“One with a happy-ever-after, I’m sure.” Mrs. Dove-Lyon picked up a card from her desk. “This is the London address for Lord and Lady Eskdale. You’ve been invited to call on them tomorrow afternoon, assuming that is convenient for you. All very informal. Simply a chance to get to know each other and to further discuss the proceedings.”
Lydia took the card and read the Mayfair address. “I shall look forward to it,” she said.
“And I shall look forward to hearing all about it,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon replied. “Oh, and one more thing. Lady Eskdale has an aversion to strong perfume. Yours is subtle, so I doubt it will bother her, but thought I’d mention it. Now, unless you have any additional questions for me today, my dear, I’m obliged to apply myself elsewhere.”
“None. At least, not for now. And I appreciate you telling me about Lady Eskdale’s aversion to strong perfume. I’m not keen on it, either.” Lydia heaved a sigh as she rose to her feet. “You have my heartfelt gratitude, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. I shall certainly keep you informed.”
Chapter Eight
Lydia had beensomewhat apprehensive about meeting Viscount Eskdale and his lady wife, especially given the circumstances. She’d taken great care with her appearance and, mindful of Lady Eskdale’s aversion to perfume, placed only a drop of rosewater at the base of her throat. Though not feeling especially out of her depth, she’d never been invited to spend an afternoon in the company of aristocrats. Nor had she quite come to terms with the idea of scheming to attract a husband, even though the potential husband was fully aware. But if Lydia needed proof that such an unorthodox scheme could work successfully, she found it in Lord and Lady Eskdale.
They were sincerely welcoming and utterly charming, though Lydia might have been excused for initially wondering if they were well-matched. Lord Eskdale, handsome and possessed of a slightly arrogant edge, oozed confidence. He was, in a word,dashing. His bespectacled viscountess, in contrast, had a more reserved nature and, although pleasant in appearance, could hardly be described as a rare beauty. But the lady had a quiet strength about her that was endearing rather than intimidating. Theirs was certainly a marriage of two very distinct personalities, yet their devotion to each other was undeniable.The way they looked at each other, spoke to each other, and shared subtle little touches here and there, left Lydia in no doubt about their mutual love and adoration. Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s comment summed it up perfectly.
“The two pieces do not have to be identical. They simply have to fit together.”
Indeed, Lydia could only hope for such a marriage.
And as for the Eskdale’s children…
The twins, Charles and Sophia, were a delight. At a year old, they had not quite found their feet, but had mastered traveling on all fours with remarkable adeptness, despite the hindrance of smocks and skirts. Charles, with his dark hair, favored his papa’s looks, while little Sophia’s pretty chestnut curls matched those of her mama. Their personalities, in contrast, appeared to favor the opposite. Charles was the quiet one, watching and listening as if absorbing all that was being said. Sophia, smaller than her brother, had no timidity and wanted to be everywhere all at once. She was, as Lady Eskdale fondly put it, “a handful.”
Having the twins present for the first few minutes of Lydia’s arrival had been done purposely, she realized. It had smoothed the sharper edges of her apprehension.
“They are wonderful,” she said, as the nanny and an assistant carried the twins from the room, with little Sophia already protesting.
“They are a blessing,” Lady Eskdale replied, casting a fond look at her husband, who was seated beside her on the settee.
“Two little miracles.” Lord Eskdale took his wife’s hand and kissed it. “Well, Miss Page, I must assume the Black Widow has told you all about our plans and, since you’re here, I must also assume you’re amenable to them.”
“I am, my lord.” Lydia winced slightly. “But not without some concerns.”
“Only to be expected, my dear,” Lady Eskdale said. “It is rather an unorthodox way to meet a husband. Then again, it’s no less impersonal than some of Society’s marriage arrangements.”
“Which compels me to ask a question.” Lydia glanced around the elegant parlor, with its lavish furnishings and impressive artwork. Her own home was also splendid, but her father had worked hard for his fortune and the luxuries that came with it. It had not been inherited or passed down. “Despite my wealth, I am, in the eyes of the nobility, decidedly middle-class, and therefore unsuitable for marriage with any of your peers. I cannot help but wonder, my lord, why you are doing this and why this gentleman would be even remotely interested in me.”
“Well, first of all, Miss Page, allow me to correct you on one of those points,” Lord Eskdale replied. “I personally know two members of the aristocracy who married someone considered to be ‘beneath’ them. One was a widower baron who married his governess, whilst the other, the second son of an earl who ended up inheriting the title, fell in love with a merchant’s daughter and made her his countess, despite the gasps of horror from his peers. Their lives may have continued with fewer invitations, perhaps, but neither man regrets his choice to this day. If you need additional examples of unlikely, yet successful, liaisons, I suggest you ask the Black Widow herself. Making asuitablemarriage remains as an expectation in Society, but there are always exceptions.
“As for my mysterious friend, he has become disillusioned by the machinations of his peers, which is why, for him, I believe you will be…” He frowned, as if searching for the correct word.
“A breath of fresh air,” Lady Eskdale finished. “But please bear in mind, Miss Page, you may deem this gentleman to be unsuitable foryou. You are under no obligation.”
“Yes, my lady, that has been made clear to me,” Lydia said. “I am hoping for a successful outcome, however.”
“As are we,” Lord Eskdale replied, with a nod. “Now, we need to discuss the events you’ll be attending. Have you, by chance, ever attended a Society ball?”
“Actually, yes, I have,” Lydia replied. “Well, sort of. Lord and Lady Trevelyan held a charity ball at their home in Bath two years ago to raise money for the poor. Lord Trevelyan was a long-time client and friend of my father’s, which is how we ended up there. It was a splendid evening. I also attended a charity garden party at the Duke of Brantford’s home in Dorset. I was only twelve at the time, but I remember it very well.”
“I believe I was also at that party,” Harriet said, blinking behind her spectacles. “We may well have crossed paths, Miss Page.”
“Quite possibly, my lady,” Lydia replied, smiling.
“Excellent,” Lord Eskdale said. “So you have some idea of what to expect. I understand your father was well respected within the business world. Nor was he unknown in Society, which actually helps with how, if asked, we explain your presence.”
Lydia nodded. “I have been wondering about that.”
“Well, first of all, my dear, you’ll be introduced as you are,” Lady Eskdale said. “Miss Lydia Page, the only daughter of the late Mr. Reginald Page, and heiress to the family fortune. You are also, as of right now, a friend of our family. Honesty is always best. No risk of being caught in a lie. To be a good liar, one must have a very good memory.”
Lydia laughed even as she blinked away a prickle of tears, prompted by the mention of her father. “Yes, I suppose that is true. Is it important to mention my inheritance?”
