She bid the gentlemen farewell then sat in the empty room, chin in hand and thoughts whirring.
Whether Lord Berkeley was safe to be around or not wasn’t exactly the solution she needed. If she was to get her inheritance, she would need more drastic measures than attaching herself to a man who did not desire an attachment. After all, there were still Mr. Belcher and Mr. Frank Colbert to consider. Plus Lord Charles and whomever Lord Tarrington saw fit to throw in her path.
No. She needed something more. She needed to be out of the marriage mart altogether.
She needed to convince her guardian to send her home.
A solution decided upon, she went in search of the man in question. It was an abrupt decision, but she did not need to dwell on it to know that leaving London was her best course of action, so there was no point avoiding the easiest option—simply asking to go home. If that didn’t work, she’d find another way. She stepped from the room, head swinging to take in the stuffy, opulent entry hall. If he was out of his bedroom, he’d likely be in the study. Her feet padded soundlessly in that direction, the near-silent footfalls the only indication of life in the house. It was incredibly quiet. Even the servants, of which there were more than a few, hardly made a sound. Lord Tarrington’s estate was that way too—barren and dull.
A pang of longing for a life filled with morelivingshot through her. When she had her inheritance, she would fill her home with people—servants and guests and friends—whoever could provide a bit of... not entertainment, per se, but feeling. Happiness, maybe. It was unfortunate that she would have to return to the somber atmosphere of Tarrington Park in order to achieve that future.
The silence of the townhome was broken by a loud cough and then several more in quick succession. Lydia had reached the doors to the study, but she waited until the fit of coughing within stopped before she knocked lightly on the door.
A throat cleared then her guardian’s voice rang out. “Come in.”
She stepped inside.
Lord Tarrington did not appear to have suffered from the intense coughing she had heard. His same sullen expression watched her from beneath hooded eyelids. “Yes?” he asked.
She straightened her shoulders. “Lord Tarrington, I do not think London agrees with me.”
His left brow rose infinitesimally.
“I’ve not been feeling well, and I do not think I’ve shown the best of my capabilities... Spilling the punch at my first ball, nearly missing steps in every dance...” She dug deep to find more examples. “Even just now, I could not serve tea without spilling.”
“Who were you serving tea to?” he asked, latching on to the one thing she’d not wanted to draw his attention to.
Lydia pressed her lips together, but there was nothing for it. “Lord Charles and his brother.”
Tarrington sat up straighter. “Lord Berkeley?”
Lydia sighed. “Yes.”
A gleam entered the man’s eye. “Excellent. Have they shown interest in furthering their acquaintance with you?”
“Ah... That is... Well, Lord Tarrington, I really wished to speak with you about returning home.” His mouth opened, but she spoke over him. “Perhaps with more training, I could be more—”
He waved her off. “The marquess’s family has taken an interest in you. You cannot squander that.” He coughed but leaned forward. “Do not be overt in your discussions of your background. You cannot risk that family learning that you are the mere daughter of an impoverished gentleman. Lean on our connection, and keep any others hidden.”
“Impoverished gentleman? My father? And who was my mother?”
“A nobody,” Tarrington spat.
Lydia sat, leaning forward. “Who was her family then? His?”
He scoffed. “They were not worth your worry. Didn’t your parents ever tell you any of this?”
Lydia tried not to scoff herself. “I was five when they passed. I do not recall much.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat then focused on the newspaper.
After several long moments of waiting, in which he seemed to hope that she would simply leave, she cleared her throat. “Do I have no other family then?”
With a heavy breath, he leveled his gaze on her. “No.”
That caused an unexpected pain to lance through her chest. That one word seemed to pierce her to her very center, and she hadn’t expected it to. She’d felt alone most of her life, but to have it so succinctly summarized in one harsh word? It hurt.
“No one? Not even a grandparent? Aunt or uncle? Distant cousin?”
