Aside from the pommel, she reminded herself, with a coy grin.
Edward looked up from his work as she entered, a good-natured smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked exceptionally handsome when he smiled, the expression bringing a wonderful fire into his dark blue eyes. Plus, it drew her attention to his lips, which looked soft and tasty.
Sometimes, she caught herself staring at them, wondering what it might be like to feel them against her, though she always looked away before he noticed. At least, she hoped that was the case.
“Will you ride today, Lady Lydia?” he asked, brushing the strands of hay from his trousers.
She nodded. “Eventually. However, I hoped we might sit awhile first.”
“Oh?”
“Only if that would not importune you,” she said hastily. He had work to do, whilst she was entirely at her leisure.
“It would not, My Lady.”
She sat down on one of the hay bales and fixed her gaze upon him. “Have you remembered anything?”
He shook his head. “There have been…I do not know how to describe them. Dreams, I suppose. Although, they are rarely clear, even though the pain in my head has subsided considerably.”
“What do you see?”
“Darkness, mostly. Sometimes, there is a horse—a silver one, I think, though it may have been the moonlight making it look that way. I hear hoofbeats, too. But that is all I can recall for now.”
Lydia nodded. “Do you think you might be married?” She knew it was brazen to ask such a question with such bluntness, but she was desperate to know. It had kept her awake at night, that fear that he might be a taken man.
“I do not believe so…although I cannot be certain.” He looked at her through thick, dark lashes. “I confess, part of me hopes that I am not.”
“And why might that be?” she replied, surprised.
“I dare not say.”
“You must,” she pressed, her heart pounding.
What if he felt the same way that she did? What if he lay awake at night, thinking of her in the same way that she thought of him? She could hardly suppress her nervous anticipation, lest she find she did not get the answer she wanted.
He shook his head slowly. “I cannot say.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“A touch of both, Lady Lydia.”
She dropped her gaze, feeling foolish. “I think I may ride now, Edward.”
“Very well, My Lady.”
She sat on the hay bale a while longer, as Edward prepared the horse with a different style of saddle. Once Conker was ready to ride, Edward approached her and took her hand, leading her towards the mounting steps.
She trembled at his touch, reveling in the firm grip of his large hand around her smaller one. He did not need to lead her all the way to the mounting steps, and yet he did so without fail. Indeed, she looked forward to it, for it was the only human touch she could experience beyond the affectionate hugs of her sisters and the occasional kiss on the cheek from her mother and father.
“You ride very well, Lady Lydia,” he said, as he helped her into the saddle. “You have taken to the change like a natural.”
“I much prefer it, thank you.” She smiled down at him.
“I confess, I enjoy watching you ride. There is a grace about you, especially when you feel free to do as you please.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You do?”
“Yes, Lady Lydia. It is as if I can see all your fears and worries falling away. I hope you do not mind?”
“Not at all, Edward.” Her hands shook as she held the reins, for she did not know how to process the information he had just given her. She did not want to hope too much, but she could not help herself.
The way he looked at her…why, nobody had ever looked at her like that. When he gazed into her eyes, it was as though she were the only woman in existence. It was as intoxicating as it was terrifying, for she knew nothing could come of such a flirtation. He was the stable boy, and she the middle daughter of a Duke. It was impossible.
And yet, my heart aches for him…
“Are you to attend Lord Sherringham’s ball on the morrow?” he asked, as she shifted in the saddle.
She arched an eyebrow at him. “How do you know of that?”
“The staff talk, Lady Lydia. They can speak of little else.”
A dark cloud gathered above her. “My mother is insisting upon it, or she will remove my ability to ride.”
“I am certain you shall be the belle of the ball.”
“And if I do not wish to be?”
A confused expression flitted across his face. “You do not wish to be?”
“I know that I do not want to be married, for I do not wish to engage in the kind of relationship that my mother and father share,” she confessed, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them. “They do not love one another, and what is a marriage without love?”
He smiled. “A business endeavor.”
“Precisely.”
“I am sorry, Lady Lydia.”
She cast him a side-glance. “Why should you be?”
“I cannot say, My Lydia.”
She smiled. “Cannot or will not?”
“A touch of both, Lady Lydia.” He released his hold on her and stepped away from the horse, allowing her to make her way out of the stables. She glanced back at him as she set off, noting the mysterious smile upon his lips.
Did it mean what she hoped it did? She could not entertain it.
Focusing on the expansive fields before her, she let the wind whip up around her face and moved away in a rising trot. As she felt the familiar pressure of the pommel against her, the sensation heightened by the new position of the saddle, she closed her eyes and thought of Edward. If she could not have him in reality, then she would have him in fantasy. A secret, kept all to herself.
