As for Mr. Newson, she had to find a way to get rid of him without falling into Richard’s trap. Newson took their relationship a little too seriously, and had become quite attached to her in the last few weeks. She comforted herself with the fact that he wasn’t as dull as some of the gentlemen searching for wives were. At least he had genteel manners, and he certainly smelled better than Tommy Wilson. He wasn’t the best match to be made. She could have had an earl, marquess or a duke. Instead, she’d selected Newson. Right after she’d set her sights on him, she’d met Mandeville, and had cursed herself for picking Newson so prematurely. Mandeville was a better candidate, if only he knew she was Lady Lydia Radcliff. Still, she loved neither—as her heart would always belong to someone else, even though she hated that fact at the moment. She’d tried to stop loving Richard, and couldn’t make her heart agree with her head. She’d made a mull of everything, and she’d have to somehow find a way out of it. When it came right down to it, her heart still belonged to Richard, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise. Newson would inherit very little upon his father’s death, and he was on the hunt for an heiress. Although, she didn’t exactly fit into that category, her dowry must have been enticing enough for him for he had latched onto her even faster than she’d predicted. She would lose the bargain she’d made with Richard. He knew it, and she knew it. But she would not go easily. Richard hadn’t suffered enough.
She looked across the room to the ball gown her mother had picked out for her to wear. It was a pretty little white muslin number with hand embroidered violets, trimmed with purple silk ribbon, and whilst the delicate frock would have suited her quite well in days past, tonight—well, tonight, she wanted to be the rebel. If she did force herself out of hiding, she wanted to stand out. She wanted to make an impression on all the guests. With Rose’s help, she’d managed to obtain a ball gown that was perfect for tonight. It wasn’t a color that maidens usually wore—and indeed some frowned upon wearing such a vibrant hue before marriage, but she cared not for what others thought. The vivid scarlet gown would make her the star of the ball. As it stood for courage and passion it seemed quite fitting for tonight—and yet, she didn’t have the nerve to wear it. No, she’d stick with the safe bet. As they were in London for the Season, there were scads of social events for them to attend, and she had been looking forward to every single one of them until of course, tonight. Her brother could not get his way. Men always thought they could bend women to their will, and have them comply with whatever they wanted.
It wasn’t right…and yet…
Who could she confide her troubles to? She couldn’t air her concerns to Rose or to Julia, for it would get right back to Richard. No. She was on her own. Her mother couldn’t be trusted either, nor could any of her silly sour sisters. If only Ruby were in town. She was dependable. She could keep anything that Lydia confided to her a secret.
Now she felt like a wretched little brat. Richard had called her a brat. Maybe he was right. She rolled off her stomach and sat cross-legged on her bed, in a position her mother would have deemed quite unladylike. She chewed at her lip, worrying it. She’d make it bloody if she weren’t careful, and that would not look appealing.
Her thoughts once again returned to Newson. He was dependable, in a foppish sort of way. She expected a proposal from him shortly, and she had to cut him off before it got to that point. But if she dashed his hopes, Richard would think he had won.
On the other hand, it would serve Richard right if she were to accept him, even though her entire body railed violently against that thought. She’d done this whole thing to gain Richard’s attention. Now, she had her brother and Lord Tisbury plotting to marry her off, and an annoying little peacock waiting in the wings. It was not to be borne. She had to act swiftly, and she had to be smart about it. Whatever she did, she couldn’t fall into any man’s trap. Or—maybe…perhaps, she had to beat them at their own game.
If Lord Tisbury wanted to ruin her she would let him. Once he thought he had his way with her, she would pull the rug out from beneath his feet, and make his life a living hell.
Having him chase her around London seemed the wisest course of action, but then, she had never been the wisest female out there. The need for revenge against him had ignited deep within her, fueled by her anger toward him at the moment, it might even be clouding her judgement but she didn’t care. She’d once heard her father say that revenge never came without crippling regret, but she couldn’t dwell on that right now. She would languish over her regrets once she’d claimed her revenge.
