Oh, my darling He reached out to trace the lacy edge of her shift, slowly dragging it lower. Her eyelids fluttered down as she ceded herself to the promise of rapture.
Then, when finally everything in Lydias world miraculously turned right, the barn door crashed open and everything in her world shattered into irredeemable disaster.
Chapter 1
Rothermere House, London
April 1826
The ball to celebrate a womans forthcoming wedding should be one of the happiest events in her life.
Suppressing a sigh, Lady Lydia Rothermere surveyed the throng crowded into her brother Cams white and gilt ballroom and told herself that of course she was happy. This mightnt be the night shed dreamed about as a foolish adolescent, but shed long ago relinquished her dreams. She was a mature, sensible woman of twenty-seven marrying a mature, sensible man of forty-one. She was content with her decision. For a woman well past her debut, contentment was something with which she should be, well, content.
The bracing lecture didnt notably raise her spirits. She muffled another sigh and plastered a smile on her face. This party was in her honor and she intended to enjoy it, even if it killed her. She wore a new dress to mark the occasion, dark blue brocade with Brussels lace, and her maid had twined red and white rosebuds through her thick auburn hair.
Im neglecting you, my dear. Sir Grenville Berwick turned from the political cronies who had occupied his attention for the last half hour and took possession of her white-gloved hand.
Her fiancés touch aroused no frisson of anticipation. But then only one man had ever made Lydia tremble with desire, and that had been so long ago, she now viewed the events of that summer day as an aberration in an otherwise blameless life. She didnt pretend to love the man shed promised to marry, but she respected him. And God willing, shed have children, lots of children, to whom she would devote the vast well of frustrated love in her heart.
Please let it be so.
As she turned to Grenville, she kept the smile on her lips, even though it felt like a rictus grin. Tonight he looked the perfect parliamentarian in his sober, dark coat, with his graying brown hair combed back from his high forehead. Im not some giddy young thing. You dont have to fuss over me.
Sir Grenvilles square-jawed face didnt lighten and his brown eyes remained grave. You deserve to be fussed over, Lydia. I still find myself astounded that you consented to be my bride.
Youre too good for me.
She meant it. If Grenville knew how once shed verged on surrendering her virtue to a scoundrel, he wouldnt place her on a pedestal. Since that calamitous day at Fentonwyck, her behavior had been exemplary, unless it was a sin to lie awake reliving the only passion shed ever tasted. To lie awake regretting, wicked creature she was, that her father had erupted into the hay barn before Simon had ventured beyond kisses.
Your modesty does you credit. Grenville surveyed the gathering with a satisfied air. The world wishes us well. Its quite a turnout.
Hundreds had gathered to celebrate. Sir Grenville was a rising political star and Lydia was much admired for her charity work. Shed even caught sight of the brooding and scarred Jonas Merrick in one of the card rooms. Her brother who hosted the ball was an acknowledged leader of society. This was despite questions shadowing Cams legitimacy. It was common knowledge that his mother had shared her favors with her husband and his younger brother. The identity of Lydias sire was never in doubtthe late dukes dashing, rakehell brother had died well before her arrivalbut both Rothermere children had grown up weathering scandal.
From habit, Lydia sought Cam in the crowd. Her brother was so tall, she easily spotted his glossy dark head over the heaving sea of people. Beside him stood the ever elegant Sir Richard Harmsworth, her brothers closest friend and as golden fair as Cam was dark.
Distantly, she was grateful that so many people offered their congratulations. Since consenting to Grenvilles proposal a year ago, shed felt as if a thick wall of glass separated her from the world. She supposed the sense of disconnection would pass. Eventually.
The passionate hoyden who still lurked in Lydias heart insisted that she was more than this staid, benevolent cipher. Except that after ten barren years of acting as the sedate woman the world considered her, the bleak suspicion lurked that she had in truth become this dull creature. At least the dull creature was safe and respected and armored against the anguish of strong emotion.
