“Yes. Come in. I wish to speak with you about an important matter.”
Lydia seated herself in the chair in front of his large oak desk. She sat ramrod straight, waiting with bated breath to hear what her father wanted. She didn’t have a good feeling about this. If her father had wanted her input on a business matter, he would have had the ledgers on his desk, but today, the desk was bare.
“I have decided you will marry. If you don’t find a suitor soon, I will accept the proposal from Baron Oakley. Is that clear?”
Lydia gasped, horrified. “Papa, why the urgency? I don’t wish to marry him. Baron Oakley is older than you are.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s time for you to be out of this house. Besides, with such a match you’ll be a lady. You should be grateful that you received the proposal.”
Lydia’s heart pounded. When her father set his mind to something, he rarely changed it. This was a fate worse than being alone for the rest of her life. “Might I at least have the Season to secure another match?”
Robert harumphed but finally nodded. “You have until June. If you aren’t engaged by then, you will marry the baron…if he’ll still have you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Papa. I understand. Is there anything else?”
“No. You’re dismissed.”
Lydia rose and walked out of his study with all the dignity she could muster. She wouldn’t let her father see how upset she was. She’d learned early in life that her father couldn’t tolerate “female hysterics,” as he called her tears. All she’d ever wanted was for him to show her a little love, but that had never happened. Even after nineteen years, he wouldn’t forgive her for her mother’s death. His heart had been poisoned against her ever since her mother died of childbed fever three days after Lydia’s birth. His latest edict was another example of how much he wished she’d never been born.
She sighed. There was no sense in hoping for something that would never come to pass. When Lydia had taken over the ledgers and begun advising him on the fabrics she believed would sell the best, her father had begrudgingly agreed to try her ideas. She’d been right. The business took off, and her father made a small fortune. Even when she was making him money, Thomas had never thanked her for her contributions.
She shouldn’t complain. She had a roof over her head, food in her belly, pin money to spend, and her aunt’s love. Her life wasn’t all bad, but she desperately missed her friends: Mercy, the Duchess of Wiltshire, and Helena, the Marchioness of Evans. They’d met during the last Season and become instant friends. Being friends with such elevated ladies had helped her participate in a fewtonevents last Season, albeit on the fringes of Society. She was still a merchant’s daughter, after all, although she did not doubt her hefty dowry of twenty thousand pounds had opened a few doors as well, even though most of the older matrons ignored her.
She’d been thrilled when both Mercy and Helena had found the loves of their lives and married. Perhaps she was a little envious because she’d thought she would be enjoying the same wedded bliss as they. It had seemed likely last summer, but that dream had been dashed in a heartbeat.
She desperately wanted to talk with her friends about her father’s ultimatum but wasn’t sure if either of them would be in Town for the Season. It seemed unlikely Mercy would be. She was expecting her first child, and she and the duke had elected to stay in the country. The last letter she’d received from Helena had been vague about her plans for the spring. Of course, no amount of talking with her friends would matter in the end. The man she loved and wanted to marry would never be hers, and she had to reconcile herself to that. She’d cried a river of tears, but it hadn’t changed anything. Maybe her father was right—it was time to move on with her life, even if it meant marrying Baron Oakley. A shudder swept through her as she thought of life married to that lecherous old man. How could she possibly submit to a man with hands as cold as ice and breath that made her gag? She shuddered to think of it and vowed to concentrate on attracting another suitor before that became her fate.
Lydia was so distracted that she nearly collided with her aunt on her way back upstairs. “Oh, Aunt Agnes, I’m so sorry. I nearly ran you down.”
“No harm done, my dear,” Agnes said. Her aunt had always been very perceptive; there wasn’t much Lydia could hide from her. “Lydia, come with me. I wish to speak with you.”
Lydia followed her aunt to her bedchamber.
Agnes sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace. “My dear, come sit beside me, and tell me what has you so upset this morning.”
The kindness her aunt had always shown her was her undoing, and she burst into tears.
Agnes pulled Lydia into her arms and rubbed her back until her crying stopped.
“I’m so sorry, Aunt. I never meant—”
“My darling Lydia, you can tell me anything. What has Thomas done now?”
Agnes barely tolerated her brother and had been quite vocal over the years about his harsh treatment of his only child, but it had changed nothing.
Lydia loved her aunt without reservation. She’d been Lydia’s safe haven and more like a mother to her than an aunt. As she grew older, she’d relied on Agnes more and more for advice on how to handle her father.
“He said if I don’t find a husband this Season, he’ll accept Baron Oakley’s suit.”
“Baron Oakley? He’s old enough to be your grandfather.” Agnes wiped the tears from Lydia’s cheeks. “Let’s see if we can work on this problem together.”
“I tried to reason with Papa, but he wouldn’t listen. He did give me until June to secure another proposal. If I do not, he’ll marry me off to the baron. I can’t marry that old man. My stomach churns in disgust whenever he approaches me.”
“Well, I’m not surprised at this latest ultimatum. Your father is a stubborn man and rarely changes his mind once he’s made a decision.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. Oh, Aunt, whatever will I do?”
“There’s only one thing to do.”
