by Darcy Burke
Ethan shook his head. “It wasn’t. It’s just too bad you had to invite that bitch. But then I suppose you have to put up with her if you’re marrying her great-niece.”
Jason wasn’t sure that was going to happen after what he’d just done. In fact, if he were to place a wager, he’d say the odds were against him. “I doubt it will come to that.”
“Marrying her or tolerating the bitch? I hope you don’t mind, but I do believe that’s how I’m going to refer to your great-aunt-in-law.”
Jason wasn’t in the mood for Ethan’s humor. He wanted to be alone. With a drink. He looked at the shards of glass littering the floor and the whisky pooling around them. That was a problem.
“Jason?” Ethan snapped his fingers. “You’re really in a state.” He frowned. “Is this how you were after our fight?” he asked softly, his voice filled with remorse.
Jason looked at him then, the mere mention of that day rousing his anger once more. “No, it was much worse, but then you didn’t stay to find out. I’ve learned to manage my rage since then. You ought to be thankful because if I hadn’t, you’d resemble that lot.” He gestured to the debris.
Ethan slowly nodded. “I suppose shattered glass and ruined whisky are better than broken ribs.” He patted his chest.
Jason considered having another go at his brother’s nose. “You deserved those broken ribs.”
“I did.” His voice dipped. “But you didn’t deserve what happened to your face. Or your reputation. If I could go back to that day and change it all, I would.”
Jason wasn’t feeling brotherly or sympathetic. “Why, because then you wouldn’t be in your current mess?”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no need to be a jackass. I can’t change what happened seven years ago, but I can help you now.”
What a bloody hypocrite. “And I’m just supposed to let you do that when you’ll scarcely allow me to do the same?”
Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe it’s because I owe you more than you owe me. Now, what are you going to do to fix this cocked-up party?”
“Not a damn thing. It’s over.”
“I mean,” he said, raising his infernal eyebrow, “what are you going to do to set things right with Lydia? There was a moment in which everyone present was deciding whether you were a reformed reprobate or a genuine scoundrel—and you announced your engagement to a young woman who clearly gives a shit what Society thinks.”
The uneasiness he’d felt earlier in the drawing room after revealing their engagement grew into full-blown apprehension—and regret—as he realized what he’d done. Jason sat on the edge of his desk. “She’s not ruined—at least not by that. No one would fault her for not marrying me. In fact, she’ll weather the entire debacle just fine if she does what her aunt suggested and says there was no engagement at all, that I’m simply a blathering lunatic.” He slammed his fist on the desk, furious with Margaret’s meddling. “Dammit, I was trying to show Lydia that I wanted her, not Cora.”
Ethan dropped his arms, his expression grim. “I understand, but your timing was atrocious.”
Jason stared at the detritus on the floor. He’d lost control again. Maybe not as badly as seven years ago, but his performance in the drawing room wasn’t going to change any opinions about him.
Except for one.
He’d devastated the one person who’d wanted to see him succeed, who’d put her faith in him. And that made him feel like a failure more than anything else he’d ever done. What’s more, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it right.
Then, just as he’d feared, just as he’d guarded against all these years, his heart cracked into pieces as jagged and varied as the glass cluttering his floor.
LYDIA WOULD have hid in her bedchamber all of the following day, but Aunt Margaret had demanded her presence at the midday meal. Lydia was already seated when her aunt bustled into the room wearing a pinched expression.
“There you are at last! You’re such a coward—you can’t bury your face beneath your pillows. You’re more popular than ever, which is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” The question could have been phrased many ways, but Aunt Margaret delivered it with a healthy dose of venom.
Lydia scowled at her, seeing no reason to pretend she felt anything but loathing for the woman who’d been her guardian. “You know I didn’t.” She’d wanted to be liked and accepted, not pitied as the fiancée of a madman or derided as the fiancée of a blackguard.
Aunt Margaret took her chair at the table, and the footman began to serve their luncheon. “Well, as I said last night, you’ve certainly decided to shackle yourself to the wrong fellow.”
