“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.
“See that he keeps his distance, lest Father hang him for another reason,” Caroline warned.
Lydia suddenly felt flushed, her head spinning. “I must take some air.”
“Shall I accompany you?”
She shook her head. “I will be quite well, Caroline. I believe that young man is coming to ask you to dance.” With her sister distracted by the approaching gentleman, and her mother in the middle of an intense discussion with another overbearing mother, she took off down the nearby hallway and pushed her way out of the stifling house. The night air hit her in a wave, washing over her feverish cheeks and slowing her rasping breaths.
There was nobody else out in the gardens, though she knew it was improper for her to be out here without a chaperone. Someone would come looking for her soon enough, but she did not desire company. All she wanted was to be alone…or with Edward. The crush of the revelers was too much, the sound of the music too loud, and the heat much too overwhelming. Indeed, she could not face the thought of heading back in, even if she knew she would have to.
A sound distracted her, making her head snap up in fright. Pricking up her ears, she listened out. A quiet jangle echoed through the air towards her—she knew that sound better than she knew the call of her own name. It was the clink of stirrups and the clash of metal bolts in the reins of a horse.
“Is someone there?” she muttered in fear. “Show yourself!” She had not forgotten the shadowed figure she had spotted on the riverbank that night, though he had not shown himself since. In fact, she had almost convinced herself that her younger sister had been right, and it was merely one of the cottagers taking a shorter route home.
“My Lady, I did not mean to frighten you.” A voice drifted back through the darkness, soft and sweet.
“Edward, is that you?” she gasped.
Up ahead, a dark mass loomed. Casting a nervous glance back at the house, she ran towards it, only to discover Edward sat astride her father’s stallion, both of them blending into the night. She was both exhilarated and terrified to see him there, for he was putting them both in grave danger.
“You should not be here,” she said.
“I did not intend for you to see me, My Lydia.”
She frowned. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I wanted to insure that you were safe.” He bit his lower lip. “I cannot explain it, but I had this sudden urge to come to you, fearing that you might be at risk. It may sound foolish, but I had to know that you were well. I apologize for startling you.”
“You are the one that shall put us at risk, Edward. If you are discovered here…oh, I cannot bear to think of it. Please, return home and pretend you were never here, I beg of you.” She lifted her hand to his and pushed gently on the stallion’s neck. It whinnied in distemper.
He dipped his head. “And you are not in any danger?”
“Not as yet, but I shall be if someone comes out here and finds us talking.”
“I apologize.”
“There is no need for apology, but you must leave now.” She pushed the horse’s neck again. This time, it turned dutifully.
Edward looked back over his shoulder with a warm smile. “You look beautiful, My Lady.”
“Go!” She could not help but grin, though she felt as though they were teetering on a knife edge and could fall at any moment. As she watched the horse charge away into the night, she felt her heart surge with elation. He had come to her out of fear for her safety, standing guard over her without her even knowing. She realized he might have waited out here all night, just to be sure that she was fine.
Just when I thought I might be able to keep him in the realm of fantasy.
There was no mistaking the intent in his behavior. Ordinary gentlemen did not stand sentinel over a lady, without their even knowing. They did not make such grand gestures unless they could be certain of a reward, yet Edward had done so without hope of recompense or praise. He had not intended to be discovered, which could only mean one thing—he cared for her.
She clasped her hand over heart. “But what can come of this?” she whispered to the moon overhead. “I feel something for him, I am certain that I do, but what can we possibly hope for? It is hopeless.”
* * *
The Bradford ladies stepped back into the carriage just after midnight, after a somewhat successful evening. Although several gentlemen had asked Lydia to dance, she had refused on the grounds of a supposed headache. Caroline, on the other hand, had danced several dances with one gentleman in particular. As they departed, she could speak of little but him.
“And did you see how graceful and elegant his arms were?” She sighed and rested her head against the glass.
Their mother smiled. “He was very pleasant indeed, Caroline. I do not know much of his family, but I shall endeavor to do some investigating on your behalf. He seemed exceedingly charmed by you. I was quite surprised!”
Lydia rolled her eyes. “I cannot see why, when Caroline is as fair as she is. If you had taken her out of marigold gowns five years ago, she might have two sons by now, like Lady Rochefort.”
“Jealousy does not become you, Lydia,” her mother shot back.
“I have no reason to be jealous, Mother. Caroline looks exceptionally pretty this evening, and I believe she drew the eye of many an eligible bachelor. Had it not been for that gentleman stealing the places upon her card, she might have come away with several prospects.” Lydia nudged her sister excitedly, the two of them giggling with one another.