If she hadnt entirely conquered her longing for something other, she would do so by the time she walked up the aisle of St. Georges in Hanover Square in two weeks time. This marriage to Grenville was right for her, promising a calm haven and a useful future. Shed spent her life holding her head high against spiteful whispers, the cruel assumption that, like mother, like daughter, bad blood would eventually tell. It was only a matter of time before her true nature would surface. Only once had Lydia kicked over the traces. And hadnt that been a complete disaster?
Shall we dance? Grenville asked. The musicians had just struck up a waltz, the scratch of the violins barely audible above the chatter.
Grenville danced well, if without particular flair. But then, Simons desertion had taught Lydia to mistrust flair. What she needed was steadiness and kindness and a devotion to shared ideals. Grenville offered her all of that. She ignored a jeer from her inner woman as she circled the ballroom, her heart beating as steadily as if she sat alone at her embroidery.
From long habit, she made sure that her troubled thoughts didnt show on her face. For so many years, shed presented an appearance of unruffled calm that it was second nature to her now. Perhaps after another ten years, the appearance would be truth, not pretence.
I apologize for bringing House business to our party, my love.
No need, she said calmly. She didnt mind that Grenville had devoted the weeks before their wedding to political maneuvering, although something rebellious inside her carped that she should mind.
Not really listening to his travails with the current bill, she made encouraging noises. With unwelcome grimness, it struck her that this would form the pattern of conversation for the rest of her life. She would be a witch to cavil at what fate arranged. She went into this marriage with her eyes wide open. If Grenvilles company lacked something in excitement, excitement was overrated.
Or at the very least, it was dangerous. And shed decided at seventeen that shed never do anything dangerous again. Her blood still ran cold when she remembered her fathers contemptuous tone as hed called her a brainless slut like her mother.
As if the memory alerted long buried instincts, Lydia glanced over Grenvilles shoulder to the staircase sweeping down into the ballroom. A tall man in immaculate black tailoring paused on the landing and surveyed the room. A cynical smile curved familiar lips. Light from the chandeliers slanted across gilded hair. He stood loose-limbed and relaxed, as if the entire world offered him welcome.
Lydia, are you well? Lydia?
Grenvilles worried voice pierced her blind distress. She realized that shed stopped dead in the middle of the dance. She hadnt blushed for years, but uncomfortable heat flooded into her cheeks now.
Dear God, let her misstep go unremarked. And what had caused it. She glanced around nervously, the old horror of scandal gripping her. Nobody seemed to have noticed her stumble.
She made herself move again, but her feet felt like bricks and she staggered against her partner. Grenvilles hand tightened around her waist. My dear, are you feeling faint? The room is close and the night is warm. Youve been working such long hours, getting that new soup kitchen running. Should I take you onto the terrace?
Yes yes, please take me outside. She hardly recognized the stammering reply as her own. To remain upright, she curled her hand over Grenvilles shoulder. Her heart raced so fast, she felt light-headed, as though the ground shifted beneath her.
She was addled to think that the man on the staircase was Simon. Not after all this time. Not now when she had finally come so close to severing the chains of her past.
For years shed pined after him. Then when he didnt contact her after her fathers death, shed finally understood that Simon had no intention of returning for her. Stupid girl. Five years before that without so much as a note should have indicated his indifference.
Even after acknowledging at last that Simon cared nothing for her, no man could compete with the ghost of her first amour. Until shed met Grenville and realized that life could offer rewards separate from Simons unattainable love. Independence. A family. A life dedicated to service.
Deliberately she didnt look toward the staircase again. She had to be mistaken. The illusion resulted from wedding nerves and the fact that so close to her nuptials, memories of her long-lost love would inevitably resurface. Simon had left England immediately after the incident in the barn. Shed only rarely heard about his doingsSimon Metcalfs exploits were considered too outré for the ears of an unmarried girl, even one past first youth. Hed fallen in with a rakish crowd on the Continent; raffish women, louche aristocrats, penniless adventurers. If polite society mentioned Simon Metcalf, it was in censorious terms. The last report Lydia had had of Simon was from somewhere in the remote reaches of the Ottoman Empire.
Still the merest idea that he could be back in London made her heart flutter like a bird longing to break out of its cage. Would she never be free of him?