Upon leaving Lockwood House, Aunt Margaret had spent the entire coach ride home raving about her success and Lydia’s foolishness. Lydia had done her best to ignore her, which hadn’t been too difficult with Jason’s outrageous behavior haunting her memory.
Lydia wondered if she could ignore her again today and intended to find out.
However, that didn’t stop Aunt Margaret from continuing to rant. “Fortunately you have me to save you from the mess you made. No one expects you to marry Lockwood, especially not now.”
Because his actions last night had “proved” he was at least a scoundrel and perhaps a little bit mad. Lydia had spent half the night trying to decide if she ought to marry him or not. She had fallen in love with him, but if he meant to continue his ribald lifestyle after they were wed, she couldn’t endure it.
She couldn’t make a final decision until after she explained that her father recalling her home was irrelevant to her accepting his marriage proposal. And he had to explain . . . well, quite a lot. She understood why he’d become so angry—Aunt Margaret had done everything in her power to provoke him—but he’d bungled things horribly. What did he expect her to do now? Meekly follow him to the altar with all of London ridiculing her? Maybe he didn’t care about his reputation, but she did. A life on the fringe would be no life at all. Even Audrey would have to discontinue their friendship.
“Though you failed to help ruin his party, I’ll offer you another chance to remain in London.” Aunt Margaret eyed her skeptically. “If you throw Lockwood over, I’ll convince your father to let you stay here.”
Another devil’s bargain. “So if I cry off, you won’t care that I don’t want to help you gossip any longer?”
Aunt Margaret twisted her lips in a manner that demonstrated more disgust than disappointment. “If it means the complete ruination of that crazy scoundrel, yes.”
Then, because Lydia could think of no reason to censor herself, she simply let go of the emotions she’d held inside for so long. “How could you do that to him? His life was ruined seven years ago—and you played no small part in that by continually badgering his mother. You’ve done the same to him at every opportunity over the past weeks. What did he ever do to you? Not his father, not his mother, him. You’re carrying on a feud that doesn’t need to exist. I can only imagine you’re doing it for the simple pleasure of watching others be humiliated.” She recalled the conversation she’d had with Jason in the billiards room at Lockwood House about people needing to watch others in pain and decided her aunt was simply. . . sick.
Margaret set her fork beside her plate. “When you’ve been brought as low as I was, you want to see those responsible share in your suffering. And that includes those they hold most dear. Revenge isn’t pretty, Lydia, but it is very, very satisfying.” She stood up from the table. “So what will you do, break Lockwood’s heart or run away to obscurity?”
Hopefully there was a third choice where she and Jason resolved things and married. How Lydia would love to see Aunt Margaret’s face if that happened. In the meantime, she’d put her off. “I don’t know.”
Aunt Margaret pursed her lips, and as if she could read Lydia’s mind, said, “Don’t be stupid and think to marry him anyway. Mark my words, he’s as mad as his mother. Outbursts like the one he had last night preceded her mental collaps
e. It’s only a matter of time before he follows suit.” The relish in her tone was palpable.
Jason had been provoked—by Aunt Margaret. Lydia had to wonder if her aunt had also provoked Lady Lockwood’s outbursts. She claimed not to know what had pushed Lady Lockwood over the edge at that dinner party, but Lydia was suddenly certain it had been Aunt Margaret’s taunts and innuendos.
Aunt Margaret exhaled and then clucked her tongue. “You likely find me heartless, but really Lydia, having a heart will only cause you sorrow.” She turned and departed.
The footman swept up the dishes, and Lydia, her mind overrun with thoughts, meandered from the table to the adjoining drawing room. She went to the windows and looked at the small terrace and garden behind the house.
Lydia stared at the garden until she heard her aunt leave the house. She relaxed slightly knowing that Aunt Margaret had gone, but the ultimatum she’d delivered weighed heavy on Lydia’s mind. She turned from the windows as the butler entered.
Tate clasped his hands behind his back. “Lady Lydia, Lord Wolverton is here to see you.”
What on earth was he doing here? And to see her? Lydia turned fully toward the door. “Show him in.”
