“Yes, except . . .”
“I can?” he prodded, leaning toward her just the smallest amount.
“Perhaps.” She took a deep breath. Despite all her logical arguments, it was difficult to relinquish control of this information. But it could only help her. “Mr. Sperry was my late grandfather’s solicitor, and it would seem I was left an inheritance.”
He nodded, his expression serious.
“Lord Tarrington forbade Mr. Sperry to talk to me, but I, ah, sought him out regardless. You must realize, I haven’t a clue who my family is. The baron has kept all information from me, and to learn that there was someone out there that might be able to... to tell me who I am—I was not being willfully rebellious, I was—”
He lifted a hand. “You’ve no need to explain. I can see you were put in a difficult position. So you need to contact Mr. Sperry without your guardian knowing?”
Lydia heaved a sigh of relief. “Yes. Lord Tarrington is bent on me marrying a man of his choosing as soon as possible, but this inheritance... It may mean my freedom for the first time I can recollect.”
She studied him as he seemed to take in that information. A feeling of humiliation was seeping up her throat. He probably thought her ridiculous. Women did not need freedom; they needed the security of marriage—or so everyone had ever said. She’d thought Lord Berkeley could help, but what if he sided with her guardian? What if he told him?
“I see,” he said at last, but what was it that he saw? After another painstaking number of seconds, he added, “How can I help?”
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “If you can ensure that Mr. Sperry gets my letter? It is my best option just now... and it holds a great deal of information.”
“Yes. I can do that.”
“Thank you,” she breathed. “I cannot tell you what it means to have your help.”
He was silent again, but as the carriage began to slow, he met her gaze. “I am sorry you feel you haven’t any freedom. I wish I could help you more.”
To her surprise, a slight burning began at the back of her eyes at the sincerity of his words, but then he broke the connection and looked out the window.
“We are here. Do you need an excuse for why you’ve been out late?”
She shook her head, shaking back her ridiculous emotions as well. “No, I shall go around the back. Hopefully everyone is abed or close to by now.” She grasped the basket she’d never been able to deliver. “I know it is a lot to ask,” she said as the carriage rocked to a halt, “but would you be able to see this safely to Fanny, George, and Anne? I had hoped to drop it by this evening.”
He looked at the basket, then at her, then nodded without words.
She passed it over. “Thank you.”
She stepped to the door, grasping the handle, but as she alighted, a gentle hand grasped her elbow. She turned just long enough to see another of Lord Berkeley’s signature nods accompanied by a strange flash of emotion in his eyes. But then it was gone, and she was hurrying around the house, grateful that it was at the end of a row.
It was not until she was safely back in her bed that her questions resurfaced. Just who was the man she’d entrusted with so much information? Who was Lord Berkeley? What were the secrets he hid, and would he ever entrustherwith them?
Chapter 16
Lucas was determined not toallow his mood to affect the family’s soiree. No matter how tightly wound the night before had left him, he would keep those feelings within. And he would keep his brain from recalling the image of Miss Faraday, her lovely face shadowed and her hand tending his shoulder.
That last one was proving annoyingly difficult, especially when coupled with the trust she’d shown by asking for his help with her inheritance. Trust he’d not reciprocated. She’d found him out, and he did not know how to feel about that. He’d kept his secrets for so long that they’d become a part of him. It felt oddly intimate to share that part of himself. Not to mention, it would mean trusting her not to share the information with others.
His mind had begun to wander again as it had all day, and he forced it back to the present. Mother walked the length of the drawing room and back, flexing her fingers and balling them up with anxious energy. Quietly, Father watched her from his seat beside Lucas.
“I will allow her two more circuits of the room, then I intend to intervene,” Father murmured good-humoredly.
Rather than intervening, Lucas wished to join her. He flexed his own fingers. What would Miss Faraday say tonight? She couldn’t expect him to have any information from Sperry after only a day, so would her thoughts turn to him and his secrets? Would she press him for answers? Mention her thoughts to his family or the guests? It was an added weight he did not wish to carry—after all, tonight was also the first night of entertainment since his father had requested that he view matrimony more seriously as well. That was what he should be focused on. Not Miss Faraday.
“I wish she would not worry so,” Father continued, oblivious to Lucas’s inner turmoil. “Entertaining always takes such a tollon her. She never wants anything to go amiss.” Father turned dancing eyes on Lucas, adding, “I have been tasked with telling Charlie that if he spills punch on a single guest, he will be without dessert for a week.”
“A week! That seems rather harsh.” Charlie had just entered the room, and he pulled a face at Father’s statement.
“I talked her down from a fortnight,” Father responded with a sly grin, standing and pulling Charlie in for a hug from the side.
Charlie returned the hug with a chuckle but asked, “How does she even know that I might have, hypothetically, spilled punch on a guest in the past?”
