Lydia bit her lip. She wished Mary could be with her when she told James. But it was just her and him. And she had to tell him, before he found out some other way.
“I’m getting married,” she blurted, spitting the words as though they were toxic. “Father arranged a marriage for me. I came to deliver the wedding invitation. I gave it to Mary to give to your mother. It was a very unexpected turn of events…”
“Married?” James said, beaming as he quickly embraced Lydia. “Well, that’s wonderful. Congratulations, Lydia.”
Lydia stared at James dumbly. His eyes were filled with genuine joy for her, and his smile was sincere. In one soul crushing moment, she realized that he had never considered her to be a potential match for himself.
“Thank you,” she murmured, mustering a smile. “Sorry I can’t stay longer. Mother expects me back home soon, and I thoughtlessly left without my chaperone.” The last part was untrue. She had left without Hester on purpose. But she did need to slip back into her house before her parents noticed.
James just nodded.
“It was good to see you,” he said, bowing again. “And again, congratulations.”
With that, James walked away, whistling a merry tune. Lydia fled from her friend’s house, just as she had done from her own just an hour before. As earlier, she was crying by the time she reached the road. She couldn’t believe that she had pined away for James, only for him to have never even considered such feelings for her.
But there was no time for that. She had to face the duke that evening, whether she liked it or not. And so, with a heavy heart, Lydia returned home to prepare for the dinner.
Chapter Four
Lark stood behind Michael, working diligently to get him dressed for the evening ahead. Michael hadn’t made it easy for his valet, telling the man to make the wardrobe choice himself. He felt guilty for not being of more help in his own outfit selection. But Michael had no interest in his appearance. That much was evident by the fact that Michael hadn’t bought any new clothes for years.
To make matters worse, his curly, light brown hair was long and unkempt, and he had a scraggly beard that made him look more like a pirate than a duke. Lark had been forced to raid his late master Finton's wardrobes to find a suitable outfit for the dinner, and he was relieved that he had managed to find something that fit Michael reasonably well. It was a hunter green suit with black ruffles at the breast, as well as black buttons on the double-breasted jacket, black cuffs on the sleeves, and a black collar.
The pants matched the jacket, with black bands just above Michael’s black boots. The valet dutifully worked efficiently to help Michael dress. And yet, all Michael could do was complain and fidget while Lark worked, especially with the suit’s cravat. Truthfully, Michael had no reason to complain. He was just more unhappy by the minute about the evening ahead. Lark at last got his master into the outfit, then marched Michael over to his vanity and set to work.
“You can't be serious,” Michael complained. “What is the point of this ridiculous outfit? I can barely breathe as it is!”
Lark sighed and shook his head.
“Please, Your Grace, it's part of the dress code for the dinner,” Lark said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the frustration he felt. “It will make you look much more presentable.”
Despite his appreciation for his valet, he couldn’t help scowling.
“I don't care about looking presentable,” he said, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “I could get dressed in my nightgown, for all I care.”
Michael could see the look of disapproval on his valet’s face, and his guilt grew. And yet, as ever, Lark didn’t complain or behave inconvenienced in any way. Michael didn’t like many people. But he loved his servants and staff, most of whom he had known his whole life. And only then did he realize how difficult he must make things for them sometimes.
“Forgive me, Lark,” Michael said as Lark was shaving him.
The valet raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t take his eyes off his shaving task.
“For?” he asked.
Michael sighed, scratching his nose beneath his spectacles, which had long since been a source of shame for him.
“For all this extra work you have to do,” he said. “Perhaps, I took rebelling against my mother a bit too seriously. And perhaps, I’ve been a bit too difficult to deal with, for everyone.”
Lark chuckled, and he shook his head.
“Perhaps, we can not let it get like this again, milord,” he said. “Maybe I can help you work on being less impatient, especially when getting ready for each day.”
Michael nodded sullenly.
“Looks as though I won’t have much of a choice,” he muttered.
The valet nodded knowingly. Even though at twenty-seven, he was only a year older than Michael, one would think he had twenty more years of wisdom than his master.
“You are unhappy about this wedding business,” he said. “I cannot say that I blame you. But this mood is hardly becoming, and it’s making you rather… difficult.”
