Page 20 of A Bride By Morning
He shifted his focus to the matrons. “Ladies.” He gave a short bow. “Good afternoon. I was nearby on business and wished to pay a call to my favorite childhood neighbor.”
Lady Derby’s smile was courteous, if a bit distant. “You’re always welcome to a visit, my lord. Even if it has been . . . quite some time. Will you sit and join us for tea?”
The other ladies didn’t detect the strain between Lydia, Lady Derby, and Gabriel. Perhaps they were too distracted by his dazzling good looks as he settled in the chair across from Lydia.
Lydia had to break that tension before the other women noticed. She quickly set aside her needlepoint to reach for the tea service.
“No sugar, no milk,” he murmured.
Their fingers brushed as Lydia passed him the tea. His gaze touched on hers, and that moment seemed to stretch to infinity. “Thank you.”
She lowered her eyes and settled once more on the divan, expecting him to ask Lady Derby for a stroll with Lydia through the park. Devise a clever reason that wouldn’t encourage gossip.
But Gabriel remained in his seat, as if they had nothing pertinent to discuss about the previous evening. About the two assassins that left Lydia so restless and troubled that she’d hardly slept for days. He didn’t request her presence in the park, nor did he look at her again. Instead, he comfortably spoke with Lady Forsyth and Mrs. Calloway as if he frequented these at-home visits often.
The clock ticked by.
Lydia passed the time by watching Gabriel, marveling at the charming rogue he performed. Despite giving Lydia the occasional bewildered glance, even Lady Derby was persuaded by his amiable demeanor. She began to laugh just as easily as the other women.
Lydia, on the other hand, had no aptitude for the role he cultivated so smoothly. Her anger tore through her with sharp claws. Had hetoyedwith her all those years before he’d left? Or was this skill procured in the intervening years? Had Lydia not witnessed Gabriel’s talent with a blade, she might have been just as deceived. He was a confidence artist performing for his marks.
“Ah, my lady,” he said to Lady Forsyth in that smooth, cordial tone. “I have yet to go sailing this season, but you may have just convinced me.”
“Oh, but you should! My daughter Violet adores sailing,” she said, with no subtlety. “Perhaps you might join us for an afternoon.”
“What a lovely invitation,” he said warmly. “I’ll consider it when I’m confident I won’t fall into the water and drown on you. I’m more at ease in drawing rooms.”
The ladies laughed. The clock on the mantel chimed. He had been there the requisite quarter-hour now—any longer would be considered a breach of etiquette.
Worse, he’d left Lydia even more agitated. Her needlepoint had long since been abandoned. Instead, she focused on him with a rage that spread heat across her skin. She was incandescent. She wasfurious. Perhaps he had been right the other night, after all: she didn’t know the rules.
Because he was a damned cheat.
Lady Derby gave the clock a subtle glance. “Please feel welcome to attend more of my at-home visits, my lord,” she said politely. “My next is this Thursday.”
“My daughter accompanies me on Thursdays,” Lady Forsyth added. The woman was utterly shameless. “She can reassure you about the delights of sailing.”
Lord Montgomery sighed dramatically, and Lydia wanted to roll her eyes. “While I’ve enjoyed your company, I confess to having an ulterior motive for my visit.”
Lady Derby considered Lydia with interest. Her aunt would be sorely disappointed if she expected a marriage proposal ten years after that particular offer dried up like cracked soil.
“Pray, do tell,” Lady Derby said to him.
Lord Montgomery’s notice settled on Lydia. His sudden, fixed attention left her motionless, utterly frozen in place. How had she forgotten how penetrating his gaze was? He used it without mercy.
“May I speak with Miss Cecil alone for a few minutes?” he asked her aunt.
Lydia almost dropped her needlepoint in shock. Had he lost his bloody mind? Had he—
Mrs. Calloway and Lady Forsyth inhaled sharply, and Lady Derby ignored them. Instead, she gave Lydia a thoughtful look. “Lydia, would you like to speak with Lord Montgomery?”
Lady Derby’s words were courteous, but Lydia understood the implied message:tell me no, and I will come up with a reason to send him away.
But Lydia dropped her gaze. She wanted an answer for the other night; shedeservedone after everything she’d witnessed.
She would endure the consequences of her decision later.
“Of course, aunt,” she murmured.
