A Lover for Lydia (The Wednesday Club Book 4)

by Sahara Kelly

  So on this particular evening, she allowed a maid to help her dress, knowing that the presence of someone else would distract her thoughts and perhaps calm that chittering nervous feeling.

  Oddly enough, the others seemed similarly affected.

  When gathering in the hall to await the carriages, Ivy sighed. “I’m not sure about this evening,” she admitted.

  “I have to say I’m not what one would call in alt over the idea,” endorsed Prudence. “But if we can be spared any flirtatious gentlemen, that will be a blessing.”

  “Glory be, would that be an insult I’m hearing, Miss Prudence?” Ronan appeared, hand to his heart, looking shattered and very Irish in a bright green damask waistcoat.

  “Oh hush,” she scolded, laughing even as her cheeks flushed. “At least we’ll be able to find you if it’s crowded,” her eyes fell on his dramatically coloured garment. “Is it lined with shamrocks?”

  “Of course, lass. Luck of the Irish manifests itself in our precious little weed.”

  “Then I must make sure to sit next to you, Ronan,” Miles observed with a grin. “Mayhap some of that luck will rub off.”

  “Indeed you should then, milord. You being so hard up an’ all…”

  Everyone laughed as Ronan gazed pointedly at Miles’s elegant ensemble, which had clearly been tailored just for him.

  The mild jests set a more cheerful tone, and Lydia made sure to walk next to Ronan as they left Maiden Shore’s front door.

  “Thank you, Ronan. You said the right thing at the right time. I appreciate it.”

  He glanced at her. “Happy to have helped,” he answered quietly. “It seemed more like a group waiting for a funeral than a party.”

  “There’s something about tonight that has me on edge,” she confessed. “And damned if I can put my finger on it.”

  “You’ll be all right, me love,” he said softly. “Yon lad will take very good care of you, beyond a doubt.” He nodded at Mowbray, waiting at the door of the carriage to hand her in.

  She chuckled and blushed and then gave Mowbray her hand as she took her seat. Prudence took hers, and the carriages set off, filled as they were before.

  Prudence looked lovely and very adult with her hair in a new style, piled in curls on top of her head. Several had been allowed to drift free and she seemed confident as she sat next to Ronan, smiling at some comment he made.

  He was bringing out the best in her, for certain, mused Lydia.

  “Worrying?” Mowbray nudged her as he asked the question.

  “I was, a bit,” she admitted. “But I think all will go well.” She turned to him and briefly touched his arm. “How about you? This gathering may not be filled with people who are universally delightful. Unlike us.” She covered her concern with a jest.

  “I’m sure it will be amusing,” he said in his best bored London voice. “One must attempt to be entertained, mustn’t one?”

  She laughed aloud. “We must indeed.”

  The sun was setting, the air soft, and fortunately the skies showed no signs of turning rainy. In this, at least, they were lucky. But something was bothering her; she and Mowbray had stepped into unknown territory of late. Should her name arise tonight, and given those attending it would not be unlikely, how would he respond?

  As the lights of Staunton Place appeared over a rise, Lydia once more touched his arm. Deciding that simple honesty was the best policy, she said what was on her mind.

  “Mowbray, I know that Sir Anthony and Will have some interest in me—or at least the Davenport name.” She swallowed. “We both know I do not return it, so it doesn’t bother me at all.”

  “If you say so,” Mowbray replied, his tone expressionless.

  “What I’m trying to say is that there is no need to defend my honour or anything,” she frowned. “I don’t know how to put it. Please understand what I’m saying?”

  He relaxed. “I do understand, my dear. And I promise I will not institute any kind of brawl or challenge anyone to a fierce duel with broadswords should they mention your name in my presence. Besides, I’d trip over my shield and impale myself on my sword, so what good would that do, I ask you?”

  She laughed and shook her head, as she knew he intended, but they were too near their destination for any further discussions. Mowbray’s promise would have to do.

  The journey concluded, and two Maiden Shore carriages disgorged their merry passengers in front of the Staunton residence a few moments after eight o’clock, to be greeted at the front door by both Sir Francis and Lady Susan.

