Page 58 of The Mysterious Miss Lydia
Luke’s brows arched. “Already?”
She nodded eagerly. “It’s all right here. That scene takes place on a very particular day, time, and place.”
“Are you certain?”
“Of course,” she said. “Each chapter of the book is marked by a diary entry and date. And this particular scene occurs at midnight on a Friday at a particular garden in Hyde Park.”
“So, you think...” He blinked. “That was it? That was the message?”
“It’s so simple,” she said. “But actually quite clever. Taken on its own out of context there’s nothing to learn from the passage.” She laughed softly. “One would have to be familiar with the book or at least read beyond just that passage in order to understand what it meant.”
“And you’re certain that’s what our villain intended,” he said.
It wasn’t distrust in his voice, but curiosity. Her smile faltered, but in her belly, she felt it. The rightness of it. “Is this what instinct feels like?” she murmured to no one in particular.
But Luke laughed as he nodded. “Indeed it does. Your instincts are saying that this is the message our traitor intended for his cohort.”
She let out an unladylike snort. “Let’s say it like it is. Wendell meant this for his mistress.”
He didn’t so much as blink at that, but his gaze grew intent. “You believe him to be the traitor as well?”
She nodded. “I’ve known him for a very long time.” Her nose wrinkled. “Despite the airs he put on for my parents, I see through him. I always have.”
“See?” He smiled and the affection and pride there nearly made her swoon. “What did I tell you?” He reached out and cupped her cheek gently, his voice low and soft. “A marvel.”
Her lips trembled and her heart fluttered. “If you truly think so, may I come with you?”
He blinked and he dropped his hand. “Pardon?”
She wet her lips, and nearly forgot what she was going to say when his gaze dropped to follow the movement, his eyesdarkening with desire as they focused on her parted lips. She swallowed hard and forced herself to focus. “I-I want to go with you. To the garden.”
“No,” he said, his tone suddenly more grim than she’d ever heard it. “I’m sorry, Lydia. I am. But I shouldn’t have involved you as much as I have. If your father found out...”
“But my father is precisely why I want to go,” she said. “They want me to marry him, Luke.”
He stared at her with wide eyes, and the dark emotions she saw there would have frightened her if she didn’t know they were on her behalf.
“I will never allow that,” he vowed. “But you must let me handle this, Lydia. This is no business for a lady.”
She reached for his hand. She needed him to understand how much this meant to her but just then the door swung open and Lydia pulled her hands back quickly. Even without their touching, she knew how this looked.
She winced slightly as Miss Farthington took in the dark room, the pulled curtains...the sleeping maid.
And then Lydia exhaled with relief when she saw her friend’s lips twitching with barely concealed mirth. She covered it well, though, and as Luke was not familiar with Miss Farthington, he did not seem to catch the fact that the lady was more amused than concerned.
He cleared his throat as he stood, his shoulders back and his head held high. The very picture of a storybook hero, Lydia thought with a dreamy little sigh.
“There was a draft, I’m afraid,” Luke was saying. His voice was calm and reasonable as he explained how this mysterious draft had blown out the candles, and why this draft had made it necessary for him to pull the curtains closed.
“I see,” Miss Farthington replied with a smile. And then with a mischievous glance toward Lydia, she added under herbreath. “What a pity this forceful gust of wind didn’t wake your chaperone.”
Lydia swallowed a laugh. They’d gotten away with nothing...
But everyone was perfectly content to act as if they had.
17
This was unbearable. Luke tugged at his cravat as his plate was removed in preparation for the next course.
