Page 26 of A Bride By Morning
Lydia couldn’t forget the sting of those memories either. They stuck beneath her skin, as painful as lacerations from broken glass. And now Gabriel was Lydia’s husband, and she was leaving the aunt who helped repair the mess he’d made.
“I understand,” Lydia said. Then, before she teared up, she added, “I’m sorry to leave you so quickly. Now you won’t have a companion on your trip to Cornwall.”
Lady Derby made a dismissive noise. “It was never my intention for you to end up as my companion, Lydia. I longed to see you with someone worthy of you.” She drew her shoulders back. “Lord Montgomery had better revise my opinion of him. If I don’t think you’re happy, neither wild horses nor an angry earl will keep me from you, understand?”
Lydia pressed her teeth together.Couldshe be happy with the man Gabriel had become? He said his wedding vows out of obligation, after all. When he wasn’t kissing her, he might as well have been a continent away. If she put her ear to his chest, she wondered if she’d find it as still as a lake in the tundra.
She didn’t know how to be a wife to a stranger who wore the face of the man she loved. If he damaged her again, she would have to recover without Lady Derby there to help her put together the pieces of her shattered soul.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything. For being my champion.”
Lady Derby’s eyes filled, and she waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh, dear. Now, look at me. I’m leaking.”
Lydia set down her tea and moved to embrace the other woman. “I love you, Aunt Francis.”
“Come to me if you need anything,” she said. “I mean it, Lydia. If that boy breaks your heart, I will not stand by this time and let it happen.”
Lydia tightened her arms around Lady Derby. She couldn’t reassure her aunt that she intended to protect herself this time.
She would be the perfect wife to Gabriel. She would try her best to make their marriage work.
But she would never let herself love him again.
Their carriage sped down the country road.
Lydia couldn’t bring herself to look at her new husband. Instead, she watched the landscape change as they drew closer to Surrey. Outside, the clouds gathered overhead, and rain fell softly. The grey overcast served Lydia’s mood. In that carriage, she did not have to pretend to be the infatuated and happy bride. She and Gabriel had done their best to pacify society’s suspicions; there was no need to continue the ruse within the secluded interior of their conveyance.
The verdant landscape shifted to rolling hills the farther they drove from London. Lydia was almost relieved that night was beginning to fall; the places in Surrey she’d explored with Gabriel as children would be swallowed by the darkness and hidden from her view before their arrival. She didn’t wish to be confronted with those places they had explored for hours and all the fields in which they’d picnicked. So many memories that lanced at her like tiny needles.
“How long has it been since you’ve been to Meadowcroft?” Lydia asked. The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
Across from her, Gabriel went still. “Two years.”
His voice was quiet in the small enclosure of their carriage. It occurred to Lydia that they’d had so little time alone in the last decade; she used to savor the sound of his voice. The deep resonance of it at her ear as they lounged on blankets in the sun.
Lydia kept her attention on the landscape. Long shadows extended across the hills as the last vestiges of light vanished from the sky. Soon she would have nothing to look at other than him.
She cleared her throat. “I was never able to give you my condolences on the loss of your brother and father. I’m very sorry they’re gone.”
She hadn’t often visited the former Lord Montgomery or Harry St. Clair, Gabriel’s elder brother. Both were frequently absent from Meadowcroft, where Gabriel remained under the care of his governess and tutors until he was old enough to attend Eton.
Lydia felt his eyes on her, so focused and intent. Even within the caliginosity of the carriage, they intimidated her. “We both know you tried to tell me.”
The black beyond the window was nearly complete. Lydia watched the final hues of vermillion vacate the sky. “And I was rejected on your doorstep. I remember.” They said nothing for several long minutes. The view became lost to Lydia, and she had no other choice but to return her attention to the husband who did not want her. “What happened in Kabul?” she asked quietly.
She wasn’t certain he would answer. His decision pressed against her like stacked stones. She wondered if he deliberately used the silence to his advantage—that, too, could be a weapon.
When he spoke again, his voice vibrated through the dark interior. “I was stationed in Kabul under my direct superior, Mr. Charles Langdon. I had a passing familiarity with the Pashto languages promoted by the new emir, and my colleagues in Switzerland believed that I might be of some assistance to the British resident. An internecine war between the emir and his brother lengthened my stay. While I was there, Charles received intelligence that an international crime ring that originated in Moscow was targeting foreign delegates.” His jaw tightened. “Contract killings.”
Lydia twisted her fingers together. “Do you know the source of the contracts?”
“No.” He lifted a shoulder. “It could have been the Russian tsar. It could have been the emir. It could have been anyone with enough money and a penchant for diplomatic unrest. As long as they get paid, the Syndicate doesn’t particularly care where the money comes from.” He paused again as if to gather himself. But when he continued, his voice was so neutral as to be flat. “Medvedev’s men attacked the residence while I was out attempting to secure our immediate departure. When I returned, it was to find Charles, his wife, their son, and every servant in the lodging slaughtered.” Lydia felt his eyes turn away from her to the murky landscape beyond the carriage. “That’s what happened in Kabul.”
Lydia held her breath. She didn’t think she’d ever been more motionless in her life—afraid that if she shifted even the smallest fraction that he might withdraw from her. Choose deception. She had no letters to compare his answers.
“And after Kabul?” Her words were even.
Gabriel made a soft noise. “Why do you wish to know?”
