He found himself smiling at the grave, wise pronouncement. “I see.”
“You may call me Lydia.”
“All right…Lydia.”
The silence that grew between them this time was a comfortable one. Out of the corner of his eye Nathan saw Lydia’s lashes flutter as she tried to stay awake. When her head lolled toward the fireplace he gently brought it back and let her rest it against his shoulder. It was not long before she turned entirely in his direction, her legs curled to one side, and snuggled trustingly in his arms.
There were worse things, Nathan supposed, than dealing with a shikkered Lydia Chadwick.
Until the steadyknocking at the door roused him, Nathan was unaware that he had fallen asleep. His dreams had been a natural continuation of his waking thoughts, one flowing into another like a stream into a river. The young woman who had figured rather largely in both was still sleeping soundly in his arms.
Nathan stumbled a bit as he got to his feet, his legs numb and unsteady beneath him. He stretched, glanced at the clock, then bent and picked up Lydia. She was lighter than he had imagined. Again he recalled the horrible yellow gown and acknowledged that her dress had indeed been deceiving. Moving quickly toward the bedroom, Nathan laid Lydia on his bed and covered her up to her neck with the quilt at the foot of the bed. She never stirred, not even when his fingers lingered in her hair at a spot just above her temple.
He shrugged out of his evening jacket, vest, and shirt, mussed his hair, slipped into a smoking jacket, and took off his socks and shoes. The knocking at the door was louder now and more insistent. Just before he opened the door Nathan worked up a huge yawn and rubbed his eyes. Anyone could be forgiven for thinking they’d wakened him from hours of deep sleep.
“What do you want, Brig?” he asked tiredly. There was no surprise in his voice, for he felt none. Indeed, he would have been surprised if it had been anyone else. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Actually I do.” Without waiting for an invitation, Brig pushed past Nathan. He went immediately to the sideboard and helped himself to three generous fingers of bourbon. His eyes went from Nathan, who was still leaning against the door, to the woman’s cape hanging on the rack beside him. “Oh, sorry old man, I see you have company,” he said, indicating the cape with a tilt of his chin. “I should have realized when you disappeared from that beano so early that you had a sheila with you.” Brig meant a gala affair. He was rarely cautious about his slang when he was alone with Nathan. “Mind if I have a look?”
Before Nathan could raise an objection or move to stop him, Brig was slipping into the bedroom. All Nathan could do was pray that Lydia had not turned in her sleep or uncovered herself. Brig would find it odd that he was sleeping with a fully dressed woman.
A moment later Brig was back, his disappointment telling Nathan that all was well. “Too dark,” said Brig, “but she’s a bit of a thing, ain’t she? Not like some girls that come to mind.”
“You’re referring to Miss Chadwick, I take it.”
“She’s the one who comes to mind. Pity she ain’t more like her mother. Now there’s someone who can fill out the front of my trousers.”
“I noticed your interest.”
“It’s mutual.”
“I thought it might be. I’d be careful, though. Lydia may object to your spending too much time with her mother. I have the distinct impression that that sort of thing’s happened before.”
“Oh?”
“No information. Just a feeling.”
Brig knew he’d do well to consider that feeling. “I’m surprised you’re telling me. Given that we have the same objective, I’d think you’d want me to fail.”
Thinking about Lydia in his bedroom, Nathan permitted himself a small smile. “Perhaps I think I can afford to be magnanimous.”
Brig snorted. He sat down in the corner of the sofa Lydia had occupied. “So, who is she?”
“That’s none of your business,” Nathan answered kindly.
“What made you decide to leave?”
Nathan sat down on an arm of the other sofa. “I believe Lydia retired for the evening, at least that’s what Samuel told me. With her gone there was little to be served by staying. I left at about the time the entertainment began.”
Brig nodded. “That’s when I missed you.” He took a swift swallow of bourbon. “I didn’t appreciate you winning that hand. That wager was my idea.”
“It was a good one.”
“That’s the second time you’ve interfered with something I planned.”
“We’ve already discussed this, Brig. I thought you said all you cared to before we went to dinner.”
“I thought I had. The more I think about it, the more bloody angry I get.”
