“No, I’ll keep that for now,” she replied as Mr. Young helped her out of her coat.
Blistery winds chased the sibling away as Archer came in behind them.
“Darling, I have no idea you could move that fast,” he teased, giving Mr. Lyall his coat before attempting to kiss his wife on the cheek.
“My God,” she said, leaping out of arm’s reach. “Your face is freezing!”
“Then you’ll just have to warm me up.” Archer lunged at Lydia, trying to grab her waist.
“No!” she screamed in horror, dodging her husband’s freezing hands. “You stay away from me!”
Lydia attempted to hide behind her brother.
“Do not bring me into this.” Landon stepped out of the way as Archer kept pursuing Lydia. He chased her into the sitting room where his uncle and sisters were drinking and playing a game of cards. The blazing fire warmed the small room, and Iris sat next to it, working on a painting quietly.
Lydia made a beeline for the fire, bracing her hands against the bellowing warmth. She let out a blissful sigh as the heat tickled her frozen extremities. It didn’t last long, however, before Archer caught up to her. She squealed as he rubbed his frozen face against her cheek and proceeded to plant butterfly kisses all over her face.
Lydia couldn’t suppress her bubbly giggles. “All right, I surrender!”
“Leave your poor wife alone,” Juliet laughed, holding out a steaming mug. “Do you want some hot chocolate, Lydia?”
“Oh, yes, please,” she gasped in excitement and wrapped her fingers around the toasty warm mug. Taking her first sip, she hummed happily, falling back on her husband’s shoulder as she felt the hot chocolate work its magic and warm her tummy. “That’s heavenly.”
“You won’t offer your dear brother a cup?” Archer asked teasingly.
“Only if you behave.” Juliet waggled a finger at him, but ultimately pulling out a second mug. “Dash of whiskey?
“Perfect,” he said as he got comfortable on the floor next to the fire. He crossed his legs and pulled Lydia onto his lap. “My goodness, you are chilly.” Archer laughed as he rubbed down his wife’s arms.
“How was London?” Uncle Rupert asked joyfully. “And how was Crish’s A-La-mode?”
“Loud,” Archer sighed. “Crowded. Too many people kept swarming Lydia, wanting to discuss some gossip or another. The Marquess of Penketh would not stop going on and on about Lydia’s new shipment of Indian spices. We barely got done any shopping, and the restaurant was too sociable.”
Lydia patted Archer’s leg affectionately. “It was lovely,” she corrected him. “My husband is being a grump because the restaurant ran out of cake.”
“I should have rented out the restaurant. At least then we would have had some alone time.”
Lydia shook her head, “The Marquess of Penketh owns the restaurant, so I doubt he would allow it, no matter the price.”
“Let Penketh try,” Archer grumbled.
“I believe it’s your wife who’s meant to be over-demanding and particular about these things,” Rupert teased as Lydia gently pushed the mug of chocolate up to Archer’s lips. He gave her a mischievous look of contempt.
“Juliet,” Lydia said, changing the subject, “have those dresses we sent out for come yet?”
“No,” Juliet sighed. “I’m sure Mrs. Barkley has many orders to fill. The season’s coming fast, and I might just have to settle for one of my old dresses.”
“Nonsense,” Archer jumped in. “We can always go straight to another store and pick something ready-made. There is no way I’m letting you debut without a new dress.”
“She is not getting something ready-made,” Lydia said firmly, giving Archer a distasteful look. “Juliet deserves only the loveliest dress. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event, and we are not going to spoil it by buying a ready-made dress.”
“Or,” Cora snapped, looking at the couple, peeved, “you can askherwhatshewants.”
Lydia and Archer looked at each other, wincing before looking back at Juliet apologetically.
“We’re sorry, sweetheart,” Archer said. “What is it that you would like to do?”
“I would prefer to wear Mrs. Barkley’s dress,” she said shyly. “But if it’s not ready, what else can we do? Lydia and I can go window shopping, but…”
