“His lordship asked for coffee,” Doyle said. “Will you have that as well, miss?”
“Yes, thank you, Doyle,” Lydia replied, and headed downstairs.
Ambrose turned fromthe window as Lydia entered the room. Obviously, she’d only just left her bed. The sight of her in her dressing gown, strands of loose hair floating around her face, the rest carelessly braided, cheeks flushed, stirred him instantly. Waking up to this every morning would, he acknowledged, be an absolute delight, but the marriage proposal he’d been considering would have to wait for now.
“Ambrose?” Lydia approached, her expression one of concern. “Is everything all right?”
“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, smiling as he lifted one of the loose golden strands from her cheek. “Things are all the better for seeing you. However, I’ve had some unfortunate newsthis morning, which means I have to leave town for several days. Our plans today, sadly, must be postponed.”
Lydia’s eyes had widened. “Bad news?”
Ambrose nodded. “My cousin, William Crossley, passed away on Monday last. The funeral is two days hence, in Nottingham. Naturally, I am obliged to attend. I’ll be leaving town later this morning.”
“Oh, Ambrose, I’m sorry,” Lydia replied. “Was it sudden?”
“Apparently. His heart, they assume. And he was only five years older than I.” Ambrose toyed with another loose strand of Lydia’s hair, deciding he’d propose as soon as he got back. Why wait? Especially given the news he’d just received, which reminded him that life was short and unpredictable. A special license would speed things up. “But he’d been in poor health for some time.”
“How sad,” Lydia said. “Was he married?”
The door opened, and Mary entered with a tray, setting it on the sideboard. “Your coffee, Lord Pendlewood, Miss Page. Shall I pour?”
“Thank you, Mary,” Lydia replied. “I’ll see to it.”
“Yes, he was married to Anne,” Ambrose continued, after Mary left. “They have three children, all boys. They’re far from destitute, so they’ll be all right.”
“Sad, all the same,” Lydia said, pouring him a coffee.
“Yes, it is.” Ambrose heaved a sigh. “You know, I was looking out of the window just now, and it occurred to me that I have never seen your garden.”
“We can take our coffee out there if you like,” Lydia said, handing it to him.
“Perhaps another time, my dear. This is just a brief visit, I’m afraid. A quick sip and then I must go.”
“You could have just sent a note, Ambrose,” Lydia said. “This is a long way to come for a quick word and a sip of coffee.”
“Thought about a note and discarded the thought.” He tasted his coffee. “Lydia, I have seen you every day since Lord and Lady Trevelyan’s soirée and I didn’t want this day to be any different, especially given the fact that I’m not going to see you again for at least a week. That is, I plan to be back a week Monday, but it may be a little longer than that.”
Lydia winced. “I shall miss you dreadfully.”
“Come here.” Ambrose set his cup down and took Lydia in his arms. “I shall miss you too. Don’t get up to any mischief while I’m gone. Now, kiss me and let me go.”
Their lips met in a soft embrace, suggestive of a farewell. Ambrose pulled away first, cupping Lydia’s face as he pressed a solitary kiss to her forehead. “I love you,” he murmured, gazing into her eyes. “So much.”
Lydia heaved a soft sigh. “I love you too, Ambrose. Please be careful.”
“Never fear,” he replied. “I’ll see you a week Monday.”
Chapter Thirteen
Curled up onthe settee, Lydia lifted her head from her book, wondering if she’d imagined the ringing of the doorbell. She glanced at the window where the barrage of rainfall kept up its endless drum roll. Who would be out on such a day? For a moment, she dared to fancy it was Ambrose who, eager to see her, wasn’t about to let a spot of rain stop him. Most unlikely, however, since he wasn’t even in the city.
The door opened and Doyle entered, her cheeks visibly flushed. “You have a visitor, Miss Lydia. Says he’s an old friend.” She held out a calling card, smiling as she glanced briefly over her shoulder. “Not that old if you ask me. He’s a real charmer, as well. I left him in the foyer and asked him to wait for a couple of minutes. He said he’d wait forever if that’s what it would take to see you again.”
Lydia unfurled her legs and sat up, setting her book aside as she took the card and read the name upon it. “Bertram?” She gasped and read the card again, her free hand drifting to the base of her throat. “Oh, my goodness.”
“Shall I show him in, miss?”
It took a few moments for Doyle’s question to filter into Lydia’s stunned brain. “Yes! Yes, Doyle, of course. Thank you.”
