by Martha Keyes
Thomas was certainly happier than he had been the day before, but Lydia was exhausted. By the time dinner was finishing, she couldn’t stifle a yawn.
“You have yawned no fewer than four times since dinner began,” Diana said. “Why don’t you let Jane take the little foundling tonight? It would do you good to have a full night of rest. If he continues to feel out of sorts, you shall need all the sleep you can get. Besides, he seems to be well enough today.”
“He does,” Lydia said, but she balked at the idea of letting him sleep elsewhere. He had become a comfort to her in her room. Whenever she looked over at him in his cradle, she could almost imagine she was living the life she had dreamed of. But it was just that: a dream.
She couldn’t deny she was exhausted, though, and the prospect of a night of undisturbed sleep was enticing. “I think you are right, though. Perhaps for tonight, we can move his cradle to Jane’s room.”
The four of them played a few games of whist after dinner was over, and Lydia caught Miles looking at her a number of times. What was he thinking? They used to talk so freely with one another. But things were different now. She had too many thoughts and feelings he wouldn’t approve of. And certainly he must, too. It was those suspected thoughts which had plagued her for so long now.
When the final game concluded, they made their way upstairs together, and Diana and Mary bade them goodnight as Lydia and Miles stopped before his door again. Lydia swallowed nervously.
The door to Diana’s and Mary’s bedchambers closed, and Lydia glanced at her husband. There it was. That uncertain look in his eyes again. The one that made the guilt burgeon inside her, as if he was afraid she might strike him if he said anything.
“Would you like to come in?” he asked.
What was the answer to his question? She didn’t know. All she knew was she was tired of rejecting him, tired of keeping her walls up, tired of sleeping alone. She was tired.
She swallowed and nodded, and the smile she was rewarded with gave her a bit of courage. He took her by the hand and led her into his room. She hardly knew what she was agreeing to by coming with him. Did he want to talk? To sleep beside her again? To finish the kiss they’d nearly had that morning. Or did he want…more?
He pulled her along until they came to the bed, and her heart beat wildly as he turned toward her.
“Lydia,” he said, and he put a hand to her face.
His words, his hand—they were so gentle. They always were.
“Yes?”
He looked down into her eyes then rested his forehead against hers. “Last night, being beside you again….I haven’t slept so well in months.”
His nose brushed lightly against hers, and she shut her eyes as his hand went to her waist.
“It gave me hope,” he said.
She stilled. “Hope?”
“Yes,” he said. “It has been so long since…”
She drew back slightly, her stomach flooding with waves of nausea. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t allow him to think that there was hope. It would crush her—the expectation, the disappointment. All over again. Month after month after month. She couldn’t bear it. This was all a mistake.
She broke away. “I can’t, Miles. There is no purpose to….I can’t.” She put the back of her hand to her mouth and hurried from the room.
Chapter 15
Miles stared at the door that shut softly behind Lydia. She hadn’t even used the door to her bedchamber. She’d used the one to the corridor, as if, in her hurry to leave, she was also rejecting the little connection they had managed to develop over the past few days.
He ran a hand through his hair, and the gesture reminded him of the playful way Lydia had done just that this morning. What had happened to so suddenly drive her away? What was it she had said? There is no purpose to…And she had left it unfinished. No purpose to holding one another? To the hope he had mentioned?
He had been too quick, too eager to pull her into his arms. He hadn’t intended to. He had wanted her company, more than anything. And perhaps to lay together as they had done the night before, but this time, he had wanted to be certain that it was what she wanted and not simply because she was too tired to know exactly what she was doing. And when she had agreed to come in with him, he had been so relieved and surprised, he had let his impulses take over. He wanted her to know how much he yearned for a reconciliation between them, to feel his love for her.
Miles slumped down on the bed and dropped his head in his hands, rubbing at his forehead harshly. He had scared her away. She didn’t want any of that. Had she not made that abundantly clear over the past year? She no longer wished for that sort of relationship with him. What she wanted was a child, and Miles couldn’t give her one.
Besides, she had Thomas now. What did she need Miles for?
The next morning, Lydia didn’t show any sign that she resented him for what had happened in his room the night before. She didn’t mention it at all. She was, as usual, focused on Thomas, whose fussiness over the past two days was discovered to be due to the tooth that had popped through his bottom gums.
Lydia congratulated him on his achievement, and Miles had to stifle a scoff. As if Thomas had done anything personally to deserve praise for sprouting a tooth. He hardly could have prevented it.
Miles nipped such thoughts in the bud. Was he truly going to allow things with Lydia to sour how he felt about something like Thomas gaining a tooth?
He needed to get out of the house. It would be good for Lydia to have some time with her sisters without him there. They had been around each other more in the past week than they had been for many months before. Perhaps they both needed some time away. His mother had sent a message over with one of her servants that morning anyway. She seemed to be feeling neglected. He would pay her a visit.
“Oh,” his mother said in blinking surprise when he stepped into the parlor. “I thought you would bring the others.” She sat before a tray piled with biscuits.
