“And tonight?” Lydia whispered. “What shall we do tonight?”
Oliver's eyes darkened with desire. “Many, many things… And all of them would be very frowned upon by the church.”
“Even if we are to be married?”
He laughed then. “Some of them would be frowned upon even if we were already married! And I care not at all. Is that wicked of me?”
“Yes, but in the best possible way… I like the idea of us being slightly wicked—but only with one another,” Lydia confessed. “Will you come to my chamber or should I attempt to sneak into yours?”
“Your bed is entirely too small… and in your room, we are too close to Gemma. In my room we are too close to Mother,” he said. “Who will not be at all happy about this situation and may make things difficult.”
“I don't care. Just tell me where.”
“The garden,” he said.
“Outside?” Lydia asked, scandalized at the thought.
Oliver nodded. “Indeed. Outside… under the light of a full moon with only the stars to witness. It's decadent, wicked, scandalous. Hedonistic even. And I can think of no one I'd rather indulge in those particular sins with.”
“Midnight?”
“Mmm… After Gemma is abed,” he corrected. “We can slip out to the folly in the garden.”
Lydia couldn't stop the shiver of anticipation. But she nodded her assent and the agreement was sealed with a kiss.
Chapter
Fourteen
Dinner had been an unpleasant affair. Upon informing Lady Charlotte of their plan to wed the following day, she had remarked, rather frostily, that they'd planned to wed before and nothing had come of it. She would simply wait and see. Then she'd excused herself and left them to contemplate her ill-humored response. Now, having tucked Gemma into bed, Lydia had escaped to her room to tidy herself somewhat before making her way to the garden folly as instructed.
She arrived before Oliver, and what she saw was as beautiful as it was surprising. There were several lanterns positioned about, and a carpet had been laid over the cool stone with an assortment of pillows. There was wine and fruit. It was a scene set not simply for seduction—which was entirely unnecessary as she was already thoroughly seduced—but for romance.
"Just because our wedding has been more than twelve years in the making, doesn't mean courtship should end entirely."
Lydia turned at the sound of Oliver's voice. "When did you find time to do all of this? And what must the servants think!"
"Only Stedmore is aware, and I believe his thoughts fall somewhere between 'finally' and 'it's about time,'" Oliver answered. "And he'd be right. It is." Rather than offer furtherexplanation, he simply took her hand and tugged her down with him as he sat amongst the pillows.
The folly was built like a Grecian temple. Two rows of columns ringed a center seating area of stone benches placed in a circle. While there was a roof which stretched between the rows of columns, the center section was open to the sky above. Even with the lanterns, dim as they were, the brightness of the moon and stars above outshone them.
"It's so beautiful here," Lydia mused. "When I'd come to Hartwell in the past, this was one of my favorite places... where I'd imagined nights just like this one. You are, quite literally, making all of my dreams come true."
He kissed her, a brief brushing of his lips over hers. "Our dreams... that was very much a shared fantasy, but one I dared not speak of to you at the time."
"For the sake of propriety or because you were afraid my innocent, virginal mind would be too scandalized at the notion?" Lydia demanded to know. In all likelihood, knowing Oliver, the answer was a combination of both.
"Could you have met me here like this all those years ago? And if you had, if we'd consummated our relationship then, as we did last night, in a precursory fashion to our marriage, would that have changed anything, altered your decision to leave?"
It wasn't something she'd allowed herself to think about. "I don't know. Obviously, our actions last night could have... consequences. And at that point in time those consequences would have terrified me so much I cannot say what my actions would have been."
Oliver lay back and tugged her down with him, this time so her head was resting on his chest. "Is it wrong to hope for those consequences now? I don't want to trap you and make you feel as though I am so entitled as to think I had the right to make everydecision related to us... but if we had conceived a child, I would be relieved because that gives you yet one more reason to stay."
Lydia began tugging at the knot of his cravat, working it loose. She craved the comfort of feeling his skin against her own. The buttons of his waistcoat were next, and then she was tugging at his shirt impatiently.
"I do not need another reason to stay. You are the only reason I need and you will always be enough," she told him. "But I would be glad of it as well... I had thought the opportunity to have your child one that was long past for me. I've been given a second chance to claim my happiness entirely due to your stubborn nature, and I have never been more glad of it."
Oliver levered himself up just enough to discard his shirt, then he began working on the closure of her gown until he could strip it from her entirely. Once more, she was wearing only her very serviceable underpinnings. For a moment, thoughts of the trousseau that had once been ordered for her, of night rails of silk and satin and lace that she'd blushed so fiercely about, came back to her.
