by Stella Riley
He looked down at her. ‘You do?’
‘Yes. I want you to help me with something.’ She looked up at him soulfully. ‘Please.’
Knowing that look and trying not to smile, Gabriel said, ‘Sir Nicholas is a guest, Rosie. If you need help, I’m sure Aunt Phoebe can --’
‘It’s all right, Colonel,’ interposed Nicholas. ‘When a young lady asks so nicely, how could I refuse?’
‘That’s just the trouble,’ sighed Venetia. ‘No one ever does. And in no time at all, you’ll be an uncle. She collects them, you know.’
‘Then I’ll be honoured,’ said Nicholas with a bow. And, accompanied by Mistress Clifford, he allowed Rosie to tow him out of the room.
Accepting a glass of wine from her husband, Venetia immediately sat beside Lydia and asked a stream of questions about the business in Strand Alley; and gradually Lydia recognised that what Colonel Maxwell had said was true. Venetia Brandon was a woman she could imagine becoming a friend.
On the far side of the room and under cover of a desultory conversation with Gabriel, Eden watched the little widow and wondered whether the expanse of décolletage exposed by that rather nice pink gown was as satiny as it looked.
Nicholas and Phoebe re-appeared, laughing.
‘Well?’ asked Gabriel. ‘What did Major-General Rosie want?’
‘Her favourite doll had become a casualty of war in a battle between Captains Kit and Rob. She … I’m sorry to say that she’d l-lost an arm in the conflict.’
Venetia exchanged a despairing glance with Lydia. Gabriel and Eden dissolved into laughter. Phoebe continued unsteadily, ‘Rosie felt that Sir Nicholas was the person best suited to – to putting Araminta to rights because he would know how she f-felt.’
‘As a reward for which service,’ added Nicholas, ‘I am now a sort-of-uncle.’
‘Only Rosie’s against sharing him with the twins because they’re too rough.’
‘Well, since there’s no arguing with that,’ remarked Gabriel, ‘I suggest we eat.’
Supper was a cheerful affair. Lydia noticed how often Mistress Phoebe’s eyes strayed to Nicholas but failed to be aware of how often a pair of hazel eyes rested upon herself. Gabriel, of course, noticed both.
The evening flew by and suddenly the coach was at the door.
Venetia kissed Lydia’s cheek and said, ‘May I visit you? And perhaps also meet your sewing women?’
‘Of course, if you wish. They’d be delighted, I’m sure.’
‘Good. Tomorrow Phoebe and I are going to Shoreditch. But perhaps the day after …?’
‘The day after,’ said Phoebe firmly, ‘I want to see Bryony and Sam. But you don’t need to come with me if you don’t want to, Venetia. I can take a chair.’
‘Not,’ decreed Gabriel firmly, ‘on your own.’
‘Why not? I’ll be perfectly all right.’
‘The Colonel is right, Mistress Clifford,’ said Nicholas. ‘Sam’s lodgings aren’t in the most salubrious part of the City.’
She stared at him. ‘You know Sam?’
‘He’s a friend I haven’t seen for a while – so I could escort you, if you wish.’
‘Oh! That’s extremely kind.’ Phoebe flushed becomingly. ‘If you’re sure it would be no trouble?’
‘Not at all,’ replied Nicholas politely. ‘The day after tomorrow, then.’
Once inside the coach, silence fell for a few minutes. Then Eden said idly, ‘You did well with Rosie, Nick.’
He laughed. ‘Who wouldn’t? The child is a little charmer and promises to rival her mother in looks one day. Speaking of which – you might have warned me.’
‘I enjoyed seeing you gawp like a fish. I don’t believe there’s a man born who doesn’t do that the first time he sees Venetia.’
Lydia said thoughtfully, ‘It can’t have been easy for Phoebe, growing up with a sister who looks like that.’
‘Two,’ said Eden succinctly. ‘I believe there’s another one almost equally stunning. But these days Phoebe is the most sought-after girl in the county. She owns the family estate – and runs it, too. Rather efficiently, I believe.’ He shrugged. ‘Cats to catmint, I imagine.’
