Authors: Melissa Lynne Blue
“It seems everyone is in need of some rest and I’ve no doubt a bite to eat.” Sir William strode to the center of the hall, taking charge of the situation. “We can all convene after these three have had an opportunity to freshen up.”
“And, Papa?”
“Yes, my dear?”
“Mr. Donnelly was injured most severely last night protecting me. He is in need of medical attention.”
“Of course.” Sir William affirmed. “Harkens?” He hailed the butler. “See to it my personal physician is summoned and show Mr. Donnelly and Mr. King to individual rooms in the East Wing guest quarters.”
“The East wing, sir?” Harkens raised a skeptical brow.
“Did I stutter, man? The east wing guest quarters. See to it each of them is provided a bath, clean clothes, a meal and whatever else they may need. Also see that a bath is prepared for my daughter in her quarters.”
“Of course, Sir William.”
The East Wing quarters?
Brian could not begin to squelch his astonishment. The East wing quarters were in the same section of the house as the family rooms and reserved for esteemed guests and close friends of the family only.
How close would his room be to Lydia’s? Moreover if he was already entertaining such thoughts in regard to her proximity could he ever manage to control himself?
*
*
*
“Ouch!” Brian winced as Dr. Byler wrapped his ribs with a wide swath of white cloth. “Ye could leave a little room for me to breathe, Doc.”
The practitioner didn’t so much as glance up as he fastened the bandage. “Oh, quit, your grumbling, Donnelly. If you hadn’t gone and broken those ribs, breathing wouldn’t be a problem.”
Brian snorted. “Yer bedside manner certainly hasn’t improved over the years.” The words were teasing. He and the good doctor had known each other for a long time. Dr. Byler had served as an Army Surgeon under General Covington and was now on Sir William’s retainer.
“It’s not the bedside manner, but the healing touch that counts,” the doctor countered good naturedly. “You of all people should know that.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
Dr. Byler straightened. “You’ve seen broken ribs before, Donnelly, so you know the drill. Keep them tightly wrapped, and make sure to take deep breaths no matter how badly it hurts.”
“I will, sir. Thank you.” Brian shifted on the enormous feather mattress in his guest room, intending to rise and show the doctor out.
“Tell me, Donnelly, have you settled down with a family yet?” Dr. Byler asked, stowing the leftover bandages in his black bag.
Brian ground his teeth.
“If I recall,” Doctor Byler’s continued jovially, “you left a trail of broken hearts across three different countries.”
“I don’t know about that.” Brian shook his head, trying to suppress a wry smile. “But, to answer your question no. No family, and that’s how I’d like to keep it.”
“Oh, come now, Brian, you just haven’t met the right girl. Mark my words some comely lass will catch your eye and you’ll never manage to resist.” Dr. Byler paused at the door, thoughtfully shaking a finger. “I used to be just like you. Even after I married the thought of a family scared the living hell out of me.”
Brian gulped, something glittering in the doctor’s eyes struck entirely too close to home. The words too close to his heart. “What changed?”
Byler sighed, a wistful expression glassing over his eyes. “The first time my daughter smiled at me…” He held his hands out as though cradling an infant in his palms. “It melted my heart away.”
Melted my heart away… melted my heart away… melted my heart away.
That
is precisely what terrified Brian.
*
*
*
Thirty minutes later Lydia stood over the steaming tub of bathwater ready to doff the last of her garments and slide beneath the surface. If she never crawled out of the water again it
would be too soon. Her father had taken instantly to Brandon, and the boy was currently ensconced within a room bigger than any house he’d lived in to date. The last she’d seen of him he was grinning like a cat being served warm cream. Dr. Byler had been summoned to tend Brian’s wounds, and the men had trailed off to Brian’s assigned quarters rehashing old Army times. Reflecting on the scene brought a smile to her face.
“I say, my dear, you look a fright.”
