And fool that he was, in the end, he’d suffered for it and wasn’t at all certain that he’d actually been successful. Because he couldn’t keep from appreciating her even at a distance. Her hair shone like ebony silk, the flush of her cheeks reminded him of pink and white roses, and not only did her gown match the color of her eyes, but it hinted at the lush curves he’d found himself craving late at night.
And craving in the morning.
And craving at other most inopportune moments.
He wasn’t the sort of man to vacillate with his intentions. He never had been.
In truth, guessing that Lady Baxter had sent Lydia’s coach home herself, doing a bit of matchmaking, Jeremy conceded that he ought to be thanking the clever countess. It was the final push he needed to make this decision once and for all.
He would entertain this blasted indecisiveness no longer.
He wanted Lydia in his life regardless of what her brothers had done. He would live with the consequences—for her.
He would come to terms with the knowledge that by giving into his heart, he would sacrifice a piece of his family’s honor.
He’d do the one thing he’d sworn he never would: betray his brother.
But Lydia would be in his life again. And he needed her.
He exhaled, shakily.
The object of his thoughts appeared in the foyer then, looking tentative and a little confused. “Clarissa says my driver had to leave early and that you’ve offered to provide me with a ride? Mr. Smith is fetching my coat and then I’ll be ready to leave.”
“Very good.” Her scent rose up to tantalize him, the sweetest of flowers. The drive would be a short one, but they would be alone.
“Jeremy, are you… in danger?” Her question had Jeremy glancing at her curiously.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because you’ve taken on these dock criminals. They cannot be happy about your interference.” Her brows lowered in concern. “I knew dealing with them would become necessary eventually, but I had thought it was mostly children… Like Ollie’s brother, and their friends.”
He didn’t want to lie to her, but neither did he want for her to worry.
Baxter’s butler approached, however, successfully preventing Jeremy from having to do either.
“Your carriage awaits in front, my lord.” The butler turned. “Your coat, my lady.”
Jeremy intercepted Lydia’s coat and held it up. When her gaze met his, he felt more than a little sheepish, remembering that he’d intentionally refrained from helping her into her coat not too long ago at the Wicked Earls’ Club. Instinctively, he had to have known she was a threat to his objective.
Was this still the case?
He let his hands linger on her shoulders before leading her outside.
He’d never find another person like her. Despite everything, she’d not wavered from him in any way—not in her words, her feelings, or her intentions.
Her love for him had persisted, unconditionally.
His heart swelled.
As the door to the carriage closed behind them, with her seated beside him on the front-facing bench, Jeremy realized he wasn’t quite ready to bid her goodnight yet.
“Is your Aunt Emma expecting you home at any particular time? Or would you be amenable to driving around a while?”
She turned in surprise but nodded. “No. I mean, yes. I mean… No, she isn’t expecting me and yes, I am quite amenable to your suggestion.” She laughed. “It’s a lovely night.”
The tightness in his chest eased. He was making the right decision.
He lowered his hand between them and when she did the same, he entwined her fingers with his and squeezed gently.
