Lydia fixed the older woman with a scathing glare.
“My dear Lady Rosebury, please do abandon your false protestations. I know very well that it was you. The words match far too well. And I know that you, and your husband, are investors in the company which publishesThe Society Reporter… because my father is an investor too. SO perhaps we can step past the falsehoods and deal in practicalities – or… would you prefer that society discovers your journalistic endeavours?”
The older woman drew in a sharp hiss of breath.
“I see. You have made your position plain.”
“Good. I am so glad that you understand. Now, about the matter of some more… enhanced… reporting on a certain unwise young woman’s obsession with the wrong man…”
Lady Rosebury shook her head.
“I don’t think that crossing the Calthorpes again would be a good idea. There were certain visits to the publisher of our favourite little scandal sheet which made it clear that alluding to anyone in their family a second time would not be a wise move. Unlike you, Lord Rosebury and I are in this for the money, as is your father. You should think on that before you attempt anything foolish. He needsThe Society Reporterto be both operational and — more importantly — profitable. You might cut your nose off to spite your face by playing foolish games with a family that easily has the power to shutThe Society Reporterdown.”
Lydia narrowed her eyes, furious that Lady Rosebury was not complying with her wishes. Did the Marchioness truly not understand that Lydia was in control here, and not her? When she spoke again, it was through gritted teeth covered by a forced smile.
“Do it, or I’ll out that you’re more than just an investor inThe Society Reporter. I know you feed them the gossip they print, which means that you’ve dirtied your hands with actual work. Thetoncertainly wouldn’t approve of that, and we all know that thetonbarely tolerates you on its fringes as it is. No one likes an insufferable gossip. You would not want to fall off that edge and into obscurity, now would you?” Lydia stood, smoothing her dress and smirking down at Lady Rosebury. “I expect that you can see things my way now.” Lydia was so sure of herself that she did not even wait for an answer, but simply walked away. Her step was light as she set her mind to finding Lord Greywood. He wanted to see Lord D’Asti suffer as much as Lydia wanted to see Eugenia suffer. He would not fail her, and they would both get what they wanted out of the little arrangement she was planning.
Percy was idly chattingwith some of the other men on Bellingham Park’s terrace, which overlooked the garden — blessedly absent Lord D’Asti’s obnoxious presence — when he saw Miss Errington signal him. He excused himself and followed her down the path at a discreet distance, until they turned a corner, and stepped into a shaded folly which was screened from the view of those at the house by a substantial hedge. Percy did not even have a chance to speak before Miss Errington attacked him verbally, an unsettling fire burning in the depths of her eyes.
“If you want any hope of ruining Lord D’Asti’s happiness permanently, we need to make our movenow. I’ve been watching Lady Eugenia every night since she arrived at my home, and so has my maid - and every night, Lady Eugenia has been out sleepwalking. She always follows the same path, always out to the gardens. We MUST act tonight.”
Percy could only bow in acceptance, he feared that any other answer wouldn’t appease Miss Errington. In their previous discussions, she had proposed a number of possible ways in which they might affect the Count’s budding relationship, and he wondered, idly, just which plan she meant they should implement. It didn’t matter, he supposed, which plan it was, so long as it worked.
Percy allowed himself, then, just for the barest hint of a moment, to wonder what the Honourable Miss Lydia Errington and all her formidable passions might be like, were she not hell-bent on destroying her perceived competition amongst theton.
That evening,Lord Greywood and Miss Lydia Errington hid themselves out in the garden to await Lady Eugenia. Unease squirmed through Percy’s gut as it occurred to him that if anyone saw them out here, alone together, Lord Bellingham would be well within his rights to force him to marry the temperamental, viciously ambitious, impetuous woman who crouched in the bushes facing him. He shivered at that thought. She had a pretty enough face, but her behaviour could use a hefty amount of correction. A wildly inappropriate image of her bent over his knee and him spanking some good sense into her flashed through Percy’s mind, and he instantly regretted it, trying to shake the thought off. Now was not the time, this was not the place, and — he was almost certain — she was not the woman about whom he should be having such thoughts.
Time dragged, and eventually, Percy yawned multiple times, trying to hint that they should go, but Lydia glared at him so harshly that he stopped and waited with her in silence.
Just when Percy feared that the ennui would overcome him, they heard a sound. Soft footsteps across the gravel of the path heralded the arrival of a nightrail-clad figure. Lady Eugenia glided through the garden, the very picture of something both ethereal and ghostly in the silvery moonlight. It was eerie to see her moving so smoothly and steadily on bare feet, even with her eyes closed and unseeing, and never noticing that the hem of her nightrail dragged the ground, gathering dirt.
A shudder of apprehension slithered down Percy’s spine, and doubt gripped him for a moment. Was using this woman really worth it, to punish Lord D’Asti for the way he’d humiliated Henrietta?
He even opened his mouth to whisper the question aloud, but Lydia shushed him before he could say a thing.
Lydia smiledwith delight at the sight of Eugenia sleep walking, just as she’d predicted. She waited until Eugenia passed close enough and then threw a small rock at the back of her head, before quickly ducking down behind the bush again and signalling Percy to speak.
“Are you certain you want the Calthorpe girl after all that nasty business at Lady Duncan’s Ball? She’s practically ruined.” Percy was doing a perfect imitation of Lord Rosebury’s nasal voice. “Lady Catherine is obviously the better choice of the two, what with no unseemly scandals attached to her name.”
“Either one would do, really,” Percy said in an even more perfect stage whisper imitation of Lord D’Asti. “You know that I only intend to use my future bride for her money, whether it be LadyEugenia or Lady Catherine. Still, Lady Eugenia is so desperate and naive, I believe that she will be the easier of the two to control, and bend to my will once we’re married. I will leave her in the country and return alone to London to live my life as I please, as soon as her dowry is in my coffers.”
Lydia gripped Lord Greywood’s hand and tugged him into the shadows, further away from Eugenia. They ran from the garden hand-in-hand, stopping only when they were at the back entrance of the house. They both giggled like school children, covering their mouths with their hands to stifle the sound, congratulated each other quietly, and slipped unseen back into their respective rooms.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Eugenia came awake with a start.
She rubbed the back of her head, looking around and realising that she was out in the garden. She felt a soreness, as if she had been hit, but had no recollection of anything since closing her eyes to sleep. She knew that she had been sleepwalking again, so she picked up the hem of her nightrail, and turned to go towards the house. That was when she heard a whisper.
She paused, unable to resist the urge to listen, although she knew it was terribly rude to eavesdrop.
She heard two distinct voices.
One she didn’t recognise.
The other? The other… it sounded exactly like Lord D’Asti.
Pressing herself deeper into the shadows, she held her breath and listened, half hoping that he was, perhaps, discussing proposal plans with Lord Seabury, asking advice on how best to ask for her hand in marriage.
