“You said your daughter isn’t betrothed. Lest she’s married, it’s not too late.” Keith’s bearing spoke to a man who’d been reared to be a duke from the cradle. His time spent captaining his ships and raiding the Spanish only added to his confidence and commanding presence. He looked down his nose at his cousin. He hadn’t been able to stand Oliver when they were children. Oliver had been conniving and vicious when he didn’t get his way. Even if Keith wasn’t interested in a future with Lydia, he wouldn’t relegate her to one with Oliver. He feared for her, knowing his cousin’s propensity to violence when deterred.
“Your Grace—” Will began.
“Father.” Lydia swayed before crumpling, trusting Keith would catch her. She’d never swooned before, so she hoped she appeared believable. She kept her eyes closed despite hearing the panic in Keith’s voice.
“Lyddie,” Keith begged as he cupped her cheek, kneeling as he cradled her upper body in his arms. The way she’d collapsed trapped her hand between Keith’s arm and her belly. She tapped her forefinger, knowing he could feel it rising against his sleeve. She felt some of the tension ease as he understood her sign. He scooped her into his arms and turned toward the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Oliver demanded.
“To take Lady Lydia to her chamber. Lady Abbington, please show me the way.”
“You can’t do that,” Oliver hissed.
Keith paused, dramatically turning toward his cousin with Lydia in his arms. “I’m a bloody duke. I can do whatever the hell I want.”
Lydia turned her head toward Keith’s chest, hiding her grin. She hoped one day she was a duchess and could tell him that in private as she stripped him. His hand under her voluminous skirts twisted from her leg to her backside. He squeezed, then rested it there, where he was certain no one could see. He turned back toward the door and followed Sarla up the stairs. At Lydia’s door, her mother opened it and walked to her daughter’s bedside. She watched every moment of Keith carrying Lydia across the chamber, then lowering her to the bed.
“Lydia, you can open your eyes.” Sarla crossed her arms and sighed. “That may have ended that scene, but it hardly solved this situation. Your Grace, you might refrain from antagonizing my husband or your cousin. You may be a duke, but Will is her father.”
“And I’ve reached my majority, Mother. No one can force me to marry someone I refuse.”
“We all know that, Lydia. But that hardly remedies the problem right now. You have two men willing to fight over you, and your father has already picked sides. This was never a simple matter, and now it has grown mighty complicated.”
“Lady Abbington, I intend to marry Lady Lydia. I was remiss in not saying anything before my last journey. None of you should think you can dismiss me.” Keith looked at Lydia before he kneeled on one knee. “What do you want, Lydia? Tell the truth. It’s only your wishes I will consider.”
“You.”
The single word rang in the air as the couple forgot about Sarla. They gazed at one another as Keith wrapped his hand around Lydia’s and brought it to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles before he brought the back of her hand to his cheek. It hid half his profile as he mouthed, “Tonight.”
Lydia had already decided to seek him once everyone else retired. She couldn’t react with her mother watching, but she knew Keith understood her silent agreement. He rose, then leaned forward to kiss her forehead. Sarla exhaled her disapproval loudly, but she said nothing. She gave her daughter a long stare before following Keith from the chamber. Once in the passageway and out of Lydia’s earshot, she stopped Keith.
“I’ve never said anything to Will or Lydia, but I saw you at the funeral. I saw your grief as they lowered the coffin. I saw how you despised your father. I also saw you notice Lydia and the moment you recognized her. I’ve observed you when you see each other in the village. I know she frequents the beach even more often than before Rajesh and the others came. You appreciate my daughter’s attractiveness, but I see there is more to it than that. Do not prove me wrong when I say I give you my blessing. I will do what I can with Will.”
It wasn’t often that Will and Sarla were at odds. She understood her husband’s rationale for endorsing Oliver, and she knew he didn’t support the Viscount as much as he’d pretended to in the music room. But she couldn’t guarantee Will would accept her suggestions this time or Keith’s intentions. For once, there was more at stake than their daughter’s happiness when choosing a mate.
“That’s all I can ask for, Lady Abbington.”
“If we become family one day, I hope you will call me Sarla. Your mother always did.” She spoke softly, a kindness in her voice Keith hadn’t heard since he was a child. The sound flooded his memory. He went rigid at the mention of his mother, having not spoken about her in two decades. But now he recalled Sarla coming to visit and how it was the only time his mother laughed besides when she was with Keith and Kelsey.
“I would like that, my lady. Be prepared. It will be soon, but not soon enough.” Keith followed the woman he hoped would become his mother-in-law as she led him to the door. He had nothing more to say to Will or Oliver, at least nothing productive. He wouldn’t let it devolve into a shouting match, which it would become if he didn’t cool his temper before seeing his cousin again.
Oliver stepped out of the music room as Sarla and Keith passed the doorway. The malice in Oliver’s gaze was impossible to miss. Keith sensed Sarla was ill at ease as Oliver approached. He angled himself to shield Sarla if the need arose.
“Lady Abbington, I would know how Lady Lydia fares.” It was a demand, not a request made from concern. “We are due for our promenade in a quarter-hour. The air in the garden will do her good.”
“I hadn’t realized you’d nursed many people back to health, Oliver.” Keith once more looked down his nose at his cousin. While Oliver was nearly as tall as Keith, he lacked the girth Keith had developed from years of sailing. His chest was half the width of Keith’s, especially when Keith put his hands on his hips. “I never pictured you as a nursemaid.”
“Common sense, Cousin. One who has any would know that.” Oliver stepped forward, not at all intimidated by Keith.
More fool is he if he thinks we’re the same as we were as children. I accepted your tantrums and spoiled attitude because fighting you wasn’t worth the beating I would have received. There is no one bigger than me now. Test me, you little prick. I dare you to.
Keith continued to stare at Oliver until his cousin finally realized he’d poked the bear too hard. When Keith leaned slightly forward, Oliver appeared rooted to the spot.
“You may have gotten what you wanted when we were children because I didn’t care enough about what I had, and you had nothing I wanted. But I will protect what’s mine now. Do not doubt that. I could have beaten your arse then, and I’m certain we all know I can do it now. Change your tone when you address Lady Abbington and Lady Lydia. I will know if you don’t. The walls have ears.”
Keith turned to Sarla and bowed before he left. He didn’t look back until he rounded the house. He looked up at what he knew was Lydia’s window. She stood there and waved. He smiled to her, his only outward acknowledgement. They would share a private reunion that night.
CHAPTER4
