Helen Dickson - Carrying The Gentleman's Secret

She looked at him sharply. ‘What makes you think that?’

‘It’s merely a suspicion I have. I am right, though, aren’t I?’

She looked down at her plate, tension in the angle of her jaw. ‘Yes—at least—something like that.’

‘Running away is not always the sensible thing to do.’

She looked at him from beneath her long lashes. ‘You may be right, but sometimes one is left with no choice.’

‘That’s true, but generally I think it is better to face the problem head on and deal with it.’

‘That’s easy for you to say.’

‘Why are you running away? That is if you want to talk about it.’

She eyed him with wary indecision, wondering what he would say if she were to divulge the more sinister truth behind her acceptance of Henry’s proposal of marriage, a marriage that would take her away from London—from England—far away from the awful truth that the man she had come to realise was her father, a man she had believed was dead, was very much alive. Having no wish to discuss this highly personal matter with a complete stranger, she shook her head. ‘No, thank you, I really do not want to talk about it.’

‘I understand, but I suspect it is connected to the grief and pain you mentioned.’

‘Yes, I have known both, borne out of attachment to the person or people who cause it, and knowledge.’

From bitter experience her mother had told her that knowledge was life’s blood in this world, that once gained it should not be thrown away, but used sensibly, ruthlessly, if necessary, that with knowledge a person could rule the world. And so she had applied herself diligently to her learning and then set about doing what her mother had told her to do. But when she had met Henry it hadn’t worked out that way.

She was a woman who had encountered hardships for most of her life. Even working for Alistair where her performance was valued and he paid her slightly more than the other girls, she’d learned to take care of herself, never allowing others to venture too close—her mother excepted when she had been alive—never completely letting down her guard lest the price of that familiarity would mean an equality of mind. She had allowed Henry into her life, but she had only given of herself as much as she had wanted to give.

‘My dream was that one day my luck would change and I truly thought it had when Henry came into my life. Suddenly I had a wonderful future before me, but it was not to be.’ She smiled, a smile that was quite enchanting and unbeknown to her did strange things to her companion’s heart. ‘Please do not mind me, sir. Considering who I am you are being most kind and understanding. But you should not trouble yourself. As a gentleman, you must be embarrassed by such a situation, I am sure.’

‘Not at all. You are a refreshing change to most of the ladies of my acquaintance. I find you are an interesting person to talk to. No doubt you will want to return to London immediately.’

‘Yes,’ she said decisively.

‘Can I be of service to you?’

‘No—thank you. You have done enough.’

The meal over, with his hand beneath her elbow Alex escorted Lydia out of the room. She was startled by his close proximity and she was puzzled by her body’s response to the simple sensation of his hand on her arm. They stood at the bottom of the stairs in the small hall, facing each other. Lydia’s lips parted in a tremulous smile, and her expression softened.

‘I am thankful you saved me from what would have been a terrible fate. I’m so sorry about your sister. You must be concerned about her—about the whole situation, in fact. It can’t be easy for her having an unfaithful husband—or for you, knowing what you do about him.’

Alex was strangely touched by her concern. He felt a stirring for her that was new to him on first acquaintance with any woman—a mixture of awe, desire and surprise that this glorious creature had actually fallen for Henry’s smooth ability to manipulate the situation. She possessed the animal grace of a young thoroughbred and a femininity that touched a chord hidden deep inside him. Her full lips were inviting, her drawn-up hair displaying to perfection the long slender column of her throat—white and arched and asking to be caressed. In fact, she looked like a beautiful work of art.

When she had confronted him earlier, normally he would not have reacted quite so angrily, but he had been on edge ever since he had found out that Henry had absconded to Scotland with an unknown woman. He had been on edge before that, having spent an extremely tiresome few days dancing attendance on Irene—the wilful, spoilt sister of his good friend Sir David Hilton.

He had spent the past few weeks as David’s guest at his house on the outskirts of Paris, a city which David loved and to which he would escape at every opportunity. David had returned with him to London, his sister accompanying him. Alex had intended spending the day prior to him learning about Henry’s escapade at his house, Aspen Grange, in Berkshire. David was a close neighbour and the two of them had planned to do some fishing. It had been unfortunate for Alex that Irene had come along. That she nurtured hopes of marriage between them was evident, for she had hounded him ever since the demise of his wife.

But Irene would be disappointed, for he had no intention of marrying again in a hurry. He had nothing but contempt for an institution that he had once believed would bring him happiness and fulfilment, but which had brought him nothing but misery instead.

‘If I were not tied up in the north on business, I would offer to take you back.’

‘Please do not concern yourself with my welfare. I’ll be all right, really,’ she said with more determination than accuracy. ‘I can find my own way.’ A wistful look clouded her eyes and her lips curved in a tremulous smile. ‘It feels strange when I remember that tonight should have been my wedding night. I did not think it would end like this.’ She sighed, meeting his eyes. ‘None of that matters any more. We will not meet again, sir, for I doubt our paths will cross in the different societies in which we move.’

Alex was reluctant to let her go. The light shone on her soft dark hair and he visualised himself touching it, loosening it from its pins, running his fingers through it, feeling it caress his naked flesh as they shared an embrace. Despite her lowly background she was not of the common kind and there was also about her a mysterious, almost sweet and gentle allure. She had the poise of a woman fully conscious of her beautiful face and figure, and his instinct detected untapped depths of passion in her that sent silent signals instantly recognisable to a lusty, full-blooded male like himself. The impact of those signals brought a smouldering glow to his eyes as he imagined what it would be like to possess such a glorious creature.

‘It need not be like that.’ His expression suddenly changed and the lightness disappeared from his tone as he came to a decision. ‘You strike me as a sensible young woman—and a beautiful one—although from my experience the two do not always keep good company.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘I realise that this should have been your wedding night,’ he said, speaking softly, holding her with his gaze, knowing that she, too, was the victim of irresistible forces at work between them. ‘You don’t have to be alone tonight.’

He waited for her to reply, watching her, knowing that her reaction to his suggestion would determine everything between them. She looked startled by his question and for a moment held his gaze with innocent perplexity. A sudden shock of hunger that she might accept shot through him, but he was to be disappointed.

His words and their implication did indeed take Lydia by surprise. What shocked her even more in that second when it registered was her inclination to accept his offer. She had spent most of her life in the more deprived areas of London—she was not naive and would have had to be a fool not to have known the implication of his words. Throughout the meal and the warmth that had developed between them, and the way he’d listened to her as she had told him about her work and hopes for the future, she had been quite carried away.