“You will have an open invitation to visit, of course,” Lydia replied. “And you were correct, Mrs. Dove-Lyon. Sharing my burden of anguish has helped. I feel a little bit lighter. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my dear. If you ever have need of me, please do not hesitate to seek me out.”
The door opened and Doyle stuck her head around it. “Excuse me, Miss Page, but you have another caller. Mr. Truscott is here again. Shall I tell him you are otherwise eng—?”
“Bertie is here?” Feeling a sudden and welcome burst of happiness, Lydia leapt to her feet. “Oh, how nice. Please show him in, Doyle.”
“And I think I should be on my way,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, rising also.
“I couldn’t help but hear that, dear lady, and I trust you’re not leaving on my account,” Bertram said, as he strode into the room. “I am not expected, after all, but I do hope I’ve…” He frowned as he regarded Lydia. “Er, I do hope I’ve been missed.”
“Oh, you have been missed indeed, sir! Your arrival is a tonic.” Lydia offered Bertram her cheek for a kiss, pretending not to notice the expression of concern on his face. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon, I’d like to introduce you to my very dear friend, Mr. Bertram Truscott. Mr. Truscott, this is Mrs. Dove-Lyon, also a very dear friend.”
Bertram bowed and Mrs. Dove-Lyon bobbed a slight curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Dove-Lyon, and again, I trust you are not leaving on my account.”
“Not at all, sir,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. “Perhaps we might acquaint ourselves on some future occasion.”
“Possibly, ma’am, though I’m only here for another week.”
“Mr. Truscott actually lives in New Brunswick,” Lydia said. “He arrived in England a few weeks ago to do some business.” Feigning a scowl, she regarded him. “Which was a total surprise to me, mostly because he has an aversion to letter writing.”
Bertram laughed. “Guilty as charged, but I am not here solely to do business. Visiting Miss Page was actually at the top of my list.”
“We’ve known each other since childhood,” Lydia explained.
“You arrived a few weeks ago, Mr. Truscott?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked.
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. TheLydia Janedocked in London on the 27th May after a four-week crossing. The winds were favorable.”
A soft gasp came from behind the veil. “TheLydia Jane?”
Bertram glanced at Lydia. “Named after a young lady very dear to my heart who has, to my eternal regret, given her heart to another.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “And I only have myself to blame.”
Lydia guessed what Mrs. Dove-Lyon was probably thinking. “Lord Pendlewood was in Nottingham at the time,” she explained, “so they never met.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded. “Ah, I see.”
“Yes, I was only in London for five minutes, so never got the chance to meet His Lordship,” Bertram said, “but I hope to remedy that in the near future. Fully intend to tell him how fortunate he is.”
Lydia looked down and swallowed over a sudden lump in her throat.
“I’ll be on my way, Miss Page,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, gently. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Truscott.”
“Likewise, ma’am,” Bertram replied, inclining his head.
“I’ll see you out, Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” Lydia said.
“No need, my dear, I’ll see myself out,” she replied. “Remember, you know where I am if you need me.”
Lydia nodded, but said nothing. Bertram barely waited till the door closed.
“What’s going on, Lyddie?” He moved closer, frowning as he studied her face. “Have you been ill? Has something happened? Who is that woman?”
Lydia laughed as tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Bertie.” She hiccupped on a sob. “So much has happened since you left. It’s been awful. Just awful.”
“Are you ill?”
“No, not ill.” She shook her head. “That is, not with any specific malady.”
