Page 39 of Her Beautiful Bastard
CHAPTER TEN
“Have they arrived yet?”
Lydia glanced down at Henry, who tugged on her skirts for the third time. Reaching down to smooth the persistent cowlick rising up from the center of his head, she smiled.
“Not yet, but soon,” she assured him. “Your mama said they would arrive at midday, and it is nearly two in the afternoon now. Patience, Henry.”
Despite being able to see through the window of the upstairs drawing room himself, he had persisted in asking her every few minutes whether or not the guests had arrived. She supposed Henry thought her capable of seeing farther. Alas, the tree-lined lane stretching away from the front of Buckton Manor remained as empty now as it had five minutes ago.
“I’m hungry,” the boy whined. “I wish they would arrive so we might have tea.”
Lydia pressed a hand against her belly, inwardly agreeing with the boy. She was starving, though she felt certain the twisting in her gut had as much to do with the prospect of coming face to face with Sinclair again as with hunger. She had lain awake for hours after returning indoors the previous evening, thinking over their encounter several times. That moment in which he’d touched her face had been less than a minute; yet, it had seemed to last for an eternity, those strong, dexterous fingers of his tracing the lines of her face, paying tribute to every feature, pausing over her flaws as if they appeared her greatest attributes in his eyes.
Had any woman ever felt so desired, so cherished, from nothing more than the simple touch of a hand? She’d felt as if she might fall to her knees when he’d taken that hand away, leaving the places he’d just touched cold. Then, almost as soon as he’d spoken, breaking the spell, she had remembered. She had no right to feel that way when he touched her.
One would think she’d be nervous over the impending house party and her sudden position, thrust back into society in a sense. However, as she’d dressed this morning, selecting one of her best morning gowns, she had found herself looking forward to it. Most of the guests were unlikely to be those she would have encountered in London. Residents of Hertfordshire who were accustomed to country life, they would have much in common with her. Lady Clayton was likely to be the highest ranking woman in attendance, so Lydia had no reason to worry over excess scrutiny or committing some sort of faux pas.
Which left only one worry. She must conduct herself in a way that did not draw attention to her feelings for Sinclair. A task made more difficult the longer she resided at Buckton. She felt as if her longing for him radiated from her eyes, rang out in her voice every time she spoke, made itself apparent in her every movement.
Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hands over her skirts, her fingers skimming over the blue flowers embroidered on the white muslin. There was nothing to worry about. The party would be a fun diversion, and perhaps even help to take her mind off her troubles.
Taking another deep breath, she glanced down at Henry, who had begun bouncing up and down as an outlet for his restlessness. Crossing to the corner of the room, where she had stashed a basket of toys for just this purpose, she pulled out a spinning top and offered it to him. With a huff, he accepted it, though rather grudgingly. However, after a few minutes crouched on the floor, he’d forgotten about his hunger or watching for the guests, attempting to keep the little toy spinning across the rug.
Lydia went back to keeping watch, though they would not descend to join the others until they’d been sent for. Thankfully, there were tin soldiers, a skipping rope, and a toy train inside the basket. If her luck held out, Henry could be kept occupied until then.
Half an hour—and one skipping rope—later, she caught sight of the first conveyance coming down the lane, laden with the trunks and various belongings of its occupants. She called Henry to the window, and together, they watched the arrivals, a stream of carriages that came one after the other, opening to reveal the arrivals.
Henry made a fuss over the horses while Lydia inspected people approaching the manor’s front steps. She spied a few pairs that appeared to be married couples, as well as a handful of matrons along with their young daughters. One carriage opened to reveal a group of four young bucks—eligible bachelors for the young misses, no doubt. A nice blend of people to comprise a good house party, she decided; even numbers of males to females, and people of various ages. Her mother would have planned it much the same way.
The house became awash in activity, voices and pounding feet upon the stairs echoing down corridors as servants came and went, situating guests’ belongings in their chambers. Henry became impatient in truth then, anxious to be allowed to join the party and to sate his hunger. Thankfully, they were not made to wait for long. Relief washed over her when the drawing room door opened to reveal Charles. He’d left off his typical austere black today, donning a dove grey morning coat, his waistcoat a brocade navy blue. The colors made his eyes appear brighter, and she found the attire suited him.
“Good afternoon,” he said with his ever-present smile. “Don’t you look especially handsome today, Master Henry. You might actually be able to fool your parents’ guests into thinking you a good, well-behaved little boy.”
Henry had been dressed in a tailored suit complete with waistcoat and short pants, his shoes polished, and a little linen cravat giving him a dapper air. His mother had dressed him herself and declared that he was to endeavor not to wrinkle or stain his attire. So far, he had managed it, though Lydia did not think his shirt or cravat would survive tea time.
“Uncle Charles!” Henry exclaimed, throwing himself at the man and wrapping slender arms around his legs. “Is it time to go downstairs now?”
Charles attempted to smooth the boy’s cowlick just as Lydia had done, to no avail. The wild lock made its way back up into the air, adding a charming aspect to his getup. He could not have looked more adorable if he’d tried.
“Indeed it is, my good sir,” Charles said with a chuckle. “However, you must remember your manners. A gentleman must offer a lady his arm and escort her. Watch … see how it is done.”
Leaving Henry lingering near the door, he came toward her, his eyes bright and sparkling with interest while he took her in from head to toe. His perusal made her mouth go dry as she recognized the signs of attraction in his manner. It caught her quite off guard when he extended a hand in a silent request for hers, then placed a kiss against her knuckles when she acquiesced.
“Miss Darling,” he murmured. “I do not think I’ve ever seen you looking so lovely. I do believe I shall be the envy of every man in that drawing room when I am privileged to walk in with you on my arm.”
Lydia’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly shut it and swallowed, fumbling for composure. She’d known Charles liked her, but the way he was looking at her just now went beyond appreciation for her attire. He was gazing upon her much the way Sinclair often did.
“Thank you,” she managed after a moment. “You look quite dapper, as well. You’ve arrived just in time. Henry has been on pins and needles all morning.”
“As have we all,” Charles remarked, offering her his bent arm. “Shall we?”
She placed her hand in the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead her toward the door where Henry awaited. Taking the boy’s hand, Charles winked down at him, then led them from the room. Together, they navigated the corridor toward the stairs, doing their best to steer clear of the footmen toting trunks and portmanteaus through the open doors of various guest chambers.
As they descended, the soft hum of voices rang out at them, which prompted Henry to quicken his steps and hurry them along. With a chuckle, Charles gave the boy’s hand a tug and urged him to slow down.
“The cakes aren’t going anywhere,” he teased.
A moment later, they arrived in the blue drawing room, a massive space which was actually two salons made one by the opening of a set of doors. Done in shades of blue and gold, it was obviously meant for entertaining large numbers of guests, as well as flaunting the wealth of the Clayton family. Chippendale and Hepplewhite furniture was arranged just so, allowing those who sat full view of those who milled about on foot, talking and indulging in refreshment. Several tea services had been set up around the room, along with tiered serving platters of cakes, biscuits, and delicate finger sandwiches. Footmen stood unobtrusively along the wall, their livery helping them to blend in with the blue and gold patterned wallpaper, only making themselves known when a guest seemed to be in need of something.
