Lydia laughed, or rather tried to. She knew him to be funning; his tone was light and frivolous, but she was finding it difficult to form words. “One … Sunday, actually.”
Staring at their clasped hands, Lydia was experiencing the most disquieting sensations: a tingling that began at her toes and rose all the way to every hair on her head—stopping only to intensify where their gloved hands met. Heat and shivers and excitement all mingled, coursing through her like a raging river. And her breath was puffy—as if she had run some distance. Stranger still was that all these contrary sensations were agreeable—very agreeable.
Had Lydia not known better, she might have taken these wonderful, exhilarating sensations as a sign that Mr. Robert Newton had imposed upon her. And as the thought that this was impossible surfaced from the floodwaters of her emotions, it brought with it another possibility—in complete disagreement with its companion. She was, indeed, deeply attracted to Robert. Deeply.
Now, she was in shock.
Was it true? And if it was, did that change everything or nothing? And what of the sensations themselves? Did they disappear over time or intensify? Was this what great poetry described as love? Or was her imagination running amok? Would she ever feel these heady emotions when Barley held her hands and looked confused—as Robert was doing now?
“Lydia? Lydia, are you well? Your color is very high.” He slid his hands up to her elbows to support her weight.
“Fine,” she squeaked, barely aware that she had stepped closer.
“Are you certain? There seems to be something terribly wrong.”
“No, no. Nothing wrong.” Lydia breathed in his scent and considered wrapping her arms around his neck. Perhaps he would kiss her. What a most improper, delicious thought. No, the term imprudent might be a better descriptor. After all, the marriage contract was not yet signed. Barley could hardly object to something that took place—
“Lydia?” Robert truly sounded concerned.
Lydia sighed and leaned back—placing herself at a disappointing, respectable distance. “Worry not, my friend. I was merely deep in thought.”
A small smile played at the side of his mouth, and the frown disappeared. “What about?”
“The marriage contract.”
“Oh.” Robert’s mouth curved back down. “I see.”
“I was wondering about the possibility of putting off the signing. If Mr. Selleck is a good match for Roseberry Hall, I would no longer need Barley’s support to replace Mr. Drury.”
Barley had not been keen on an early betrothal anyway; he thought it best to wait. It would seem as if she were catering to his needs … and give her more time to understand what she was experiencing, and its significance. She would deal with the overzealous ordering of a curricle later.
“True.” Robert’s smile was back. It was very nearly a grin.
“We shall have to see, of course, after the interview.” Lydia tried to instill a tone of authority.
“Indeed.” Stepping to the side, Robert offered her his elbow.
Lydia crooked her arm through his. Normally, she would place her other hand atop her own, but this time she allowed it to rest on Robert’s forearm. It was an experiment. She wanted to see if the warmth and agreeable sensations dissipated.
They didn’t. In fact, they seemed to multiply. Delicious.
It was a lovely walk to the manor.
*
Robert said very little during Lydia’s interview with Mr. Warner. They wanted the meeting to be as succinct as possible so as not to arouse any interest within the family. It was conducted in the morning room, while Mr. Selleck waited in the study. Shodster had been sent to find Uncle Arthur—slowly—allowing for a good half-hour conversation.
As expected, there was little for Lydia to add when describing the curious adventure; however, she did have comments and questions regarding Mr. Chilton.
“He seemed very surprised to see me in town and very flustered. To the point that he didn’t even wait for me to greet him. Do you not find that odd? Especially when the man has tried to be nothing other than a clinging burr for the better part of two months.”
It was no surprise that Lydia was handling the interview with great aplomb. Her comments and questions were concise and well considered; her intelligence was far from hidden. It was good to see, for Robert had been rather unnerved by Lydia’s initial reaction to his arrival, and he had wondered, briefly, if she had had an upset.
He had been quite prepared to thrash whoever had caused her dismay, but she had denied such an event and chatted and laughed with him all the way to the manor. For a few moments, he feared that Lydia had seen through him … realized that she affected him quite profoundly. But no, she regained her equilibrium in jig time and—other than the occasional squeeze—behaved as if nothing was amiss.
They did not hasten after the carriage but took their leisure and pleasure in each other’s company. Good friends could do that without causing any discomfort. The duel was discussed, which seemed to warrant those occasional squeezes. Lydia did little other than listen, harrumphing and scowling at the appropriate moments, but it set him at ease.
And now he stood by the low-burning fire, watching his lovely Lydia … ah, no … his charming friend, conduct the interview with Mr. Warner. Her movements were graceful even as she gestured with her words, and Robert tried not to notice the flattering cut of her gown.… Or that the rising color in her cheeks gave her a very becoming glow. When she glanced his way, Robert nodded and smiled back, though he was not paying any heed to the conversation. Lydia had it well in hand.
“Don’t you agree?”
“Indeed,” Robert answered without thought, and then sharply shook his head. “I beg your pardon. You were saying?”
“That Mr. Warner is a thorough investigator, and despite his doubts, I believe he will succeed in ferreting out our master criminal.” She stared up at him from the settee, looking quite at ease.
“Master criminal?”
“Yes, Les and Morley could hardly be accused of the cleverness needed for such a planned endeavor.”
“Yes … no…” With a frown, Robert scanned the room. “Indeed, a master … Where is Mr. Warner?”
Lydia laughed, a delightful carillon. “Robert, my dear friend, you were woolgathering. I thought as much; your expression was rather blank.”
“Was it?” Robert was very glad to know that he did not look the lovesick calf he felt.
“Yes, most definitely.”
“And Mr. Warner?”
“He is off to Spelding. Hugh is to take him, where he intends to hire a horse and proceed in his investigation. Yes, I have great confidence in his abilities.”
“Excellent. Then shall we see to Mr. Selleck?”
Lydia rose and approached Robert in a smooth swaying stride that left him dry mouthed.
“Can you stay?”