Page 25 of A Bride By Morning
“No?” Wentworth smiled. “You still haven’t told me what you were doing in the garden alone with her.”
Gabriel pushed away from the door. “None of your business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with my solicitor.”
“Congratulations, Gabriel.”
“Get out of my fucking house, Wentworth.”
10
Lydia supervised the maids as they packed her belongings.
A shaky breath left her. Her thoughts were muddled, and her balance was compromised. Even braced against the bedpost, she was as unsteady as on a cliff’s edge. Watching those trunks accumulate was like staring down at a raging sea from a lofty height—a sense of panic engulfed her. The boy who had been Lydia’s comfort after her parents died could no longer be counted upon to pull her away from the precipice.
He was the one who put her there.
She hadn’t felt like this since . . .
If you return to this address again, you will be refused entry.
Yes, since his butler notified her that she wasn’t welcome at Gabriel’s residence. She’d remained on the stoop and stared at the numbers of his shut door, and it might as well have represented his heart: inaccessible and entirely closed to her.
So she had forged her own protections.
Gabriel wished to shut her out? Very well, she could do the same.Herheart would be behind something more robust than timber; Lydia could reinforce it behind iron, where he’d never hurt her again. She could fortify that barrier day by day and year by year until no one sensed that the bruised, bleeding husk of her most vital organ had never completely healed.
And now . . .
She was married to him. He had kissed her, and the steel that safeguarded her heart clashed against his icy walls, and she sensed its growing fragility. Her protection had become imperiled.
The truth she had long dreaded was an ache in her chest: Gabriel still had the power to hurt her.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Lydia looked over to find Lady Derby in the hallway, her hands twisting in agitation. “Lydia, may I speak with you?”
“Of course, Aunt.” Lydia followed the older lady into her private sitting room. Tea had already been set out on its service, and Lydia sat in her favorite overstuffed chair to serve herself. “Is something the matter?”
“Yes.”
Lydia paused in alarm. “Yes?”
Lady Derby exhaled. “That is . . . I ought to have come to you last night, but I was too restless. I’ve hardly had time to grow accustomed to you leaving.”
Lydia focused on her tea, hoping that her discordant thoughts didn’t show on her face. “I’m sorry. I know this must be an adjustment for you.”
“And for you.”
Lydia lifted her head in surprise at her aunt’s words. “For me?”
“Yes.” Lady Derby’s regard was severe. “What I should have asked last night before you stood in front of that vicar . . . I ought to have inquired if this was what you really wanted.”
Wasit what Lydia wanted? When it came to Gabriel, it was difficult to tell. Lydia’s memories and emotions were a tangle of briar, full of barbs that pricked all her vulnerable places. She knew firsthand that Gabriel didn’t need words to reject her. He simply disappeared like a specter.
But it was too late to change her future. She had made her decision, and now she would share Gabriel’s life. “Of course it is,” she said to Lady Derby.
Her aunt set aside her teacup and reached for Lydia’s hands. “I know you’ve been in love with that boy since you were a child. But I was with you when he broke your heart. I still haven’t forgiven him for that.”
Lady Derby had held Lydia so many times while she cried. When Gabriel’s letters ceased, Lydia tried to convince herself that the post had been delayed. After he’d returned home and refused to see her, she excused it as grief. Lady Derby had attempted to conceal her pity and failed utterly.
And when Gabriel noticed Lydia at a ball and turned his back on her, Lady Derby had taken her home and blotted her tears.
