by Darcy Burke
Ethan had pivoted toward the fight and now cast Jason a sidelong glance. “I told you: no questions.”
“And I told you: You have to earn my trust.”
Ethan shook his head. “Not that way.”
His patience rapidly dissipating, Jason straightened and adopted a normal tone. “Then we’re done here.” He took a step, but Ethan stayed him with a firm, but not rough, hand on his arm.
“For now. But I’ll see you again soon.”
Jason shook him off, uncomfortable with almost brotherly gesture. “You’re clearly used to being in command, but not with me.”
Ethan glanced down. “Just so long as you don’t expect me to lick your boots.”
Jason recalled he had demanded something like that years ago. Was it any wonder they weren’t close? “Fine, we’ve both been pricks. I’ll endeavor not to be one now. Happy?”
Though he didn’t smile, Ethan’s eyes lit with something that might have been mirth. “Immensely.”
Chapter Twelve
THE NEXT day, Lydia drafted a letter to Jason. It included her proposed guest list as well as the musicians he should hire. After Aunt Margaret reviewed it—and made her own adjustments—it was posted and delivered.
There was a slight chance a response would arrive today, but Lydia wouldn’t hold her breath. She resolved herself to a day without hearing from him. Or seeing him, since tonight she and Aunt Margaret planned to stay in.
Thankfully, Audrey called to break up the monotony of Lydia’s day. She greeted her friend in the sitting room facing the street. “Audrey, I’m so glad you’ve come to save me from expiring of boredom.”
Audrey smiled as she removed her bonnet. She set her hat on the settee and leaned toward Lydia. “Is your aunt about?” she whispered.
“She’s napping.” Lydia went and closed the door, then joined her friend who’d sat down on the settee.
Audrey huddled close. “What happened with Lord Lockwood last night? I was hoping to talk to you after the musicale, but I had to leave with my grandfather.” She frowned in regret.
Lydia’s heart fluttered as she recalled her interlude with Jason in the portrait gallery. She’d relived his kisses a thousand times since then, which had led to a rather sleep-deprived night. But Lydia didn’t care. “It was the most spectacular evening of my life.”
Audrey’s eyes widened. “Did he kiss you?”
Warmth rushed up the back of Lydia’s neck. “Yes.”
Audrey’s entire face lit up, and she clasped Lydia’s hand. “I’m so happy for you! You’re happy, aren’t you? You seem happy.”
Lydia squeezed Audrey’s fingers. “I’m practically giddy. But you know how Aunt Margaret feels about him. So for now, I have to tread cautiously.” Lydia had told Audrey all about her aunt’s hatred of his mother and her glee in anything negative that befell him.
Audrey shook her head. “There’s nothing she can do if he offers for you. Then you’ll be free of her, and you’ll be happy.”
Would she be happy with Lockwood? Sharing stolen kisses was one thing, but leg-shackled to a man with a reputation for sin? Actually, she didn’t mind the sin part—after all, she had enjoyed his kisses rather a lot—so long as he was still included in Society. Which he hadn’t been for quite some time. A situation he seemed rather content with.
She let go of Audrey’s hand. “I didn’t say I was going to marry Lockwood. Nor has he asked.” He hadn’t even indicated courtship, but then she suspected the kiss and subsequent kisses had caught him as unaware as they’d caught her.
“Oh.” Audrey’s face fell and her voice drooped with disappointment.
“Come now, don’t be melancholy,” Lydia cajoled. “I’m helping him to plan a party. One without his usual entertainments.”
Audrey blinked at Lydia in wonder. “Your aunt is letting you do that?”
Lydia cocked her head to the side. “In a way. I tried to convince her that it would be a social boon for me to help him, but she didn’t agree. So I had to promise that I would expose the secrets of Lockwood House.”
Audrey touched her arm. “You wouldn’t.”
“Of course not. But I had to say it to gain Aunt Margaret’s approval. Furthermore, she’s reading every letter that goes between me and Lockwood House so she can ‘supervise’ the planning.”
