AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Would you like a tour?” he asked, excitedly. “There was quite a bit of effort to make it presentable. I would love to show you both the progress. I do hope to have more done before Lady Johanna comes. I would also quite like to show you the rooms I’ve designated for my lady. It would be such a relief to have your blessing.”
“We’d love that,” Lydia assured him, her expression kind and genuine.
* * *
The afternoon was late by the time Michael and Lydia returned to Marigold. The others were strewn about the house, occupied in their own diversions. Lydia excused herself to rest and dress before supper, so he made his way up to his study.
Mr. Weller’s enthusiastic attitude towards his upcoming marriage to Lydia’s sister had unnerved him. Throughout the tour of the home, Mr. Weller had spoken of his excitement of having a family, raising children in his home.
Michael could not help but to imagine what it would be like. Images of Lydia, nuzzled up against him with a babe on her breast conjured in his mind. Teaching a son cricket on the lawn … He reached for a bottle of whisky and poured himself a small glass. Sitting behind his desk, he took a sip, rubbing his brow as to rid himself of the thoughts.
A letter on his desk caught his eye. The letter was unsealed and unaddressed, but assuming it was meant for him, he unfolded it, wondering who had left it. The hand was unfamiliar to him, but reading the address, he knew that it was not meant for him, for he was neither female nor anyone’s sister. By the second line, the reference to Johanna’s proposal shocked him. He could only imagine that Lydia had written the letter to one of her sisters, prior to their outing. He almost put it down, but curiosity took hold, especially as to how the letter ended up on his desk.
Through each paragraph, he felt increasingly more embarrassed to read it, until he got to the moment where Lydia described in detail how she felt watching him bathe while nude. Her comparison of him to a Greek god made him laugh out loud. Yet, the conflict in her words told him all that he needed to know.
Lydia wanted him. Even though she had said so in their carriage ride earlier that day, he thought she was merely caught up in the moment, overrun by desire. He would have hated to take her in the moment, only for her to regret it later. However, seeing that she wrote similar sentiments in the calm of the morning convinced him that she had thought about their intimacy with a sound mind.
He groaned, took a long drink of his whisky, and poured another glass. Knowing that she would be open to his advances made his conflict more intense. He wanted to march up to her room immediately, wondering if he would find her in a state of undress before supper.
No, not when I’ve had a drink, he thought.
As if to use the whisky as an excuse to keep him from her, he took another long sip. Seeing her at dinner, knowing what he knew, was going to be exceedingly difficult. Then, realization hit him. He knew that she would not have willingly left such a note on his desk, hoping that he would read it. Someone would have had to have found it and left it for him, hoping that he would be scandalized by the contents. Someone could use the information to blackmail her, or him.
Even worse though, he thought, looking back at the letter, he had to wonder if the note was even written by her. He had no comparison to know if the hand was hers. He had never received a note from her before. He racked his brain to think of a way he could get her to write something for him.
He tapped his chin, then wrote a note:
My dear, I wish to send congratulations to your family in the city for your sister’s engagement. Can you write down your sisters’ names for me?
Handing it to the footman in the corridor, he instructed him, “Take this up to my lady. I didn’t want to disturb her before dinner.”
While he waited, he reread the letter again. He knew Lydia had watched him, though he could not be sure who else may have seen him, let alone saw her watching him. He could only guess that she was the true author of the letter, after considering it further.
Only a few minutes later, the footman returned with a scrap of paper and handed it to him. Michael unfolded it, reading off the names of Lydia’s sisters before comparing the handwriting to the letter. Though the sample was small, it was similar enough for him to feel confident, but not absolutely certain. Throwing the scrap of paper back down on his desk, he stroked his chin.
* * *
After the long carriage ride, Lydia was happy to return to her rooms to undress from her riding outfit and into a lighter dress before supper. She laid back in a chaise in her sitting room with a book, hoping to read until she grew tired enough for a nap.
She was just about to nod off when she suddenly remembered her letter from earlier in the day. A quick look at her writing desk revealed the letter had been taken. Springing to her feet, she called her maid back quickly. The minutes dragged by while Lydia paced, waiting for the maid to return to the room. The girl had barely closed the door behind her when Lydia sprung toward her.
“Did you post my letter as I asked you?”
“I sealed and addressed it, as you requested, my lady,” she replied, wide-eyed.
“But did you post it?”
“Yes,” she replied, too quickly.
Lydia’s heart raced, though the girl had admitted no fault. “And you took care of it yourself?”
“Well, my lady, I was headin’ downstairs and the Viscount of Rackliff asked if I had posted a letter. I told him that you were writing to your sister.”
Lydia blanched. “What did he do?”
“He said that he would post it for you, my lady. He said he was writing to the dowager viscountess himself and that he would take your letter down for you.”
Feeling her legs grow weaker below her, Lydia fell back to the chaise.
