A Study In Seduction

chapter Twenty-Two




Dear C,

How, exactly, do you know Lydia Kellaway?

Sincerely,

Jane


Alexander didn’t move. He watched Lydia as she stood inside the doorway of his drawing room, her hands twisted in front of her, her skin as pale as milk. A dark storm brewed in her eyes.

He cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said I accept your proposal, my lord,” Lydia repeated. “I will marry you, should… should you still desire the union.”

I will marry you. The words he’d longed to hear since the night he’d proposed. A cautious hope began to form.

He approached Lydia, his boots soundless on the carpet. She drew back closer to the door.

“What has brought on this change of heart?” he asked.

“You told my grandmother.” An accusatory tone sharpened her voice.

“Because I knew she would see reason.”

“Well, then? You’ve got what you want. I said I’ll marry you.”

Alexander scraped a hand through his hair. Although she spoke the words he desperately wanted to hear, unease twisted through him. He’d wanted Mrs. Boyd to convince Lydia to marry him, but something was still wrong—and he’d no idea what.

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t wish our relationship to cause suspicion of impropriety. I take full responsibility, of course, as I’m the one who initiated… things. And because of that, I must do what I can to rectify the situation.”

“So you’ll marry me to stifle a scandal of which there is yet no evidence.”

Her eyes flew to his. “I don’t mean to imply that’s my only motive, but I know you understand the necessity of avoiding gossip.”

Alexander was silent. He studied her for a moment, attempting to read beneath the surface of her contained demeanor.

“Two weeks ago you were adamant in your claim you would never marry,” he said. “You were equally adamant that you would never marry me. Now because I’ve spoken to your grandmother, you stand here not only willing to marry me, but also claiming your acceptance is a protective measure.”

“I… I refused before I knew that rumors were—”

“You refused because you did not want to marry,” Alexander interrupted. “Why did you allow your grandmother to change your mind?”

“I realized there is a possibility of damaging rumors.”

“That wasn’t enough to deter you from asking me to be your lover.”

A crimson flush bloomed across her cheeks. “I… I fear I behaved quite irrationally. I apologize. I should have maintained my sense of decency.”

Alexander stepped closer to her so she was backed against the door; then he cupped his hand beneath her chin and brought her face up. She still didn’t meet his gaze.

“You think”—his tone dropped dangerously low—“you think what we have done is indecent?”

Her jaw tightened against his palm. “A respectable woman does not engage in affairs.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He moved his hand to the side of her neck, resting his thumb against the pulse that beat just underneath the surface of her skin. The movement of that little pulse revealed her emotions far more acutely than her words did. In a purposeful reminder of their very first encounter, right here in this room, he began to stroke her throat with slow movements of his thumb.

Lydia swallowed. A tremble coursed through her. Alexander stepped even closer, so close that not an inch separated them, so close that their bodies touched. So close that her clean scent filled the air he breathed.

He pressed his lips against the gentle hollow of her temple. Her pulse increased against his palm. He put his other hand against the door behind her. He moved his mouth lower, over her cheek to her ear.

“You think it’s been indecent, Lydia?” he whispered. “That you haven’t behaved respectably? Writhing naked in my bed? Letting me kiss your bare skin, touch your—”

“Alexander…” Her voice was strangled.

He inhaled the scent of her, brushing his lips across the soft skin of her neck. “Why didn’t you accept my first offer?”

“I… I should have.”

He pulled back to look at her, his breathing rapid. “Why didn’t you?”

Something appeared to harden within her—a resolve, a determination—and she lifted her eyes to his.

Alexander stared down at her, watching with a trace of fascination as Lydia’s mind worked behind her lovely blue eyes. It was like gazing at a clock, knowing all the gears, weights, and springs were operating in complex unison behind the perfect, pristine face, yet still having no idea how everything fitted together.

“Our finances are in a state of decline,” she said, her voice unwavering and her gaze steady. As if she had rehearsed this speech. “They have been for some time. My grandmother insisted on very costly treatments for my mother, private practitioners, trips to spas and institutions throughout Europe. The charges drained my father’s funds.”

She took a breath and continued. “My mathematics career has not been lucrative in terms of income. And my grandmother’s husband left her with little. So in recent years we have existed in a state of flux with regard to our finances. Lately, the situation has been deteriorating.”

Alexander frowned. “And that is why you refused my proposal?”

“Yes.”

“That makes no sense.”

“My lord, you have proven yourself to be a man of… of generous spirit, and I knew that if we married, I would have to reveal our financial difficulties. Just as I knew you would offer whatever assistance you could. And I… I did not wish for you to think I was marrying you for your money. That is why I declined your initial proposal.”

She paused, lifting her chin, a faint relief appearing in her eyes as if convinced her explanation was more than adequate.

For Alexander, however, it was not even passable. His brain worked to recall their conversation on the terrace at Floreston Manor.

“Then why did you tell me you would never marry anyone?” he asked.

