Carrying the Gentleman's Secret

by Helen Dickson

  ‘I’m sorry, Lydia. A few weeks ago Irene saw you in Alex’s carriage driving away from the bank. Irene mentioned it to me and I told her I had no idea who you were. When we met in the park that day, being the busybody that I am, I asked Alex a few impertinent questions. He told me what had transpired between you and the bank manager and how he had stepped in to help you.’ She had the grace to look contrite. ‘I did tell Irene about it. I’m sorry. I should not have been so indiscreet.’

  ‘Please—don’t worry about it,’ Lydia said tersely, having credited Alex with more discretion. Looking at Miss Hilton, though, she gritted her teeth, longing to slap this woman’s impertinent face, but common sense prevailed. There was nothing she could do about the knowledge Alex had imparted to his sister, but there was nothing like a smile and politeness to confuse a foe or charm a friend, and Lydia’s lips curved graciously. ‘He has not taken me under his wing, Miss Hilton, but he has certainly been generous enough to give me a temporary loan—on a proper business footing, naturally.’

  Irene gave her an arch look. ‘Naturally. I can imagine how difficult it must be for someone in your position to find the necessary funds to begin a business. How fortunate you were to be acquainted with Alex—and to have him pay for it all.’

  Lydia stared at her, trying not to succumb to her rudeness. Irene Hilton was supposed to be a lady or at least pretend that she was, whereas she, Lydia, brought up in some of the meanest streets of London where she’d soon learned to fight and fend for herself, had no such pretensions. This woman’s father might be a gentleman whereas her father was a ne’er-do-well. But if life had taught her one thing, it was how to defend herself, and if Irene Hilton ever did anything to threaten her she would be sorry. Her heart thudded painfully, but she must show no concern or distress. She must smile and pretend her rude remarks were nothing to her. This woman did not know—nobody knew—what was between her and Alex Golding and she had to keep it hidden.

  ‘I was indeed fortunate,’ she said as she eased the stiffness in her jaw and forced a smile to her lips, her voice quiet and controlled.

  ‘And is it business that brings you here today to see Alex?’

  Lydia met her gaze directly. ‘What else would it be, Miss Hilton?’

  ‘What else indeed. So, you have opened a shop—a dress shop. Goodness! How awful for you. I cannot imagine what it must be like having to wait on hordes of women like that.’

  If Irene hoped to see a flicker of emotion pass across Lydia’s face she was disappointed, for Lydia continued to smile—even though Irene made it sound as though Lydia had opened a house of ill repute. ‘On the contrary. I design and make the gowns—with the assistance of the seamstresses I employ. I assure you I enjoy what I do and would not have it any other way.’

  ‘I see,’ Irene said stiffly. Having not managed to get a rise out of Lydia, with a slight nod and look of boredom, she picked up a magazine and moved away to sit by the window overlooking a terrace. She made no further attempt at conversation, clearly considering Lydia of no consequence.

  With an exasperated glance in Irene’s direction, Miranda seated herself on the sofa opposite Lydia, a small table between them on which a maid entered and placed a tray laden with the tea Miranda had ordered.

  ‘Take no notice of Irene,’ she said quietly, picking up the teapot and pouring the steaming beverage and milk into two matching china cups and handing a cup and saucer to Lydia. ‘She called in the hope of seeing Alex. She was disappointed and more than a little vexed when he disappeared into his study to discuss business with an associate. I feel he’ll keep the gentleman for as long as possible in order to avoid her.’

  ‘Little wonder she didn’t take my arrival too kindly. It is important that I speak to Alex today, but I don’t expect I shall detain him long.’

  As they sipped their tea they talked at length and Lydia found herself chatting to this friendly, engaging young woman as she had never talked to anyone before. Not only did she have a kind heart and a caring nature, she was also a woman of great energy. She was the sort of woman who conversed and laughed compulsively—the sort of woman who would be easily hurt. Her eyes sparkled as she listened with rapt attention to all Lydia told her of her business. She was genuinely interested and full of admiration for what Lydia was doing.