She instinctively smoothed her skirt and curved her lips into a welcoming smile.
The broad-shouldered gentleman strode into the drawing room. He looked around and assessed the space before settling his gaze on Lydia. “Good afternoon, Lady Lydia, I do hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all. However, my aunt is not at home.” Lydia couldn’t imagine why he was here to see her, particularly when he was of an age with Aunt Margaret. Although, Lydia had never known the two of them to speak, which made his call even more curious.
“That is just as well because I came to see you.” He looked around again then said, “Is it too much trouble to ring for tea? Perhaps you’ve a maid who can bring it in?”
It was an odd request—Tate, the butler, could easily serve them—but perhaps Lord Wolverton did things differently in his household. She smiled at him and went to ring the bell pull. “Our housekeeper can bring up a tray.”
Tate reentered, and Lydia instructed him to have Mrs. Erickson deliver tea.
As soon as the butler left, Lord Wolverton gestured for her to sit and then followed suit, depositing his tall frame on a blue patterned settee. “You have a butler and a housekeeper? But perhaps not much else given the size of the house?”
Was he making small talk? Lydia wasn’t sure what to make of his questions, but didn’t wish to be rude. She situated her skirts around the gilt legs of her chair. “We’ve three maids, and a trio of footmen. Our housekeeper does the cooking with the assistance of one of the maids.”
He nodded. “I see. A good complement then.” He smiled benignly. “I do hope you won’t find the reason for my visit to be too forward, but after last night’s . . . activities at Lockwood House, I simply had to pay you a call.”
Lydia assumed he’d come to ascertain whether she was actually going to marry Jason or declare him a madman. She didn’t know about the former and would never do the latter. Adopting her haughtiest tone, she said, “I’m afraid I’m not interested in discussing what happened last night. Perhaps you should return when my aunt is at home.”
He chuckled. “No, no, my dear. That isn’t why I came. In fact, I called hoping to find you at home without your aunt. I believe she’s probably out recounting last night’s debacle to anyone who will listen, no?”
Yes, and unlike Lydia she had no problem advertising Jason’s “lunacy” to the entire population of England. Lydia suddenly felt very weary and only wished to get to the point of this visit. “Then why have you come?”
“To lend support, which I suspect you’re in need of after last night. You surprise me, Lady Lydia. I’d always assumed you were a model of your aunt. I’m quite delighted to see you are not. You are not to blame for anything that occurred at Lockwood’s party. The battle between your aunt and Jason Lockwood’s family is old and complicated.” Wolverton’s very gray and very bushy brows dipped low over his eyes. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to share with you some things you likely don’t know about your aunt. Some things that might put her in a different light.”
Lydia stared at him, her curiosity more than piqued. But no one ever dared gossip about Aunt Margaret. “You’re not afraid of upsetting my aunt?”
“Not at all. I’m not the least bit afraid of your aunt. I do believe, however, that she is quite afraid of me.” His eyes twinkled as if he appreciated that fact. She ought not care that he gloated. Aunt Margaret certainly deserved such treatment. However, Lydia found she didn’t have the stomach for it—even at her aunt’s expense.
Mrs. Erickson entered with a tea tray and poured out. When she departed, Wolverton picked up his tea and took a long sip. “Has your aunt ever told you about her youth? Her first Season?”
“Yes. She said she was close to becoming engaged to Lord Lockwood, but that he threw her over for the current Lady Lockwood.”
“He threw her over?” Wolverton laughed deeply. “I suppose that’s not terribly far from the truth, but it sounds as if she neglected to share a detail or two. He did drop her like a stone—but only after she gave him her virtue.” His eyes hardened. “You see, some gentlemen think it acceptable to enjoy a lady’s charms and then cast her aside to become another man’s problem.”
Lydia was glad she hadn’t yet picked up her teacup for she surely would have dropped it like Miss Vining had done weeks ago when Jason had appeared at Mrs. Lloyd-Jones’s tea. “Lord Lockwood sounds a perfect reprobate.” Did people know of this? Had it contributed to Jason’s reputation? She was worried then that her face drained of color because she realized that Jason had done the precise same thing to her—though he hadn’t cast her aside. Yet.
