Page 81 of Miss Dignified
“Wesley knew exactly where Marcus was biding and seemed pleased with the results of his call. You don’t truly plan to marry your cousin, do you?”
Would you care?“I cannot think clearly at the moment. I am too… too…” Sad, relieved, confused. “I thought the worst possibility was that Marcus was dead, but even his death would have been an answer of sorts. That he’s alive and hiding from us, preparing to flee like some bigamist pursued by a mob of embittered wives… I cannot fathom what’s afoot.”
“Neither can I, and fathoming what’s afoot is how I stayed alive for years. What do we know of Wesley?”
The vigilant pigeon was pacing back and forth on the opposite bench, while songbirds gilded the air with cheerful little birdy melodies. The sky above was for once clear, and sunshine dappled the walkway. Lydia noticed these small blessings only because Dylan had invited her to sit and share her thoughts with him.
She noticed something else too.
She would miss Dylan terribly. What she had initially taken as a lack of warmth in him was watchfulness learned in a hard school, and beneath that watchfulness was caring. Despite the differences between them, Dylan had found Marcus for her and even offered to help him. That mission accomplished, Dylan tarried with her on this bench, helping her sort out a situation that hadn’t been at all what she’d expected.
“What I know of Wesley,” Lydia said slowly, “isn’t that much, considering I grew up with him. He’s the family fribble, not quite the spare, but not without expectations. He games, he wagers, he flits through London when he has some blunt, I assume he has lady friends he would never introduce to me, and he was reasonably decent to Marcus. Marcus had no brothers and no father, but he had Wesley.”
“He apparently still has Wesley, while Wesley has Hoby boots, a Schweitzer and Davidson coat, and an ebony tippling cane that cost more than your annual wages as my housekeeper.”
“Tippling cane?”
“The upper part of the handle conceals a narrow cylindrical flask. Fashionable nonsense, and it comes dear.”
Lydia was again impressed with Dylan’s eye for detail. “I can think of three explanations for Wesley’s finery. First, he got lucky at the tables, which has been known to happen.”
“Second?”
“He’s stealing Mama’s jewelry and pawning it.”
“Plausible, and because a retiring widow wears little jewelry, she hardly notices. What’s third?”
“My mother has been buying my freedom with what wealth she still commands, and when Wesley has bilked her of all her jewels, he will expect me to turn over my settlements.” This theory, while distasteful in the extreme, fit what Lydia knew of the people involved.
“He will expect you to surrender your settlements,” Dylan noted, “and your person. Do you long to be Countess of Tremont, Lydia?”
No accusation colored the question, no judgment. “I would sooner keep house in hell than marry the man who is apparently exploiting my brother’s bad fortune. I thank you for finding Marcus and for taking me to him. It will mean much to my mother to know Marcus is well and whole.”
Dylan rose and offered Lydia his hand. “Marcus is not whole in spirit, Lydia. Whatever else is true, he believes he must flee the country and that doing so is the most honorable course before him. I can think of only one reason why the Earl of Tremont, who was nothing if not dutiful, would turn his back on his family.”
Lydia took Dylan’s hand and rose. “He fears some scandal worse than the dishonor of abandoning us and abandoning Tremont, and Wesley knows the details.”
Dylan rested Lydia’s hand on his arm. “Wesley knows the details, and if you or your mother prove difficult, Wesley will let Society know those details. Marcus will be held in contempt, whether he has earned that contempt or not.”
They strolled in the direction of home. “You don’t think Marcus deserves to be held in contempt? Don’t you regard him as the worst excuse for an officer ever to disgrace a uniform?”
“Dunacre holds that honor. As for Marcus, even given his tender years, he was a bumbler, indecisive, unsure of himself, and a frequent target of Dunacre’s ridicule. I nonetheless note that the men have been protecting your brother even at the risk of losing my good opinion of them. That is loyalty, Lydia. That is substantial, unwavering loyalty, and the average British soldier does not yield his loyalty lightly.”
Another observation Lydia could not have made. “What are you saying?”
“I am asking for my orders. If you tell me to investigate the situation, I will do so and report back to you. If you tell me you need to borrow Goddard’s traveling coach so you can return to Shropshire, gather up your mother and your jewels, and join Marcus on whatever ship he’s taking, I will have a coach at your disposal and arrange your passage.”
“Why make these offers, Captain? I lied to you, and were your sisters not underfoot, you’d send me packing.”
They turned onto Dylan’s street, and Lydia felt a sense of homecoming out of all proportion to the occasion. She had grown used to coming and going by way of the area steps rather than the front door, grown accustomed to having a cup of tea with Betty from time to time and listening for Dylan’s footfalls on the floor above.
“You came to London on reconnaissance,” Dylan said slowly. “Of all people, I understand the limitations inherent in such situations. I should not have spoken to you as I did, and I cannot in good conscience expect you to return to Shropshire when I know you are not safe there. At any point, Wesley could join you at the family seat, compromise you, and you would have nothing to say to it.”
An honorable, if disappointing, speech, also just short of terrifying. “Have you added me to your collection of weary soldiers, Dylan?”
They reached the foot of the front steps, though Lydia had no intention of taking this discussion into the house where Dylan’s sisters awaited.
“You said you were weary,” he replied, “but not in the sense of needing more sleep. I am weary, too, Lydia, though I hadn’t even realized it. The trumpet sounds ‘Boots and Saddles,’ and a soldier is on his horse without knowing how he got there. Your mother needed you to find Marcus and off you went, searching as best you could.”