He stooped to give her a kiss on the cheek. “You mustn’t sound so disappointed, Mother.”
“Come now. I could never be disappointed in a nice coze with my eldest. Do sit down and help me eat this mountain of biscuits.”
Miles took a seat and gladly obliged. His mother always provided the most delectable biscuits.
“What are the Donnely sisters doing, then?” she asked. “Surely they haven’t gone out in this weather.”
“No,” he replied. “They are at home. Playing with Thomas, I imagine, or perhaps sitting at the pianoforte.”
His mother’s brows went up. “The baby is still there, then.”
“Yes.”
“How long do you mean to keep him? Were you not looking for a situation?”
Miles shifted in his seat. “Well, you know how busy everyone is right now. We had intended to wait until everything settles down after Christmastide has come to an end—and the weather isn’t quite so cold.”
She put down her teacup with a pinching of the lips. She disapproved. He wasn’t surprised, but he had never outgrown the discomfort he felt when he knew his mother was dissatisfied with his decisions. Her approval was so rarely given that he found himself craving the way it felt to have it. It had been quite some time since he had received it.
“I hardly see what the weather has to do with it.”
He shrugged. “There are more people in need when it’s as cold as it is now. I imagine we will have more luck finding a good situation in a week or so.”
“That may be, but at what cost to yourselves?”
He frowned and took another biscuit. “What do you mean?”
“My dear, does it not concern you how”—she hesitated—“well, how obsessed Lydia is with the child?”
Miles swallowed. “Not obsessed, surely.”
She shot him a significant look. “She insists on feeding it, putting it to sleep, keeping it with her when company is there—things most women don’t even do for their own children.”
She gave a reluctant nod. “I don’t say it to criticize her. Only that it worries me. For her sake and for yours.”
“Why?”
She tipped her head from side to side as though debating, but Miles had the sense that what she was about to say had been on her mind for some time. “She is getting no younger, you know, and time is of the essence. The last thing she needs is something to distract her from the task before her. You need an heir, my dear. And, sweet as he might be, that little baby is not your heir.”
Miles suppressed the urge to pull on his cravat, which was feeling too snug. It wasn’t as though he had forgotten that he needed an heir—indeed, how could he?—but such an aggressive reminder of the fact, and from his mother specifically….It brought on the feelings of ineptitude and failure he had managed to evade over the past week or so.
She was looking at him thoughtfully, but she dropped her gaze to her teacup, running a finger along the tip. “Everything is well with you two, I take it?”
His brows drew together.
She cleared her throat. “I mean to say, nothing is amiss in your…relations?”
Miles’s eyes widened, and he felt a rush of heat rise up his neck and into his cheeks. “Mother, I…”
She hurriedly set her teacup down. “I don’t mean to pry. Only, I have known cases where women are disinclined to raise children and yet have convinced their husbands otherwise. Taking pennyroyal or ergot in secret to prevent pregnancy.”
He clenched his jaw together, fighting off the anger and frustration he felt at the implication that Lydia was concealing something like that from him. “I can think of no woman who wants a child more than Lydia does.”
“I’ve upset you,” she said with apology in her eyes. “I assure you, I didn’t intend to. I just…I so want you to be happy, my dear. I would never wish for you to be deprived of the very great joy I—or your father—have felt as your parents. Your success is my only aim in even mentioning such a delicate topic. I hope you know that.”
He let out a breath through his nose and offered an apologetic smile. “Of course, Mother. I could never doubt it.”
She reached for his hand and pressed it within hers. “You are meant for great things, Miles. I have always known it.”
Chapter 16
Lydia watched Miles with a bit of apprehension on his return from his mother’s. As foolish as it was, she could never keep herself from fearing that, anytime he was with his mother outside of Lydia’s company, the dowager baroness was doing work to turn Miles against her. It was an unreasonable thing to think, and yet the suspicion crept in despite her best efforts.
He did seem to be a bit more withdrawn, and his greeting of Thomas was more disinterested than usual. She felt guilt and regret creep into her. Had her rejection last night sent him back into his shell? She couldn’t blame him, really. She was impossible to please. Too much affection shown on his part, and she ran away; not enough, and she felt neglected, unwanted. But how did she stop feeling that way? She could pretend, she could act, but what good would that do?
Miles spent the better part of the afternoon in the study, conducting some matters of business he claimed he had been putting off, while Lydia and her sisters delved into a book Lydia had found at the lending library before the cold had set in. She laughed along with Diana and Mary, but the truth was, she felt anxious inside. She had tasted what it felt to be back in Miles’s arms, and she was terrified that she would ruin any future chance of it happening again—that perhaps she already had.
“Is Jane prepared to take care of Thomas tomorrow evening?” Miles asked as they sat at dinner.
Lydia gave him a questioning look. “I…I didn’t know she would need to.”
He paused with his hand over his soup, looking at her. “It is the Gallaghers’ dinner party.”
“Oh,” she said. “I had entirely forgotten.”