  “Please God don’t let her hug me,” whispered Colly, loud enough for Lydia to hear.

  “Make sure Ivy stands close to you,” she suggested. “Covering your rear guard, as it were.”

  His snort of amusement made them all smile.

  “How happy you all look,” Lady Susan boomed. “I need not ask if you are enjoying your stay in the area.” She dipped a curtsey. “Your Grace. How lovely to see you.” Ivy almost vanished into a sea of purple tulle. “And here is your handsome husband. I swear the man has some devious secret to his appearance. He is better looking every time I see him.

  Lydia bit her lip to hold back the laughter as Colly bowed over her hand from a fair distance and adroitly avoided a hug by dint of pulling his wife in front of him.

  Thus the evening began, two footmen relieving the ladies of their gloves and shawls, and directing them in different directions.

  The gentlemen were shown a corridor to the left, and the ladies ushered straight ahead into what looked like either a massive large dining room or a small ballroom.

  Lydia glanced at Mowbray as they parted. The candles caught vivid red highlights in hair that had darkened as he matured, and she found for a moment she couldn’t breathe.

  He winked.

  Much heartened by that simple little gesture, she lifted her chin and sailed in, ready to experience all things Française.

  *~~*~~*

  Mowbray walked into the Staunton’s make-believe gambling den beside his brother.

  They both paused.

  “Good God,” muttered Miles. “It’s a Parisian whorehouse.”

  “Is it? Well, I suppose you would know,” teased Mowbray. “But really. Where did she manage to find so much red velvet?”

  For indeed, it seemed at first glance that Lady Susan had created a massive cave out of the stuff. It draped from the chandeliers to the floor, around the walls, and curtained the windows. Thankfully there was none on the floor, but in the vivid cocoon were gaming tables, their green baize surfaces contrasting nicely with the crimson glow.

  “I’m going to vomit,” whispered Miles. “All this red…I can’t stand it.”

  “Yes you can,” answered Mowbray. “Everyone else is managing well. Although I will say I too find it a tad nauseating.”

  He noted that the use of the fabric had cut down the size of the room by probably two-thirds, which made the gambling environment much more cosy. In that regard, Lady Susan had been quite clever. If only it hadn’t been such a vivid shade of red.

  They strolled around, observing several footmen standing by long tables loaded with all kinds of beverages, and several other gentlemen perusing the gaming area.

  “What ho, Linfields.” Sir Anthony Calder approached them. “Blinded yet?”

  “Damn close,” said Miles. “It could be either the debut of a new trend or the start of a large number of raging headaches.”

  “I’m forced to agree. It completely overwhelms one.” Mowbray sighed.

  “Well, how about whist? I’ve met a lad who says he enjoys a hand. And I’m guessing that focussing on the cards might detract from the impact of the walls…” He waved at a table where a younger man was already seated.

  “I’m for it,” said Miles. “Mowbray?”

  “Why not?”

  They moved to the table and Calder introduced their fourth. “Ronald, these two fine upstanding gentlemen are the Linfields. Lord Miles and his brother
Mowbray.”

  The young man rose with a polite smile.

  “Gentlemen, allow me to present my brother, Ronald. A bit wet behind the ears and only just down from Oxford, but well-trained enough to bring out in public now and again.” He grinned as the younger man blushed. “Be gentle with him, will you? I have to answer to our mama for his condition.”

  “A pleasure, my Lord. Mr Linfield.” Ronald Calder bowed and shook hands with them.

  “So you like whist, Mr Calder?” Mowbray took his seat.

  “I do, sir. I can’t say I always like my partner, however,” he tossed a scornful glance at his brother.

  “I know the feeling,” said Miles with sincerity. “Oh, here’s an idea. Instead of matching brothers against brothers, why don’t we swap partners for a hand or two? I’ll partner Sir Anthony and Mowbray can partner you.”

  Ronald blinked and then raised his eyebrows at Sir Anthony. “An interesting idea?”

  “Why not?” Sir Anthony grinned at Miles. “It will be fun to beat the stuffing out of our younger brothers, what say you?”

