Page 28 of The Mysterious Miss Lydia
He couldn’t wait to find out.
“And then?” Richard urged.
Luke blinked and cleared his throat. “Then I shall find a moment to share my most recent findings with Sir Cedric.”
“Mistake,” Richard muttered.
Maybe. But his instincts wouldn’t allow him to just walk away from a threat.
And his heart wouldn’t allow him to miss this chance to rescue his mystery woman.
8
Mary’s voice was breathless with delight. “Lydia, darling, you look amazing.”
“You really do,” Eloise added.
Lydia smiled and ducked her head. She was no stranger to parties...unfortunately. But this evening’s masquerade was different.
For once, she wasn’t dreading the evening to come, but rather looking forward to it. She gazed down at her pale pink gown, but the mask with its plumes obstructed her view. She’d have to take her friends’ word for it that her gown suited her figure, and she knew her maid had outdone herself with the updo.
Eloise had instructed her in how to leave some strands free and curled to frame her face, and all in all, she felt...
Well, she felt beautiful. Like the heroine of her own story, for once, rather than an onlooker watching everyone else’s stories unfold.
Her belly fluttered with nerves, but as she clasped her hands together she realized that for once the sensation wasn’t sickening. Certainly, she was still a little anxious, but this light,fizzy sensation in her veins was more eager anticipation than terrified expectation.
And that was rather delightful.
“We’d best be getting back to our husbands,” Mary said just as Miss Farthington entered Lydia’s quarters.
Lydia ought to have been downstairs greeting guests with her parents, but it had been an age since anyone had attempted to force her into that awkward situation. Not since the dreaded fainting incident that had occurred last season.
Greeting so many guests at once was apparently more than she could handle.
Which was frustrating, really, because in her fantasies, she was brave. She was just like the heroines she adored—not the simpering damsels who swooned and suffered megrims every other chapter.
Oh no, she saw herself as a heroine in the vein of Elsbeth.
One who might have been trapped away in a tower, but once she escaped her isolation, she’d discover an inner strength no one knew was there. Least of all her.
Was it a silly fantasy?
Undoubtedly.
But when Lydia’s mystery man had bent over her gloved hand—so shocking! So inappropriate. She’d felt a hint of it. That bravery. That heroine quality that she hoped was hidden deep down beneath the thick layers of terror and shyness.
And when she’d suggested they meet tonight...
She pressed a gloved hand to her cheek as she bid the ladies goodbye and welcomed Miss Farthington.
“You do look especially lovely,” Miss Farthington said. “So mature and graceful.”
Lydia felt the heat in her cheeks at the compliment. Better even than being beautiful, she wanted to be mature, and graceful...
And brave.
But was it brave or reckless to make an assignation with a complete stranger?
