Page 38 of The Mysterious Miss Lydia
But a few deep breaths had her feeling the ground beneath her feet once more, and distractedly she registered her mother’s low assurances to Imogene. “...he can have his pick of ladies, and you know it. That’s all I meant.”
“You made it sound like he might prefer her.” Imogene waved a dismissive hand toward Lydia as if she wasn’t standing right there.
As if she couldn’t hear every single word.
“I didn’t mean that.” Her mother made apshhhsound. “Of course he wouldn’t prefer her.”
Lydia’s lips parted as her breath rushed out at the blow.
“He was being nice, that’s all,” her mother continued. She turned to Lydia, apparently unaware that she’d just managed to wind her youngest daughter with that offhand remark.
“Isn’t that right, Lydia?” her mother prompted. “He was just being kind.”
With a wide-eyed, meaningful look at Imogene, her mother added, “I’m sure your father told him about her.”
About her poor health, and her awkward ways, her mother meant. Lydia stumbled back a step, her cheeks burning with humiliation.
Was that it? Had he pitied her?
She couldn’t breathe properly and she needed air. Badly. Her gaze darted left and right, blood roaring past her ears because everywhere she turned there were people.
So. Many. People.
Lydia’s mother grasped her arm. “Come along, darling,” she said, already tugging her toward the far side of the ballroom.
“W-where?”
Imogene was walking on her mother’s other side, her nose tilted toward the ceiling as she pointedly ignored Lydia’s question.
“Why, to speak to Lord Galena, of course,” her mother said. “We must thank him for showing you such consideration.” Her smile broadened. “And introduce him to Imogene, of course.”
Lydia wished she could pull out of her mother’s grasp. She wished she could dig her heels in and refuse to go.
But any hint of bravery was gone now.
She was no Elsbeth, no heroine, no feisty young lady a viscount might seek out.
She was the sacrificial lamb...being led to slaughter.
11
Luke’s smile was plastered on his face as he waited for Sir Cedric to cease chatting with one of his guests.
This was the first opportunity he’d had all night to speak to his former employer without Wendell nearby and he was impatient to get it over with. The sooner he got to the bottom of this mystery, the sooner he could getherout of it.
That was all that mattered right now. His sole focus.
Well, that and national security. But somehow while holding her in his arms, saving his mystery woman had become paramount even to that.
The last he’d seen of her she’d been talking with Wendell before she’d run off.
Where to?
He felt like some feral animal was clawing at his insides as impatience and impotence ate at him. All anyone here wanted to talk about was his new title and his family and his thoughts on marriage.
And all he cared about was running away right this moment. Possibly into danger. Definitely with a certain redhead at his side.
As Sir Cedric wrapped up his conversation, Luke shifted from foot to foot. He knew it was a risk. There was every chance Sir Cedric wouldn’t believe him about Wendell. Again.
