The Duke's Dastardly Mistake (Unlikely Pairs Book 2)

by Ginny Hartman

  A measure of silence ensued before Levi dipped his head towards her and admitted huskily, “You once accused me of breaking your heart, claiming you had to protect it yourself. That's not true.”

  Her eyes snapped towards his, their faces merely inches apart. She could feel his warm breath fanning her face and felt her own breathing turn rapid.

  He continued, “I have a confession to make, Lydia. I didn't come tonight because Lord Whitworth asked me to. I came because I overheard him talking to another about some business matter he had to attend to. He admitted he would have to miss dinner. I couldn't bear the thought of you waiting for him, humiliated beyond repair when he didn't show. I came tonight to save you, to protect your heart in whatever small way I could.”

  Lydia felt her eyes grow moist with emotion. She blinked several times trying to clear the unshed tears. “You care about my heart?” she asked meekly, the intimacy between them making her wish it was their engagement dinner that was being celebrated this night.

  “Very much so,” he admitted without hesitation.

  She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him. She wanted to run her fingers through his thick locks of hair. She wanted to hold him so tight he'd never escape. But instead, all she could do was reach for his hand beneath the table and squeeze it.

  Levi squeezed her hand back. “If Lord Whitworth doesn't treat your heart with care, I will kill him.”

  Lydia snorted. “Why don't you kill him now, so I no longer have to marry him?” She was mostly joking.

  “That's not a half bad plan,” he joked. “However, I do not wish to spend the rest of my life at Newgate. If I'm in prison, I can no longer see you.”

  “Marrying Lord Whitworth will be like going to prison,” she confessed sadly.

  “But at least we can still see one another.”

  Her sadness deepened. “But that won't be enough. And what about when you wed another? It will pain me greatly to have to witness that.”

  He squeezed her hand once more. “Don't concern yourself with that, my love. If I can't marry you, I will not marry at all.”

  “Don't be foolish, Levi. You can't give up your future because I was stupid enough to give up mine.”

  “Nor can I promise to share a life with someone I can't fully give myself to.”

  “But what about an heir? You will need a son to pass your title to.”

  He shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care. “I'm certain there's a distant cousin it can go to. Look, Lydia, all I want is to see you happy.”

  “And I will never be if I'm forced to be without you. Can't you see that all that awaits me is a life of misery?

  Suddenly a strange, yet brilliant, plan formed in her mind, and she didn't even wait for him to answer her question before she plowed on. “Let's runaway to Gretna Green and elope.”

  “Are you, an engaged woman, proposing marriage to me?” Levi asked, a wide grin splitting his face. His eyes danced with the devils and she wondered if he was contemplating taking her up on her proposition.

  “Yes, I suppose I am. How's that for unconventional?”

  “I'm honored, but it would not be wise. The scandal that it would produce would be hard for your parents to live down.”

  Lydia huffed. “I do not care about scandal. How absurd that we care more about what other people think than what we think ourselves. I want to live my life for me, not for the ton.”

  “It's easy to claim that now, but the ton has the power to destroy people. I've seen how unforgiving they can be.”

  “Are you saying you won't elope with me?” she asked with equal measures of exasperation and despair.

  “Let me think about it. Perhaps there's another solution to our dilemma that won't be so scandalous. I promise you, if there is a way, I will find it.”

  Lydia looked into his brown eyes, lit up with the golden ring in the center, and believed him. For the first time in months, her heart felt light, and she had reason to hope.

  Lydia awoke the next morning feeling happier than she could remember feeling in a long time. She'd dreamt of Levi all night long, and of all the possibilities her future could hold.

  She was sitting in the drawing room going through a stack of invitations with her mother when their butler entered the room and announced, “Lord Whitworth is here to call on Miss Phelps.”

  Lydia's earlier happiness seemed to evaporate. Her mother laid down the invitation she was scanning and said, “Show him in, Baldemorrow.”

