Page 54 of The Mysterious Miss Lydia
“Don’t be,” she said. “I lived.” She glanced down at herself with a wry smile. “Obviously.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he deadpanned.
Her smile widened. He could practically see her stepping out of the shadows. Not literally. She still stood in the darkest corner of this room, but just like in the library, she seemed to leave a specter behind with each word she spoke and every new smile.
“You didn’t spend much time around others then,” he guessed. “As a child.”
She shook her head. “Never.”
“Then it’s no wonder that small talk and banter doesn’t come easily to you.”
“Much to my mother’s horror, I’m afraid.”
“Eh.” He lifted a shoulder. “Frivolous chatter is given too much credence.”
“Perhaps,” she said. She fingered the parchment in her hands, glancing down at it briefly as if only just now remembering it was there. “But I keep thinking about what you said the other day.”
“That’s no good,” he teased. “I rarely speak wisely.”
“Oh, but you did,” she said. “You said what is life without risks?”
“Did I?” His heart thundered in his chest. He had. He knew he had. It was a motto he lived by, but it wasn’t until she said it back to him that he realized what a coward he’d been.
Oh, not all the time. He’d had his moments over the years. But his aversion to stepping into his brother’s footsteps, of finding a wife and starting a family...
It was a risk, plain and simple. He could be miserable in that new life. Or...
He met her gaze, seeing more depths in their green sparkling hue than he could reach in a lifetime. She was quiet for a long moment. Thinking before she spoke.
That was what made her such an oddity among society. She was an intelligent, well read, kind young woman...who actually thought before she spoke.
“I think perhaps you’re right,” she said at last. “I spent so much of my childhood not taking any risks. Being told that I couldn’t, because I wasn’t strong enough. And I let that define who I am now. Who I’ve become...”
She fell silent but the air was filled with a soft snoring sound that had them both looking over in surprise to find Kitty with her head to the side and her mouth gaping open as she snoozed.
Lydia clapped a hand over her mouth and just barely squelched a giggle.
The sound was adorable. “Shh,” he said teasingly in a whisper. “I shouldn’t want to wake her.”
She shook her head. “Let’s not.”
She met his gaze and he was sure she felt it too.
They were alone. Not quite as dark as the library, but it had the same intimate feel. Like they could be the only two people in the world.
He watched her take a deep breath, her fingers clenching around the parchment before she set it down with definitive movements.
“Lydia...” he started, uncertain of what she was doing.
But then she took a few more steps until she was standing directly in front of him, so close he could reach out and pull her the rest of the way into his arms.
It required all the strength he had to hold himself still.
Her chest rose and fell quickly, her breathing shallow and audible and her eyes filled with fear.
He frowned. Was he frightening her? She was the one who’d approached him. How could he help? Before he could so much as shift away from her to give her space, she reached out with fluttering hands and rested them on his chest.
Her throat worked, and he held his breath as she stared at his cravat, her expression adorably fierce and determined. Then she went up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.
