“I loved the story, darling. It was refreshing to read a woman storyteller. There were moments of humor but insightful narratives that made me realize how fortunate I am to know my family is well cared for if anything should happen to my father.”
“I will make such provisions for you and any children we have. I will make sure you have a home and all the things you need should I pass before you. I won’t leave you to beg for your supper or as a ward to someone like Oliver.”
Lydia patted Keith’s chest as she stretched to kiss his jaw. “I know you wouldn’t. It was an entertaining story, but it also seemed a sad commentary at times. I wonder who the author is. She’s only ever named as ‘A Lady.’ I’ve loved her other books,Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Mansfield Park.I hope she continues to write more.”
“When she does, I will ensure you have one of the earliest copies.”
“You would risk your life and limb to get me a book? Of all the things you might trade for, a book is not one I expected.”
“I would trade the world for a book if it would make you happy. But, alas, I ordered that from London as soon as I returned from France.”
Lydia playfully slapped his chest. In turn, Keith nipped at her neck and grazed his teeth up her throat to just below her jaw. He savored the sweet scent and taste that belonged to no other woman he knew. His hand cupped her jaw, and more passed between them than they were ready to say. But they both understood.
* * *
Keith wascertain he would murder his cousin. It was only Sarla’s frown that kept him from doing it. While he didn’t pay a visit to the Abbingtons every day, he never let more than two go by between his appearances. For the first week, he made it appear like a coincidence that he rode his horse past their home while Lydia and Oliver strolled in the garden. Politeness required the couple to stop, and Keith found something—anything—to chat about until Oliver and Lydia had no choice but to return to the house rather than continue the walk.
However, after he watched his cousin berate Lydia about something, he no longer held any pretenses. He’d dismounted and stalked over to them. Oliver hadn’t noticed Keith’s approach until Lydia’s eyes widened. He’d spun around, certain who approached. For once, he was prudent and remained silent. While Lydia downplayed the exchange both there and the next morning at the beach, Keith ensured he interrupted their walks before they began, or one of his grooms watched from a tree that overlooked the Abbingtons’ gardens.
During the second week after his return, he found reasons to meet with Will to discuss land matters, their neighboring tenants, issues he would bring before the House of Lords, and any other topic that came to his mind. On those days, Oliver was too curious to leave the house while Keith had Will’s ear. He’d insinuate himself into the conversation or try to eavesdrop from the drawing room all the way to Will’s study. Some days Lydia was forced to accept Oliver’s company in the drawing room, but many days she found things to do in the nearby village. While she wished she could spend the time with Keith since he was at her home, she escaped to avoid Oliver.
The past week had been the most onerous of them all. While a fortnight hadn’t seemed an unreasonable length for Oliver’s visit to get to know Lydia, moving into the fourth week of hosting him strained Sarla’s patience. She was far more hospitable than her daughter, but the long Oliver stayed the more entitled he grew. What began as preferences at the meals became requests that soon verged on demands. He would tell the servants what he wanted and instructed them to pass it along to Sarla rather than ask her. He knew if he did, she would turn him down, so he wished to save face. She refused to honor all that he asked, but she agreed to enough to keep the peace.
“Will, he shall drive me to Bedlam. It would be more peaceful than his constant presence. You cannot mean to marry Lydia to him. You cannot wish him to be our son-in-law.”
“He may be annoying, but he has a solid reputation and can provide for Lydia.”
“If that were the only requirements for a happy marriage, I’d be wed to the man my father chose for me.” Sarla crossed her arms and peered up at her husband. His lips twitched, which made his wife roll her eyes and shake her head.
“You know I enjoy when you look at me like that. It reminds me of my good fortune to a find a princess who loves me despite her parents’ early objections.”
“Seems a rather familiar situation, don’t you think?”
“I don’t disapprove of Oliver.”
“Do not be obtuse, Will. You’ve spent far too many years proving how intelligent you are for me to ever believe you now. You know who I mean.”
Will’s body stiffened when Sarla alluded to Keith. He wasn’t unaware of the similarities between his courtship with Sarla and how Keith and Lydia wished to be together. But the situations were different. It was a different place and different time. While it hadn’t been simple being a man awaiting his inheritance and title marrying a princess, but they’d been far from the trappings of life in England. Here existed complication connections and associations Will couldn’t ignore.
“I haven’t drafted any contracts, so it’s not as though they’ll walk down the aisle tomorrow. But you know MacNeil’s reputation. You know what he’s capable of.”
“I do. The traits our daughter is falling in love with are the very ones I fell in love with because you have them in spades, my darling. You’ve always said she and I are two peas in a pod. Can you blame her for finding a man as brave and determined as her father?”
Will drew his wife into his arms and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “We have time. No one will rush a decision. We’ll see whether Lydia warms to Oliver as they continue to get to know each other.”
“You’d best pray she doesn’t stab him through the throat. I’m certain she’s been tempted many times.” Sarla rested her head against her husband’s chest. She hadn’t pressed for a full explanation of why Will agreed to Oliver courting their daughter. He was a man with myriad secrets as a smuggler, but he’d never kept them from Sarla. She knew there were things he wasn’t sharing with her, but she trusted he had a sound reason for it. She knew, if nothing else, he was protecting his family from something worse than the obnoxious Lord Oliver Gwyn, Viscount Sackville.
* * *
Keith dueledan imaginary foe in his formal dining room, taking advantage of the rooms length as he practiced to keep his fighting skills honed. The room hadn’t hosted an event since he took up residence at the abbey again. Rather he used it to thrust and parry against enemies only he could see. Besides riding his horse, there was little for Keith to do to expand his restless energy.
The hours of open time tempted him to ride out and tour his extensive property, but it would take him away from Lydia for more than a couple days. He loathed being away from her for more than a few hours. He bore the frustration of it, but he didn’t trust Oliver not to pounce if Keith remained away for a day or more. He didn’t trust his cousin not to compromise Lydia since he grew more desperate by the day. Rising hours after sunrise meant Oliver never caught Lydia and Keith on the beach together, but Oliver was certain they met alone.
It baffled Keith how Oliver didn’t merely awaken earlier if he so wished to catch Lydia and him in some illicit act. But he was far to self-indulgent to believe he needed to catch them. He assumed all would work out in his favor, and he’d come out the victor.
Keith jabbed forward, his feet traveling with the momentum of his sword. As he progressed across the length of the massive room, he pictured his sword’s tip piercing Oliver’s skin repeatedly.
“He must be dead by now.”
