“Aunt, it means nothing. I have no hope that Lord Hutchinson and I can ever be together. He was merely rescuing me from that horrid man.”
“Stranger things have happened, my dear.”
Lydia kissed her aunt’s cheek. “Don’t stay up too late. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, rising and leaving the bedchamber.
As much as her realistic mind knew there was no chance that she could marry Lord Hutchinson now, her emotionally battered heart still held a small flame of hope that circumstances could change. As she lay in bed, she relived every wonderful moment of their dance together and fell asleep, dreaming of staying in his arms forever.
AsGeorge sat inhis study nursing his brandy, the ache in his chest seemed endless. Dancing with Miss Weston this evening had only made living without her that much harder. When she’d looked up at him with such longing in her expressive brown eyes while they waltzed together, it nearly undid him. He wanted to thumb his nose at Society and marry the woman he desperately loved, but something held him back—his mother would never accept Lydia, and George knew firsthand how caustic his mother’s tongue could be. He never wanted to subject Lydia to such vitriol. It was bad enough his mother was rude to him; there was no way he’d allow her to demean the woman he loved. Though Grace had been in mourning these past months and hadn’t socialized, he believed she still had influence in theton,and he didn’t want her to do or say anything to hurt Lydia.
A vision of Lydia swam in his mind’s eye. She’d looked so beautiful this evening in her peach-colored gown, which complemented her skin tone and dark hair so well. She wasn’t the classic English beauty with blond hair and blue eyes, but she was quite handsome, with lush curves that begged to be caressed. He’d wanted to be the man to introduce her to all the wonders of making love, but now it would be up to her husband to teach her those things. It killed him to think about another man touching her. He would have to let go of his jealousy, but no matter what happened, he’d love her until his dying breath.
How could he ever move forward with his life and choose a proper bride if he couldn’t reconcile the hollowness in his chest? He felt it unfair to marry another young woman, knowing he would never love her. He knew that some women, like Miss Darvey, didn’t care if love was involved in the marriage. They merely wished for a title, but for George, love was everything. It made the world brighter, and he didn’t want to live without it.
He tried to imagine being married to Miss Darvey, and a shudder went through his body. She wasn’t the type of woman he wanted as his marchioness. As far as he could tell, she was like so many other young women who only cared about who was wearing the latest fashion and the latest gossip swirling around theton.From the few interactions he’d had with her, her conversational skills were uninspiring. He wanted to be excited to start each day with his wife, and being married to Miss Darvey would amount to life in prison for him. He couldn’t do it.
She didn’t seem to understand he didn’t want to be with her, and he vowed to keep a safe distance from her. The last thing he wanted was to be found in a compromising situation and have to marry the chit.
He stood and walked over to his desk, pulling out a piece of foolscap. He dipped his quill in the ink pot and began to write.
My Dearest Lydia,
Dancing with you this evening made me realize I’ll never love anyone like I love you. You’re everything to me. I crave your touch, your sweet smile, and to hear your laughter every day. How can I go on without you by my side? You live in my dreams, and I will love you forever, my darling.
Your loving servant,
George
Once the ink was dry, he folded the letter and put it in the desk drawer along with the other letters he’d written to her. The click of the lock made sure no one could snoop into his private correspondence, not that any of the servants would ever be so disrespectful. His mother, on the other hand, would have no qualms about reading his letters given the chance. It would be best not to dangle that opportunity before her, and he slipped the desk key into his pocket.
He finished off his brandy before trudging up the stairs to his bedchamber to endure another lonely night.
Chapter 8
The morning after the Dresdanball, Mrs. Agnes Kennedy was looking out the window in the sitting area of her bedchamber, wondering how she could make the situation with Lord Hutchinson and Lydia work so they could marry. Learning that Lord Hutchinson had danced only with Lydia last night made Agnes more determined than ever to find a solution to the situation.
For years, her brother hadforbidden her to tell Lydia that she was the granddaughter of Viscount Surry. The viscount had disowned his only daughter, Joanna, when she eloped with Thomas before her come-out. Not only was Thomas a commoner, but he was in the textile trade, which naturally hadn’t sat well with the viscount. Thomas was unsuitable as far as the viscount was concerned, and he’d warned his daughter of the consequences should she continue seeing him. Well, not only had Joanna continued seeing him, but they eloped the week after her father’s edict.
