Page 22 of The Mysterious Miss Lydia
“Why was I searching for you?” His expression grew gentle at having to finish for her. Tender, almost. It was at once heartachingly sweet and frustratingly unwanted.
She didn’t want his sympathy. She got enough of that from her friends.
But the gentleness in his gaze was sweet, all the same, and it made her inclined to trust him. Which was foolish, of course. He was astranger.
A stranger who’d wanted to see her so badly he’d sought her out.
Her silly heart went wild again.
He spoke slowly. “I want...”
She found herself holding her breath, her mind filling in the blanks with some of her favorite quotes.I want to hold you and never let go, dear Elsbeth. I want you as my wife so I can watch the sun rise and set with you every day until death we part.
“I want to help you,” he finished.
She blinked, nearly certain she felt her feet landing on solid ground with a thud. “Help me?” she repeated with a quizzical frown.
“I can help you, love.”
Love.
It was a meaningless endearment, spoken by a man clearly trying to ingratiate himself, but her mind relished it all the same. It was a word she’d only ever read, not heard aloud, and her mind latched onto it.
Love. My love. His love.
“All I need is for you to trust me,” he continued.
And she was back on solid ground once more. “Pardon?”
“If you trust me, I think I can help you to avoid the unpleasant arrangement you’ve been forced into.”
All at once she thought of Wendell. Of the match her father was so insistent on making. He’d be there tonight at the masquerade, and both of her parents had been sure to let her know it. To encourage her to accept his offers of a dance, and to accept his attentions.
She hadn’t said no. She hadn’t said anything at all really, just sat there at the dining room table and let her mother and Imogene do all the talking for her.
So, she wouldn’t say she was being forced, but this stranger’s offer was still oddly welcome. Like Demetrius riding in to save Elsbeth from the tower where she’d been held captive, he was offering to steal her away and...what exactly? What did he have in mind?
“You can help?” It came out a whisper.
His expression grew frightfully solemn. “You have my word.”
She gave her head a shake, reality at war with the daydream she couldn’t quite shake.
Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she really did read too much.
“You don’t even know who I am,” she pointed out. Although it came out so breathlessly, she wasn’t certain he’d heard her. She wet her lips and tried again. “I don’t know who you are.”
“No,” he agreed, his expression still serious, but kind as well.
So very kind, it made her want to lean into him. To trust him just like he asked.
She blinked. Goodness, this man was dangerous.
“You don’t know me...yet,” he said. “But we have acquaintances in common.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I work for the Home Office.”
She gasped, and he tilted his chin like he’d been expecting that. But she...had not been expecting this at all. The Home Office. But then...he worked with her father?
Were they friends? Why hadn’t he just said so?