“Because my grandmother would not allow a union in which my family did not gain financially,” Lydia said. “And I did not wish to impose upon any man in such a manner.”

“So what has changed now?”

“As I said, I accept your proposal so that we both might avoid scandal. And I must rely on your… belief in me when I tell you that my acceptance is quite honestly not an effort to better my family’s financial situation or social ranking.”

“Though both of those will be an inevitable consequence of our union.”

“And welcomed by my grandmother, I must confess.”

“But not by you.”

She didn’t respond. Apprehension plagued Alexander. Lydia’s reasoning made intellectual sense—he knew well that her pride would never allow her to reveal her family’s weakness—but there was more to it. Something that festered behind her discourse and explanations. Something she wasn’t telling him.

He pushed against the door away from her, putting half the room’s length between them—though for her sake or his own, he didn’t know. After dragging a hand through his hair, he turned back to face her.

She hadn’t moved, a rigid, quiet bird with eyes that flashed all the colors of the sea, a mind as complex as celestial navigation, and an unbridled sensuality that would make him ache with desire for the rest of his life.

“Very well,” he said. “We will be married before the month is over.”


“You’ve made a good match.”

Alexander turned to find Talia beside him, looking like a combination of sea and sky in a dark blue dress with pearls woven through her hair. He searched her face for some hint of irony, of smugness, but there was only approval. Acceptance.

He followed her gaze to where Lydia sat with Jane at a table beside the window. Jane was poring over the eight-volume collection of John Curtis’s British Entomology he’d given her as a gift after the announcement of the engagement.

“Not a match I expected when I first met her,” he admitted.

“But one you wanted.” It was a statement, not a question. “Sebastian likes her a great deal. So does Papa. I know Darius and Nicholas will too.”

“And you?” Alexander asked.

Talia was quiet for a moment, and in that space of time, a burn of fear lit in Alexander. Her response meant more than he’d anticipated.

“I would wish no other woman for you.” Talia rested her hand on his arm. “You could not do better than Lydia. I know our mother would agree.”

An image of Lady Rushton appeared in Alexander’s mind, followed by a wave of sorrow beneath his heart that almost undid him. He’d spent so long being angry with his mother that he hadn’t realized her desertion and his parents’ divorce had caused him deep sadness. This grief, the sense of loss, must be what made Talia hurt so deeply. What made her so brittle.

He turned to his sister, but she moved away, ducking her head as she hurried back to Rushton’s side. Alexander turned his gaze to Lydia.

Although unease still simmered in him over Lydia’s reason for changing her mind, and although her acceptance hadn’t been as he would have wished, he was thankful for it. He wanted to marry her. He knew to his soul they were well matched, knew he would always treasure her intelligent, considerate presence, knew she would enhance the respectability of his family. He knew he would always love her.

He set his glass down and went toward Lydia and Jane, expecting conversation to hum between the two sisters.

Instead, he was met with silence. Jane stared intently at the engraving of a beetle, while Lydia stared at Jane as if she were trying to figure out an equation. Alexander paused, unaccustomed to tension between the two sisters.

Jane looked up from her book and gave Alexander a smile. “I can’t thank you enough, sir. I never thought I’d own such a collection.”

“It was Lydia’s idea,” Alexander said. “I wanted to get you something you could use, and she suggested the books. You are one of the few people I know who will use them for their intended purpose rather than to fill a bookshelf.”

Jane glanced at her sister. Lydia reached out to squeeze Jane’s shoulder before standing. Without making an excuse, she headed to where Talia and Rushton stood.

Alexander nodded toward the open book. “The only condition attached to the gift is that you study the books well.”

“Oh, I will,” Jane assured him. “I’ve only seen part of the volume on Lepidoptera, but nothing of the others.”

Alexander looked at her for a moment, then placed his hand on the table and bent to her level.

“You’ve no idea how much you have to offer the world, Jane. Never doubt that. Never doubt yourself.”

To his surprise, a veil of tears shimmered in her eyes. His stomach knotted at the sight of her distress, at the memory of her reaction to the idea of his marrying Lydia.

Jane blinked rapidly to banish her tears and gave a quick nod. “Yes, sir.”

Alexander stepped away, then stopped when Jane spoke his name.

“Lord Northwood?”

“Yes?”

“What about Lydia? Will she still… being Lady Northwood and all, will she still be able to study mathematics and write papers? To work at the ragged schools?”

“Yes, of course. I never intended to prevent her from continuing her studies. Did you imagine I would?”

“No, sir.” She looked back at the beetle engraving. “That is, I’d hoped you wouldn’t. She needs her work like she needs air.”

Alexander didn’t know what to say. The edge of bitterness to Jane’s voice confused him, augmenting the sadness in her eyes. An uncomfortable emotion reawakened in him, one he hadn’t felt since Talia was a child. The sense that the girl expected something from him, and he had no idea what it was.

“You know your sister well,” he finally said.

Jane turned the page of the book. “No, sir. I don’t really know her at all.”