With his usual aplomb, Grenville steered her through the crowd to where the French doors opened to the fine night. With the unseasonal warmth, many guests had resorted to the garden. Lydia and Grenvilles progress toward the terrace aroused no curiosity, thank goodness.
Lydia soon returned enough to herself to deride her loss of control. Even in the unlikely event that the man was Simon, she hadnt seen the reprobate for ten years. She was no longer a dewy-eyed adolescent panting for his attentions. She was renowned for her poise and her ability to quell unrest in a bread line with a single word.
They didnt make it to the terrace. Her brother strode toward her. To anyone who didnt know Cam well, he appeared his usual cool self. The Rothermeres specialized in looking untouched, even when scandals threatened to blow their world apart. But as he caught her arm, she saw a spark of what could be guilt in his green eyes. Lydia, Ive got a surprise for you. An old friend is here to wish you well.
Every muscle in her body stiffened into horrified immobility, although for all her self-serving denial, shed known from the first that the man was Simon. What on earth was Cam doing bringing him to her betrothal ball? She suddenly remembered that her brother had always defended his friend to their father, even after Lydias indiscretion. But Cam must know that tonight, Simon Metcalf was the last man she wanted to see.
Simon stood at Cams shoulder and the comprehensive glance he swept over Lydia heated her blush to fire. The noisy room, loud with talk and music, faded into an echoing void. The sight of Simon jammed Lydias throat with painful silence. She couldnt help remembering that the last time they were together, shed been half out of her dress.
As if from a long way away, Cam continued. Sir Grenville, allow me to present an old family connection, Simon Metcalf. We grew up together. Simon, this is Lydias intended, Sir Grenville Berwick.
The courtesies the men exchanged were meaningless gabble in Lydias ears. All she heard was her hearts pounding. She couldnt tear her gaze from Simon.
Devil take him, he was even more breathtakingly attractive than she remembered. All this time shed told herself shed idealized his looks. It turned out shed hardly done him justice. Tall. Lean. Tanned from exposure to foreign suns, his once flaxen hair now a rich bronze.
He arched a mocking eyebrow at her. His long, thin mouth curled with a sardonic amusement alien to the pretty youth with whom shed been so head over heels in love.
She stiffened with resentment. After all this time, he had no right to inspect her as if she were a sugarplum ready for devouring. Dear heaven, no man had surveyed the Duke of Sedgemoors strait-laced sister with such blatant sexual interest since
Since Simon himself had forsaken her for the excitements of his European wanderings, God rot him. Still, her skin tingled with a sensual response unacceptable in a woman due to marry another man in a fortnight.
Anger came to her rescue and allowed her to sound composed as she curtsied and extended her hand. Mr. Metcalf. Id hardly have known you.
If he was half as perceptive as his younger self, hed surely guess that she lied, although he bowed with a surprising smoothness of address. Young Simon had been charming, but even after Oxford, scarcely practised in social niceties. Through their gloves, his touch seared.
Lady Lydia, he said neutrally.
How irritating. How lowering. This encounter with the girl hed once pursued apparently left Simon completely unaffected. Lydia heartily wished she could say the same, but shed be boiled in oil before she betrayed how her blood pulsed with exhilaration. An exhilaration she hadnt felt since hed kissed her in her fathers barn.
He held her hand a fraction longer than decorum permitted. She was proud of how she drew free without snatching away as instinct urged. She was desperate to counter his assurance with coolness of her own. Her pride would countenance nothing less. Im delighted that youve returned to England in time for my bridal ball.
Ah, not quite so superior now. His dark blue eyes flashed in response to the veiled barb in her comment. How could I stay away after reading Cams letter telling me you were engaged?
Easily, I imagine, she snapped, then glanced swiftly at her fiancé. But Grenville was focused on haranguing Cam about some political matter, leaving her isolated with Simon in strangely public intimacy. Grenville clearly felt her reunion with a childhood friend sanctioned by her illustrious brother merited no special attention.
Grenville had no reason to doubt her constancy. Her steady temperament was famous. It had been one of the qualities hed extolled in his proposal. Even at the time, that had pricked at her vanity. Steadiness of temperament made her sound like a well-bred horse, not a woman capable of tormenting a man with desire.