Audrey set her hands in her lap and gave Lydia a look that was a bit . . . Machiavellian. “You should have just helped him secretly. If you posted your missives to him through me, your aunt would never know. I’ll make sure he gets them.”
“You would do that?” Lydia straightened, her mind cavorting ahead of her tongue as she considered Audrey’s brilliant idea. But she didn’t want to get her friend into any trouble. “I hate for you to risk your own reputation by helping me.”
Audrey lifted a shoulder. “What are best friends for? Besides, I’m already a wallflower. No one would care if they learned I was corresponding with Lockwood House.”
Lydia hated that Audrey thought she was beneath everyone’s notice, but there was nothing she could do to change that since she was, unfortunately, correct. How foolish they all were too, because when it came to friendship and loyalty, Audrey had no match. “What a relief it will be to tell Aunt Margaret I’m no longer helping him. Thank you so much. I’m touched you’d risk so much to help me.”
Audrey blushed, and Lydia knew it was because she was unused to such praise. Her family rarely consulted her about anything. “As I said, I’ve very little to risk. You, on the other hand . . . ” Her gaze flicked to Lydia’s chin—and presumably the mark there. “You don’t have to stay with her.”
“And what would I do? Return to Prewitt Hundred to live amongst the sheep? I have no friends there and certainly no prospects.” She shuddered.
“No, but I could ask Grandfather if you could stay with us here in London.”
Lydia’s heart swelled at her friend’s kindness and concern, but it wouldn’t solve her problems. “My father wouldn’t allow it. He sends my allowance provided I remain under Aunt Margaret’s chaperonage. Besides, I wouldn’t put it past Aunt Margaret to publicly ruin me if I crossed her.”
Audrey audibly inhaled. “She hasn’t threatened that, has she?”
“Not directly, but she’s fond of reminding me that my position is enviable, that any young woman would delight to be under her care and protection, that I should feel extremely fortunate and demonstrate proper respect, given the tenuousness of my position.” The threat was clear enough to Lydia.
Audrey’s lips rippled in a soft frown. “I see.” She was quiet a moment, then a look of distress marred her features. “But then why would you help Lord Lockwood at all? If the risk of your aunt’s wrath is too great, why chance it?”
Lydia considered this. It was most definitely a risk, but she felt as if her time were running out. She didn’t know how much longer she could endure Aunt Margaret’s demands, not when she really and truly wanted to put gossiping behind her. “Because for once I have the opportunity to help someone instead of tear them down.”
Audrey smiled softly as she nodded. “I understand. And I’m so proud of you.”
Her words meant more to Lydia than anything. She was more determined than ever to help Lockwood be a success. He deserved nothing less, and she wouldn’t let her aunt ruin him. “I should write a letter to Lockwood now, if you truly don’t mind delivering it?”
“I offered, didn’t I?” Audrey’s gaze was direct and very comforting. “This will work, trust me.”
Lydia stood and went to the small desk in the corner.
“Don’t forget to tell him to respond via me,” Audrey said.
Lydia nodded as she pulled out a piece of parchment and dashed off a note informing Jason of her plan. She folded the paper and gave it to her friend as she sat back down beside her. “Here. I shall be on tenterhooks until you deliver a response.”
Audrey tucked the letter into her reticule. “I’ll post it straightaway. Or perha
ps I’ll have a footman personally deliver it.”
Lydia touched her friend’s arm. “I don’t want to get you into any trouble, and sending your footman to Lockwood House may draw unwanted notice.”
“Pshaw. Like I said, no one will notice.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and Lydia wished all of London could see how smart and beautiful her dearest friend was. Lydia put her arm around Audrey’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Someone will notice you some day, and I daresay it’s going to be even more glorious than my portrait gallery rendezvous with Lockwood.”
“That would be very nice,” she said softly. “Very nice indeed.”
“Oh, that reminds me!” Lydia straightened. “I must tell you something, but you can’t tell a soul.”