“I’m afraid I already sent our acceptance more than a week ago. I don’t feel like I can forgo it after Gallagher’s support of the bill I’m putting forward when Parliament begins again. There will be dancing.”
She didn’t want to go, in truth. She had used to enjoy such gatherings, but they had lost much of their pleasure over the years. She inevitably returned home feeling like a failure after hearing their friends and acquaintances talk of their burgeoning families and being urged and asked about when they might expect to see Lydia’s and Miles’s family grow.
“Do you wish for me to go alone? Make your excuses?” It was asked without any accusation, but Lydia didn’t miss the guarded look that came into Miles’s eyes. He was already expecting her refusal.
“No,” she said with a smile. “I will go with you, of course. Thomas will be asleep by then, anyway. And Jane is capable of ensuring he has everything he needs if he does wake.”
Miles smiled at her, the bit of strain in his eyes disappearing. He was pleased with her response. And she would do her best to ensure he had an enjoyable evening. This was a chance to reconnect, and she couldn’t waste it.
For the first time in recent memory, Lydia took great pains with her toilette, giving much more instruction to Sarah than was her custom. She ran a nervous, gloved hand down her dress, a red satin that looked rose-colored with its embroidered gauze overlay. She wanted to be a credit to Miles—as much as she could be, at least.
When she joined him in the entry hall, the look of admiration in his eyes and the way he brought her hand to his lips sent a little thrill up her spine. It was reassurance enough that she had done right to join him. They needed each other, didn’t they?
He handed her up into the carriage and hesitated for the briefest of seconds before sitting beside her rather than across from her. He spread a fur rug across her legs then hit a fist on the roof, and the carriage pulled forward.
“Thank you,” he said, and he took her hand in his. “For coming, I mean. I know it isn’t easy for you to leave Thomas.”
She looked over at him, searching his eyes as much as the dim light of the carriage would allow. What did he think of her attachment to Thomas? “Am I silly to worry over him?”
He stared at her for a moment then shook his head, but he said nothing, and both of them were left with their thoughts for the short journey to the Gallaghers’.
The street was lined with carriages, with men helping ladies out of the carriage and onto the icy streets. It was a larger party than Lydia had anticipated, and the knowledge made her feel nervous all over again.
“Good evening, Lord and Lady Lynham,” said Mrs. Gallagher as they entered. “How wonderful to see you. I’m afraid my husband is speaking over there with Lord Napley, but I’m sure he will find you at some point this evening. We weren’t entirely certain who we could expect. There are many more people in Town than is generally the case at this time of year, but so many are keeping indoors. I should have known I could depend on you.”
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Miles said.
Mrs. Gallagher squeezed Lydia’s hand. “You are certainly looking lovely this evening, Lady Lynham. You have always been a great beauty—I forget just how lovely until I see you. If I’m not mistaken, I recognize the glow you have about you.” She smiled conspiratorially.
Lydia’s own smile faltered, and she tried to reinforce it. The attempt fell woefully flat, she knew.
“Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Gallagher,” Miles said. “We are always happy for an opportunity to see you.”
She wished them an enjoyable evening and turned to the next guests.
Miles covered the hand Lydia had on his arm with his own, pressing it lightly in a comforting gesture. “She is right, you know. You are looking lovely this evening.”
She gave him a grateful look. Mrs. Gallagher would be mortified if she discovered her offhand compliment had elicited such discomfort from Lydia. But that was just
it. No one tried to make her feel badly about their lack of children. Everyone intended well. But they couldn’t possibly fathom the ache their words brought to her heart or the burden that hundreds of such conversations could amount to over time.
Would there ever be a time when people simply realized that Lord and Lady Lynham would never have children of their own? The weight of everyone’s hope was nearly as crushing as the weight of Lydia’s despair. If only people could resign themselves to the fact, she might be able to begin doing so as well. And Miles, too. But of course their words must always be reminding him of what he didn’t have.
She took in a fortifying breath and let her eyes rove over the crowds.
“Would you like to dance?” Miles asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Please.” Dancing had a way of reviving her spirits and distracting her in just the way she needed. It was a country dance forming on the ballroom floor, and Lydia felt her mood lifting as soon as she stepped into place in the set. The way Miles smiled at her from across set her heart aflutter and made her forget Mrs. Gallagher’s words.
They had been to many balls together in the past year, but dancing had been rare, generally only done when they had been pressured to do so by an acquaintance. It had been polite and formulaic. Tonight, though, was different. Miles’s gaze stayed trained on her the entire time, and the usual mistakes he made had Lydia laughing and her cheeks sore by the end of the set.
Some couples remained, while others broke from the line to seek refreshment. Miles offered up his arm to Lydia, and they followed the latter parties.
“Lord Lynham!”
Lydia glanced over, and the smile on her lips faltered. It was Lord and Lady Venton, leaving the dance floor as well. How had she not noticed that they had been among the set? Or at the party at all? She couldn’t resist a look at Miles, and he looked just as surprised as she did.