Page 14 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Contrite Duke
Lydia knew that not many women in the ton would have anything to do with gentlemen who wore glasses. But to her, the spectacles he wore only added to his appeal, making him look even more intelligent and clever. When they were introduced, he met her gaze directly and greeted her politely, even smiling a little. Lydia found herself feeling slightly less nervous about the evening ahead.
Perhaps, he’s not quite the recluse he is proclaimed to be,she thought to herself. She did notice that he seemed a bit uncomfortable when her mother spoke to him. She could hardly blame him; she was, too. She wished that he could meet the warm, loving mother she had always known. Not the one who was more worried about her daughter not embarrassing her than about whether everyone felt comfortable and safe. Including her own child.
Her heart lightened as she took his arm to allow him to escort her to dinner. He hadn’t said a word, but she was perfectly fine with that. That he was a bit quiet was no cause for concern. Especially when he had thus far been much more welcoming than she had expected. For the first time, she began to think that she might get through dinner, after all. However, she still couldn’t shake the daunting thought of spending the rest of her life with him. She knew she would need to get to know him better before she could reconcile with that. Still, she was more hopeful than she had been before that they would find some things in common. She was determined to feel him out and get him to tell her about some of his interests.
When they reached the dining hall, the duke helped her into her seat. Lydia was stricken by how considerate and thoughtful he was, despite his reputation as a grouchy recluse. Again, she wondered if the rumors were just that - rumors. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Lydia couldn't help but feel a flutter in her chest. She tried to calm herself down, reminding herself that this was just a dinner and not a lifetime commitment. Not yet at least.
They were seated beside each other, and Lydia couldn’t help stealing glances at him. He kept adjusting his glasses, which she found rather endearing. She could only imagine how difficult it must be to keep them from sliding, especially when one was eating.
The others at the table were chattering away, clearly delighted by the prospect of the duke and Lydia becoming betrothed. Lydia couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by it all, and she was happy to eat her first course in silence. Fortunately, her mother seemed quite engaged in conversation with her father and the dowager, and not at all worried about her. Not for the moment, that was.
“Oh my, yes, your grace,” her mother gushed loudly, startling Lydia a little. “I would be delighted if you were to join in on the wedding planning. I understand this is as important an event for you as it is for me. I couldn’t imagine planning things without you.”
Lydia felt her cheeks grow hot, and she drank heartily from her wine. Her mother was behaving like a completely different person, even in front of the duke and dowager. She wanted to believe that it was just because her mother wanted the best for her. But with the way she had treated her earlier that day, she thought there might be more self interest than consideration for her daughter. But why?
As the three parents continued talking, Lydia noticed the looks going back and forth between the dowager and her son. He would go from looking mildly uncomfortable to almost miserable. It was as if his mother was reminding him how to behave at times. Lydia found it curious but didn't dwell on it for too long.
Perhaps, she was treating him like her own mother had been treating her. Sympathy tugged at her heart at the thought. It was beginning to look like they were both nothing but pawns in a scheme they had no control over. Maybe they already had one major thing in common, and maybe they could ease the tension for themselves with light conversation.
After the first ten minutes of the meal, however, the duke had already finished a whole glass of wine, but he hadn't spoken a word to her. Lydia couldn't help but feel disappointed. As a duke, he was supposed to initiate the conversation, but he seemed content to sit in silence and drink. She wasn't sure what to do, but then the dowager came to the rescue.
“Darling,” she cooed, smiling honey sweetly at her son. “I'm sure we all would love to hear more about your studies. Tell us about ancient civilizations.”
Lydia watched as the duke squirmed uncomfortably. Clearly, he had been hoping to get away with saying little, or nothing, that evening. He looked forlornly at his wine glass, which made Lydia’s heart tug again. She wanted to offer him some encouragement by letting him know that she, too, was interested in such things. But she was just as uncomfortable as he was, and she was afraid she would come across as either coy or patronizing.
“Oh, no, Mother,” he said, giving her a tight smile. “I am sure that no one would enjoy a history lesson at dinner. I feel that most people find that terribly boring and lackluster dinner conversation.”
Lydia felt a sudden pang of sympathy for him. She could only imagine how nerve-wracking it must be to be put on the spot like this, in front of a group of strangers. She was determined to help him, to make him feel more comfortable and at ease. And finally, she saw her opportunity to gently offer the encouragement he clearly needed. She smiled sweetly, shaking her head gently.
“I don't see how anyone could find history boring,” she said. “It's the stories of our past, the tales of triumphs and tragedies. It's what makes us who we are today.”
The duke looked at her, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Thank you, Lady Lydia,” he said. “You know, it's rare that I find someone who is genuinely interested in my studies.”
Lydia felt her cheeks grow warm as the duke finally spoke to her. She had been too nervous to notice before, but his voice was like rich, baritone velvet. And though he was still clearly feeling a bit awkward, his eyes began to sparkle, just at the mention of historical topics. It made him even more handsome than she first thought him to be, and her heart skipped again. It took her a moment to realize that she had been staring at him for a long moment. She blushed furiously, shaking her head as though she could rid herself of the embarrassment.
"Actually, I'm quite interested in ancient civilizations as well,” she said, finally breaking the awkward silence. “Do you have a particular favourite?”
The duke looked at her in surprise, as if he hadn't expected her to speak up. But before they began to talk about the subject, her father interjected.
“Some of my most prized collection items are religious relics from ancient civilizations,” he said. “I have an entire bookshelf filled with Egyptian god figures, pyramids and the like.”
Lydia looked at her father, flustered. She had thought she might finally connect with her future husband. Now, her parents seemed determined to keep the two of them from talking. Were they afraid that her intellect would scare off the duke? Would they be right in assuming that?
Suddenly feeling self-conscious again, Lydia settled back in her chair. She was now afraid to say anything, even if it did help him to feel more comfortable. She simply waited to see what Lord Strawbridge had to say to that remark.
“That is fascinating,” he said. He still seemed uncomfortable. But he also appeared to be interested. Mary had said that he was a collector, as well. Perhaps, he would bond with her father over their respective collections. “I do appreciate Egyptian relics, as well. However, I have a bigger fondness for Greek items.”
Lydia could see the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He became more animated, gesturing with his hands and smiling a little as he spoke. Lydia found herself enjoying the conversation, even though she had never been particularly interested in ancient history before. She smiled, holding her breath and waiting for him to tell them more about his interests in history.
Chapter Eight
Michael's heart was racing as he walked into the dining hall of the Earl's estate. He was nervously fidgeting with his tie, trying to appear composed, as their hosts led him toward the dining room. Lady Lydia’s beauty had completely stunned him. He had been certain that she would be nothing but a mousy, unattractive wallflower with little more substance to her than a glass of water. He had been terribly mistaken, however. And now, he needed to figure out how to get through the rest of the evening.
When they reached the dining hall, he noticed his mother gesturing to him. He glanced up to see her motioning for him to help Lady Lydia with her seat. He flushed, looking around to see if anyone else noticed. Fortunately, the earl and countess were engaged in conversation and Lady Lydia herself was fidgeting with her skirts. He moved to his soon-to-be wife’s chair and pulled it out for her. She looked up at him and gave him a smile that looked as nervous as he felt.
“Thank you, my lord duke,” she said, sitting down and allowing Michael to help her push in the chair.