  ‘I can imagine what an exciting time this must be for you—wonderful and colourful, too, particularly when compared to my own often boring life. I envy you your freedom to do as you please, Lydia. It can’t have been easy for you, but your determination to overcome obstacles that might had prevented you from achieving your goal is to your credit.’

  Lydia laughed. ‘I haven’t—at least, not yet. I have a long way to go before I achieve the kind of success I’m aiming for.’

  ‘That may be, but I am full of admiration for what you do—to take the reins of your life and your destiny. It must be so fulfilling. I do believe that if there were more women like you, you would change the world, if possible, whereas I shall continue doing as I do now with nothing new on the horizon.’

  Taken aback by the intensity of the declaration and the fiery flash of passion in her eyes, Lydia smiled, part-friendly, part-quizzical. ‘But...you are to have a child. That in itself is fulfilling.’

  Placing her hand on the lower part of her abdomen, Miranda brightened, a softness entering her eyes. ‘Yes...yes, it is...or it will be.’ She bit her lip, lowering her gaze. ‘I hope that when the baby comes, Henry will be happy about it.’

  Lydia looked at her sharply. Guilty at the part she had played which had clearly driven a wedge between this lovely woman and her husband, and hating the deception, she placed her cup and saucer on the tray. ‘Why do you say that? Is there some doubt that he won’t be?’ she asked tentatively, uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation, but unable to avoid it.

  ‘Of course he will,’ Miranda was quick to assure her. ‘It—It’s just that...well...I shouldn’t really say this, but Henry does not always behave himself, which is why, after his last indiscretion with an unknown lady, I’ve come to London and left him in Surrey. I hope that after some time apart he will have missed me and promise to behave himself in the future.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lydia said quietly. ‘I hope so, too.’

  At that moment the door opened and Alex strode in. Lydia rose immediately. He looked straight at her, his firm mouth curling slightly at the corners, his eyes suddenly alive with interest. He was one of those men who always managed to move with an air of assurance, looking as if he would fit in anywhere. She thought it had to do with breeding.

  ‘Lydia! You take me by surprise. What brings you to my home?’

  ‘I’d rather not say...just now,’ she replied, glancing at Irene Hilton, who had put down her magazine and got to her feet when Alex came in. ‘I apologise for seeking you out at home, but there is something I have to say to you. It...is important.’

  ‘I see. Then please step this way where we can speak in privacy.’ Opening the door, he stepped aside to let her pass, casting a look at his sister and a quietly fuming Irene. ‘Excuse us, ladies.’ With that, he crossed the hall with Lydia and admitted her to his study, closing the door firmly behind her. Alone with her, Alex was faced with whatever reason Lydia had for coming to speak to him. She seemed nervous.

  Lydia found herself stepping into a room dominated by a large mahogany desk littered with papers and ledgers. In front of it were two comfortable leather chairs and high bookcases stocked with leather-bound volumes lined the walls. Above a white marble fireplace was an ornate, gilt framed mirror. Portraits and English landscapes and exquisite miniatures adorned the walls. Sunlight streamed through the windows and her feet sank into the thick dark blue carpet. This room was a typical representation of its owner. It was all so suitable for someone of his stature.

  Suddenly Alex appeared behind her, his arms going around her and drawing her back against his
chest. Her heart did a somersault when he bent his head and placed his lips on her neck. ‘Have you any idea how much I have missed you?’ he murmured.

  Lydia leaned into him, her body crying out for him while her head was saying something else. Closing her eyes, she savoured the moment, memories of their last encounter still fresh in her mind. She desperately wanted to remain in the haven of his arms and seek solace from the turmoil of her emotions, but she must not. She must be firm with herself.

  ‘Please, Alex,’ she said, gently but insistently disentangling herself from his arms and turning to face him. Taking several steps away from him, she was determined to put as much distance between them as she could for her own self-preservation. ‘I have something to say to you and I cannot do that if you persist in kissing me.’

