Page 47 of The Marquess of Secrets

“You’ve seen Huntsford, have you not?” he asked Robins.

“From a distance. The man is not here, I checked. Nor was I followed. I’m quite skilled at throwing off the scent. The man is six feet in height, lean, brown hair, longish, here to the collar.” Robins pointed to the collar of his coat. “A rumpled appearance, often unshaven. Sometimes wears spectacles, sometimes not. He is good-looking enough to attract women, but he has a cold way about him. A cruel slant to his mouth. Altogether unsavory.”

Harrison knew the type. Malicious to the core, cold-hearted. Caring only for their comforts.

How Lydia could give her heart to such a man…well, usually these men were charm incarnate until they got what they wanted.

The pies were delivered to the table, and Harrison turned his attention to his meal. Could this Huntsford be dangerous? Or like most of these men, making threats without following them through?

Best to remain cautious.

Across the pub, a man with a beard sat nursing a pint while closely watching them. Harrison glared at him in return. Hard to ascertain his hair color as he wore a cap, though the beard was black. The man looked away. Was he being paranoid? Yes, vigilance would be prudent.

Harrison cut into his pie. “Have a man watch my residence and follow my movements by all means.”

“Yes, my lord. I will undertake some of the surveillance personally.”

A roll of unease blazed through Harrison. Along with the undeniable urge to protect Lydia at all costs.

And by God, he would.

* * *

Four days later, feeling much recovered, Lydia sat in Harrison’s study at his large oak desk, pen and paper before her. Youngston had brought her afternoon tea on a tray. The staff was unfailingly polite, but they also cast a wary eye her way on occasion, as if protecting their employer. She couldn’t fault them.

How to describe the relief she felt that she wasn’t sought by the police? A weight had lifted from her tortured soul. But it only gave a modicum of comfort, for there was still much to be worked out.

As for this note, she would do as Mr. Robins suggested, write the hospital, apologizing for her sudden disappearance, and ensure that they would provide a reference when she needed it. Once she was settled in another district. Dipping the pen into the ink, she scratched out sincere reparations.

What excuse? Illness?

It wasn’t exactly a lie, for she was sick to her soul. She’d caught a fever that had blinded her from making common sense judgments. But that fever passed, and her mind was clear for the first time in many months. She wrote a brief, but sincere note, using illness as an impetus and stated that she’d been taken away to recover.

Not actually a lie considering the bout of mild pneumonia.

Lydia also wrote that she was so ill she was unable to contact the hospital. She offered her resignation, for she would be seeking employment elsewhere once recovered. Lydia sincerely thanked the hospital for their faith in her; then signed her name.

Folding the paper in half, she slipped it into the envelope. How to mail it? Lord, she couldn’t even afford the postage, for she had not a penny to her name.

Harrison would know what to do.

An affair.

Harrison had caught her completely off guard. It is all she thought about the past few days.

Yes, she guessed that he was attracted to her, and the feeling was reciprocated—but an affair? She was not insulted by the suggestion. There was no denying she was tempted.

No. Not at this time—if at all.

Too much had happened. Lydia could not expose her vulnerable heart to another man, no matter how he appealed. And Harrison did, in so many ways.

“Excuse me, Miss Best?”

Lydia turned in her chair. Youngston stood in the doorway. “Yes?”

“His lordship has sent word he will not be able to make it for dinner. He said you may have yours in the dining room or a tray in your room, whatever you choose.”

Harrison was no doubt admonishing himself for making the suggestion of an affair and would continue to keep his distance. He attended dinner that first night, though there wasn’t much conversation, but since?