“I was only… I will admit, it was a wretchedly terrible idea,” Matthew confessed, looking down. “As I said, I do not consume strong drink, and for whatever ridiculous reason, when she approached and began talking to me… well, I got it in my head that you might—”
“I might what?!” Lydia hissed, disgusted more now than ever before in her life.
“You might need a lady’s maid,” Matthew replied, cringing and shaking his head.
“That creature? You thought she might be a lady’s maid?” Lydia choked a derisive laugh.
“I know,” Matthew argued. “It sounds quite stupid right now, at least in the light of day. But I was not in a proper state of mind and I remembered that you had to sleep in your clothes, and so I… I don’t know, this horrible idea came to my mind and I could not sort out what to do with the thought. Lady Lydia, I am deeply sorry and terribly ashamed of myself.”
Lydia stood but a moment, and a strange feeling settled over her. There was still an air of disappointment and disgust coloring her thoughts, but there was something else as well.
Gratitude.
“Lord Paxton,” she began haltingly, unsure how to express the sentiment, “that was actually kind of you.”
“Kind?” Matthew asked, shaking his head.
“Yes. And I am sorry that I misjudged your intentions. While I do not intend to ever repeat the sight of you and a companion falling down before me, I can overlook it because of the state in which you found yourself,” Lydia explained.
It was Matthew’s turn to stare in surprise. “I am… relieved, I suppose?”
“I can see that,” she said with a slight nod. “It was very thoughtful of you to attempt to find someone who might help me with my gown, even someone as completely inappropriate as Matilda.”
“I think she said her name was Maureen,” Matthew said quietly, a faint hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
Lydia glared briefly. “I am rather certain you are wrong about that.”
“Lydia,” Matthew began in a low voice, “thank you for so readily forgiving me for such a great injustice to you. It was unacceptable, and I am sorry.”
“I begrudgingly accept your apology because you were at least attempting to do something kind and thoughtful,” she answered sternly. “But let us go and see if the kitchen has prepared any breakfast yet. I am certain you will be in need of some strong coffee this morning. You do know that if you vomit in the carriage, I shall push you out without asking the driver to slow down.”
* * *
Julius made his hasty escape from Lady Medvale’s house, offering excuses of leaving poor Elsie too long and promising he would return soon. Though she might be half-feeble and advanced in years, Lady Medvale was not one to be ignored and Julius knew it.
That old bag is not telling all she knows, Julius thought angrily as he waited for the Countess’ stable hand to bring around his horse. His heart was still pounding from the shock and outrage, and for only a moment, Julius thought he might race home and interrogate the servants thoroughly.
Instead, he had a new thought—to go after Lydia himself. But how?
“That young fellow,” Julius muttered, remembering the old Countess’ words. “There is no doubt she meant that scoundrel Lord Paxton!”
“I’m sorry, My Lord, did you say something?” the stable hand said as he held out the reins to Julius. For his part, Julius jumped back, startled by the young man’s unexpected appearance at his elbow.
“No, no, all is well,” Julius said, laughing to attempt to cover his blunder. He could only hope the young man hadn’t heard him as apparently, all servants had to do these days was spread vicious gossip.
He swung up into the saddle and rode away, fighting the urge to whip the horse into a dangerous gallop. Instead, he kept the beautiful beast to a trot, attempting to smile pleasantly and touch the brim of his hat to people who chanced to see him. Only after he’d made it some distance from Lady Medvale’s did he even think of where he must go.
Paxton Hall.
“Of course,” Julius muttered, looking up at the streets before him and getting his bearings. He frowned at the sight of the setting sun.
Even if he were received at this late hour, Julius knew he could not set out after Lydia this evening. The thought that she might be farther and farther away with each passing moment gave him no end of grief. It was no matter—he would find out the truth straight from Lady Paxton herself first thing in the morning. She would know how to put this to rights, even if she was not one of Julius’ particularly favorite people.
* * *
As soon as the hour was acceptable the next morning, Julius set out. All the way to Paxton Hall, he thought of what he might say to the old woman. Though their properties were near enough to each other that Lydia had seemingly played with young Lord Paxton as a child, in truth, Julius had not found much to say to the Countess ever since his arrival at Bronson Manor. He knew her to be a stern, cold woman, at least according to what he’d learned from others’ talk, but that was the sum of it.
Julius passed the hedgerow that led from the direction of his own home and continued on, veering away from his sizeable property at the edge of the city until the road before he forked back in the direction of London. He took this well-kept path as it meandered through a veritable forest of low-hanging branches.
