“Evident?” Madeline took both of Lydia’s hands in her own. “Darling, you practically telegraphed your feelings to me. It was obvious that you were simply overwhelmed by the attention at dinner this evening. I don’t know how the mistake was made. I never intended you to be seated by Mr. Moore or Mr. Hunter. They’re too old, and, I suspect, far too experienced for you. James and Henry are so much more appropriate.”
“I’m sure you think so, Mother.”
Madeline’s eyes narrowed briefly. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Lydia said dully. “I’m simply tired.” She gently withdrew her hands. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go out for a breath of air.”
“I’m not sure—” She stopped as Lydia walked away from her. Madeline stood rooted for several seconds, stunned by her daughter’s uncharacteristically rude behavior, then she went in search of the soprano who was going to provide the entertainment.
Lydia stepped out onto the flagstone portico. The air was still damp from the earlier spring rain and fragrant with the scent of roses from the garden. She hadn’t thought to bring a shawl, and the skin on her bare forearms prickled as a cool breeze circled her. She walked over to the stone balustrade bordering the portico and watched her guests meander along the garden paths to the pond and the gazebo beyond. She would have an entertainment in the summer, she thought, with an outdoor concert and paper lanterns around the pond. She would manage the guest list completely alone the next time and make certain there were no surprises.
Dinner had been horrible for her. From the appetizer to the moment when the main course was served, Lydia was expected to converse almost exclusively with the companion on her left. She couldn’t enjoy her time with Brigham Moore, however, because she was dreading the time she would have to spend with Nathan Hunter. Throughout the meal her attempts at conversation were stilted and awkward, and the horrible knot in the pit of her stomach just kept growing. At one point she thought she was going to have to excuse herself or be sick in front of everyone.
Pei Ling’s soft voice interrupted her humiliating memories. “Miss Liddy,” the maid said, coming to stand at Lydia’s side. “Please come. Someone here to see you.”
“Tonight? Who is—”
“They say hurry. I ask them wait in library.” Pei Ling’s dark eyes were anxious. “Hurry, please. Before Mother sees them.”
Lydia was beginning to suspect who had come calling. She didn’t question Pei Ling’s insistence again. “You can wait here in the hallway,” she told her maid when they reached the library. “Warn me if Mother or Papa comes this way. This will only take a few minutes.”
Nathan had been standing on the portico, just out of reach of the ballroom’s chandelier light, when he saw Lydia walking toward the balustrade. He felt trapped in the shadows, not wanting to draw attention to himself by moving, not wanting to be thought a spy if he stayed and was seen. He watched her linger by the stone rail and wondered at the drift of her thoughts. Probably considering how to get out of her father’s wager, he decided. It was clear to him that she was unhappy by the turn of events at the poker table. Her civility was forced all through dinner, her comments monosyllabic or too sweet to be sincere.
In spite of the cool reception, Nathan persevered. He was used to being shown the door once women made Brig’s acquaintance and he’d never cared. This time, though, there was too much at stake to quit the chase. He patted Samuel’s marker in his vest pocket and thought about dinner at the Cliff House tomorrow evening. He still had another chance to set things right—this time without Brig’s presence.
He was thinking about where he might take Lydia after dinner, how he might explain himself to her, when he saw her being approached by a Chinese girl he took to be a house servant. They both disappeared into the house, and the next time Nathan saw Lydia, ten minutes had passed and she was leaving the mansion by a side door, alone and on foot, cloaked in a black, hooded cape and carrying a wicker basket in one arm.
Raking back his hair with his fingers, Nathan frowned, trying to imagine what could have taken Lydia Chadwick away from her own gala. He couldn’t. There was no woman in his experience to compare to Lydia. She was shy and defiant by turns, awkward then graceful, gracious and ill-mannered in a heartbeat. She had yet to thank him for his rescue this evening. Still, Nathan thought, she had danced with him and never once let on that she found him hopelessly inadequate as a partner.
Behind him, Nathan heard the musicians warming up again. A few chords were struck on the piano. The guests were being urged to come inside for the entertainment. At the edge of the pond he saw Brig take Madeline Chadwick’s arm and start toward the house. It was not an unexpected sight. Nathan remembered the first time he had seen Madeline. It had been nearly two months ago, shortly after he arrived in San Francisco, and she’d had Brigham Moore on her arm on that occasion as well.
Nathan wondered if Brig thought he could get to Lydia through her mother or if his interests lay in Madeline herself. Probably a little bit of both. Brig typically didn’t leave much to chance, and tonight’s poker game must have cut him on the raw. The memory of that game brought a smile to Nathan’s mouth. He was smiling as Brig and Madeline crossed the portico and entered the ballroom through the French doors, and he was still smiling as he went in search of the diminutive Chinese servant he’d seen with Lydia.
Nathan felt like the sneaksman he had been as he toured the first floor of the mansion looking for Pei Ling. He viewed three parlors, the private family dining room, and an art gallery before he surprised the maid in the solarium. She was in earnest, agitated conversation with Father Patrick and Nathan suspected it had something to do with Lydia’s abrupt departure.
Pei Ling and Father Patrick stopped talking and turned at the same time toward Nathan. Pei Ling made a short bow and started to back away. The priest stopped her and faced Nathan squarely, assuming the younger man was lost and gave him directions back to the ballroom.
Nathan closed the solarium doors. The room was warm, redolent with the scent of humus and hothouse flowers, and the floor-to-ceiling windows shimmered with tiny beads of moisture. “I’ve come to talk to the girl,” Nathan said.
Father Patrick took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and wiped the lenses with a handkerchief. His thin, angular face was flushed and his wide forehead glistened with perspiration. He replaced his glasses and touched the handkerchief to his brow, then to the balding crown of his head. “You’re Mr. Hunter, aren’t you? Mr. Chadwick’s poker guest…the one who made the rather sizable contribution.”
Nathan nodded.
“Well, Mr. Hunter, I’d appreciate a few minutes more with Pei Ling before you speak to her. There is a matter of some importance which I—”
“This will only take a moment, Father,” Nathan interrupted. He took a chance that he had correctly divined the nature of their conversation and plunged in. “I saw Miss Chadwick leave here a short time ago. She appeared to be in a hurry and was rather secretive about her departure. I came to ask Pei Ling—” He paused, looking to the maid to see if he had caught her name correctly. At her quick nod he continued. “—if Miss Chadwick might benefit from an escort.”
Father Patrick raised his eyes heavenward and whispered a word of thanks. His prayers had been answered. “Yes indeed, my boy,” he said, eagerly stepping forward. He put an arm around Nathan’s shoulders and drew him into the room. “Pei Ling tells me Liddy’s gone to Miss Bailey’s.”
“Miss Bailey’s? But that’s—” He almost said that’s where she had been earlier in the evening, but he caught himself in time.
“A brothel,” the priest said, finishing the sentence he thought Nathan was too polite to complete. He threw up his hands and began pacing the tiled floor. “When Liddy gets something into her head, she can’t let go of it. She’s committed to the children, you see…no, you can’t see. I’m not explaining this very well at all.”
Pei Ling raised her head slightly. “I would explain, please. Two women come tonight for Miss Liddy. Say Charlotte is about to have baby. Miss Liddy go to help with delivery and take baby.”
“Take the baby?” asked Nathan. Lydia Chadwick wanted a child?
“To the orphanage,” Father Patrick broke in. “She’s gone to Miss Bailey’s to take Charlotte’s baby to the orphanage.”
