As was the custom, Lydia entered Lord Verdurn’s ball on her uncle’s arm, with his “friend” Claudine walking immediately behind. Lydia could sense the woman’s indignation at the arrangement, and for a moment, she felt a pang of sympathy for her.
What a world we are in where a woman’s status is only determined by the man she is—or is not—married to, Lydia thought sadly.This woman is qualified to live in his home, eat at his table, and presumably share his bed, but cannot walk through a doorway at his side because she is not his wife. Ridiculous!
Still, it was appearances that carried all the weight, especially for the ton. Their fellow friends and gentry might permit Miss Saunier in their presence so long as there was no acknowledgement whatsoever that she may be Uncle Julius’ mistress. But what business was it of anyone else’s, she wondered. Miss Saunier is not married, Uncle Julius is not married, and the only thing standing between their eternal devotion was perhaps their respective nationalities and the animosity between their governments. Why should they not be permitted their happiness?
“Be certain that you make your appearances with all of the guests,” Uncle Julius cautioned Lydia. “Though you may seem to favor Vincent Antworth—and there’s no harm in others assuming that to be so—there should be no acknowledgement of that fact as of yet.”
“I know, Uncle. I will be careful and modest,” Lydia assured him politely while inwardly seething. Did he not know she had had the benefit of an upbringing by two very well-thought of parents? And it was not as though this was Lydia’s first Season. She had been schooled mightily in the ways of proper decorum and modest behavior, and did not need reminding as though she were a child.
“Of course you will, my dear girl,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “I only intend to impart to you just how dire this Season is for you.”
“I understand, Uncle,” Lydia answered, her tone softening as she noted his obvious concern for her. “After all, you did not ask to assume responsibility for your brother’s daughters, one at such a young age and the other at such a precarious one.”
Julius smiled at her and Claudine came closer, linking her hand through the crook of his elbow. She beamed at Lydia too, and offered a word of advice.
“Go, miss. And enjoy your evening. You are a most beautiful young lady and all zee gentlemen will wish to dance with you!” she said, smiling.
“Thank you, Madam Saunier,” Lydia replied with a nod. Though she was not her favorite, Lydia felt that renewed pang of remorse for the woman who had won her uncle’s heart but somehow was still forbidden his name.
Leaving her uncle and Claudine to visit with those they knew, Lydia entered Lord Verdurn’s ballroom and saw an immense crowd of people. The dancing was already underway, and around the edges of the room great clusters of well-dressed lords and ladies talked and laughed, enjoying the chance to mingle and speak.
Lydia looked out over the faces from where she stood atop the entryway step and stopped suddenly. There, apparently awaiting her arrival, was the Viscount of Lockwood, a man several years her senior—though some might have thought that at five-and-thirty he was too old to be their first choice of a husband. Fortunately, Lydia cared not for matters of age or even appearance, though Vincent’s handsome features were certainly endearing.
Watching Vincent intently as he made his way through the crowd of guests, Lydia’s heart skipped only a little. It was wonderful, of course, to be sought after and to have someone such as the Viscount take notice of her. On the other hand, what little affection she felt for Vincent gave her pause; was she being unkind in her hopes that this modicum of sentiment might grow into something more profound?
“My Lady, you are more beautiful every time I see you,” Vincent said, taking her hand and merely bowing over it as was polite. “When you are away, I have only my memories of your beauty to envision, yet when I see you in person, you far surpass even those cherished memories.”
“Well, then I shall strive to stay away for a longer time,” Lydia replied, smiling appreciatively at the compliment, “so that I might prove even more beautiful in your eyes and not have to fear that I am actually rather plain.”
“Plain? Lady Lydia Reed, daughter of the Earl of Bronson? Banish the thought, My Lady,” Vincent answered with a grin that almost made her shiver. He looked around at those nearby before adding, “I do hope I shall have the chance to dance with you this evening.”
“Of course,” Lydia replied with a slight curtsey. “It will be my honor.”
Vincent leaned dangerously close and whispered, “And if the tongue-wagging dowagers of the ton fail to pay us any mind, perhaps I might steal a third dance and cause us both great scandal.”
Lydia couldn’t help but laugh. There was something to be said for Vincent’s humor, even when she did not feel as though her heart were taking flight in his presence. He had a very funny wit and was quite an enjoyable storyteller, and combined with his other attributes, it was sufficient to give her cause to return his attentions.
“I don’t know about that, My Lord,” she replied coyly. “A lady’s good name and reputation are all she might have in the world. Though she have more wealth than the kings of the ages, without her reputation she has nothing.”
“Then perhaps we will not let them find out,” he said mischievously. “Or better yet, if you will take a stroll in the gardens with me this evening rather than dance too long? Never fear, my sister has accompanied me tonight and will gladly chaperone.”
“I shall certainly consider the offer,” she answered while feigning a sly look and smiling up at him.
“Very good,” Vincent replied, taking her hand once again and bowing slightly. “I shall find you again soon to claim those dances.”
As he walked away, Lydia chanced to see him turn back and smile at her, stealing one more glance at her. She could not deny that it thrilled her slightly to think that a man leaving her side would be forced to look on her one last time.
Perhaps there is more to Vincent than I’ve thought all this time, Lydia wondered, still watching him circle the immense room, stopping to greet those whom he knew.I could certainly do worse than to marry one who has appeared both kind and doting.
Lydia paused, thinking back to the strange encounter in the cemetery a short time ago. How odd that she should see Matthew after all these years, a man who—as children—Lydia had often daydreamed about. How fortuitous that she had avoided such a fate as growing up with him, as he could have been the object of her desire instead of Vincent. Seeing his bedraggled appearance and noting his errant behavior, Lydia breathed a sigh of relief and stared after Vincent with a smile on her face.
“There you are,” Lydia’s friend Penelope said as she came closer and twined her arm through Lydia’s. “Staring after your handsome prince?”
“You might say that,” she replied, leaning closer to speak in a lower voice.
“I have to say, he is quite a fine specimen,” Penelope said, her red curls bobbing happily as she stood on her toes to better see the Viscount as he continued moving through the room. “You could certainly do worse than to marry him.”
“He would first have to ask,” Lydia reminded her pointedly. “As of yet, we are not even courting. So far as I know, he has not spoken to Uncle Julius, which would be required now that he’s my guardian.”
