Lydia blinked. Did Lord or Lady Cheltenham already hear that she was now guardian-less? Would they throw her out? No, of course not. They were too kind for that. Though after last night, perhaps their kindness was stretched a bit thin. Lady Cheltenham had not been overt in stating that she knew Lydia had kissed her son, but she had implied it. She’d not appeared upset though. She’d given Lydia an embrace and asked if she was truly well, then suggested she retire and that they could speak more in the morning.
That must be what it was. Lady Cheltenham wished to discuss Lydia’s lack of propriety where Lord Berkeley was concerned. Lydia took a bolstering breath, meeting the expectant gaze of the waiting maid. “I will be down shortly.”
The maid bobbed another curtsy. “Begging your pardon, but I am meant to bring you down immediately.”
Lydia bit her lip. There was no avoiding it then. She asked the maid to wait outside just a moment. Without calling for Jones, she slipped into a simple gown, doing it up on her own with a bit of difficulty, then exited the room after only a minute or two.
She followed the maid, feeling rather as though she were being led to her demise. Whatever awaited her in the study could not be pleasant. Not once in her stay had she ever been summoned there.
At the study door, she took a bolstering breath. The maid opened it for her then murmured a parting and departed, leaving the door wide. Lydia stepped inside.
The room was empty of all but Lord Berkeley. Her heart jumped in her chest.
He stood behind the desk, hands behind his back. His expression was as inscrutable as ever. More so, actually, because of late she’d flattered herself that she could read even his most stoic expressions.
“I apologize for dragging you from your room, but I had to speak with you before attending my father in concluding our business from last night.”
“Did you discover who was behind the attacks then?”
He nodded once, offering no more. “Please, sit.”
She did so, rather haltingly. He was acting so formally; she did not know what to make of it.
He sat, too, then met her eye. “I need to apologize for the cad-like way in which I treated you last night. I regret my actions entirely.”
Lydia fisted her hands in her lap where he could not see them. “You regret kissing me?” she managed.
He nodded, eyes still on hers but devoid of emotion.
She shifted in her chair. “And if I do not regret kissing you?”
Surprise registered in his face for the merest moment. “Then I apologize even more. I should not... I should not have treated you in that manner.”
“Treated me in what manner? As if you had...” She was flustered, and her hands came unlocked to wave in the air without purpose. “As if you had interest in me? Feelings?”
She was so absorbed in her anxiety that she could not focus to see if his expression changed at all, but his voice did. It was lower, harsher even. “Miss Faraday, whether I have feelings for you or not does not factor into this.”
Her eyes locked on his, narrowed. “Doesn’t it though? Do not our feelings factor entirely into this?”
“No. We must think logically here. What could come of a misplaced kiss in a carriage? Certainly not—”
She cut him off with a scoff. “Misplaced?” She came to her feet. He jerked to his as well.
“I apologize, perhaps that was not the best word.”
She lifted her hand. “No, enough of your apologies, Lucas.” She put emphasis on his name, though it pained her. Weeks ago, she’d asked him to call her by her first name, but he had not. That ought to have been her first clue that he wished for no close association with her. His not saying a word about her willingness to forgo her inheritance for him ought to have been a very large second. Yet she’d let her thoughts—and her heart—get so far away from her that she could hardly see them any longer.
“Tell me,”—it took every ounce of her courage to keep looking him in the eye—“do you or do you not have any plan to further our relationship?” She would not allow a miscommunication to keep her from this man, if that truly was what this was.
He swallowed, and his eyes had a hollow sort of look in them. “No.”
She took a step to the door. “Then I will not take up any more of your time.”
“Miss Faraday—”
She turned on him, feelings so far repressed that all that remained was anger. “No. If you’ve no wish to continue our relationship, then I’ve no wish to continue this conversation. Goodbye, Lucas.” Again, she forced herself to use his name, though the reminder of the closeness they’d had was excruciating.Shewouldn’t back down from that reminder, even if he were attempting to erase that history.
He stared at her, and as well as she knew him now, she could see that it was pain that created the hairline creases around his eyes and mouth. Good. She could only hope it was half so much pain as what was even now coursing through her.