Audrey’s eyes widened in mock outrage. “Lydia Prewitt, how many secrets have you entrusted to me over the years? You know I would never reveal anything on pain of death. Didn’t I just offer to be your secret courier?”
Lydia laughed. “Yes, but this isn’t my secret, it’s someone else’s, and I don’t want it repeated for a change.” The irony in her tone was thoroughly intentional. “I’m going to teach Mr. Locke how to dance. Actually, I think you should help me. It would be easier for me to direct him with a partner.”
“You want me to partner him?” Audrey looked a bit spooked. “I rarely dance.”
“Don’t be silly. That doesn’t mean you don’t know how. Besides, I don’t trust anyone else besides you to keep this a secret.”
“Why is it a secret?”
“People already question where he came from, and he’s a bastard to boot.” Lydia realized she’d extended her campaign of assistance to Lockwood’s half brother. Perhaps if she helped enough people, she’d be able to cancel out the hurt of the gossip she’d spread. But no, life wasn’t an accounting ledger and she couldn’t really expunge the things her aunt had forced her to do. She’d do good because it was right. “He’s simply trying to fit in.”
Audrey’s eyes took on a far-off look. “I can understand that.” She refocused on Lydia. “Of course I’ll help. But if you conduct the lessons here, there’s no way it will be a secret. Your aunt will broadcast the news everywhere. We’ll have to do it at my house.”
Lydia wasn’t sure that was the right solution either. “If Mr. Locke is seen visiting, that could raise eyebrows.”
Audrey laughed. “Maybe it will help my reputation. Really, Lydia, I don’t have anything to lose.”
“Everyone is capable of being ruined.” Lydia didn’t want that to happen to someone as kind and thoughtful as Audrey.
“Not if you don’t care what other people think,” Audrey said quietly.
Was that true for Audrey? Did she not care what others thought of her? She certainly didn’t care about her wallflower status, and didn’t see the point in being popular. It was, Lydia acknowledged, interesting that the two of them had become such close friends.
Lydia stood. “I’ll write another note for you to deliver to Mr. Locke at the Bevelstoke. I don’t want to risk Aunt Margaret seeing me correspond with him either.” She sat at the writing desk once more and turned to Audrey. “When shall we do it?”
Audrey shrugged. “Thursday?”
“Thursday it is.” Lydia penned the letter, folded it, and gave it to Audrey.
Audrey tucked the missive into her reticule along with the note to Jason. “Locke won’t mind that you’re involving me?”
Lydia was a touch nervous about that, but had explained her reasoning in the letter. She’d also explained that Audrey was the most trustworthy sort—more than Lydia—and since he’d seen fit to entrust her with his secret, he’d have to accept Audrey into the bargain.
And if he didn’t? Lydia chose not to think about that.
LATER THAT afternoon, Jason sat in his office with Scot, regaling him with the story of his encounter with Ethan at the Bucket of Blood.
“You didn’t discuss the Curzon Street robbery with him?” Scot asked.
Jason shook his head. “He wasn’t forthcoming. I tried to ask him about Lady Aldridge, but he wouldn’t say anything beyond asking me to trust him. Can you imagine?” Jason still wasn’t prepared to ignore a lifetime of animosity and blindly trust Ethan—particularly when he was a criminal and clearly hiding something. Or somethings.
“Pity I haven’t been able to learn anything at the Bevelstoke.” Scot crossed his arms. “Jagger genuinely seems like an ordinary gentleman who just happens to employ a somewhat odd-looking manservant.”
Yes, Ethan was quite accomplished, but then a criminal like him would have to be.
“When do you plan to see him next?” Scot asked. “And can I come? I think I need to see this for myself.” He’d been shocked that Jason and Ethan had shared a conversation without coming to blows.
Jason leaned back and stretched his legs out beneath the desk. “He’ll be coming here for my party.”
Scot rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and leaned forward. “Do you really think you can pull off a ‘vice-free’ party?”
Before Jason could answer, North entered bearing a letter. “This was just delivered, my lord.”
As it was written in a feminine hand, Jason wondered if it was from Lydia. He tore open the missive and read its contents.
