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Chapter Four
P
lease make it stop.
“You go back into that drawing room this instant,” Lynette’s mother hissed. “Even now you could be making a match for yourself. Did you see that crush?”
They’d made it as far as a few corridors after Lynette stormed from the room. Her hand still stung from when she’d slapped Lord Hollingsworth’s face. Oh, dear heavens, she’d accosted a soon-to-be duke! “I can’t return now,” she whispered as mortification heated her face. Where she’d thought she’d been completely over what had happened between her and Stephen all those years ago had obviously been wrong, for the moment she saw his twin who’d come over on his brother’s behalf, emotions had taken control.
“You can and you will.” Her mother tightened a hand on Lynette’s arm. “The duchess has given us a unique opportunity this holiday season, and I won’t have you squander it due to old embarrassments.” Her mother gave her a tiny shove toward the opposite direction that they’d come. “Had you acted with decorum ten years ago, you wouldn’t feel so bad now. Return to the party and take the lay of the land, so to speak.”
In her head, Lynette knew her mother was right. It was silly to run away—again—due to confusing emotions, but her heart couldn’t come to terms so easily. Finally, she nodded. “I can’t promise how long I’ll stay.” She met her mother’s gaze. “Will you come as well?”
“I won’t. It’s late and I’m exhausted, so I’ll retire. But if you can, bring me a few dainties from the food offerings. I might wish for a snack later.”
“All right.” Lynette smoothed a gloved hand over the front of her royal blue gown. Only a few years out of style, she’d kept it meticulously wrapped and tucked away. It barely showed any wear, for she rarely went out into society anymore. “I’ll try to come up early.”
“Stay for as long as needed. If you should catch the eye of a gentleman, do the pretty with him and try to charm him.” Her mother edged away. “And remember, a title is better. The future of Birch House is relying on you.” Then she turned and made her way down the corridor.
Lynette pressed her hands to her cheeks. Oh, this whole situation was embarrassing and confusing! For years she’d assumed she’d wanted nothing else to do with Stephen or any of the Ivy family, yet when she’d glimpsed him in the gorgeous drawing room a handful of minutes ago, her fickle heart had leapt.
Swallowing the ball of emotion lodged in her throat, she slowly retraced her steps. The closer she drew to the drawing room, the louder laughter and conversation grew. Her heartbeat accelerated when she heard what she thought was a guffaw from Stephen, but the timbre was a tiny bit off; no doubt it was his brother Griffin, the man to whom she needed to apologize. As knots bedeviled her belly, she slipped into the drawing room and breathed a quick sigh of relief when no one made discourse regarding her return.
Moments later, she happened to catch the Duchess of Whittington’s eye. One of the older lady’s eyebrows raised in question, to which Lynette merely shrugged. What was there to say? At nine and twenty she still acted the widgeon? I thought I was more mature than that. Thankfully, the duchess didn’t push the issue and neither did she break from her conversation to join her. Lynette breathed a quick sigh of relief. She kept to the edge of the room, not particularly wishing to speak to anyone, and all the while she searched the gathering for one man in particular.
Her breath caught when she found him, talking within a cluster of people. One of them was his sister and another his younger brother, but she didn’t recognize anyone else. Who was the pretty blonde lady who seemed to have a familiar knowledge with him that made him nearly grin at whatever she said? Cold pangs of regret assailed her. Perhaps he was married.
Lynette moved farther away, edging toward the doors that led to a large terrace, but kept her gaze on him. Oh, it was insanity how handsome he was after all these years! Tall with a proud bearing, his dark brown hair parted just so and encouraged into a popular style. The classic features of his face spoke of regal ancestry, and it seemed he hadn’t lost his taste for impeccably tailored clothing. The jaunty gold waistcoat he wore spoke of his exuberance for life while his brother leaned toward a more understated look.
But his form and figure aside, she had every right to remain incensed with him even after all these years. What he’d said about her had caused malicious gossip to become attached to her name. She and her parents had no choice but to retreat from London to Birch House until the worst of the rumors had died. However, she wouldn’t deny that she’d deserved much of that backlash, for she’d left Stephen without an explanation. She’d willfully broken their engagement without a word.
Why? It was so easy to see now with time and distance between them. She’d felt smothered. To marry the second son of a duke, to become a viscountess had seemed daunting to her nineteen-year-old self. His family was large and close; she hadn’t that, wouldn’t even know how to navigate such a tight-knit group. How could she ever hope to measure up?
Though she’d fully thought to marry him anyway, at the last second, she couldn’t go through it, couldn’t let him pull her out of the country, which was the only life she’d known with the exception of her one London Season. Fear had overruled her mind. How could she live up to his expectations within the glittering world of the London ton, to say nothing of bearing the handful of children he’d said he’d wanted. Not to mention the fact he was much more suited to London life than she, and she suspected that, if given half the chance, he would play the rogue to the hilt. Would his eye wander after they wed? How long would it be before he tired of her and sent her to an estate in the country, forgotten? It had all been too stressful, and when he’d disagreed with her regarding family size, she’d used it as a natural break.
And her world had plunged into the darkest sorrow for a time... until she’d met a dashing military officer who she married without a qualm.
Then he met her gaze, and her heart jumped and subsequently dropped into her slippers. After an initial light of welcome, confusion took hold of his expression and his eyes grew hooded. The urge to retch remained strong. Lynette frantically swallowed a few times to keep it at bay. He deserved an explanation after all these years, and she deserved peace. It had always haunted her what she’d done to him, and since he’d never married—she assumed—she couldn’t help but wonder if her actions had wounded him so deeply that he could never trust another woman.
He murmured something to the people he talked with and then he broke away from them and moved in her direction.
Oh, merciful heavens, he’s coming over!
“Good evening, Lord Tilbury,” she began while confusion and embarrassment crashed with her chest in a perfect storm. What should she say to him after all this time, after what she’d done?
“Good evening, Mrs. Hodgins.” He took one of her hands and delivered a kiss to its back, the gesture without nuance or emotion.
“December has been rather chilly, has it not?” she asked while her mind screamed at her to stop the inane small talk.
Annoyance flickered over his face, gone at his next blink. “Is that really what you want to say to me, Lynette?”
The sound of her name in his voice sent skitters of delight sailing over her skin. Once more, he was correct. “No. It’s not, Lord Tilbury.” How could this one man manage to cow her into silly chatter but also make her tongue-tied from his commanding presence at the same time?
He released her hand. “My name is Stephen, as you know.” A hint of a growl lingered in his tone to match the intensity of his being. “Please make use of it. You and I are well past any sort of formality, don’t you think?”
“I suppose.” She could barely utter the words from her tight throat. Then a bit of her natural spirit rallied. “You needn’t come the crab with me. What happened between us is in the past.”
“Is it?” When he met her gaze once more, she gave into a shiver. “Because from my perspective, those wounds are still as fresh as the day you made them.”
