Page 12 of The Mysterious Miss Lydia
Lydia kept walking. Kitty would catch up, and she knew precisely where Lydia was headed. Luncheons with her father had become a regular occurrence since she’d started at the School of Charm.
It was nice, actually, these little one-on-one outings of theirs. She suspected she spent more time with her father now than she had when they’d lived in the same home.
And without her mother there, interjecting with the topic of Lydia’s prospects and Lydia’s “problem,” as she called it, they actually managed to speak of a great many things.
Or, he did. She listened. But she enjoyed listening. He never spoke of work, but even without that, her father lived a far more interesting life than she.
A gust of wind hit her and she clutched her book to her chest, as if that might protect her from the early spring chill. It didn’t. But the reminder of the book in her hands filled her with heat all the same.
Her cheeks burned even now, days later. Embarrassment churned in her belly. He’d thought she’d been eavesdropping!
Which, to be fair, she sort of had been, but only because she couldn’tnothear them. But then they’d moved away and she hadn’t heard a word.
But she hadn’t been able to come out of her hiding spot either because…
Well, because he’d been there. Hogan, the other man had called him. Every time she’d tried to slide out of her hiding spot and leave the park, his gaze had been fixed on her.
How humiliating.
But...
She gave her head a swift shake. There was no use worrying about it any longer. She’d lain awake the last three nights replaying the incident, and wishing that she could go back in time and physically rip her tongue from where it had stuck to the roof of her mouth so perhaps he might have actually heard her when she’d saidI was here first.
She’d said it. Sort of. But he clearly hadn’t heard.
Her lips curled down in a frown as she remembered his odd allegations. As if she’d been following them and listening in on purpose.
Who would do such a thing? And why?
But no, she’d vowed to stop thinking about the dreadful accusations or the mortifying way she’d frozen in terror in the face of his laughing eyes and handsome features.
Goodness, he truly was her worst nightmare. Handsome men were torturous to be around—in real life, obviously. In books they were lovely.
But between his handsome looks and his charming, wry smile that seemed to say ‘I don’t take anything too seriously, darling. You can tell me anything and I’ll understand.’
It was disarming.
And it would have been rather...delightful.
Ifhe’d been a character in a book.
All and all, he was dashing, she decided as she followed the familiar path toward the Treasury Building which housed the Home Office where her father presided. Her lips twitched upwards now, more content now that she’d found the right word to describe him.
It wasn’t a word she’d ever been able to use to describe a man of her acquaintance before.
But then again, she didn’t have many men in her small circle of acquaintances. Perhaps the city was riddled with dashing, tall, broad-shouldered gentlemen with lovely, rumbly baritone voices.
She sighed as she rounded the corner to her father’s building, the sound admittedly mawkish. But there was no harm in daydreaming about a man such as her mysterious Hogan, now was there?
She was so lost in remembering every detail of the man’s glittering hazel eyes and his chiseled jaw that she ran straight into someone.
Or rather, the woman rammed right into her.
The other woman had been coming out of the back exit to the building and the woman’s satchel went flying, contents spilling out as Lydia’s book fell with a clatter—again. Her poor book. With a flurry of apologies on both sides, the two women crouched down and began to gather their things.
“So clumsy of me,” the woman said, her voice tinged with a cockney accent.
Lydia smiled. “And me,” she said.