  Lydia sat rigidly in her chair as Baldemorrow escorted Lord Whitworth and Lady Sophia into the room. She was relieved he hadn't come alone. He glanced in her direction before offering her a beguiling smile and rushed to her side, producing a large bouquet of red roses from behind his back.

  In a grand, overly done gesture, he knelt before her and shoved the flowers in her face and said, “My darling, I must beg you to forgive me for last night. Nothing but the most important of business affairs could have kept me from you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my absence and the ensuing humiliation it may have caused you.”

  Lydia wanted to roll her eyes, but refrained. She took the large bouquet from his hands, but only so she could remove them from her face. Setting the bouquet aside, she replied curtly, but sincerely, “No apologies are necessary. The evening continued on splendidly without you.”

  And it was true. The dinner she'd been dreading had ended up being a highlight of her life. If all went according to plans, she would soon be the Duchess of Ludington, married to the only man she truly cared about, instead of living in misery as Lord Whitworth's wife.

  Though Lydia was quick to forgive, it was apparent that her mother would not be so lenient. “Quite a faux pas to host an engagement dinner while one half of the engaged party was not in attendance. Will you always place your personal business interests ahead of my daughter?”

  “Mother,” Lydia scolded, but her mother completely ignored her.

  Lord Whitworth rose, his large frame towering over the both of them. Looking down at them, Lydia noticed his nose was no longer swollen. “I don't intend to, Lady Phelps, but sometimes these things cannot be helped. However, I came today to endeavor to make it up to both of you. My mother has decided to host another dinner, a much grander one this time, in honor of our upcoming wedding.”

  He reached into his pocket and retrieved an envelope which he offered to Lady Phelps. Then, turning to his sister, he said, “I've also called on you this morning to invite you on a ride through Hyde Park with Sophia and me. The weather is spectacular today, which will mean there will be several people in the park. I thought it a good opportunity for us to be seen together.”

  Lydia inwardly groaned while her mother beamed beside her. “Splendid idea. Lydia, send Helen to fetch your pelisse so you won't keep Lord Whitworth waiting.”

  A short time later, Lydia, Lady Sophia, and Lord Whitworth were driving along the crowded streets of London in Lord Whitworth's stylish open-top barouche. Though the sun was shining and the sky was cloudless, the smell that permeated the air was nauseating. It was the one thing about London Lydia could not stand.

  The driver slowed down as the entrance to Hyde Park came into view. Just as Lord Whitworth had predicted, there was already a crowd, anxious to see and be seen on such a splendid day. Lord Whitworth waved gaily to everyone they passed, drawing attention to them. Lydia took the opportunity to watch him and decided there was something about him that seemed disingenuous.

  Though he smiled and greeted everyone in a friendly manner, it seemed forced. His smile seemed pasted on, and it never reached his eyes. Partway through the ride, he traded seats with Lady Sophia and slid on the bench next to Lydia, his large body pressed tightly against her own. There was no delightful physical response produced in Lydia by this, only an incessant desire to scoot away from his touch.

  “I've been thinking about some things, Miss Phelps, and I feel that a conversation about our upcoming marriage is lon
g overdue.” He reached for her hand, and she wanted to recoil. “Though we started off in a manner not pleasing to either of us, I find that I've come to not only accept the fact that you will be my wife, I've also come to quite desire it. You are a beautiful woman, Miss Phelps. I find bedding you will be no hardship.”

  Lydia gasped as she pulled her hand quickly from his grasp. How dare he be so bold? Her gaze shot to Lady Sophia, wondering why she wasn't alarmed by her brother's crudeness. Sitting on the bench opposite them, Lady Sophia was so absorbed in a penny dreadful novel she'd pulled from her reticule, the rest of the world was drowned out to her.

  “Let us not talk about such things,” Lydia said priggishly, turning her attention back to him.

  Lord Whitworth, in all of his boldness, glanced down at her décolletage and sneered. “Oh, but I find the subject quite compelling. Once you are my wife, there will be no avoiding the subject, or the act itself, for that matter.”