Lydia turned to see her stepmother walking into the room, arms outstretched to receive her. “Olivia!” She raced across the room into the other woman’s embrace.
“Oh, my Lydia, I have never been so worried in all my life.” Gently Livy’s hands stroked her hair. “You are the only daughter I have, you know. I would be lost without you.”
The scent of Olivia’s lilac water tickled her nose, igniting memories of being comforted as a little girl. Calm washed over Lydia as she pulled out of the embrace to clasp her stepmother’s hands. “Thank you. The last days were the trial of a lifetime and it is good to be home.”
Olivia smiled, squeezing her hands. For a moment it looked as though she would continue her welcome but stopped short. “What is
that
?” Olivia stared in horror at their clasped hands.
Bewildered Lydia looked from her stepmother’s stricken face to her hand. “Oh, of course.” Lydia extricated her fingers from Olivia’s grasp and twirled the gold band on her finger. “It is Mr. Donnelly’s. His mother’s I believe.”
“You’re wearing Mr. Donnelly’s
mother’s
ring?” All color drained from Olivia’s face. For a moment Lydia feared her parent may crumple to the floor. “I do believe I will swoon. This is worse than I’d feared. Please tell me you haven’t done anything foolish? I realize Mr. Donnelly is a handsome man, but he is Irish, and a stable manager, and more importantly he is
not
your betrothed, Lydia.”
“No,
Livy
, wait, it’s not what you think.” She grasped her stepmother’s shoulders imploringly. “Brian thought it best I wear the ring so no one would become suspicious of us
traveling together. He was trying to protect my reputation, as well as my betrothal to Lord Northbridge.”
“Brian is it now?” Olivia pegged her with an arch stare. “I should hardly think it appropriate that you are so freely using his given name.”
Lydia’s teeth clenched. “Considering the ordeal Brian and I survived together it would hardly be
appropriate
to stand on protocol. The man saved my life at great risk to his own, and without him I would not be here. Not to mention the fact that speaking to one another so formally would most certainly have blown our cover.”
Olivia pursed her lips, flicking her eyes to the ceiling then back to Lydia. “So nothing happened? Mark my words, Lydia, if you are lying to me and your father finds out…”
The threat was implicit. “Nothing happened,” she clipped, thankful the anger masked the disappointment and longing in her voice. If only something had happened. Would Brian have run away with her? Perhaps her father would have insisted they marry, her inheritance would be enough to finance three horse farms. Surely Lord Northbridge wouldn’t want her if…
Heavily she sighed. No, that was far more than she could begin to hope for. The viscount needed her money too much to care if she was a virgin on their wedding night, he probably needed her funds too much to care if any heir she provided was his. Her gaze drifted to the ring again. Bitterly she wrenched it from her finger. “I will return this to Mr. Donnelly with all possible haste. I have no doubt he is eager to have an item of such sentimental importance returned.”
“See to it you do.” Olivia raked a scathing eye across the band before turning abruptly on a heel. “It would be a shame to see your father lose everything he’s worked for because you decided to dally with a stable hand.”
“He is not a stable hand,” Lydia grumbled in response.
“May I also add that His Lordship is greatly displeased with your presumptuousness in bringing an orphaned child of lesser rank into this house?”
Presumptuous… Take care not to strain yourself, Livy.
It was a wonder her stepmother knew the meaning of the word. Olivia rarely, if ever, read. “I fail to see why it matters what the viscount thinks, this isn’t his house.”
Olivia skewered her with an icy glare. “Lord Northbridge is to be your husband. Mark my words, Lydia, he will not tolerate your stray collecting in his home.”
Lydia merely glowered in return.
Stray collecting, indeed.
“Do not ruin this for me. Your marriage to an aristocrat will open doors we never dreamed of. Once you’re a viscountess, Lady Weston will have no excuse to keep me from attending her parties.”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “How could I forget, selling me for a title is really just about what you stand to gain.”