Lydia felt glad of her sister’s success, for that was all she wanted for Caroline—a flicker of happiness, not borne from a dusty book of sermons.
As the carriage rolled away and headed for home, Lydia turned her gaze out of the window to watch the silver moonlight in the black velvet night. The stars twinkled in the clear sky, the constellations spread out like glinting diamonds.
Her eyes widened as she saw a shadow, moving at a safe distance along the field that the carriage trundled alongside. She squinted into the gloom, her heart racing to the beat of those muffled hooves as she noted the black stallion and the cloaked rider sitting skillfully in the saddle.
He waited regardless…
Despite the dangers, he had stayed close to the Sherringham’s country abode until their carriage had departed. A nagging fear tugged at the back of her mind, preventing her from fully enjoying the idea of a personal guard. What terror had he imagined, that had urged him to come here so suddenly?
She knew he was no clairvoyant, but he had seemed genuinely concerned when they had spoken in the darkened garden. What danger had he envisioned, that had spurred on such a keen desire to protect?
Moreover, what dangers were they getting into, if they continued in this endeavor? He had revealed his truth to her by coming tonight; there could be no denying it now, no matter how impossible it seemed.
Love was blossoming between them, but how could it hope to grow strong in such confines?
I do not know, but I am eager to find out.
Chapter 8
The figure watched stallion and rider thunder across the field.
He had watched them leave and had lain in wait for their return. It did not take a genius to figure out where the Duke had gone, for it was quite clear that he was newly enamored with the fine Lady Lydia Bradford, and feared for her loyalty if she attended Lord Sherringham’s ball.
The watcher had discovered more about the Duke in the time that had passed since his arrival here, unearthing the rather amusing fact that the Duke had an ailment of some sort that was preventing him from leaving the grounds. The watcher did not know the extent of this sickness, but it intrigued him immensely.
You deserve e
very pain that is coming to you, Duke.
He narrowed his eyes as he watched the Duke leap from the saddle and lead the horse inside the stables. It might have been the perfect moment to strike, but something held him back. He rested his hand on the handle of his pistol, but he did not draw it out to attempt to shoot the Duke. The timing was not yet right, for he wanted the Duke to be able to see his eyes as he died. Only that would satisfy his thirst for vengeance. In such shadow, there would be no chance of seeing anything.
Your days are numbered…you may count on that.
* * *
Edward unbridled the stallion and set him back in his stall, patting the creature’s thick, muscled neck. It had been quite the ride, and he was pleased to have fulfilled his mission.
He still did not know what had spurred him on to insure Lady Lydia’s safety, but at least she was on her way back to the house without incident. Truthfully, he had endured another one of his visions, shortly after Lady Lydia had departed for the ball. In it, he had witnessed a woman crying—the vision had been so blurry that he could not properly pick out the figure, but it had worried him enough to take off after Lady Lydia.
Somehow, he feared that woman might have been Lady Lydia herself.
He had just locked up the stallion for the night when he staggered to the floor, a searing pain shooting through the bone of his skull. He slumped to his knees and held his head in his hands, trying to force the agony away.
More vivid images burst into his head, revealing the same grim, gray castle that he had seen several times before. Inside, he saw the thin, sickly-looking man he had seen the last time, sitting next to a woman who held her hand to her mouth. She was crying uncontrollably, but she was not Lady Lydia. No, this was a different woman entirely—older in years, with a handsome face, and tumbling dark locks.
Who are you?
“She is gone? You are certain? There is no mistake?” the woman wept, tears streaming down her face. “Please tell me you are mistaken. You must be. This cannot be so, I cannot believe it.”
What happened to you? Who is gone?
He desperately wanted to remember, if only to understand why this woman was crying. Deep inside himself, he felt a tug, as if he ought to recognize this woman especially. Did we share a bond? Do I know you well?
The frustration overwhelmed him as he battled with the image, trying to tie it to the life he could not recall. The doctor had informed him that his memories would return, but it had been five days, and there had been very little progress. These dreams he kept having melted away as swiftly as snow beneath a burning sun, and he could do nothing to bring back his missing thoughts.
How can I have forgotten everything?
He gritted his teeth to keep from shouting, his hands balling into fists as the image subsided. The pain remained, throbbing behind his eyeballs, but he did not mind that so much. The agony in his skull and the sight of Lady Lydia were the only two things that kept him convinced that he was still living. Otherwise, he feared he might have entered some bizarre otherworld, without knowing how he had ended up there.