She would make Lord Tisbury bend his knee and beg for her forgiveness. Only then would she gain the satisfaction she required to mend her wounded pride. She’d always made herself out to be a fool around him. Oh, how it shamed her. That thought shamed her more than the thought of him actually ruining her did. She knew the ton wagged their tongues about how desperate she was for the Earl of Tisbury, following him around like a lovesick puppy. She had endured their snickers long enough. Now…now, she would have to endure the scandal of them thinking that she’d finally thrown herself at him and succeeded in getting him to ravish her. Could she bear it? Could she face their mocking faces? Her reputation was really the only thing she had left to rely upon. Her reputation would also be ruined if the ton discovered she was Jamie Poole. She was playing with fire, and there was a good chance she was going to end up getting burned.
Alas, this was her time of reckoning. She either pulled away from Richard, or she threw herself at him. If she pulled away, she might cost herself a lifetime of happiness. If she threw herself at him, she would give her brother exactly what he wanted—and yet God help her, she was tempted to throw caution to the winds, and give her brother and Richard what they wanted. Well, why not? She could give in, and still rail against what they’d plotted. After all, all’s fair in love and war.
She stood up and reached for a fairing of gingerbread. They were popular with their London cook during the Season, and it was a habit of hers to keep a stash of them in her bedchamber, so she could nibble on them whenever she wanted.
She gobbled down two of them, and sighed. Next, she rang for her maid. It was time to dress for the ball. The excitement that normally would have been bubbling through her had been replaced by red-hot anger. Someone timidly knocked at her door. She looked at it warily. It couldn’t be her maid. Lottie usually knocked and then came right in, as she had been summoned. She cautiously opened the door.
It was Rose.
“Come on in,” she said, welcoming her into the room.
“I daren’t stay for long. I must dress for the ball as well, but I thought you would want to know that…” Rose looked anxious. She was wringing her hands.
“If you are here to tell me about the diabolical plan my brother hatched with Lord Tisbury, I already know.” She couldn’t confess to Rose that she’d already struck a bargain with Richard as well.
“You do?” Rose asked in a small voice, her visage looking even more anxious than before.
“I do. My brother can rot for all I care, and so can Lord Tisbury. The two of them are so thick together I don’t know where one ends and other begins. I know that Tisbury is your cousin, but I think I’ve fawned over him enough. I have to…well, I have to grow up, don’t I? I must start to take responsibility for my own life, and my own decisions. I see other ladies on the marriage mart, kowtowing to the demands of their parents and other guardians, and I think…I think I must do what I want to do now.”
“Your feelings for Richard are not just girlish infatuation, Lydia. We both know that. As for the two bumbling harlequins, otherwise known as Micah and Richard, you mustn’t be so harsh.” Rose rushed out, her color up. “Your brother only has your best interests at heart. He’s taken it upon himself to see that you are matched with the man you love. Do not despise him for it. As for my cousin, well, I confess that Richard does need to, well, he needs to learn from his past mistakes, and perhaps, you’re just the right woman t
o teach him a proper lesson. I give you leave to hate Lord Tisbury, as he does deserve your ire, but pray, for my sake, and for your own, do not hate your brother.”
“I don’t hate him. I don’t even hate Lord Tisbury. Not really,” she confessed. “I think…” She sighed. “I am rather angry at Lord Tisbury. I cannot allow myself to think back upon how badly I acted around him. I made a proper little cake of myself. I suppose I proved that I am a silly little chit just like my sisters. I’m just a proper little Moonraker.”
“You shouldn’t speak of yourself in such a disparaging manner. Richard has acted the part of a fool as well. I would say he is more fool than you. And besides, I never thought of the Moonrakers from the legend as being brainless fools, they were quick thinking enough to trick the revenue men, weren’t they?” Rose laughed gaily.
