She threw caution to the wind. “Did he want to see me?” He did—she’d heard him.
Tarrington paused for only half a step. “No.” Then he closed the door veritably in her face.
Lydia bit down hard on the insides of her cheeks. Her insatiable curiosity had more urgency than usual. Because this was larger than usual. More important. This was not just the tail end of an interesting conversation about who fancied who in the neighborhood or what someone found hiding in the middle of their sheep herd. This was her life. Her family.
Family. What a novel idea.
“Miss Faraday,” a sharp voice sounded, wrenching Lydia from her thoughts. Lydia’s new maid was rushing down the hall, appearing flustered. “You have a visitor. Come, let me fix your hair.” Jones had not reached Lydia but was already turning back for the staircase with a jerk, expecting she’d follow.
Lydia had learned two things about her new maid: First, despite being old enough to be her grandmother, Jones was not grandmotherly in the least—she acted more like one of Lydia’s governesses than a maid. And second, if they put her in charge, the war with France would likely be over in a week or two.
Oh, there was a third too. Evidently it was not proper to call one’s maid by their first name. So “Jones” the maid was called—supposedly it was a mark of her status in the household to be called by her surname. Just one more thing to learn about “polite society.”
Lydia fell into step behind her. “A visitor?”
“Yes. Mr. Frank Colbert is waiting in the drawing room. Come! We cannot take long, but your hair is a sight.”
“I have done nothing to muss it.”
Jones spared her half an incredulous look. “Well, it needs fixing regardless.”
Lydia lowered her hand and sat at her dressing table, allowing Jones her ministrations, all the while fixated on the fact that nomatter how handsome and charming Mr. Frank Colbert may be, she’d rather be visiting with one Mr. Sperry just then.
Chapter 6
“Your brother tells me heis going calling today.”
Lucas looked up from his correspondence. His mother stood in the doorway of the study. He came to his feet. “That is far better than his usual activities.”
Mother let out a chuckle. “Truer words have never been spoken.” She entered the room. So she was not simply imparting news. He placed his pen on the paper and set them aside, earning him a small smile.
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
“What do you need?”
“Go with your brother.”
That was concerning. “Do you not believe he intends to go calling?”
The corners of her eyes creased with amusement. “Oh no, I fully believe he plans to see the young lady he spilled punch on during our ball.”
She’d puzzled that out rather quickly. “Did he confess then?”
“Of course not. His valet did.”
Lucas nodded. That made more sense. “Then why do you need me to go?”
Mother sighed. It was not particularly weighty, simply a gust of air expressing minor displeasure. “I rather liked Miss Faraday. I would appreciate it if Charlie did not... ah...”
“I see.”
She shot him a grateful look. Lady Cheltenham was every inch the marchioness, with impeccable manners and a steely look that portrayed her importance. But with her family, she was simply a mother. One who seemed increasingly frustrated with the antics of her youngest son and unwilling to allow him to hurt or harm anyone. Hopefully no harmhadcome to Miss Faraday. Lucas had struggled with his decision not to explain thesituation to her guardian, and he was concerned that it may have reflected poorly on her.
“I only want the best for him, you know. I want him to be happy. And if that means settling down with a young lady... well, I would welcome her heartily. More than heartily. I would fly flags at her appearance. Sing her praises. Write poetry in her honor.”
Lucas very nearly laughed. Mother lost herself in her own entertainments more often than not. How surprised thetonwould be to see her at her leisure.
But then she sobered, placing a hand on Lucas’s. “I wish the same for you.”
