Page 24 of The Marquess of Secrets

When did any man of the peerage do anything out of the kindness of his heart?

What did she know of the upper classes except what she read in books or newspapers? Or the salacious gossip she overheard at the hospital?

“Did someone bathe me the first night I was here?” Lydia sipped her tea, keeping her gaze locked on the housekeeper, watching for any change in her expression.

“You were suffering from a terrible fever. His lordship insisted you be placed in a cool bath to bring down your temperature. You floated in and out of consciousness, babbling words that made no sense. You did call for your papa at one point.”

Tears gathered on Lydia's lashes at the mention of her father. “He died five years ago.”

“I’m that sorry, lass.”

She gave Mrs. Wickes a shaky smile. “Thank you for everything. You’ve been kind. As has his lordship. And the maid who comes in to keep the fire going.”

“You have a touch of quality about you. I saw that right off. Not a true street waif at all.”

Lydia took a sip of tea. “I’m not. Never did I think it would come to this.” She shook her head as if to dismiss the past several months. If only she could.

“Concerning the bath, was the marquess in the room? I remember seeing a man’s face though I couldn’t make it out.”

A small smile curved about the housekeeper’s mouth. “Well, he was. He was that concerned. Don’t look panicked; I kept your threadbare chemise on the entire time he was in the room. After he stepped out, I removed it and washed you all over. As I told you earlier, everything had to be burned. You have flea bites on your torso. The doctor treated them.”

“So a doctor did see me? Will he return?”

Mrs. Wickes stood, straightening her apron. “You best take that up with his lordship. Eat up, girl. I’ll return later for the tray.”

The woman bustled out of the room.

The marquess? Concerned about her? He’d been in the room when she was all but naked?

It’s not as if she were an innocent virgin. But still, how strange.

Why would a peer be interested or concerned for her care? It made no sense. Why even take her in? Lydia couldn’t puzzle it out this minute, for her head ached. And he called a doctor for her? How generous.

Eating leisurely, Lydia glanced about the room. A fair size and in a feminine style from the brass bed to the flower-patterned wallpaper to the white wood furniture and light rose-colored drapes. With the fire going, it made the room cozy.

Against the opposite wall was a lovely vanity. Lydia sighed. She’d always longed for one, so she could sit in front of the mirror powdering her nose and applying a touch of scent behind her ears. They were the hopeful dreams of an idealistic young girl with her entire future ahead of her. Now all of it was dashed and smashed beyond recognition.

As she ate the last of her toast, a knock sounded at the partly open door.

“May I come in?”

Lydia’s heart skittered in her chest at the sound of his masculine tone. Blast it all, for she shouldn’t be reacting to him.

“Yes, my lord.”

The marquess stepped into the room but stayed near the entrance. “You’re sitting upright. Excellent.”

He turned toward the window. Standing in front of it, he clasped his hands behind him. All Lydia could see was a partial profile of his face.

“What is your name?” he asked, his voice soft. “The truth, if you please.”

“My name is Miss Lydia Chesterton, my lord.”

His lordship’s shoulders straightened. Perhaps Lydia imagined it, for how could he know of her name?

Several minutes passed. Lydia pushed the tray off her lap, and the china clinked together.

“How long were you living on the streets?” he asked.