Lydia entered the crypt and looked back at the path. She’d sensed someone there but saw no one. It made her wonder if Oliver somehow knew about the secret tunnels, but she didn’t think he did. She hurried to shut the door before she sprinted across the mausoleum. She opened the hatch leading to the hidden passageway and closed it just before she heard the building’s main door open. Someone had followed her. She waited, confident this was the one entrance no one would stumble upon. Few would dare poke around where the dead laid to rest. Superstition and a sense of the morbid would deter most people. Those who overcame that wouldn’t find the latch, since it was miniscule and part of the carved decoration on the center of the slot’s door.
She couldn’t see who it was, but she was certain it was Oliver. No one had ever followed her in the more than fifteen years she’d been sneaking into Forde Abbey. It made a shiver run the length of her spine to know he’d been watching her door. It was the only way he could have known. His chamber faced the front of the house, and she hadn’t exited in that direction. She’d left through the kitchen and crept through the shadows of the arbor. Only someone watching her door, or the back of the house, would know she’d left. If he hadn’t been lurking near her door, then he’d lurked somewhere on the first floor, expecting her to slip away.
She heard muttering before the outside door slammed shut. She hurried through the tunnel until she reached the abandoned monks’ dormitory. She entered the cell to torch light illuminating the area. Keith opened his arms to her, and she flew into them. Their mouths crashed together, and he lifted her off her feet. Once more, she wore pants, having abandoned the gown she wore to dinner. She’d appeared at the evening meal, hoping to appease Will and Oliver. She endured Oliver’s alternating glares and patronizing smiles. Now she was where she belonged.
Keith wrapped Lydia’s legs around his waist and walked them to the wall. He pressed her against it and devoured her. His hands gripped her bottom as his tongue thrust into her mouth, mimicking what he wished to do with his cock. She ground her mons against his length, her fingers fisting his hair as she tried to gain more friction.
“I missed you, sweetling,” Keith said when they came up for air. He kissed her neck and collarbone. “However, I haven’t missed being down here.”
He didn’t release her as he walked to the door. He carried her as she clung to him. She only let go once they entered his library. He locked the door and laid her on the settee where’d they’d trysted the last time she was there.
“I missed you, too.” Lydia giggled and shook her head. “I cannot imagine calling you Bunbury or boop. They’re such ridiculous sounding words for a man. I would call you darling if you like.”
“I’d more than like that, Lydia. I hope to hear that until I can hear no more.”
“I’d like to call you that until I can speak no more.”
Keith eased back, propping himself on one forearm and against the back of the settee. He wrapped his hand around hers, just as he had earlier in the day, but he brought them to rest against his heart. “I’ve assumed a lot today, Lyddie. I was as bad as my cousin and your father to presume I could speak for you. What do you want?”
“You.”
It was the same unequivocable answer she’d given the last time he’d asked. She’d held no doubts about her wishes while he was gone, but she hadn’t been able to combat all the doubts that taunted her. His abrupt arrival and unmistakable intentions when he spoke to Oliver and Will reassured her she’d made the right choice. When he’d caught her in her pretend stupor and carried her with such gentleness, she’d known his feelings were genuine. The way he’d kissed her hand and her forehead had been too reverent for a man pretending at affection.
“You know I want the same, Lydia. Being away from you was hell. I missed your smile and your laughter, which I haven’t heard nearly enough of. I wondered what books you’d read, and I longed to talk to you about them. I pictured you on the beach and wished I was beside you, perhaps reading aloud to you or enjoying companiable silence with my own book. I worried about you walking alone, but I never worried someone might be here courting you. My only fear was I would return, and you would regret what we’d done.”
Lydia reached up and cupped his cheek. “It might surprise you to know what I’ve learned about you in the time since you returned and became duke. I know you’re the patron of the almshouse and the orphanage. That was not part of your family’s legacy. You did that on your own. I’m certain you’ve more than tithed, and you’re why the rectory has a new roof. I’ve watched you carry things for the elderly when you could have easily walked past.”
“You’ve seen that?”
