesn’t like to talk about it, but you deserve to know the truth, and because of how we fell in love, she will not tolerate any other fate for her children. You are all free to choose your husbands.”
“Ruth didn’t choose so well,” Lydia said softly.
“Be that as it may, your mother and I allowed her to decide her own fate. If she is unhappy with that fate, she shall have to live with it. We all have regrets, dear child. I shall not see you live with a lifetime of regret. You shall have the man of your choosing, my dear.”
“I certainly do not want to marry Tommy. He has warts, farts a lot, and he smells like a pigsty, probably because his papa keeps pigs. I have even seen them in their house. His sister had a hat and an old frock on one of them.”
Her father chuckled again. “You, my darling, shall have many gentlemen pursuing you, vying for your hand. You are a diamond of the first water. Right now, all you want to do is run and play, but there will come a day where you will want to wear the fine gowns that your sisters wear and you will want to attend the balls, and you will want some fine gentlemen to ask you to dance and…”
“What if…what do I do if I want to be kissed?” she asked hesitatingly.
“Pray, don’t punch your suitor in the face,” he answered jokingly, his eyes still dancing. He looked over at her. Seeing her distress, his face sobered. “You have your whole life in front of you, Lydia. Do not fret. Smile,” he said, taking out a spare handkerchief and gently wiping away her tears. “Fill your heart with joy.” He kissed the center of her forehead, “I shall not have it any other way.”
“There’s no point in me going to the balls and searching for a husband, Papa. I already know who I want to marry. I have had my heart set on the fine fellow for some time now.”
“I know. I know. I only pray when the time comes, he is worthy of your love, and does all he can to give you the life you deserve.”
“You know the object of my affection?”
“You traipse about the countryside after him like a loyal, completely besotted puppy. You make any and all excuse to be in his company, and when Micah was still home…”
“I miss Micah, I wish he hadn’t gone away and left Rose so sad,” she sighed. “He’s the only person, aside from you, who understands me.”
“The Lovetts are good people. Lord Tisbury is a good man.”
“He won’t…he won’t marry me.”
“Not right now, no, you are too young. Some other ladies might marry at your age, but not you. I wouldn’t let him even if he tried. Give it a few years and then…”
“I am not a lady.”
“On the contrary. You might not carry the courtesy title, but never forget where you come from, my dear. My grandfather, Lord Warminster would have insisted that you were a lady, and that you should be treated as such. He was a grand old fellow filled with love, laughter and a gentle but firm nature, and I wish you had been able to meet him. He would have liked you and loved you. Now, come, let us go and see if your mother has tea waiting for us.” He looked ruefully over at the staircase. “I do not look forward to going back down. I barely made it up those terrifying steps,” he joked, pulling her close to him. She rested her head on his shoulder. “I can still see you as a busy little baby. Oh, you used to get into everything and whenever your mama held you, you would pull at her hair and at whatever jewelry she wore. You…were…a cheeky child, and I daresay you shan’t ever grow out of it.”
“Oh, Papa, what will I ever do without you?”
With a start, Lydia sat up. A confused haze took hold of her senses. For one brief moment, she believed that her father was still alive. Terrible realization hit her like a punch to the stomach. She felt sick. He was gone. He would never be in her life again. His love endured for her, past death, but oh, how she wished she could have his wise counsel right now, and yet, perhaps, he had given it to her in the dreaming memory.
Blinking her eyes furiously, she looked around her. Tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. For one brief moment, she almost believed she’d been thrown back into the past. Her father…her father had seemed so real in her dream. She could almost feel him and she could still hear his voice. That precious memory was one she clung to.
It had been the summer before her father had been taken ill with Scarlet Fever and died. She shivered, rubbing her hands briskly over her arms. So much had changed since his passing. Now, she had no one to comfort her when her mother was being especially difficult.
Micah had inherited the earldom her father would have inherited had he still been alive, and then Micah had been blessed again when he had been created the 1st Marquess of Everley as a reward for his exemplary service to the Crown in a time of war. For a time, she had wondered what would happen to her, as her brother had inherited the title that would have been her father’s, if he had survived the fever. As Micah was her broth
er, most siblings were granted the status that all children of a peer were given but it wasn’t something that was automatically bestowed, so they were all left waiting and wondering for a time.
Their questions were answered when the Royal Warrant of Precedence was finally issued, thereby affording her the titular dignity that all daughters of an earl were afforded. She was no longer Miss Lydia Radcliff, the warrant had elevated her status to Lady Lydia Radcliff. Her mother also had a new title, as she had been created Euphemia Radcliff, 1st Baroness Holt. It was created with remainder to the heirs male of the body of James Radcliff, meaning that it would go to Micah upon her mother’s death, and he would become the second Baron Holt, not that he needed another title to add to his collection.
Her mother was pleased with her new “ladyship” status, probably more than Lydia was. Because of Lydia’s new courtesy title, she had become the darling of the Season. To her displeasure, it had attracted attention from most of the eligible men searching the marriage mart for prospective wives. It had been a precarious game managing to avoid their rather energetic advances without offending the pride of the suitor. She sighed, and thought back to some of the men who had engaged her for more than one dance. It had been an error of judgment on her part to encourage The Honorable James Newson, for he had turned out to be nothing but a swell of the first stare with very little else to recommend him. She had thought he would be an excellent partner in crime in her bid to make Richard jealous. And it would seem that her scheme had actually worked. Richard was besotted with her now—and so was Newson. The only problem was, she almost didn’t want to be Lydia anymore. She wished she could be Jamie all of the time, and be in charge of her own destiny. The men had all of the fun whilst the ladies had to do what the men told them to—and it wasn’t fair!
Delightfully Dangerous (Knights Without Armor Book 1) Page 9
