Standing up at last, Lydia looked to her uncle and curtseyed. “Welcome, Uncle.”
“Lady Paxton,” he returned stoically, bowing.
“Thank you for coming, and for giving us your permission,” she said slowly.
“It is for the best,” Julius answered. “What’s done is done, it might as well be a proper and binding thing.”
As soon as he finished, the door was opened and another man entered. Matthew frowned as the Viscount of Lockwood approached. Julius looked at Matthew’s confusion and Lydia’s horror and said, “Did I not mention I was bringing a guest?”
* * *
Matthew continued to watch the scene unfold, unsure of how to respond. Silence shrouded the room as the invited family stood uncomfortably staring at one another, unsure of what to say next.
“Perhaps Lady Elsie would like to see her room?” Madame Saunier suggested brightly, breaking the tension that so palpably filled the air.
At a nod from Lydia, a house maid led both woman and child up the stairs to one of the rooms near Lydia’s, leaving Julius and Vincent to look at Matthew and Lydia.
“Lord Lockwood,” Lydia finally said, nodding her head in recognition.
He bowed and answered her, “Lady Lydia.”
Matthew took an instinctive, defensive step forward and Lydia reached out a hand to pull him back. Noting the faint movement, Vincent corrected himself languidly. “My apologies, I suppose you are Lady Paxton now.”
“You suppose correctly,” Matthew said, his voice a low growl. Vincent looked to him with an amused expression, while Lydia turned her attention to her uncle. Julius met her eye then merely looked away.
“Williams will see you to your rooms,” Matthew simply said, then turned and walked into the drawing room, closing the door behind him.
“Pardon my rudeness,” Lydia began, directing the statement to Vincent, “but Uncle, what is going on here?”
“What do you mean?” Julius asked innocently. “I have been invited to celebrate the marriage of my niece to her husband. I had the opportunity to bring along someone who knew you well and cares for your well-being and happiness, and thus, the Viscount has joined me.”
“I hardly think this is appropriate, all things considered,” Lydia argued softly, glancing quickly at the door as though Matthew might hear.
Vincent beamed triumphantly, rather appearing to enjoy Lydia’s embarrassment. She shot him a venomous look, then said, “I am going to find Madame Saunier and Elsie.”
As Lydia stormed off, she heard Vincent’s distinct voice behind her whisper in a mocking way, “That was even easier than I thought.”
* * *
Only through sheer force of will, some strategic attempts at hiding, and Penelope’s willingness to intervene, the family made it through the evening without anyone coming to harm. Lydia was grateful to her best friend for her continuous interruptions, permitting her to avoid any contact or conversation with either her uncle or her former fiancé.
“So, My Lord Lockwood,” Penelope said on one occasion at dinner, “tell us what it is that you do.”
Vincent had launched into one tale after another of his travels, giving Lydia and Matthew a reprieve from having to appear to be the polite, interested host and hostess.
By the next morning, Lydia was in a tenuous state as she prepared to go to the church. Thankfully, they had decided upon an early hour for the short ceremony, which would be followed by a rather indulgent and slow breakfast. Only later in the day would there be any sort of celebration as the villagers and tenant farmers would have their own revelries with the happy couple playing host once again.
“Are you ready, dearest?” Matthew said through gritted teeth when Lydia came down the stairs, a forced smile on his face.
“I don’t know why I suddenly find myself nervous,” Lydia replied with a high-pitched laugh. “It’s not as though we haven’t been here before.”
“And precisely like the first time, I have the distinct feeling of being hunted by your uncle and your former betrothed,” he retorted without meeting her eye. He held out his arm for her to take and she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.
Then Lydia stopped. “Are you… are you angry with me?”
Matthew closed his eyes. “No. Angry, yes. But not with you. Angry… about you, perhaps? About why so many people are brilliantly determined to keep us from having any measure of happiness?”
“I wish I knew the answer as well,” she promised him, “but through it all, I also don’t care why they wish us ill. I am married to you, Matthew, and in a matter of minutes, I will inexplicably be married to you again, though this time in the eyes of God.” Lydia smiled at him knowingly, then added, “If any man has objection, hecannotspeak now, hecanforever hold his peace, and he has my full blessing to die angry about it.”