Lydia nodded. “I may not have seen you aboard your ship, but I assume you love being on the water. I have seen you riding that great beast of yours. You’re gentle and patient with him, and in turn, it’s obvious he’s devoted to you. I’ve known for years your father ignored your tenants and the repairs their homes needed. I’d long suspected he spent the money on his mistresses instead of this estate. You have brought it back from the brink. Since you returned, I’ve heard of your reputation, and it fazes me not a bit. I’d rather you killed than be killed.”
“Time didn’t prepare me for the gangly child I’d known as my sister’s best friend to be a stunning woman when I returned for her funeral.” He stopped when Lydia’s mouth dropped open. He seized the opportunity, nipping at her bottom lip before kissing her. “I hid in the trees and watched. I didn’t want to distract from her funeral, so I stayed back. I heard you in the library that day, Lyddie. I wanted to know what you meant, but you were gone before I could ask. I sailed away that afternoon, but you were never far from my thoughts. It was always you I wanted.”
Keith paused to watch her reaction to knowing he’d spied on her. She didn’t bat an eyelash.
“When I returned, I watched you. I couldn’t help it. I knew you sneaked in here, but other than that first time, I never caught you. But I could smell your fragrance. I would follow it until I could guess what books you’d taken or returned. I saw you with the village children, how you laughed and sang to them. You play games with them on Sundays while their parents socialize. I’m not the only one generous with my money. I know you must give away much of your pin money. I’ve seen the pride on your parents’ faces when you do. I may not have talked to you, but I feel like I know you well.”
“I feel the same,” smiled Lydia. “Being with you feels natural, like it’s always been meant to be. In India, people believe we each have a purpose in life and a destiny. What we do, and how we act, determines what happens to us in the afterlife. I thought my purpose was solely to make up for not doing enough for Kelsey while she was alive. Now I think my purpose is more than just that.”
“Do you think it might be as my wife?”
“I hope so, Keith. That’s what I want.”
“I want you by my side, Lydia. You’re intelligent and well read. You’re practical and kind. There have been many times since I returned when I’ve wondered what advice you would give me about the estate. I suspect your parents trained you well to run a household and beyond.”
“They have. My father insisted my sister and I learn all that we could. He feared what might happen if our husband became incapacitated or turned out to be a ne'er-do-well. I always worried no man would appreciate my opinions.”
“I want them. I think, at times, I need them.” Keith kissed the tip of her nose. There was one thing he wanted to know, and he wouldn’t let her evade it any longer. “You’ve mentioned it before. What do you mean you didn’t do enough for Kelsey? You once said you would get justice for her. Then, years later, you said you’d missed your opportunity.”
Lydia shrank back against the pillow beneath her head. She closed her eyes, pain slashing through her as she thought about what Kelsey endured. She’d been of two minds about whether she should tell Keith what she learned from her friend’s diary. She knew if she divulged everything, it would hurt him. She considered what to say before she began.
“Your father lied about your mother, Keith.” Lydia winced as he jerked away, then sat up. She followed him, curling her legs beside her as she twisted to look at him. “She wasn’t unwell. She’d threatened to leave with you and Kelsey because she couldn't tolerate the way he abused you. They argued several times. He knew he couldn’t kill her because it would mean Kelsey inherited what your grandfather had set aside for any daughters in your parents’ marriage contract. It would have entitled him to manage the money, but a groom would expect there to be a dowry. With your mother alive, he could do as he pleased with the money, and he assumed no one would be the wiser. When it was time for Kelsey to marry, he would claim your mother left nothing for her. Since she had to live, he committed her to Bedlam for being uncooperative.”
Keith leaped from the settee and fisted his hands as he paced before the fireplace. His father committed his mother nearly twenty years earlier, swearing she was a danger to herself and her children. He’d forbidden Keith and Kelsey from having any contact with her. They certainly could not visit, and he knew his father burned the missives he tried to send. Kelsey was too young to even remember their mother.
“How did Kelsey know this?” Keith spun toward Lydia.
“She found your mother’s diaries when we were fifteen. They were in a trunk in the attic. She showed them to me. You weren’t the only one your father abused. Your mother poured all her thoughts and misery into those pages. There were vivid descriptions of what he did to her in and out of their bedchamber.”