Edward returned to his duties, his head brimming with thoughts of Lady Lydia, only to stumble against the stable wall. A surge of color flooded his mind, bringing an image with it. It emerged in hazy shapes and figures, hard to decipher. He saw a castle-like building set behind a moat, with grim stone walls and broken turrets. He did not recognize it, and yet he knew the image came from somewhere deep inside his subconscious. The image shifted to reveal a tall, thin, sickly-looking man, with dark curls and blue eyes.
Who are you?
“We must get the East Wing fixed,” a voice mumbled, coming from the thin lips of the sickly man.
“What is the use? We do not utilize it, and it is an unnecessary expense,” another voice replied, though he could not see who spoke.
Who are you?
He could not remember, though he fought to make the image clear. The harder he tried to cling to the vision, the faster it slipped away, leaving him reeling against the stable wall.
A stab of pain splintered through his skull, black dots filling his eyes as pulsating throbs pushed against his temples. As he caught his breath, he tried to figure out what he had just seen. Was it a dream? A vision? An imagined scene? He could not comprehend it, nor did it clarify anything in his head. If anything, it had only served to make him more confused.
Who am I?
He ran a hand through his messy blonde curls and walked toward the black stallion at the far end of the stables. The poor beast was rarely ridden and kicked the door impatiently whenever Edward passed. A sudden impulse took hold of him, as he led the creature out of its stall and began to tack it up with the equipment on the wall. As soon as the stallion was ready, Edward leapt up into the saddle and spurred it out towards the pastures beyond.
In that moment, he longed to do anything to rid him of his strange vision, and the thought of Lady Lydia being married off to some unworthy gentleman who would paw and fawn over her like a simpering fool. He did not want that for her, not after her admission. Instead, he reasoned he ought to indulge in her freedom, seeing her out in her most natural habitat.
The hoofbeats thundered th
rough him as he rode towards Lady Lydia, who was some way away. It felt good to be out in the expansive fields, with the muscular beast driving him on towards the apple of his eye. However, it reminded him of another creature—the silvery horse that he had witnessed in his dreams. He could not put a name to the beast, but he sensed that it belonged to him.
Where are you?
He did not have the answers and feared he never would. Then again, did he really want to remember, now that he had a newfound purpose? If he recovered his memories, he knew he could stand to lose a great deal. Lady Lydia being the primary one, even though he knew he did not have her. Far from it. She was an impossible fantasy, but one he wanted to bring into reality, preferably before the truth came back to him.
“Edward!” Lady Lydia sounded startled, as the stallion approached her mare. It sniffed Conker with excitement, bringing a smile to Edward’s face.
“He likes her.”
“Then he has exceptional taste.”
Edward brought the horse around so he could speak more closely with Lady Lydia. “If you could do anything and be anything, what would you be?”
For a moment, Lady Lydia said nothing. And then, in one heartbreaking sentence, she sealed their fate, making him fall helplessly in love with her in one fell swoop.
“Free.”
Chapter 7
“Are you not excited, Lydia?” Mary squealed, as she watched her big sister dress for the occasion of Lord Sherringham’s ball. Caroline had joined them and seemed in good spirits. Although Lydia did not care to find herself a husband, she cared deeply for her sisters and was always in support of them.
Lydia smiled halfheartedly. “I do not care much for our rural balls.”
“Nor do I,” Caroline agreed. “I hear the balls in London are a sight to behold.”
“Would you change your mind if we were to attend one of those?” Lydia said, with a chuckle.
“Change my mind?”
“About marrying?” Lydia sank down on the edge of her bed, in a rustle of emerald-green bombazine. “It would take the strain from my shoulders.”
Caroline reached over and squeezed her sister’s hand. “You are the beauty in our family, Lydia. The gentlemen at these balls barely cast me a second glance.”
Lydia’s heart broke. “That is not true, dear sister. You know it is not. You are just as fair as I, if not more so, and you have a far greater intellect than I. You do not spend your evening’s reading Grecian myths. Instead, you read sermons. Any man should be fortunate indeed to have you as his wife.”
“Even so, I believe my time is long past. At five-and-twenty, I am getting somewhat long in the tooth for the institution of marriage. Mother has quite given up, and so I thought it high time that I did, too. The Lord shall be my husband, and I shall not want.”
Lydia gripped tighter to her sister’s hand. “Tell me that these unfounded beliefs are not your reason for choosing religion over marriage?”
“The truth does not lie, Lydia. I know my worth, and I am past the time for courtship and romance. I have been out in society for eight years now, and I have not had a single offer of engagement. Nor would I want one, for I find these society gentlemen to be most uncouth.” She was trying to put a brave face on her sadness, but Lydia could sense the true misery behind her sister’s downcast expression.
