Page 49 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Contrite Duke
Lydia scoffed, each word like a dagger in her heart.
“Then why keep it secret?” she asked. “Why did you not just tell me this?”
The earl looked away from his daughter and sighed again.
“I was worried that you would refuse the proposal,” he admitted.
Lydia sniffed.
“That was very presumptuous of you, Father,” she said. “I was well aware of the financial troubles we were having. I would have at least considered the notion. Perhaps, I wouldn’t have agreed to being traded away like just another collection piece. But at least then, I could have made the choice for myself.”
The earl gave his daughter a pleading look.
“Please, darling,” he said. “Try to understand.”
Lydia wiped her eyes and shook her head.
“No, Father,” she said. “You try to understand. I thought you loved me as your daughter. Now, I find that I was never anything more to you than something up for sale. And Michael…” she trailed off, choking as she tried to speak the words. “Michael never had any interest in me at all, did he?”
The earl glanced up at his daughter as thought wanting to say something else. But after a moment, he just looked away, confirming Lydia’s worst suspicions. It made sense, after all. Even she had thought it odd that Michael would offer for her hand when he had never even met her. And it also explained why Michael had avoided her at night since their wedding. He wasn’t interested in her at all. He never had been.
The embarrassment over the way she had tried to throw herself at him by arranging for them to spend time together was almost unbearable. She covered her face with her hands just as tears began streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at them furiously, staring at her father and wishing she could find the words to express how insulted and hurt she felt. But she couldn’t stand there another minute. Instead, she turned on her heel and fled from the study, ignoring her father’s pleas for her to wait. She didn’t know what she would do, but she certainly wouldn’t wait.
Her vision was so blurry that she didn’t see her mother and sister entering the grand hall. She bumped into them, collapsing into her mother’s arms before any of them realized what was happening.
“Lydia, sweetheart,” her mother said, her voice filled with surprise and alarm. “What’s happened?”
It took Lydia a full minute to calm down enough to speak. When she did, she explained everything her father had just told her. Her sister joined the embrace with her mother and Lydia, patting Lydia gently as she cried and talked.
When Lydia was finished, the countess gently put Lydia in her sister’s arms.
“I feared this might be the case,” she said. “But I was so foolish, and I pressed the marriage on you, anyway. I am so sorry darling.”
Lydia nodded. She wasn’t surprised that her mother had suspected something odd about her marriage arrangement. But nor was she surprised that her father hadn’t told her mother everything.
“What will I do, Mother?” she asked. “I can’t even look at Michael now.”
The countess patted her daughter’s cold arm with her warm hand.
“You can stay here with us, my dear,” she said. “And I am going to speak with your father immediately.”
Lydia nodded again. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be under the same roof as her father, either. But she was sure she could avoid him. At Strawbridge Manor, she would inevitably be expected to comply if her husband came seeking her.
“Very well,” she whispered.
The countess nodded, turning to her younger daughter.
“Take Lydia up to her room,” she said. “I will come and check on the both of you shortly.”
Deborah nodded, putting her arm around Lydia’s waist.
“Come, Sister,” she said. “I’ve got you. Everything will be all right.”
Lydia nodded, even though she was filled with doubt. She didn’t think that anything would be all right ever again.
Lydia let her sister lead her up to her old bedchambers. It was just as she had left it, and it gave her a small sense of comfort. She followed Deborah over to the bed, letting her younger sister sit her gently on the mattress and leaning back against the pillows that Deborah kindly fluffed for her. She was no longer sobbing, but the tears still spilled from her eyes. Deborah went and got a damp cloth, wiping Lydia’s face gently.
“Oh, Sister,” Deborah said, sighing. “I feel terrible that this has happened to you.”