‘That’s not as much fun as you’d think,’ muttered Lydia.
‘No. I suppose not.’ Eden paused and then said, ‘Before I forget – if you don’t hear from Hetherington by noon tomorrow, let me know and I’ll pay him another visit.’
‘You don’t need to do that. I can deal with it.’
‘You don’t frighten him,’ returned Eden with a grin. ‘Nick …since we’ll be passing the door, I’ll let you out there. Then, once I’ve taken Mistress Neville home, I’ll walk back so the driver can return the coach.’
Nicholas smiled in the darkness … but said nothing.
* * *
Back in Bishopsgate, Colonel Maxwell handed Lydia down from the coach, passed the driver a few coins and sent him on his way.
Giving Henry her cloak, Lydia said, ‘Is my brother at home?’
‘Sir Aubrey took supper and then retired. I believe Nancy found him asleep over the fruit tart,’ he replied with the suggestion of a smile. ‘I have taken the liberty of placing wine in the parlour, Madam. Will there be anything else?’
‘Oh. No. Thank you, Henry.’ Lydia looked at the Eden, feeling suddenly awkward and wondering what the correct etiquette was when entertaining a gentleman alone after ten o’clock at night. ‘Would you care for wine, Colonel?’
He hadn’t planned to stay. He’d intended to see her safely inside the house and then leave. But now the offer was there, he found himself accepting it.
Once inside the parlour, with candles lit, curtains drawn and the door closed behind them, Lydia busied herself pouring wine and tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make the moment seem any more intimate than it already did. But before anything suitable occurred to her, Eden said slowly, ‘Please tell me that Henry wouldn’t leave you alone with just any fellow at such an hour?’
‘No.’ She put the wine down beside him. ‘He regards you as a special case.’
‘Why? He knows virtually nothing about me. I could be a dangerous lunatic.’
‘If you were, I think both he and I would have noticed it by now.’
‘I keep my depravity well-hidden.’
She laughed. ‘Of course you do.’
‘And you’ve dismissed your only protection.’
Lydia looked at him, trying to fathom this rather odd conversation.
‘Yes,’ she agreed calmly, ‘But fortunately I have a very loud scream.’
‘Ah. And assuming that I gave you the opportunity to use it – which, as a dangerous lunatic, I wouldn’t – how long would it take Henry or your brother to come to your rescue?’
‘Heavens – I don’t know. Two minutes? Three?’
‘Shall we find out?’ asked Eden. His tone was pleasant, his eyes curiously intent. He took a step towards her and then another. And when she merely stood her ground, staring at him, he said helpfully, ‘You’re supposed to be alarmed.’
‘Well, I’m not. I know you’re not going to attack me. The notion is ridiculous. And --’
‘Have you not realised yet that attacking you isn’t all I might do?’
Another step brought him to within easy touching distance but it was the sudden darkening of his voice that made Lydia want to step back. Forcing herself to stand still, she said a shade irritably, ‘Why are you doing this?’
It was a good question. Why was he doing it? He’d begun it because he didn’t like the idea of her being alone with any man other than himself … but she’d already said that didn’t happen. So at what point had his focus turned into something quite different? Something he ought to resist but suspected he wasn’t going to.
‘I told you. I want to see how long it takes Henry to get here after you scream.’
‘But I’m not going to scream. Now … please sit down and drink your wine and let us talk of something else. I thought M
istress Clifford was rather taken with Nicholas, didn’t you?’
‘Perhaps. At the moment, I’m not particularly interested either way.’
Without warning, Eden stretched out a hand and ran the back of his curved fingers down her cheek. This time, taken unawares by the gesture, Lydia did retreat, her eyes flying wide. He smiled and advanced again. ‘Ah. Now you’re alarmed.’
‘No. I’m not.’
‘Not even a little bit?’ Another step towards her.
And another one back. ‘No.’
‘Liar.’
This time he stepped right up to her, sliding an arm about her waist and using his other hand to tilt her chin. Lydia promptly forgot to breathe.
‘This,’ he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, ‘is where you’re supposed to fight me off and shout for help.’
