Chapter 19
Lydia was beyond happy. Thelast two and a half weeks had flown by in a flurry of activity. Overwhelmingly happy at the unexpected turn of events, she hummed a lively tune as she made her way downstairs. In two days, she would marry the man of her dreams. It had been torturous every time she’d had to say goodnight to him this past fortnight. She didn’t want to leave his side, and a part of her wished she’d let George get the special license he’d suggested when they got engaged. But then she wouldn’t have had the pleasure of attending so many Society events as his betrothed. She’d been nervous at first, but most of thetonhad treated her with respect, as was her due as the future Marchioness of Hutchinson. She knew there would always be some members of Society who wouldn’t tolerate her presence, and she was fine with that.
When she walked into the dining room, she was surprised to find her father seated at the table. “Good morning, Papa.”
Thomas looked up from his morning paper. “Have you gone over the ledgers? I expect everything to be in order before you leave this house.”
Lydia shouldn’t have been surprised by her father’s gruffness. If she’d expected him to soften to her now that she was leaving his household, she would have been sadly mistaken. Her father would never love her, and she had to stop holding out hope that his feelings toward her would ever change. “Of course, Papa. I only need to check last week’s entries and the ledgers should be up-to-date. Did you ever figure out why there was a discrepancy in last month’s cotton entry?”
“An overzealous supervisor who merely guessed at a quantity instead of doing a proper count and inspection. He’s no longer working for me. I will not tolerate laziness.”
“Really? Perhaps it was an honest mistake.”
Thomas glared at her. “You dare to question me?”
Lydia shook her head. “No, of course not. I’m sure you know best.”
“And don’t you forget that. How I run my business is none of your concern. Soon you’ll be out of this house, off cavorting with all your fancy friends.”
Lydia could hear the bitterness in her father’s voice, but there was nothing she could do about that. It was up to him, and him alone, to decide whether he would accept her relations or not. Nothing she could say would influence him. Thomas Weston was a stubborn man, and after he’d withheld her connection to Lord Surry for nineteen years, she sincerely doubted he would ever be part of her life after her marriage. It pained her to think he could be so cruel as to totally cut her out of his life, but she should have expected it. He’d basically done that for the first fourteen years of her life. It was only when she became useful to him, with her affinity for numbers, that he paid her any attention.
Lydia ate her breakfast and drank her tea in silence. It would do her no good to further antagonize her father. When she’d finished, she asked, “Would you like me to check the books this morning?”
“Tomorrow would be better. There are entries that need to be added today.”
She wanted to groan. Tomorrow would be most inconvenient for her. Had he picked that day on purpose? Did he know she had her final fitting with the modiste? Probably not, but it wouldn’t have mattered to him anyway. When he wanted something, there was no convincing him of anything else. Compromise was not a word Thomas Weston was familiar with. Of course, Papa. Let me know when will be a good time, and I’ll make myself available.”
Thomas merely grunted as she got up from the table and went upstairs in search of her aunt. She knocked on her aunt’s bedchamber door.
“Come.”
“Good morning, Aunt Agnes. How are you today?”
Agnes was sitting in the chair by the fireplace with a blanket wrapped around her legs, enjoying her tea and toast. “I’m well, and you?”
“I have a little bit of a problem that I hope you can help me with.”
“Of course, dear. What do you need?”
“Papa wants me to check the ledgers one more time before I leave.”
“I suppose he wants to make sure everything is in order.”
“Yes. I wanted to do it today, but he said tomorrow would be better for him.”
“Tomorrow? We’re expected at the modiste for your final fitting.”
“Yes, and seeing as I don’t know what time Papa will want me, I was wondering if we could go see Mrs. Dumont today.”
“Yes, of course. I don’t see why not. Shall we go around eleven?”
Lydia breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s perfect. Thank you, Aunt Agnes.”
“My darling girl, there’s no need to thank me. I’m always here to help if I can. I’ll send a note to Mrs. Dumont to let her know about the change of plans.”
She bussed her aunt’s cheek. “Thank you. I’ll see you later.”
True to her word, her aunt came downstairs at eleven, and they left to see Mrs. Dumont.