“Oh, Caroline.” She realized how selfish she had been, indulging in her own fantasies whilst ignoring the plight of her eldest sister. “I shall do what I can to find you a suitable bachelor this evening, even if Mother decides to chain me to some unsuitable gentleman. I swear that I shall.”
“You must not, Lydia. It is too late. You must pursue your dreams, not mine.”
Mary snorted. “Lydia does not dream of marriage.”
“Mary is quite right. You are the one who deserves love, not I. It is your right to be married first, as you are the eldest. I am quite firm in my resolve—I will matchmake as if there is no tomorrow, Caroline. I promise you.” Lydia flashed her eldest sister a grin and caught the upturn of the slightest smile on her lips. In truth, she did not wish to find a husband for herself for she already had a gentleman in mind, despite his station. If she could not have him, then she would not have anyone.
“You are too kind, Sister.” Caroline dipped her chin to her chest, a shy look on her face.
“No, dearest Caroline, you are the one who is too kind. Had I known this was the reasoning behind your desire to pursue religion, I would have scolded you on the spot. You are infinitely more lovely and charming than I, or any young lady in Beresfordshire. Tonight, they shall all see.” She laughed brightly. “Now, we must do something to spruce you up, for marigold is not your color. Mother knows that, and yet she insists on putting you in such gowns. How would you feel about emerald green?”
The three girls erupted into joyous laughter, that echoed from the bedchamber window and down to the stables below, where one young man was listening intently.
The carriage pulled up outside Lord Sherringham’s estate an hour later, with Lydia and Caroline being chaperoned by their mother. Lord Sherringham was a local Baron with grand ideas for himself, and he loved to throw excessive events to draw in the elite of the surrounding area.
Lydia stole a glance at her mother. She had yet to see the changes that Lydia had made to Caroline’s clothing, but the two sisters shared conspiratorial looks as they stepped out of the carriage and up the steps to Lord Sherringham’s manor. As soon as their cloaks were taken, their mother shrieked and clamped her hand to her mouth.
“I had that gown designed for you, Lydia. Why have you done this?” she hissed, pulling her daughters to one side.
“So that we might find Caroline a suitable match,” Lydia replied, matter-of-factly.
Their mother’s face relaxed. “Oh…well then, I suppose we ought to make our presence known.”
Lydia glanced at her sister as they walked through the grand hallway of the manor, heading for the sound of merriment. There were already a lot of people present, with the corridors and rooms turning into something of a crush. Lydia abhorred balls at the best of times, but she detested them all the more keenly when she could not even muster the space to breathe.
They entered the ballroom and found a vacant spot to stand in, so they might watch the revelers at play. An orchestra had just struck up a jaunty tune, and the dancers had taken to the floor.
Lydia scoured the congregation for any sign of suitable men, for Caroline did truly look wonderful. The emerald green complemented the dark shade of her hair, and the pale brown of her eyes, and made her stand out like the rarest of jewels.
She noticed a young man across the way watching Caroline intently, and felt her heart swell. If she could successfully match her sister with an eligible bachelor, then all would be well. She longed for her sister’s happiness as keenly as her own. Indeed, it had very little to do with the fact that, if Caroline found herself a husband, the pressure would ease from her own shoulders.
“He is looking at you.” Lydia nudged her sister and nodded at the man in question. He was tall and broad, with a plain but pleasant face, and a curly mop of auburn hair coiffed atop his head. Caroline cast him a shy glance, and the gentleman smiled.
“He is looking at you,” Caroline protested.
“No indeed, you are quite mistaken. It is you he has taken a liking to.”
Caroline dropped her gaze. “You have spent far too much time with your books, and riding with rogues in the fresh air. You have quite lost your mind.”
Lydia felt her heart jolt. “What did you say?”
“About what?”
“Rogues.”
“I saw you ride out with that stranger earlier today—he on father’s stallion, and you upon your mare. You ought to urge him to be more discreet, for Father would have him hanged if he discovered that his horse was being ridden.” She smiled kindly, but Lydia lost all her buoyant mood.
It was true, she had been rather indiscreet, but
then she had not asked Edward to join her. He had done so of his own volition, and she had enjoyed every moment.
“That is his job, is it not, to see that the horses are well tended to?” Lydia swallowed her anxiety. They had done nothing wrong; they had simply ridden together. Where was the harm in that? The emotion behind the act was the problem, she knew; she was not foolish enough to deny that within herself.
Wicked Temptations for the Seduced Duchess: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 5