Page 36 of The Mysterious Miss Lydia
And Wendell had arched his eyebrows expectantly. He was still waiting for an answer.
Fortunately, her mother swept over to her, a frowning Imogene in tow. Lydia wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her sister frown in public before and it was a little disconcerting.
“Ah, my lady,” Wendell said with a gallant bow for her mother. “And Miss Baker. You are looking ravishing as ever.”
Both ladies ignored him to turn their fixed stares on Lydia.
Well, her mother’s was a stare—a wide-eyed one, in fact. Imogene’s was a glare.
Lydia blinked at their sudden interest in her, as well as the fact that Imogene hadn’t simpered over Wendell’s compliment.
No smiles and now no simpering?
Something was dreadfully wrong.
“How dare you dance with him first.” Imogene huffed.
“With...” Lydia started.
She never finished.
“Now, now, dear,” their mother said with a strained smile and a not-so-subtle glance toward Wendell.
But whatever was troubling Imogene must have been severe, because she paid no attention to her mother’s warning. “No,” she said, stomping her foot. “She knows very well the viscount is mine. I should be the one dancing with him.”
Lydia’s mouth opened and shut. Gone was any bravery or mystery or allure. She was Lydia in all her glory—dull, gaping, and mute.
“I-I—” She was mercifully cut short by Wendell, who was not so dimwitted that he could not see he was interfering in a family moment.
“I shall take my leave, ladies,” he said. To Lydia, he added, “I hope you’ll save me a dance later, hmm?”
She didn’t respond, but apparently he didn’t require an answer. He smiled in the face of her silence as if it was a yes.
And all at once that blank space where her future with Wendell had been filled with images and it became startlingly, abhorrently clear.
She’d be a doormat.
A quiet, subservient, easy-to-ignore doormat. Just like she was with her family.
The injustice of it made her want to scream.
But of course she stayed silent because just like when she was embarrassed, anger held her tongue hostage as well.
As did any emotion, it seemed.
The only times she was able to express herself was when she was with a stranger who didn’t know her. Anonymity was her only loophole.
The thought left her startled and she nearly missed her mother’s hissed comment. “I do not condone sibling rivalry, dearest, you know that.”
Lydia blinked again. Sibling rivalry?
What was she on about?
“He’s mine,” Imogene demanded.
Lydia’s mind grudgingly started to work. Hers. The viscount. That was who she wanted and she seemed to think Lydia had claimed a dance with him.
She could have laughed aloud. Her sister was jealous!