The shuffle of footsteps upon hay disturbed him from his painful reverie.
“Edward? Is something the matter?” Lady Lydia rushed towards him before he could say a word to stop her. He felt her hand upon his arm, urging him to stand. He obeyed, lifting himself just high enough to sit on the edge of the nearest hay bale. To his surprise, Lady Lydia sat down beside him, a concerned expression on her face.
“I am quite well, My Lydia,” he lied.
“You do not look well, Edward. Tell me what the matter is?”
“I have something of a headache, that is all. It came upon me suddenly.”
Lady Lydia reached up to touch the back of his head. “You must have hit your head terribly hard.”
He smiled. “Yes, I think I did.”
“Goodness, it feels rather strange.” She pulled her hand away from the back of his head.
“Sutures, Lady Lydia. That is why you feel raised bumps.” He was surprised at her boldness in touching him so intimately, but he missed her touch when she took it away. Indeed, he wished she would seek to touch him again.
“The doctor sewed up your head?” She looked horrified.
Edward laughed. “It was necessary, My Lady.”
“You poor thing.” She tentatively lifted her hand once more, though she did not move her fingertips to the back of his head. Instead, she brushed the side of her finger against his temple. The light touch sent a ticklish shiver through him, inspiring his pulse to race.
“You should not be out here so late at night, Lady Lydia.” He held her gaze, knowing they had to be sensible in their actions. And yet, whenever he was close to her, he lost all understanding of what was proper and what was not. Indeed, he quite lost his head whenever she was near.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said softly, her shoulder brushing his arm.
“There is no need, My Lady.”
“You sought to protect me, and that is worth gratitude,” she protested. “Even if there was no danger, I am grateful. I am certain that I would forever feel safe, if I knew you were standing guard over me.”
He smiled. “I will always protect you, if I am able.”
“What about when you remember?”
“I will protect you still.”
She turned her gaze away, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Why?”
“Why what, Lady Lydia?”
“Why do you seek to protect me?” she gasped breathlessly.
“Is it not obvious?” He could hardly believe the words had departed his lips.
Slowly, she returned her gaze. “I do not know, Edward. I have never experienced anything of this nature before and, I confess, I do not know what I should feel, or how I should behave. I know what propriety dictates, but you have a peculiar effect upon me. I do not know if it is obvious, or if it is simply a daydream of mine that must be quelled.”
“Then, allow me to elaborate,” he said thickly. “I awoke in a strange world, in which I could not remember a single thing of who I was or where I came from. I have been in this world for five days, and I have discovered one sole anchor that keeps me fixed in reality—that lets me know this is no dream. For, if it were a dream, it would be cruel indeed for me to have to wake up from it. You are that anchor, My Lady. You keep me fixed in this moment, when everything else is crumbling to pieces around me.”
Lady Lydia stifled a quiet sob. “And you have come to me in the form of wings, Edward. You have granted me more freedom in the past five days than I have experienced in all my life.” She looked at him with teary eyes. “But how can an anchor and a pair of wings exist together, Edward? While one drags one down, the other lifts one up, and neither can move as they would desire.”
“With strength, Lady Lydia—strength and determination.”
She covered her face with her hands. “I am confused, Edward. I do not understand.”
“May I speak plainly?”
She nodded.
“I am falling desperately in love with you, Lady Lydia. I have tried, in vain, to suppress these feelings, but I cannot lie to you.” He took a deep breath. “I do not expect my feelings to be reciprocated, but I had to tell you, for I do not know when my memories may return, and I do not know what complications that may bring. And so, I simply wanted to be honest with you now, whilst I had the opportunity.”
“You…love me?” she whispered.
“More and more with each passing day.” He lifted his hand to her face and tilted her chin up gently.
A tear trickled down her cheek. “I thought I was alone in my affections, Edward.”
“Impossible.”
“I…am falling in love with you, too. I know it is hopeless, and I know it cannot be, but I must be honest with you, as you have been with me.” She gazed into his eyes, her tears making their way to the deep bow of her lips.
“May I kiss you?” he asked. He wanted to kiss away the salt of h
er tears and replace it with happiness, no matter how temporary their bliss might be.
* * *
She paused uncertainly, before nodding. “You may.”
Slowly, he leaned closer, his hand cupping her face as he moved toward her. Her heart thundered in her chest as he closed the gap between them, for she had never been so bold in her entire life. Yes, she had read illicit books and delighted in their description, but she had never taken it beyond the page. She had never been kissed, never been touched, never been attended to in such an intimate manner.
Wicked Temptations For The Seduced Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 6