  With a sigh, Alex reluctantly moved away from her. ‘Very well. There is nothing I want more than to kiss you senseless, but I suppose I can wait. Please sit down,’ he said, indicating a chair set by the hearth. ‘I’m somewhat curious as to why you are here. Whatever the reason I am glad to see you.’ A lazy, devastating smile passed over his features as he took the chair opposite her, crossing his long legs and steepling his fingers in front of his face, his eyes doing a slow sweep of her body so that Lydia could almost feel him disrobing her.

  ‘I see you have made the acquaintance of Irene. Did she endear herself to you, by the way?’

  ‘I am not truly acquainted with her,’ Lydia replied, her face rosy from his embrace and her heart beating a wild tattoo in her chest. ‘Apart from a few choice words on my arrival—and she did not endear herself to me in the slightest. Her manners leave much to be desired.’

  A slow smile curved his firm lips. ‘I’m sorry. She does tend to be outspoken.’

  Lydia shot him a hard look. ‘Outspoken? I am not simple, Alex. She does not like me and I know rudeness when I hear it. I think she considers me less than civilised. She certainly needs a lesson in manners. Are you going to marry her? Because if you are I advise you to reconsider.’

  He chuckled. ‘Heaven forbid! Good Lord, no! Irene is the sister of my closest friend. We have known each other since I was at university with her brother. She is both sophisticated and clever.’

  ‘And cold and dispassionate and difficult to please, I imagine,’ Lydia concluded drily. Realising that she had been too forthright with her comments she was immediately contrite. ‘I’m sorry,’ she sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that women like Miss Hilton are anathema to me.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. Now, enough about Irene. I would like to hear how your shop is going. Tell me why you are here. You said it’s important.’

  For a moment Lydia shrank from telling him the reason for her visit, but then she reminded herself that after what had passed between them so far, and what she had seen of his home today, she had to end it. Best she did it now. Her face took on a youthful dignity as she looked steadfastly at the proud and powerful Alex Golding, this man who had made such a big impact on her life in the short time she’d known him.

  ‘Yes—yes, it is.’ She sat forward, perched on the edge of the chair, as if poised for flight. A troubled shadow crossed his face and she realised that he knew perfectly well something was wrong. ‘I—I have come to tell you that I have no further need of your loan, Alex. I know it is a little late to be deciding this, but my financial circumstances have changed for the better recently. Indeed, I have been to the bank and asked them to return the money to your account—with any interest owing, of course.’

  Alex wasn’t smiling any more. He stared at her incredulously, as though she had changed into a different creature. His eyes hardened and his brows snapped together in an ominous frown. ‘What the devil are you saying? Why? Why do you no longer need the loan? You have only been in business a couple of weeks. Is it going so well that you can already afford to return the money you needed to start with?’

  His eyes burned more fiercely beneath the black brows, and Lydia’s heart beat faster as she read the huge disappointment in them. ‘I have told you...I—I no longer need it.’

  ‘You have found another source?’ he asked sharply.

  ‘Yes—someone who wants to invest in my business.’

  ‘Do you mind telling me who it is?’

  ‘Suffice to say that it is someone who has my best interests at heart.’ She was reluctant to tell him it was her father. Alex would be bound to question her about him. After working up the courage to come here today and with her heightened emotions, the last thing she wanted was to discuss her father and his motives for helping her. Alex was watching her, scrutinising, wondering.

  ‘I see,’ he said coldly. ‘You never cease to amaze me, Lydia. Do you mind telling me why my money is suddenly so repugnant to you?’

  She bristled at his mocking tone. ‘It is not. Please don’t think that.’ She sighed, wanting so much to reach out to him, but keeping her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. ‘Alex, please don’t make this difficult for me.’

  ‘That is not my intention. Is it Alistair who has offered to invest in your venture?’

  ‘No. He wouldn’t—not that I would accept it if he did. Alistair and I have gone our separate ways.’

