“They haven’t, no,” Lady Westerley assured her, smiling kindly. “But, for Lord Tempest, this purchase wasn’t really about the money or the business end of things at all—or at least, not entirely. You see, a band of smugglers has been operating through Ludwig Bros. for quite some time now, causing trouble for the military and other legitimate businesses in the area, and he intends to put a stop to it. In the past few years, the gang bosses have widened their territory beyond the docks—to the clubs and to legal trade. Westerley says that they’ll never contain these types of criminals completely, but Lord Tempest… Well, he’s tackled the root of it. I rather believe that this—” she waved her hand toward the doorway where the men were gathered “—isn’t only about the investment but is actually a gesture to signify their support.”
Lydia watched the group of men who appeared ridiculously confident, if not outright cocky, and exhaled a sigh of relief.
He did not have to do everything alone—even if he’d ended his friendship with her brothers. She was happy for him, but she was also a little sad.
What had Lucas and Blackheart done to him? But then that question prompted another—Was it possible that Jeremy’s involvement in this business at the docks was connected to Lucas and Blackheart? She had heard them discussing LudwigBros. Shipping and wished now that she’d bothered to actually pay attention.
Before he died, Jeremy’s brother, Arthur, had been involved in an ambush where weapons had been stolen. Weapons that might have been shipped to them by Ludwig Bros., perhaps?
“Do the gang bosses smuggle weapons?” Lydia asked.
“Mostly,” Lady Westerley answered. “That and various libations.”
Lord and Lady Baxter’s manservant chose that moment to announce dinner, and all of her rational thoughts fled when, freed up at last, Jeremy strolled in her direction from across the room. Lady Westerley offered him her own congratulations and then joined her husband, leaving Lydia and Jeremy alone.
He was quiet as the two of them stood watching the other couples drift out of the drawing room, and Lydia did not feel the need to press, sensing he required a moment to ground himself.
It wasn’t until everyone else had exited that Jeremy at last tucked her arm into his and lead her toward the door.
With two actual dukes in attendance, a room full of countesses, and a baroness, Lydia felt positively outranked for one of the first times in her life.
“You look stunning tonight.” Lydia jumped when his breath caressed the side of her face. “You were born to wear that color of blue”.
She’d chosen the gown intentionally. “I remember it’s your favorite.” She glanced down, feeling warmth flood her cheeks.
“Cobalt. The first time I stared into your eyes, I thought my own were tricking me.”
“No tricks.” She felt like humming beside him. She had missed this! And yet another layer had been added to their relationship; something electric now vibrated beneath their conversation.
She’d not really… flirted with him before. They’d been friends who held deep affection for one another, but there had also been a certainty to their match. Or so she’d believed.
“You cannot have been more than six.” He chuckled. “God, but that makes me feel old.”
“You are not old.” She squeezed his arm. “You were eighteen at the time and just returned from school to visit Blackheart.” Her parents had been gone for two years already. “You took tea with Lucinda and me. But you refused to hold my doll.”
“Your brothers never would have let me hear the end of it. As it was...” He bit off what he’d been going to say, as though he’d nearly forgotten he despised them now, and Lydia felt a pang of sadness. But surely, he could not despise them forever, could he?
They entered the long dining room, and he dropped her hand in order to draw out a chair for her to sit. A single seat that was flanked by chairs occupied by the Duchess of Goldthwaite and Baron Chaswick.
He gave a quick bow and then left her to take a seat at the opposite end of the room.
The mention of Blackheart must have reminded him that he had intended to keep away from her.
She tempered her disappointment by telling herself that, at least now, he seemed to be torn, which was far better than his frame of mind four months ago.
And if the heated glances he persistently sent in her direction were anything to go by, it was possible that his feelings for her had a chance at winning the battle in the end.
She hoped so, anyhow.
“Wouldyou mind driving Lady Lydia home this evening? Her driver’s horse… er… threw a shoe and had to return to Heart Place early?”
Jeremy looked at the Countess of Baxter skeptically. “It threw a shoe in your drive?”
She shrugged. “I’ve been telling Baxter that we needed to repair it.”
“Of course.” He chuckled. “I am at your service.”
It was almost a relief really. Jeremy had been the one to bring up Blackheart, and he’d caught himself all but reminiscing, speaking of the man fondly. With his objectives unbalanced, he’d avoided her, which hadn’t been fair of him. She deserved better—she always had.