  Lydia shuddered at the thought, which only made Lord Whitworth laugh loudly. “Don't act as if I'm some monster. I can assure you I am very much a gentleman. I will treat you with kindness, Miss Phelps. You will have the freedom to do as you wish in our marriage, as long as you remember where you belong at night.”

  Feeling bold, Lydia asked, “So I can be wherever I wish to during the day? With whomever I wish?”

  Lord Whitworth was quick, picking up on what she wasn't saying. “I can't promise to be faithful to you, so it would be rude of me to expect the same, Miss Phelps. Be discreet, that's all I ask.”

  Her mouth hung agape. She couldn't believe the conversation they were having. Did all members of society have a similar one before marriage? It made her sick to her stomach. She thought of Levi and knew that if she ever married him, she'd never be content with him being unfaithful. The thought of her looking at anyone besides him made her equally as upset.

  “Do people not believe in love anymore?” she found herself asking as she ruminated on her thoughts.

  “Love, I fear, is not as powerful as the baser emotions of human nature.”

  “Baser emotions?” she asked, feeling stupid that she didn't know what he was referring to.

  His mouth lowered to her ear. “Lust. It'll provoke any man, or woman, to give up everything for its satisfaction. Love can hardly make such claims.”

  Lydia slid away from him, putting space between them on the bench. “I disagree, my lord. The emotions you speak of are trite in comparison to true love.”

  “You speak with authority, little one. Can you claim to be an expert on either subject?”

  Lydia glared at him. “I feel as if you're mocking me,” she accused.

  “Not mocking, just doubting. You see, I could tell by your kisses in the library that you have yet to be trained in the art of lust, and you are too young to have experienced much of love.”

  His words caused her cheeks to heat. How dare he rate her kisses as if he were the authority on passion. “The only reason you found my kisses lacking is because I was not interested in my partner,” she spat out acerbically.

  Anger caused his brows to furrow. “That will have to change. There are plenty of women who'd jump at the chance to become my wife. If you do not act grateful, I will have no choice but to punish you.”

  Across from them, Lady Sophia giggled, startling them both. Lydia snapped her eyes towards her if only to avoid looking at Lord Whitworth's hardened ones. Their conversation was making her feel rather unsettled.

  “What's so funny?” Lord Whitworth barked.

  Lady Sophia finally looked up from her book. “The hero in my novel just ripped the seat of his breeches. In front of the heroine, no less.”

  “I do not know how you find such nonsense amusing, Sophia. You'll never find a husband if you refuse to pull your nose from your books.”

  Lady Sophia scrunched up her nose and stuck her tongue out at him. “Don't be such a fatwit, Gilbert. Why don't you go talk to Lord Jefferson and leave us alone for a spell?”

  Lord Whitworth glanced past his sister and saw that Lord Jefferson was indeed approaching on his horse. He instructed the driver to stop so he could alight from the barouche. Tipping his beaver top hat at Lydia and Sophia, he gave a slight bow before sauntering off towards Lord Jefferson.

  “How'd you know Lord Jefferson was approaching?” Lydia asked in awe. He'd rode up on his stallion from behind Lady Sophia, not in front.

  Lady Sophia's blue eyes lit up with laughter. “I'm aware of more than people realize.”

  “Did you overhear our conversation just now?” she asked, feeling embarrassed at the thought.

  Lady Sophia discarded her book on the seat and came to sit next to Lydia. Lowering her voice, she admitted, “I only heard it if you want me to have heard.”

  Lydia didn't know what to make of her comment, so she shook her head no. “I don't wish you to think ill of your brother.”

  “Nothing you say could alter my opinion of Gilbert,” she said with a laugh and Lydia wondered what was so funny and why Lady Sophia always seemed to be participating in a joke no one else was aware of. “But since we are speaking of my brother, I overheard him talking the other day about an upcoming boxing match he's going to be fighting in.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  Lady Sophia pulled her bonnet close around her face and whispered, “I was wondering if you'd like to attend with me?”

  Lydia gasped. “Women are not allowed at such things.”

  One golden brow arched delicately on Lady Sophia's forehead. “No, but men are. I've heard things about you, Miss Phelps, things which make me believe you are not opposed to such adventures.”