“That is quite enough out of you.” The other woman tilted her chin haughtily. “I will leave you now to freshen up and recover from your ordeal. Your father and your
fiancé
are waiting to discuss the situation with you in the parlor.”
The door clicked shut and stubbornly Lydia slid the ring back onto her finger. It was wrong to let her imagination run wild this way, but any such daydreams of being with Brian would be gone soon enough. Lydia doffed her clothes, dipped a toe in the water to test it, and slid into the steaming water, memories of her last bath swarming to the forefront of her mind. She flushed.
The moment Brian had been whisked from her presence that afternoon she’d felt empty, as though part of her was missing. She also didn’t feel as safe without the sheltering protection he offered. Brian guarded her selflessly, it was humbling, and made her love him all the more. She knew he loved her in return. He must. At first opportunity she would confront him. There was little doubt in her mind the viscount would push for their nuptials to proceed with all possible haste.
Thoroughly scrubbed Lydia climbed from the tub and wrapped in one of the many expensive robes a maid had laid out for her. Automatically she tugged the bell cord to summon
assistance with dressing and fixing her hair. She stopped short. It was such a luxury to have servants at her beck and call, waiting on her every need. A luxury she had not missed during her recent adventure with Brian.
Did he believe this was the life she wanted?
Was this the reason he perpetually pushed her away and refused to explore their feelings for each other? They’d been raised in different worlds. From day one Brian had likely been taught that women of her rank were unattainable, to be admired and respected from a distance; while she’d been mended and molded to be the vision of English modicum, propriety, and ladyship. But what of her rank? She and Brian were not so different. She and her father were not born to the aristocracy. Sir William Covington was a self-made man. Many in society sneered at her betrothal to a peer—a viscount—and spoke loudly of the belief that she was not worthy. Perhaps she wasn’t. It was a match of fortunes—namely her fortune—as many ton marriages were.
A light rap on the door halted her thoughts. “It’s Molly, Miss Covington.”
“Of course, please enter.” Lydia moved to the bureau as the young, petite maid bustled into the room. For whatever reason the girl reminded her of the harlot Brian had kissed and jealousy surged within her. Beating back a slick of tears, Lydia turned away from the maid, making a show of leafing through a book.
Molly busied herself preparing Lydia’s garments and kept up a constant stream of chatter. It took near all of Lydia’s willpower not to scream at the girl to
shut up
. Once dressed, Lydia sat primly before her gilded vanity while Molly brushed and adorned the damp tresses stylishly atop her head. All she could think of was Brian combing her hair, running his fingers through the expanse. Her pulse fluttered to think of the calloused pads of his thumbs grazing the back of her neck. The memory made her hot. What if he had kissed her? What more would have happened?
She caught sight of Molly’s springy blond curls in the mirror and nearly fell from her perch. Lydia gripped the plush cushion.
She is not the harlot,
Lydia reminded herself repeatedly.
Brian does not even know who she is.
“I say, Miss Lydia, when you went missing and everyone said it was Brian Donnelly that took you, I knew it couldn’t be true. Mr. Donnelly is one of the kindest, most wonderful men of my acquaintance.” A reddish hue tinged Molly’s dimpled cheeks as a girlish smile touched her lips.
“And how well are you acquainted with Mr. Donnelly?” Lydia clipped, clasping trembling hands in her lap.
Molly gave her a conspiratorial wink in the mirror. “Not nearly as well as I might like, but between you and me, I have had reason to hope he will make me an offer. When I finish with you I plan to go next door and see if he needs anything. A girl can never be too proactive when it comes to the man of her dreams. Why you must be ready to have your own wedding behind you. His Lordship was most anxious to have you safely back.”
Lydia ground her teeth, gaze drifting from the visage in the mirror to Brian’s ring adorning her finger. So Molly was the sort of girl Brian wanted. A self-sufficient sort of girl. Well, if that’s what he wanted that is what she would become.