She dragged some air into her lungs and said unevenly, ‘If I … if I simply asked you to let me go … would you?’
‘Normally, yes. But not, I think, tonight. Because you wouldn’t mean it, would you?’
‘That would depend on – on what you have in mind.’
‘Ah.’ He smiled slowly, deep into her eyes. ‘Just one thing.’
And he kissed her.
It was no more than a butterfly brush of his lips but it still made Lydia gasp – which was all the encouragement he needed to pull her a little closer and tease her mouth open with his own. All through the evening – and probably for much longer than that – something at the back of his mind had been telling him that he wanted this. So he took his time, savouring the taste of her and enjoying the way her body seemed designed to melt into his own.
Lydia had stopped thinking at all. This moment was everything she’d imagined and never dared hope for. Somehow her hands shifted from the hard muscles of his arms, to his shoulders and finally into his hair. His mouth invited, tempted, offered. And her body responded with a growing wave of unfamiliar sensations that made her hot and dizzy.
Eden wasn’t sure when the knowledge that she wasn’t going to fight him off filtered hazily through his brain … but, when it did, he realised that it was up to him to call a halt before things went further than they should. Regretfully, he released her mouth and stepped back.
Lydia looked at him, her skin flushed and her eyes wide and confused. She said nothing.
Eden cleared his throat. Finally, because he already knew that giving way to temptation had been a mistake, he said, ‘Well. Delightful as that was, I suppose I should apologise.’
‘For what?’ Her voice sounded odd, as if she hadn’t used it in a long time.
‘For becoming distracted. I meant to demonstrate what can – and usually will – happen when a man has the opportunity. I didn’t intend to be quite so … thorough.’
A cold, hard lump formed in Lydia’s chest.
‘You’re telling me that you were making some sort of point?’
No. God, no. ‘That was the original intention, yes.’
‘I see.’ She drew herself up very straight. ‘Just how naïve do you think I am? No. Don’t answer that. You’ve already made it very clear.’ She managed a chillingly sweet smile. ‘Should I thank you for the lesson? As you said, it was … pleasant.’
Pleasant? That stung every bit as much as he suspected she meant it to.
Forcing another stupid impulse back where it belonged, he picked up his hat and said blandly, ‘You’re angry. I should probably go. Unless you’d like to slap my face first?’
‘No. But next time you decide to treat me like an imbecile, I suggest you do it from a distance. And yes – you should definitely go. Now, if you wouldn’t mind.’
Now, before I humiliate myself more than I already have.
Eden hesitated for a moment, suddenly unsure. Then he bowed, wished her good night … and left. Outside on the steps, he hesitated again. He’d done something monumentally stupid and then compounded it by lying. The quickest way to mend that was to walk back inside and admit it – which would probably end with him kissing her again. But even as he turned on his heel, he heard the sound of the bolt being slammed home with unnecessary force.
Ah, he thought ruefully. Too late, then. And I can’t honestly blame her.
~ * * ~ * * ~
SHADOW DWELLERS
October 1654 to January 1655
‘Weeds and nettles, briars and thorns have thriven under your shadow; dissettlement and division, discontent and dissatisfaction, together with real danger to the whole.’
Oliver Cromwell to Parliament
ONE
Lydia slept hardly at all. He’d kissed her and, for the space of a few precious moments, she had actually dared to hope. Then he’d ruined it and left her feeling as though the ground had crumbled beneath her feet.
Idiot, she told herself, furious and miserable. You ought to have known it meant nothing to him. He kissed you because he could. That’s all. Then he regretted it and that stupid, insulting excuse was just his way of stopping you taking it too seriously. Worse … he knows now. He knows you want him. She groaned, shoving her head under the pillow. Oh God. How am I ever going to face him again?
Next morning, heavy-eyed and listless, she went downstairs to find Aubrey finishing breakfast. Looking up, he said, ‘This is a rarity. Am I late – or are you early?’
‘I couldn’t sleep. And Lily’s girls will be here in another hour or so.’
‘What?’