He wouldn’t. But his hurt expression and his outrageous behavior pervaded her mind.
He might. He hadn’t rushed over here today to apologize or assure her that the engagement was actually real.
She tried to keep her attention focused on the conversation at hand instead of her wild imaginings.
“Yes, Lockwood was quite the scoundrel.” Wolverton shook his head with disdain. “However, you can’t blame him entirely. Your aunt was desperate to marry. When Lockwood turned his attentions elsewhere, she came after me.”
Lydia tried to follow along. How was it Wolverton knew these intimate details? Unless Lockwood had shared them. “Did Lockwood warn you away from her?”
“No, in that respect he was a gentleman.” He sighed with regret. “I’m afraid I learned of your aunt’s indiscretions firsthand . . . though I’m not proud of my own actions. I was carried away. I wanted to marry her. Until I realized she hadn’t been honest with me.”
And now Lydia could see that her aunt hadn’t been honest with her either. She’d said that Jason’s mother had employed dishonest measures to steal Lockwood, that Harmony Lockwood had spread lies about what her aunt had done to entice him—lies that now seemed to be the truth.
Furthermore, Aunt Margaret had also given herself to Wolverton. Despite all of her aunt’s cruelty and machinations, Lydia felt a pang of sorrow for the young woman who’d made foolish choices and likely seen her dreams crushed. She began to see how her aunt had perhaps become corrupted. She’d acted rashly and had paid for her behavior, though she’d amazingly avoided ruin. Perhaps she’d then set out to ensure she was never on the wrong end of scandal.
Lydia internally shook herself and focused on Lord Wolverton who’d gone back to sipping his tea. “I take it your engagement to my aunt wasn’t publicized?”
“No, no, it was never that formal. She enticed me, I professed my love, things . . . progressed, and when I discovered she was no longer pure, I told her I couldn’t marry her. Please understand, I would never have gone down that path with her if I hadn’t fully intended to wed her. And I still would have, if it hadn’t been clear that she was using me to provide a name for her unborn
child.” Lydia couldn’t stifle her gasp. Wolverton grimaced. “Perhaps I’m the lesser man for it, but I couldn’t commit my life to someone who would do that.”
Lydia was shocked by every one of his revelations. “What happened to her child?”
“I assume she lost it. She never left town to whelp.” He shrugged. “I’m telling you this so that you can perhaps understand the reasons for your aunt’s hatred of Lockwood and his family. I’m sure she sees your fiancé as a copy of his father—just as I mistakenly took you for being like your aunt.” He shook his head and his mouth spread in a self-deprecating smile. “I should have known better than to judge you like that.”
Lydia was surprised by Wolverton’s kindness. She’d also wrongly cast him as a frightening peer who fancied himself above everyone around him. “Why didn’t you tell anyone about what my aunt had done?”
Wolverton’s face wrinkled into an expression of distaste. “I don’t care for gossip, and I saw no reason to ruin her. As it was, certain gentlemen talk amongst themselves, and she was all but ruined anyway. It’s a pity, but I’m afraid the situation was of her own making.”
Lydia picked up her teacup and took several sips because she didn’t want to say that it took at least one other person to create that situation. Indeed, the whole conversation made her uncomfortable, largely because she was guilty of the exact same indiscretion.
Lord Wolverton set his teacup down. “Tell me, Lady Lydia. How do you plan to wield this information?”
Lydia blinked at him. “I don’t.”
Wolverton drew back in mild surprise, but quickly covered by shaking his head. “Not publicly of course, but from what I could see last night, you might want to strike back at your aunt. It’s clear she doesn’t hold your fiancé in very high esteem.”
No, she didn’t, but revealing that Lydia knew of her scandalous past wouldn’t change her opinion of Jason. And anyway, it might not matter. Not if there wasn’t a marriage. “I think it’s best to leave the past where it belongs—in the past.”