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In that moment, she questioned whether she wanted to surrender to him, compromise herself when he would not. She wondered if she pulled him towards her bed, if he would follow, show her the full extent of pleasure that she wished to know. She wondered if he entered her, making love to her, if he could be convinced to break his vow.
You are such a fool,she thought to herself. How many women had been compromised with such desires? Women got with child, had their reputations ruined, lives destroyed, for compromising for a man that was not willing to compromise for them.
“I can promise you, no matter how much distance there is between us, I will miss your presence sorely,” he confessed, breaking her thoughts as he tried to hold her close to him.
She pushed away, feeling strength in her resolution. “Not enough, it seems, Your Grace.”
He bowed his head, thusly chastised. With a deep breath, he stepped away, turning, as though to gather his thoughts or calm his own passions raging within.
“Permit me to continue to call upon you, and to escort you to the duchess’s ball next week.”
“We must continue the charade until then, should we not?” she asked. “You did promise me, after all, until the end of the Season, to help me find an advantageous match after.”
“I do still intend to uphold my end of the bargain.”
“You do, after all, keep your promises,” she noted.
He nodded simply, turning to go, but then stopped. “One last kiss, my lady?”
Closing her eyes, she nodded, pressing back tears. He stepped forward to her again, cupping her head in his hands. With a firm hold on her, he pressed his mouth against hers, as though he was trying to convey all his sentiment for her in one gesture.
Yet, she pulled away one last time.
“I look forward to seeing you in London.”
“I will call on you,” he promised.
* * *
Rain fell upon them during their entire carriage ride from Marigold into London. Lydia felt guilty for the driver, bearing the torrent, exposed to the elements. Several times, the wheels of the carriage were stuck in muddy ruts. The jostling wore on her nerves and by the time they arrived back at the Rackliff townhome, she was achy and tired.
Her mother and sisters were not even expecting them to arrive. Even the butler was surprised, admitting them through the front door.
“My lady, what a surprise to have you home so soon,” he said, bowing to her and her uncle as they walked in.
“Lydia!” Trinity called out from overhead, looking down into the foyer from the upper floor. “What are you doing back?”
“Lydia’s back?” her mother cried from another room.
Throughout the house, a chorus of voices, all shouting, echoed down the halls. Lydia untied her bonnet, shedding the rain damp shawl from her shoulders. Handing both to a maid nearby, she waited until her sisters and mother made their way down to the foyer.
“What on earth are you doing back home?” her mother asked, looking hesitantly from Lydia to her uncle. “Has something terrible happened?”
“Our visit was cut brief by the duke being called back to the House of Lords for a vote,” he explained.
“I do not understand,” her mother said, her brows knitting together. “I thought the vote wasn’t until next week. I have not heard of any other of the peerage being called back for it.”
Francis shrugged. “The speaker wrote to His Grace directly. I saw the letter myself.”
“How bizarre,” Martha said, shaking her head. She turned to Lydia.
“You must be exhausted, traveling in this weather. Let’s get you upstairs and changed before you catch your death. We must not let you miss the rest of the Season. There is so much to tell you about.”
Lydia followed her mother, feeling a wave of relief rush through her body, comforted by the presence of her family. Once they got up to the rooms she shared with her sisters, the maids came to help her undress, combing out the dampness from her hair, and helping her step into dry clothing. Once she was dressed again, she sat in their sitting room, where the five of them were all waiting for her.
“How was the duke when you left him?” Trinity asked, a knowing look in her eye.
“He was quite disappointed to return to London,” Lydia explained. “He said that he would call on me, and still escort me to the duchess’s ball next week.”