  ‘Which is what is happening to us—if you have your way. Is it your wish to alienate yourself from me?’

  She paused—a heartbreaking pause—before she gave him her answer. ‘I have to. I must. My association with you has brought me nothing but trouble.’

  ‘Really? You were willing to take my money when it suited you.’

  ‘For which I shall be eternally grateful. But I no longer need it.’

  ‘For the time being, let’s forget about the money. I am more concerned about what it will mean for us—for the closeness that has developed between us.’ He watched her carefully, his impassive face concealing a simmering anger as he waited for her answer. He did not have too much difficulty reading her expression and he could see her features were tense with some kind of emotional struggle.

  Taking the bit between her teeth, Lydia took a deep breath, her face becoming hard, her expression closed, her green eyes fixed steadily on his. Half of her wanted to disappear, leaving behind this unbearable tension. The other half wanted to go to him and beg him to take her in his arms. Never had she felt more wretched, for what she was about to do was the worst thing she had ever had to do in her life.

  ‘There can be no us, Alex. Before you went to France you spoke of some kind of arrangement. I have given it a great deal of thought and I don’t think I was mistaken when I assumed the kind of arrangement you intended. I’m afraid that kind of arrangement does not suit me.’

  His face changed as her words and their implication hit him, but if he was startled by what she’d said he did not show it. His eyes became fixed to her face and gleamed like molten fire. ‘And may I ask what kind of arrangement you assumed?’

  ‘That—that I become your mistress.’

  Alex’s expression became pale with anger, which gradually became visible in every feature. He did not speak as he shrugged himself out of the chair and brought himself erect in one fluid movement. He turned away from her, straight and proud, and Lydia could almost feel the effort he was exerting to keep his anger under control.

  ‘I see,’ he said at length, turning suddenly to face her, on the verge of losing the struggle within himself. His pale blue eyes had gone hard between the narrowed lids, his face like granite, and he spoke with chill precision.

  ‘Your assumption was not correct, Lydia. Nothing was further from my mind. But was the prospect of becoming my mistress so abhorrent to you?’

  ‘Yes—I mean, no,’ she replied, confused as to how to answer his question put so directly. ‘The times we have spent together will remain close to my heart, but in all conscience I could not be any man’s mistress. My work—the shop—is important to me. If I were to form an
y kind of relationship with you, it would distract me from that. I cannot—after all I have done to start up on my own—allow that to happen.’

  There was such finality in those words that Alex was momentarily at a loss to know what to say. He could see by the implacable set of her chin and the way her face was set against him that coming here today was not a decision she had taken lightly. His face hardened into an expressionless mask, his eyes probing hers like dagger thrusts.

  ‘Damn it, Lydia! You are the most independent, self-reliant, stubborn woman I have ever met,’ he said tightly. ‘Can you tell me why, all of a sudden, I—as well as my money—have become repugnant to you?’

  ‘You—you haven’t.’

  ‘No? Then what am I supposed to think when you back out of the agreement we made?’

  ‘You mean the loan?’

  ‘What else? As far as I am concerned it is the only agreement we made. Do you know what a man thinks when he goes away and returns to find the woman he made love to telling him she no longer needs him or his money?’

  Lydia shook her head.

  ‘He thinks,’ he said dispassionately, ‘that perhaps someone else has taken his place in her affections—if not her bed.’ He spoke with biting scorn and gave her a look that chilled her. ‘Am I right, Lydia?’

  She stared at him in disbelief before fury lit her eyes and her cheeks flushed red.

  He smiled thinly. ‘You are blushing, Lydia,’ he said in an awful voice. ‘Is it guilt you feel? Have I hit upon the truth?’

  ‘No, you have not,’ she said, springing to her feet and glaring at him. ‘It is because I am furious. How dare you say that to me? Please credit me with a little more sense. Your accusation is both unjust and unfounded. But if I did have someone else, then it has nothing whatsoever to do with you. I am my own person, Alex, and I shall live and work as I please without interference from you.’