Surely he couldn’t deny that things had grown rather complicated between them in such a short amount of time. After that earth-shattering embrace the night before, she was sure he felt the same pull. But if that was the case, why torment her with a kiss and then leave?
She worried her lower lip, considering all sorts of possibilities. Perhaps she had it all wrong and she’d mistaken his kindness and concern as something more. Or maybe her attraction to him was solely based on the fact that she was a lonely woman who was merely blurring the lines between desire…and desperation.
Whatever the reasons, he had saved them both from a terrible mistake, pure and simple. He had been absolutely correct to act as he had. Besides, hadn’t she already convinced herself that an affair between the two of them was out of the question? She needed afriendright now, more than she needed the complications of a lover. Or the threat of further scandal.
Especially when the man in question could never become more.
CHAPTER EIGHT
As if in a silent but mutual accord, Lyra and Alister were perfectly civil to one another as they joined Mrs. Birdwell for breakfast. In fact, as they selected an array of items from the sideboard, one might even say the conversation that blossomed around them was rather cordial. Genial as it was, Lyra was very aware of the tension that roiled just beneath the surface, although she chose to ignore it.
As they settled into their places at the table, the duke made a brief mention of Mr. Lyridon’s return that afternoon.
“How delightful!” Lyra replied brightly. “I should be glad to see Mr. Lyridon again.”
As Alister shot her a particularly odd glance—for they both knew the barrister was coming to continue the inquest—Lyra realized she might have overdone thecheerfulnessa bit.
Mrs. Birdwell didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. “Indeed! And such a good boy he is too. His mother worries that he works too hard however.”
“Naturally,” Lyra agreed. “But I’m sure that is every mother’s concern when it comes to the welfare of their children, no matter how old they get.”
It wasn’t until the words were out of her mouth that Lyra realized what she’d said. She had been so close to being a mother herself, but after two failed pregnancies, she had lost hope of ever bringing a child of her own into the world. It had broken her heart every time she realized that the new life she was so desperate to bring to bring to term was gone. The losses had absolutely nothing to do with the desire for Roger to be the father or the expectations placed upon her to birth the requisite heir. It was just as she’d explained to Alister; she had just wanted someone to care for and love who might fill the void after a lifetime of feeling alone. But she hadn’t even deserved that much.
She obviously still didn’t.
Lyra slowly set down her fork, her appetite effectively diminished. She could feel her eyes beginning to sting, so she set aside her napkin and prepared to rise. The last thing she wanted to do was break down in front of her guests.
But just as she was about to excuse herself, Alister spoke up. “You know, I was thinking that today looks rather nice for a drive. The sun is shining, and while the air is brisk, it’s not so cold that it can’t be endured with a warming brick and a blanket.”
“What a splendid idea!” Mrs. Birdwell exclaimed.
Lyra glanced at the duke and her heart gave a little leap in her chest. His warm, brown eyes held hers with a decided tenderness. It was as if he had read her thoughts yet again. She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “That would be lovely, Your Grace. Thank you for your kind consideration.”
He smiled then, a wide grin that showed off those mysterious dimples that seldom made an appearance. “I shall have everything readied to leave within the hour.”
The haunted shadow that had suddenly passed over Lyra’s face caused Alister to react with that spur-of-the-moment suggestion for a drive. While he didn’t know the reasons for her withdrawal, he could only guess it had something to do with her childless union and that heartless bastard she’d been married to. If nothing else, this outing would give her a reprieve from these oppressive walls that continuously reminded her of her misfortunes.
It was the least he could do—for a friend.
A short time later, Alister handed Lyra and Mrs. Birdwell into his coach. He conversed quietly with his driver before climbing in across from the ladies. He had the idea that they would travel down Piccadilly to Bond Street. This was the main shopping district of fashionable London, and while he didn’t know what possessed him to go that particular direction as it would likely be bustling with activity this time of day, he had another place in mind that just happened to be located in Berkeley Square, so this seemed the most reasonable route.
Alister gave a brief knock on the roof and they set off.
There was a barely discernable jerk, to which Mrs. Birdwell clapped her hands together in delight. “What a pleasantly sprung vehicle you have, Your Grace. And such lovely blue upholstery! I daresay I have never ridden in its equal. If Awellah was here, she would be pea green with envy.”
Alister chuckled, although he merely inclined his head at the compliment.
Lyra was busy looking out the window at the passing scenery. He wondered what she was thinking, for her expression was carefully void of emotion. He could only hope that she might find some enjoyment from this brief excursion.
Of course, she might have liked it even better if she hadn’t been reduced to wearing those horrendous and depressing widow’s weeds. But even in full mourning, he still thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Even though those lovely, dark eyes weren’t turned toward him, he’d dreamed of them long into the night. She would have been rather shocked if she had known some of his wildest fantasies—her golden hair falling around them like a silken curtain, her breasts swaying tantalizingly above his mouth as she slowly sank onto his pulsing cock…
It was the whinny of a passing horse that brought him back to the present.
With a wince, he realized that too much ofthatsort of daydreaming and he would have a rather uncomfortable accounting to give Mrs. Birdwell.
“What a lovely bonnet.”
