They all fell silent, lost in their own thoughts, but Lucas struggled to keep his fixated on any one thing. After all the pain and suffering his family had gone through, if he’d just been open with his parents, his father could have helped him resolve everything with no bloodshed. If he’d remained home tonight, Miss Faraday would have been safe from Mr. Frank Colbert. If he’d never assumed that he could atone for his deficiencies by opening the club, there would have been no need for violence.Essentially, if he’d been smarter and more capable, none of this would have happened. Just like how he’d been stupid and incapable when those men attacked their carriage and Marietta died.
Father shook his head and spoke, jolting Lucas from his reverie. “There is nothing for it now. Miss Faraday is safe, our sons are safe, and we will have this all resolved in the morning. For now, let us get to sleep.”
Lucas doubted he would be getting much sleep at all.
Chapter 37
Lydia paced in front ofthe window of her borrowed bedroom, biting her thumbnail as the wan sun finally made its appearance in the sky. Was it too early to go in search of Lucas? Surely he was awake and as anxious as she to sort out everything that had happened the night before.
And then, perhaps once they’d completed that, she might sort out the mess of her future. After he’d kissed her in the carriage, certainly he meant to further their relationship. Even after what Colbert had done to her, he had still wanted her enough to kiss her with such fervor.
Memory of those stolen moments made all coherent thought flee.
She would give up a great deal for the chance of kissing Lucas Berkeley every day for the rest of her life.
Sometime in the night—amid her tossing and turning and inability to sleep despite her exhaustion—that possibility had become a reality. The idea of forgoing her inheritance and her first-ever chance at freedom still left a twinge of panic in her midsection, but the idea of a life with Lucas was more than enough to blanket that fear with peace.
He would allow her freedom. Loving him would be freedom.
Maybe, just maybe, his parents would sanction the match and . . . and . . .
She needed to speak with him as soon as it was a decent hour to be awake. Several hundred more passes across the room should do it.
A light knock at the door paused her pacing. It would seem that someone in the household was awake. “Come in,” she called, pulling her dressing gown about herself.
A maid peeked her head in. “Apologies, miss. An urgent missive just came for you.” She held out a letter.
Lydia crossed the room to take the missive, curiosity running down her person. “Thank you.”
The maid bobbed a curtsy and left.
Lydia returned to her pacing the moment the door clicked shut, her eyes scanning the front of the letter as her feet wore a trench in the carpet.
Then she froze. Her brows furrowed. The letter was postmarked from Lord Tarrington’s estate, but it did not bear his seal. She broke the nondescript wax, unfolding the paper. One single sheet bore only a handful of hurriedly scratched words. Her stomach bottomed out as she read it through twice in only half a minute.
Miss Faraday,
I regret to inform you that Lord Tarrington passed in the night. Please send word when you intend to return.
Sincerest apologies,
Richard Barrens, steward
Her hand lifted to cover her mouth. The floor beneath her seemed to disappear. Dead. Lord Tarrington was dead.
Since he’d declared a need to leave London, she’d known this would be a possibility, but somehow she thought she would have more time. Her heart twinged with the fact that the man solely responsible for providing for the bulk of her life was now gone. She’d had no relationship with him, yet he had been a fixture in her existence practically since she could remember.
And now he was dead.
On the heels of this confusing, upending information came the realization that now someone else held that role, someone she did not know. Did legal guardianship continue? Did she have anyone to provide for her now? What would happen in the coming days... weeks... even months? Questions she shouldhave asked long before now. Yet she did not even know towhomshe should pose them.
Her heart crumbled a little more at the thought that, if Lucas did not return her affection, she would not have the luxury of waiting until her twenty-fifth birthday to receive her inheritance. She could be out on the streets of London tomorrow, for all she knew.
She could speak to him. If not as a man who might return her affection, she could confide in him as a friend. He would counsel her, help her. Her rapidly devolving emotions latched on to that fact. She had someone who would be by her side; she knew he would be.
Her eyes scanned the letter once more. The steward asked when she would return to the estate. Yes, of course she would be expected to. She was now in mourning, was she not?
A knock sounded at the door yet again. After a moment’s hesitation, she bid the person enter with a great deal of distraction in her voice. The same maid as before peeked her head in. “If you are available, you are wanted in my lord’s study, miss.”
