Lydia blushed a little, for she did not entirely want to speak about this matter with Theodore.
“I did not realize that I wore my feelings so openly. I do appreciate your concern, but the matter is well in hand. I shall be leaving for Florence soon, and I am sure the trip will be restorative.”
Theodore furrowed his brow.
“I was not speaking of you, Lydia but Victor.”
“Victor?” The name was like a dagger in her heart. Suddenly all of the powerful feelings came rushing back again, potent, and raw and savage, as though she was being torn to shreds by feral claws.
“Indeed, he has not been the same since you left. He has disappeared inside himself, and I fear that if something isn’t done soon, then he will be lost forever.”
“I am sorry to hear that, but I’m not sure there is anything I can do.”
“You could go to him. You could speak about what transpired between you. When you were together, you shared a rapport that is all too rare. I fully believed you loved each other.”
I believed it too, Lydia thought although she kept this sentiment to herself.
“Unfortunately, I am not sure I have the capability to save Victor. If there were any shadows of feelings in his heart, then he could come to London himself. I cannot go to him. As I said, I already have plans to leave for Florence.”
A pensive look came upon Theodore’s face. He sighed heavily and stroked his chin.
“I hope that history is not repeating itself. I lost the person I loved and was forced to live in agony. If you bear any affection for him, I ask that you?—”
“It is impossible,” Lydia said firmly. While she appreciated Theodore’s intentions, she did not believe that her presence would help Victor. After all, they had kissed once, and he hadn’t even acknowledged it. He was a callous man, and while Theodore might have thought Victor was unhappy, Lydia assumed that he was quite comfortable in his solitary life.
“I shall be leaving for Florence soon, and I have yet to determine for how long I shall stay there. I might well stay forever if it offers me more than London can,” she said.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Victor, we must have words.” Theodore strode into the house. Victor looked up slowly. He had been reading a book, but his gaze drifted idly across the page and none of the words had been etched into his mind. In fact, he would have been hard-pressed to describe the book to anyone who asked what he was reading.
As happened so often, his thoughts lingered on Lydia and John. The fact that she had only been with him for John’s sake did not ease the ache in his heart. Perhaps it was only fitting that he should be denied love when he had allotted that very same punishment to Harry, but although it may have been justified, it still gnawed at something deep inside him.
“Uncle, you sound serious.”
“I am, and first, I must begin with good news. I am to be married.”
Victor’s ears pricked up and his face was dusted with surprise.
“Married? Congratulations, to whom?”
“To the only person I would ever want to marry, my darling Agatha.”
Victor leaned back in his chair and nodded with understanding.
“And how did this come about?” he asked. Lydia had asked him to plot a union between the two, but they had never gotten the chance to enact these plans as everything had crumbled away before they could. He suspected that Lydia had continued. It seemed as though she had been busy in London.
“It was because of Lydia. She invited me to London. As soon as I saw Agatha again, I knew that I could not waste any more time. I asked her to marry me almost immediately, and by God’s good grace, she said yes.”
“I am pleased for you, Uncle. Whatever you need for the wedding, you may have,” he said.
Theodore stared at him for a long while.
“Are you not going to ask about her?”
“Agatha?”
“No, Lydia,” Theordore said. Victor turned away. A knife twisted in his stomach. The name was harrowing now where once it had brought angelic voices to mind.
