Page 29 of The Duke's Tempting Widow
He could learn patience for her, there was no one more worthy of it than the woman in front of him. She has spent so many years of her life living for everybody around her, it would take time for her to learn what she truly wished. It would also take that same time for him to learn how to be the sort of man who deserved such a person.
“Shall I escort you back to the ballroom, perhaps?” Weston offered, rising back to his full height and offering her his arm. He did not realize how anxious he felt about such an offer until she eased his worries and took his arm. Though, Weston was sure to take his leisurely time to head back into the ballroom.
It seemed that their absence was only minorly noted. It was a blessing as they started to move back into the room. Weston got her a glass of wine and offered it to her, which she accepted easily. Steadying her nerves would only help. Plus, it was an added excuse to keep her close to him. How strange it was that he could simply just enjoy standing next to her in this way.
Though, the peace that he was enjoying was ruined the moment that he heard the very last voice that he would have ever wished to hear in such a setting. Lydia’s arm tightened around his, the wine glass paused halfway up to her lips. Her gaze was locked on somebody halfway across the dance floor, and Westonfollowed her gaze over to where Cassian stood in what he likely thought was his Sunday best.
The clothes that he wore must have been stolen from somebody, as they did not fit him properly, pulling tight in the wrong places and hanging loose in the others. He wore a large, greasy smile as he spoke loudly to any member of thetonthat would stand still long enough to be pulled into whatever story he was choosing to tell.
“What is he up to now?” Weston hissed mainly under his breath. He had not told Lydia what Cassian planned, nor the demands that he was placing upon him.
Something sour was twisting in his stomach, a gnawing sense of dread. If Cassian changed his mind and decided to ruin Kitty and Lydia? He had more than enough audience to do so. Even if his claims were wholly baseless, it would still spark rumors that would be hard to dissuade. Their family is still coping with such a fragile circumstance.
There would come a time where he was going to need to ask Lydia about the accusations that Cassian had leveled against her. But that time had not yet come. Or had it? If this was how Cassian was going to behave, he was going to have no choice but to tell Lydia about the blackmail attempt.
Chapter 17
A fortnight later
Time passed in a blur. Speeding forward more quickly than he could properly process. The afternoons that they spent as a group on the lawns, or enjoying the gardens with Lydia and her girls felt almost as if he were becoming part of their small family. Watching Lydia with her children was something that Weston found himself quickly becoming addicted to.
Motherhood seemed to come so naturally to her. It certainly had not come that simply to his own mother. Perhaps should he be blessed enough for Lydia to grant him an heir, he would have time to right those wrongs of his childhood for his own son. Sometimes, it nearly felt as if there were too many emotions all at once.
If anything, he was starting to feel like they were living a dual life. Weston had been forced to step into the earl’s position for the day and search for a suitable steward. Or re-train the current one for a whole host of new duties and all of the complications that came with that. Then at night, they were having to deal with constant inquiries that Cassian sent to the house, making demands.
The threat of exposure was keeping his stomach tied in knots.
But the girls were smiling again. They were running and playing, they had resumed all of their studies. Sometimes, on a random Thursday… Lydia would wear a gown in any color other than black. Even if it was only within the privacy of their own home.
Originally, when he had come to their home, he had thought that he was only going to be there for a month or so. He had figured that he would have already been finished with all of the difficult parts so that he could escort William to the season. Though, his dear friend had not mentioned such things since their residence here.
When one’s life changes too quickly, one rarely sees the pieces moving until they have settled.
Weston was comfortable there, in a wholly different way than he was at home. Would he be able to go back into his previous life? Cassian’s attempts at the inheritance that should only be meant for Lydia and her girls were far from over. It was a dangerous thing to even fathom letting his guard down to set the estate up to run without him, even if it was to fall back into Lydia’s hands because he still felt that the other shoe could drop at absolutely any moment.
How could he grow any closer to Lydia or even try to act on his desires without overstepping his bounds? Since the library, he was choosing to take every moment that he could with Lydia, but those were falling few and far between with how much time they were spending as a unit.
There was a burning need inside of him to tell her the truth… but he was afraid of what might happen if she did not take the news well. How could she? How would anyone react to being threatened in such a way? Lydia was stubborn and strong as it was, but there were plenty of ways this could blow up in all of their faces.
Weston could lose her forever.
If Cassian were to win, if he were given the earldom, she would have to leave everything behind. If there was anything that Weston was positive about it was that this home and the estate meant everything to her.
He would not allow it to be removed from her, not even by himself. He wanted more than anything to figure things out without having to trouble her. He felt responsible for his cousin. This entitlement was a trait that Cassian had possessed from birth, and Weston needed to silence it.
The only reason that Weston was evenconsideringkeeping Cassian appeased with regard to Kitty’s allegedbackground, was to keep scandal from their names. They both had their rights to their own secrets.
Lydia presently sat at the desk, her spine uncomfortably straight as she worked through yet another one of her late husband’s ledgers. There had been a small supply of them that, apparently, he had kept locked away in his private bedroom, a place that she did not often go. It should not be such good news for Weston that she was not often intimate with her husband… but it was.
He had offered to be helpful, but she had almost shooed him out of the office when he had attempted to take one of the books out of her hands. She had not looked up in at least half an hour which had left Weston plenty of time to sit and admire her concentration and focus.
Tendrils of hair had come loose from the pins, as she kept using the heel of her palm to wipe the light sheen of sweat from her brow. It was warm in the office, and she said that opening the window would only tempt her to dally the day away outside.
There were a great many things that he could think about doing to her that would greatly ease the tension of her work. Things he would be only too happy and willing to do.
But if she took the news poorly, he might not be ever allowed to touch her again.
Lydia huffed and slammed the ledger closed. The pressed both of her palms into her eyes and shook her head. “This is a whole travel log that he never even spoke to me about! It appears to be good things, trade deals in the Islands but those accounts were never transferred back to England! It is going to be such a headache in moving the funds.”