Thomas and Joanna soon found out how difficult life could be without the comfort of Joanna’s dowry, but they were in love, and nothing could dim their passion for each other. So the viscount followed through on his threat and not only cut off his daughter financially but also forbade her mother from ever seeing Joanna or speaking her name again. Agnes wondered if he ever regretted his decision. She couldn’t imagine what Lady Surry must have suffered, never having the opportunity to talk to or see her daughter again. Would she welcome a granddaughter?
Joanna and Thomas had endured the hardship as best they could. It had taken a lot of hard work, but within a few years, Thomas’s textile business was doing well, and the young couple was living more comfortably. Agnes and her late husband, Steve, often shared meals with Thomas and Joanna, and the two women got along. Even though Joanna had been raised as a lady, she didn’t put on airs with anyone. She had a generous and loving spirit, and everyone who met her enjoyed her company.
In the third year of their marriage, Joanna became pregnant, and both she and Thomas prayed for a boy to carry on with Weston Textiles. Much to Thomas’s dismay, Joanna had delivered a girl; however, she assured him the next child would be a boy. Unfortunately, three days after Lydia’s birth, Joanna succumbed to childbed fever, and Thomas blamed the tiny newborn girl. He refused to have anything to do with the child, and a series of nannies soon appeared to take care of her. Thomas also never informed the viscount that Joanna had died or that he now had a granddaughter. He vowed never to mention his wife’s family again and had kept that vow for nineteen years.
It had broken Agnes’s heart to see the little girl so neglected, and when her husband died tragically in an accident when Lydia was two years old, she’d come to live with them. She was determined to give Lydia a proper upbringing, and after much pleading with her brother, Thomas had finally agreed to hire a governess for the child when a nanny was no longer required. Lydia had excelled in her studies, not that her father ever inquired about her.
For nineteen years, Agnes had kept her promise not to mention Lydia’s connections to anyone, but now circumstances had changed. She couldn’t let two fine people suffer because of Thomas’s stubbornness. It was time to break her promise, consequences be damned. The truth needed to be told. She walked to the small desk near the window and sat down. Dipping her quill in the ink pot, she began to compose a letter to the viscount.
Dear Viscount Surry,
I must apologize for my boldness in writing to you, but there is something you must know. My name is Mrs. Agnes Kennedy, and I knew your daughter, Joanna, well. She was a vivacious and hard-working young woman, and we shared many delightful conversations and outings together while she was married to my brother, Thomas. After four years of marriage, Joanna gave birth to a daughter but tragically succumbed to childbed fever three days later. I’m so sorry for your loss. However, you’ll be pleased to know that her daughter, Lydia, has grown up to be a thoughtful, caring, and clever young woman. I realize you were estranged from your daughter, but I believe it is imperative for you to know of Lydia’s existence. This secret has been buried long enough.
Thomas has forbidden me to tell Lydia of her connections, and I’ve kept my promise for nineteen years. However, I’m most concerned that he may force her into a marriage with an old man who will most certainly crush her spirit. It would be a disastrous marriage for her, and I can no longer sit by and let my brother destroy her chance at happiness. My lord, you are her last hope to help make a better match. Would you consider meeting her? We reside on Gracechurch Street.
Your faithful servant,
Mrs. Agnes Kennedy
Agnes blew on the ink to dry it before addressing the letter. She was placing all her hope on Viscount Surry being in London to fulfill his duties in Parliament. Would he agree to meet Lydia? Being acknowledged by the viscount was the only way she knew of to help Lydia and Lord Hutchinson be together. If the viscount claimed her as his granddaughter, it would make it easier for them to be accepted by theton. Of course, there would always be those sticklers within thetonwho would never accept her niece, but Lydia had powerful friends—the Duke and Duchess of Wiltshire, the Marquis and Marchioness of Evans, and the Earl and Countess of Hartley. Those connections alone would help make it easier for her to be accepted more widely in Society. No one would want to anger such an esteemed group of peers by snubbing Lydia.