  Miles merely smiled and nodded as they all sat and the game began.

  Within a few hands, several things became obvious. The partnership of younger brothers played a vastly superior game than Sir Anthony had anticipated.

  Miles, having years of experience trying to beat Mowbray, leaned back and grinned as they took yet another trick, handily improving their odds of winning the hand.

  “Damn it,” Calder clenched his teeth. “How could you possibly have been hiding that spade from me?” He glared at his brother.

  “Some people have a gift for grasping what to hold and what to play, I believe,” said Mowbray mildly. “Your brother is indeed fortunate, for he has displayed that gift quite brilliantly.” He tapped his forehead in salute to Ronald, who beamed.

  “Thank you sir. Although I must confess that playing with a partner such as yourself, who can also grasp the importance of discards, is sheer joy.”

  Miles looked at Sir Anthony. “They are going to bleed us dry, aren’t they?”

  Anthony blew out a frustrated breath. “It certainly appears so.”

  Mowbray hid his grin and the next hand began. All had gone most pleasantly up to that point. Then a movement at the side of the room caught his attention.

  Mr Chuffy Stonewood had arrived.

  And Mowbray’s heart sank.

  *~~*~~*

  While the Linfields were busy with their cards, Lydia found herself next to Lady Susan, a glass of champagne in one hand and a fistful of paper vouchers in the other.

  She was also screaming at the top of her lungs.

  “Come on, twenty-one. Please, please, twenty-one…”

  Nobody was paying her any attention, however, since everyone else was also yelling for their chosen numbers.

  Ivy was grinning and cheering, Rose jumped up and down in excitement, and Prudence managed to keep her voice low, but clenched her hands together as the little white ball bounced happily around the roulette wheel.

  The sounds of excited merriment filled the air and the supply of Veuve-Cliquot champagne was already quite reduced.

  Their environment had been fortunate in that it had escaped the red velvet treatment, but instead was filled with flowers of every hue. Their scent was almost overwhelming, but the effect was lovely, especially since they ringed several roulette wheels.

  There were many champagne bottles on display and the candles in the chandeliers glittered madly off the assorted crystal glasses.

  Lydia clutched her third glass, laughing merrily as the wheel slowed down.

  A hush fell as the last few clicks and bumps took the little ball on its final journey, to land in number three.

  A single shriek rent the silence, as Prudence almost leapt out of her slippers.

  “Three,” she cried. “Oh my God, I won again. That’s my number.”

  The ladies surrounding her put aside their own disappointment and cheered with her. A lovely moment, thought Lydia, since Prudence knew exactly none of them.

  Ivy made her way through the knot of fashionable gowns to hug her niece. “I can’t believe it, Prudence, you lucky thing. Congratulations. Isn’t this exciting?”

  “Are you sure it’s not some kind of trick? This is that girl’s third win.”

  The grating voice of Miss Dilys Ansell, who ran the Minton Barrow parish council, could be heard over the chatter.

  Lydia moved to her side. “I doubt it, Miss Ansell. I really cannot see Lady Susan offering a crooked game to her guests, can you?”

  The comment reduced Miss Ansell’s obvious dislike, but there was a look in her eyes that disturbed Lydia.

  “No, I suppose not. But winning three times seems to be a bit suspicious.” She gave Prudence another glare and moved away.

  “I believe I will have another glass of champagne,” Prudence said, walking to Lydia’s side. “And you should, as well. Thank you for defending me.”

  “You heard?” Lydia joined the younger woman as they walked to the side of the room.

  “I guessed,” Prudence answered, showing her hand, now overflowing with the paper vouchers that stood in for money at Lady Susan’s roulette table.

  “Some people can never find happiness or enjoyment, but always look for the worst in things.”

  “Very astute,” agreed Prudence. “She’s also very ugly.”

  Lydia nearly choked on her champagne and barely avoided spraying the poor footman pouring another glass for Prudence.

  “I should rebuke you for that comment,” Lydia sputtered, coughing and wheezing. “But you’re right, of course.”