‘We need more space at Strand Alley so some of the women are working in one of our spare rooms until I arrange it,’ she said impatiently. ‘Since they’re never here at the same time as you, I knew you wouldn’t notice.’
Aubrey eyed her narrowly.
‘Are you all right? You look a bit out of sorts. Was your supper-party not enjoyable?’
Out of sorts? Lydia had a crazy impulse to laugh at the euphemism. Instead, she said, ‘Supper was fine and so am I. Go to work. Colonel Brandon’s wife and her sister will be visiting the Morrells today. Try not to stare.’
‘You’re not making much sense this morning, Lyd. Why would I stare?’
‘You’ll see. And for the love of God, stop calling me Lyd!’
Aubrey left the house and, in due course, the women arrived with their usual cheerful bustle. Lydia found the effort of trying to look and behave as normal despite the lead weight in her chest, exhausting. She was just contemplating locking herself in her room, away from the rest of the household, when Henry announced that she had a visitor.
It was Lawyer Hetherington, clutching his hat and looking extremely red-faced.
He said, ‘Mistress Neville – I cannot apologise sufficiently. Such a thing has never happened in my office before. In truth, I cannot conceive how such an occurrence could --’
‘Mr Hetherington,’ cut in Lydia crisply. ‘Could you please come to the point. Have you located my deeds or not?’
‘We have. My junior clerk found them this morning. They had slipped from their bindings and got wedged in the side of the drawer. I deeply regret the inconvenience this has caused – quite unforgivable, of course. But all is now well and order has been restored.’
‘Good.’ Lydia wondered why she didn’t feel more relieved. It should be a weight off her shoulders – yet somehow it wasn’t. Attempting to pull herself together, she said, ‘I hope you’ll ensure that nothing of the kind happens again?’
‘Indeed, Mistress Neville. Indeed I will. And on a happier note, I have reached a favourable agreement regarding the Strand Alley premises, based on the assumption that your requirements will be long-term.’
‘Good,’ said Lydia again. And when he continued to turn his hat in his hands, ‘Was there anything else?’
‘I hoped,’ he said hesitantly, ‘you might inform Colonel Maxwell that the other matter has been satisfactorily resolved.’
‘Oh yes,’ she replied flatly. ‘I’ll tell him. Don’t worry about that.’
* * *
Eden read the curt little note and cursed under hi
s breath. At some point in the darkest hours of the night it had occurred to him that the problem might be worse than he’d first thought. It wasn’t simply that she objected to being treated like some foolish little ingénue. She was also insulted and perhaps even slightly hurt that he hadn’t kissed her purely because he wanted to. Except that he had. Only she didn’t know that because he’d lied about it. He suspected that an apology, no matter how sincere, wasn’t going to fix this. The only thing that might was telling her the complete truth.
There was no ulterior motive. I wanted to kiss you and I’d like to do it again. Hell, I’d like to do a lot more than kiss you. But I won’t because marriage is out of the question and you need a husband, not a lover.
Yes, he could say that. She was a reasonable woman so she’d understand and accept it. But if he believed that, why had he lied in the first place?
Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, he thought, thoroughly annoyed with himself. Then, looking back at the note, Convenient – the deeds turning up like that. Lydia seems to believe it. I’d believe it myself but for everything else; though it has to be said that stealing the documents, then putting them back seems a pointless exercise. I wonder …’
His ruminations stopped abruptly at the sound of someone taking the stairs two at a time. Then Tobias strode in grinning and said, ‘Missed me?’
‘We noticed that the rations went further,’ responded Eden, rising to take his brother’s hand. ‘How is Tabitha?’
‘Fine. She’s fine.’ Tobias dropped into a chair. ‘She has to rest a lot, of course – but, God willing, it’s going to be all right this time.’
‘I’m glad. If that’s so, your time won’t have been wasted.’
‘She needed me there,’ came the shrugging reply. ‘So … what have I missed? Turner says business has been steady. You’re still here – not dashing off on some new quest. And I suppose Nick is busy chasing his widow … so what’s new?’
‘Parliament is in session. I’m engaged in what you might call diplomatic work for Lambert. And Nick is most emphatically not chasing Lydia Neville.’