“Aye, they were, they were.” Lydia returned the laughter, before once again falling into a more solemn mood. “Disregarding Lord Tisbury’s questionable conduct, I never should have behaved in such an improper and scandalous manner. Mama has read me the riot act about my wild behavior many times. She says I acted like a right little hoyden, and the last straw was when I intervened and exchanged fisticuffs with Lord Chorley, and the fact that I knocked him onto his arse is even worse. She thinks…she thinks that I have acted quite unlike a minister’s daughter. I have shamed her and by shaming her, she believes I have also shamed my papa. And if she knew about the other things I’ve done, well, I daresay she’d hate me for the rest of her life.” Lydia hung her head.
Pain burned through her chest. Her mother’s harsh words spoken in anger still cut deeply. She knew she was a bit of a bluestocking. She knew she was quite unlike other ladies of the ton. Her brother had taught her how to fight, and had inspired her to become Jamie Poole, young gentleman. By becoming Jamie, she had clearly embraced her tomboy moniker, and while she sometimes wished she’d never come up with the disguise in the first place, there was no turning back now. Her father had always looked at her with such pride, but what would he think of Jamie? Would he look at her with pride or with disappointment? A dry lump formed in her throat.
“Think no more of it,” Rose said softly. “Tonight is not a night for tears. Dance gaily, and enjoy being young and carefree.”
Lydia regarded Rose. How would she react to Jamie? Richard for all of his faults had taken it fairly well in stride. He hadn’t looked at her angrily or with disappointment, only sheer confusion.
“I do not wish to disgrace my father’s memory, Rose. He…he used to applaud any of my more tomboyish pursuits. He used to say I should have as many grand adventures as possible, and when he caught Micah teaching me how to fence with my fists, he never said a word, except to nod curtly. He came up to Micah and said solemnly, ‘Carry on, son.’ And then he walked away. I wish he was still here. He might be able to solve this current dilemma of mine. I have no idea what to do or where to turn. My trusted confidante is gone. I could tell him anything and he would never break my trust. He didn’t even tell Mama what I told him. He…he was everything to me, and his loss has left a hole in my life that I do not think I can ever fill. I’ve done something that might…that might make you lose faith in me.”
“I could never lose faith in you, my dear, and as I said, think no more of it. It’s not good to dwell on things. It bad for the soul.” Rose looked at her warmly. “I hope you know that you can tell me anything, Lydia. I might not be as good a listener as your father, nor will I have the same sage advice he gave you, but I shall always lend you a sympathetic ear, and shan’t reproach you for anything, and if you wish, I won’t even tell Micah. Sometimes, women must have their own little secrets kept between themselves.”
“And yet…you might…you would be put in an untenable situation, Rose. What if I told you something that you wanted to confide to Micah…or worse…my mother? You say now that you wouldn’t do it, but it might be something that you cannot keep quiet about. Mama never seems to see my side of the story. She’s always quick to take side against me. Papa did…but Mama…no, she never could quite understand me, though she is trying now that Papa is no longer around, I shall give her that much credit.”
Rose sighed and sat down on the edge of Lydia’s bed. “Your father would be quite proud of you. He would have moved with the times, and the many changes that your family has endured. He was quite liberal for a vicar, he put up with your mother’s mouth, didn’t he?”
“Mother always acts properly in front of other people. She always toes the mark, publicly. She has never shamed the Radcliff name, not as I have on so many occasions. Although, you are right, he allowed her liberties he never gave us.”
“Did she tell you that you shamed the Radcliff name?” Rose asked softly.
“No, she didn’t have to. She had that all too familiar look in her eyes,” Lydia sighed. “And, oh, if she knew what I have done.” Lydia clapped her hands over her face. “She would never let me live it down. I couldn’t bear the shame of it.”
“Ah, mothers. What they can convey with just one look,” Rose laughed. “I wouldn’t worry, Lydia. She is quite proud of you. She thinks very highly of you, and never fails to sing your praises…”
“When I am not around,” Lydia said stubbornly.
“Aye,” Rose relented. “It is unfortunate how The Baroness behaves, but there are worse out there. There are some mothers who do not even care one fig for their children. How do you want to proceed with Lord Tisbury? Do you truly want to marry Mr. Newson? He shall offer for your hand shortly, he has already approached Micah and asked for permission to marry you.”