  A look of amusement crossed Prudence’s face. “Of course.”

  “You’re what’s called a handful, you know.”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “Ronan said something along those lines, too.”

  “Prudence,” Lydia pulled her to a small couch on one side of the room, well clear of the gamblers still yelling at the roulette game.

  “About Ronan.”

  “What about him?” Prudence blinked innocently.

  “I see something between the two of you,” Lydia answered, a steady gaze on the face opposite her.

  “Maybe,” Prudence said noncommittally. “I find his company most pleasant, and I believe he shares that feeling.” She looked away. “I need to learn about men, Lydia. Who better to teach me than someone who has his kind of experience, combined with a gentle manner?”

  “It’s a flirtation then?”

  “It’s lessons on growing up an eligible female.” Prudence sighed. “I know I’m going to be a prize in the marriage market. Uncle Colly and Ivy will no doubt make the best decisions on my behalf, but I’d like to be aware enough to fend for myself and not end up hopelessly enamoured of the first fortune hunter to come my way.”

  Lydia thought about it. “You surprise me, Prudence. But I cannot argue with your reasoning. As long as Ronan does not importune you in any way…”

  “More likely I’ll importune him,” she grinned. “But it is most pleasant to know a gentleman with whom one can be oneself.”

  Lydia couldn’t help nodding. “I agree.”

  Prudence shot a sideways look at Lydia. “I thought you would. Mowbray allows you to be yourself. I’ve seen it. The light in your eyes that says you’re happy with him.” She leaned forward. “And I think it’s absolutely lovely.”

  Lydia forced a light laugh. “I agree with that as well.”

  Inside, her heart thudded, acknowledging the truth of the matter. Yes, she could be herself with Mowbray Linfield. And in addition, his touch gave her the sparkles she’d always yearned for.

  How could she not have realised she had fallen in love with him?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Scarcely had Lydia fully absorbed the impact of her emotional discovery, than Lady Susan stepped onto a low stool and chinked two glasses together to draw everyone’s attention.

  A servant passed her a note an
d she squinted at it. “Mesdames,” she said loudly. “Mesdames, s’il vous plaît…”

  Lydia winced at the pronunciation.

  It got worse. “S’il vous voulez m’accompagner dans la pièce voisine’…oh bother. Come along, everyone. It’s time to see how our men are doing.” She crumpled the note and tossed it aside, allowing a footman to help her down.

  Lydia gathered her skirts, walking with Prudence toward the door where more than a few of the ladies were hurrying to get through.

  “My compliments, Lady Susan,” said Prudence as she came to their side. “How lovely to make an announcement in French. It really topped off your evening’s entertainment.”

  Lady Susan beamed at her. “Why thank you, my dear.” She glanced at Lydia. “Such a polite gel isn’t she? And a budding beauty as well. I’m sure the Duke has splendid plans for you, darling.” She patted Prudence’s arm. “You deserve nothing but the best.”

  “You are so kind, Ma’am.” Prudence dipped a little curtsey. “I’ll be sure to relay your comments when the time comes.”

  “Good gel.” The older woman shot her response over her shoulder as she gathered her skirts, picked up speed and headed to the door. “Miss Ansell, don’t dawdle, dear. You’re holding others back…”

  Prudence’s lips twitched and Lydia hid a smile behind a polite cough. “Laying it on a bit thick there, dearest,” she whispered.

  “Who…moi?”

  This time, Lydia couldn’t hide the laughter, and several heads turned at the sound. But luckily the doorway had cleared so the two of them could make their way unhindered into the gentlemen’s gaming area.

  As others had before them, both Prudence and Lydia stopped short as a cascade of rich red velvet filled their vision.

  Lydia grabbed Prudence’s arm. “Have I just lost my eyes or is that two miles of red velvet?”

  “It’s velvet,” groaned Prudence. “Good Lord. It’s all velvet.”

  “Ladies, about time you arrived.” Sir Anthony Calder strolled over, accompanied by a younger man. “After you’ve recovered from the visual shock, I’d like you to meet my brother Ronald…”