  She wanted to deny the insinuation, but knew she could not. A small seed of excitement began to form in her breast at the thought of doing something so outrageous. She couldn't help herself, she was rebellious by nature and found that it was too hard to try and deny herself of the adventures that kept being presented to her.

  “My father would kill me if he found out.”

  “Then lucky for you, I'm considered an expert at keeping secrets.” Lady Sophia tapped her slender pointer finger against her full, heart-shaped lips as she thought. Finally, she said, “I will invite you over for tea on the day of the match. You will suddenly become ill, which will require us to call for a doctor. The doctor will consider it unsafe for you to leave, requiring you to stay at our townhouse while he observes you for the night. We will notify your parents, and no one will be the wiser.”

  Lydia scoffed. “There are far too many gaps in your plan. First off, no doctor will go along with such foolishness. I cannot fake sick well enough to deceive an educated physician. Not to mention the fact that we won't be able to escape if the doctor is set to observe me through the night.”

  “La! Your lack of faith in my abilities insults me. Of course, the doctor will not truly be a doctor, merely an actor who will be in on the plan.”

  Lydia looked at Lady Sophia with a measure of skepticism and admiration. “You know a man who would be willing to play the part?”

  “I know plenty. All you have to do is trust me and give your best performance on the day of the tea, so mother will truly believe you are sick enough to send for the doctor. Can you manage?”

  “Of course,” she breathed confidently.

  Lady Sophia beamed, grabbed her hands and exclaimed, “I knew the moment I met you, you would be great fun.”

  Every day for the past week, Levi had been receiving personal lessons from Gentleman Jackson himself in preparation for his upcoming match. He could feel himself growing stronger and more agile each day as a result of being tutored by one of the best.

  His rigorous training schedule left little time for him to think about the problem with Lydia. Though he was tempted to elope with her to Gretna Green, he knew there had to be a better way to get her father to agree to let her break her engagement to Lord Whitworth and marry him instead.

  As soon as his training was done
for the day, he hurried to the back room to change his clothes. Several gentlemen had just arrived, and the room was rather crowded. Levi grabbed his clothes, quickly wiped the sweat from his body with a wet cloth and pulled a fresh shirt over his head.

  “I'm placing my bets on you, Ludington,” one of the men who'd been discussing the upcoming match called out from across the room.

  Levi quickly pulled his breeches on before turning to see who had addressed him. He smiled at Mr. Tunston and said, “I hope you don't end up regretting that decision. It is my first fight, after all.”

  “If you fight at the match as well as you have been here at the boxing saloon, I'm confident I'll harbor no regret.”

  Levi grabbed his belongings and gave the man a hearty handshake. “Your confidence in my abilities is flattering. I'll endeavor not to let you down.”

  Just then, the man standing next to Mr. Tunston, Lord Phillip said, “Perhaps you should advise Lord Phelps to place his bets on Ludington as well. His luck was in the gutter at the last match. Rumor has it; he hasn't a sixpence to scratch himself with.”

  Levi's brows shot up in surprise. “Truly? Lord Phelps is cleaned out?” This was the first time he'd ever heard such rumors about the man.

  “Aye, the man does have a penchant for gambling,” Mr. Tunston replied. “Feel bad for his wife and daughter, I do. If he's not careful, he'll end up in debtor's prison.”

  “Surely it's not that bad?” Levi asked, still reeling from the news.

  Lord Phillip shrugged, “I'm just telling you what I've heard.”

  Levi was in a daze as he left the boxing saloon and leaped into his waiting carriage which took him directly to his townhouse where a steaming bath was waiting for him to soak his sore muscles in.

  It was the only time during his day where he felt like he could relax and ruminate on the problem he was so desperately trying to solve, and today he had more than normal to think about.

  He had just relaxed into the water, his head leaning back on the edge when an idea occurred to him. He sat up so quickly that buckets of water sloshed over the side of the tub. He rose from the warm confines of his bath and gestured for his valet to bring him a sheet to dry off with.