“He did?” Lydia asked faintly, feeling as if everything was moving around her. She was having difficulty breathing. Perhaps her corset was laced too tightly. Sometimes, she considered just not even wearing a corset, of course, if she tried that her mother would require smelling salts. Perhaps, that’s why she loved going out as Jamie. Men didn’t have to wear corsets.
“He did.” Rose nodded solemnly.
“And what did Micah say?” Lydia asked, her voice trembling. She felt ever so weak. She sagged onto the chaise longue in her bedchamber.
“He told him that he gave his blessing as long as you accepted his proposal, but he only did that for your sake, he doesn’t want you to marry the man.”
“Then…then, I don’t have much time, do I?”
“No, you do not,” Rose said succinctly. “But how much time do you need?”
“Longer than what I have,” she said softly. “Mr. Newson…he shan’t wait for long. He’s quite keen to see us married. He never stops talking about it, sometimes to my deep chagrin. I know he shall ask me to marry him shortly, and I dread it. Oh, dear…whatever shall I do? I always dreamt of marrying Richard. There was never another man for me. I’ve been dreaming about him for such a long time, how…how could I ever face marrying another man, let alone loving that other man? I’m not certain I could fall in love with Mr. Newson, and I…I don’t even know if I could love him in an distant and affectionate way, and I daresay that Mr. Newson does not desire a wife who shall love him from a distance.”
Rose’s blue eyes twinkled. “Probably not. Is love a concern for Mr. Newson? I honestly can’t tell. He has an unreadable countenance most of the time. Julia says he’s always been that way, the only thing that seems to trifle him is worries about his purse. He doesn’t seem like much of a passionate fellow. I think he might love himself, and his horses, but as for him loving another human being—I’m not entirely certain he is capable of it. He might follow the thinking of some others in our circle. Perhaps he views you as a sensible match, and you do come with the sort of connections he’s in the market for. He might follow that school of thought where he just wants you for…I shouldn’t finish that thought aloud.”
“Please do,” Lydia urged. “If you think it too scandalous…”
“Some men keep a wife and a mistress. They show their passionate side to their mistress, and the wife gets the other side, and t
hat is no life for you, Lydia. He wants you merely because you shall elevate his status within society whilst staying out in the country and faithfully bearing his children like a good dutiful wife. That’s not the life you want, is it?”
“So…so you’re saying he thinks I shall lift his place in society and serve the part of brood mare for him.”
“It’s entirely possible. I’m not saying that but many men view marriage as a way of cementing their position in society and of course, producing children with a woman who can give his children her good…”
“Bloodlines.” Lydia shuddered. “I understand. I fear he does want me for my dowry. I hate it when Richard is right.”
“What was that, dear?”
“Nothing,” Lydia muttered. Now, she had to worry about how she was going to evade Richard’s bargain. She was positively doomed.
“Most husbands do like to have control over their wives. That’s why I married your brother. He’s not like most husbands, and I believe that my cousin would also serve you well. He wouldn’t…he wouldn’t…”
“Spend my dowry on foolish pursuits?”
“Aye,” Rose said softly. “But I cannot make your mind up for you. I can only talk to you in an honest manner, and pray you make the right choice. Follow your heart, dearest Lydia, that’s what I did. You shall never forgive yourself if you end up living a life of regret when you could have had a life of happiness.”
“You followed your heart. You could have married the Duke of Stoneleigh. You could have been Her Grace, The Duchess of Stoneleigh. And well, Tobias Avondale isn’t that bad of a fellow, is he? He’s a good friend of Richard’s, if I remember correctly.”
“He is, and you could set your cap on him, if you wanted to.” Rose smiled. “He’s still looking for a lady with a fortune behind her, and he’d gladly marry you, he’d make a fine husband. You might not have the loving relationship with him that you could have with Richard, but he wouldn’t treat you poorly. He’s also a fine candidate to employ as an ally in your quest to catch Richard, should you choose to go that route. Or…” Rose looked at her cheekily. “You could always set your cap on a certain dashing pugilist.”
Delightfully Dangerous (Knights Without Armor Book 1) Page 10