Jason,
I will need to help you plan your party in secret. Do not be concerned about this! All correspondence will be filtered through Miss Audrey Cheswick. We are confirmed on the date of two Fridays hence?
Additionally, I should like to set up a meeting at Lockwood House so that I can ascertain the entertainment space and perhaps sample some of your cook’s offerings. Please advise.
Yours,
Lydia
Yours.
Was she his? He didn’t necessarily want her to be—the whole marriage avoidance thing—but the signature gave him a thrill nonetheless. He suddenly couldn’t wait to see her. “North, do I have an invitation to something tonight?”
“You do not, my lord.”
Jason suddenly realized he was at least partially smiling and only hoped he didn’t look like a mooncalf. He schooled his features into indifference. “Tomorrow?”
North inclined his head. “A dinner party.”
“That from your lady?” Scot asked with more than a hint of teasing in his tone.
Jason gave him a mock glare. “It’s from Lady Lydia. She is not my lady.” He turned his attention to North, whose eyebrow was raised just the faintest bit. He would never offer cheek like Scot—not that Jason would’ve cared since he liked the camaraderie he shared with both men—but the subtle reaction was telling. “Out with it, North.”
“Has Lady Lydia given any further instruction?”
“No. She only confirmed the date of the party. She already sent the guest list and the names of musicians, correct?” Jason trusted North to handle everything, just as he did for the other parties.
“Indeed, my lord.”
Jason recalled the other part of her missive. “And we need to plan for her to tour Lockwood House.”
Scot leaned forward in his chair. “She’s coming here?”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” North asked. “I can easily describe the room situations to her via post.”
Jason wasn’t sure it was wise at all, particularly given how badly he wanted her. “Perhaps.”
Scot grinned at his brother. “He wants to bring her here.”
North arched a brow in response.
Scot winked obnoxiously at Jason. “You going to show her the dress-up room?”
He hadn’t thought of that, but now images of her in the fantasy room crowded his mind. Oh no, inviting her here wasn’t a good idea at all. “No, I simply require her help. What the devil do I know about planning a legitimate party?”
Scot shrugged. “You host the most illicit parties in London and now you want to invite a young miss into your lair. I’d say you know next to nothing about planning a legitimate anything.”
North coughed, but it sounded suspiciously like he was covering up a laugh.
“What an insolent pair you are,” Jason said without heat. He speared both men with a suffering stare. “I’ll think about whether it’s appropriate to arrange a meeting here.”
“Sounds like you care about her,” Scot said without even a hint of sarcasm.
Yes, he supposed he did, but he was still a bit reticent. So far she’d proven herself to be different from her aunt—just how much remained to be seen. “I do.”
“When’s the wedding?” There was the sarcasm.
Jason raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, caring about her doesn’t mean I’m going to marry her.”
Scot, ever the nosy-Jones, cocked his head to the side and asked, “Why’d you show Cora the door then? You’ve never kept on with anyone so long, and her departure seemed abrupt.”
Jason wasn’t entirely sure except that after she’d come to his office and seen him in that state, he just couldn’t take her to bed again. “I was ready for a change.” But for marriage? He’d completely written that off.
Scot unfolded his arms and held them up in surrender. “All right.” His eyes were mischievous as he turned them back toward Jason. “But if you’re ready for a change and Lady Lydia isn’t your preference, I know a couple of Cyprians you should invite to the next party. One of them is new to Town. Tall, blond, legs to here.” He held his hand up to a thoroughly hyperbolic height above his head.
“Thank you, Scot,” North said crisply. “If you spent half as much time focusing on your duties as you do tossing up skirts, you’d be the most sought-after valet in town.”
Scot rolled his eyes. “I was so hoping Sarah would work that stick out of your arse.”
“Yes, well, we can’t all be as loose as you.”
Jason didn’t bother hiding the smile their bickering brought to his lips. They were brothers through and through—teasing each other, supporting each other, loving each other. Was there any chance he and Ethan could have the same? Jason had never, ever imagined it. And now?