Page 5 of Her Beautiful Bastard
But, with a ragged sigh, he ceased his kissing and cupped her face in both hands, leaning back to look her in the eye.
“Now, angel,” he admonished. “Go, now. You … you were perfect. Incredible, in fact. But this cannot go on, or we will both come to regret it.”
She frowned, wondering at his sudden reticence when he had been so forward at first. Perhaps he was lying about how much he’d enjoyed the kiss and wanted to let her down gently. Her back stiffened, and she moved to pull away from him, but he merely tightened his hold, his thumbs caressing her cheeks.
“It isn’t you, angel, it’s me,” he reassured her. “I am not meant for one such as you. Do you understand? A sweet little thing like you … you should run as far and fast away from me as you can get.”
She smiled, though it was shaky, her stomach twisting as she realized that this was ending before it had even begun. “I cannot imagine that is true. You seem so perfect.”
He shook his head, returning her smile. “I am not the man for you, little angel. But know that I wish I could be. Do you believe that? Even though I do not know you, and you do not know me. Do you believe that I wish I could be the sort of man to court you and win you?”
She nodded emphatically, believing that with all her heart. “Will you at least tell me your name? Mine is—”
His first finger came down over her lips, cutting her off before she could utter it. “It is better this way. I will think of you as Angel, and you can think of me however you wish.”
I wish I could think of you as mine.
Lydia pushed the thought down, not wanting to examine it too closely just now. Perhaps later, when she was alone and no one could see her pining after a man she’d just met.
“Go,” he urged once more. “I will sit up here and watch until you disappear inside. I want you safe.”
Biting her lower lip, she sighed, shoulders sagging. “All right. Will I ever see you again?”
His solemn eyes made her heart ache just before he looked away from her. “I doubt it very much, angel. But, this is how it must be.”
She wanted to ask him why—why things had to be this way, why they could not come to know one another, and perhaps even fall in love. Loving him would be so easy, and she felt certain he was a good man. His parentage meant nothing to her, though she had a feeling he would not relish hearing that from her just now.
So, Lydia did the only thing she could. She moved to climb off the limb, accepting his assistance. Then, under his watchful eye, she descended the way she’d come, finding her foot and handholds in the jagged brick and making her way to the ground.
Once there, she took one final look at her mysterious gentleman, the moon framing him just so, the breeze rustling his mussed curls. She could not see his eyes from here, but she felt them on her, watching and waiting for her to do what he’d said.
With shaking hands, she turned her back to him and made her way down the path leading to the house. As the noise and candlelight of the ball drew her back toward the open doors of the terrace, she realized with a sinking feeling in her gut that he had been right.
Less than an hour in his company, and she was absolutely ruined.
CHAPTER ONE
Hertfordshire, 1823
4 years later …
Lydia clenched and unclenched her gloved hands as she walked down the lane leading to the sprawling Buckton Manor. Her palms had begun to sweat, and she could not decide if it might be due to the stifling warmth of the afternoon, or the nervousness making her gut twist and her pulse race. Perhaps some combination of the two.
Pressing a hand against her roiling belly, she took a few deep breaths and raised her chin a notch. There was nothing to be nervous about. She had been invited here to interview for the position of governess, had been fortunate enough to find herself in the running for said position because of her acquaintance with the neighboring family.
While she had been assured that she could continue relying on the hospitality of her dear friends, the Egglestons, she had made up her mind that she could impose upon them no longer. She had made the decision four years ago to make her own way in the world, and that choice had not failed her yet. Certainly, her life had not turned out the way she’d thought it would as a young girl filled with notions of romantic whimsy. Yet, she had survived this long on her own and would continue to do so.
Her brother would insist she return home to Oakmoor, and her mother would agree. But, she no longer felt as if she belonged there—truly, hadn’t felt as if she belonged anywhere for quite some time. While she loved her family dearly and missed them terribly, she could not go back there. Because, if she did, they would see how much she had changed, and perhaps wish to know why. Then she’d be forced to reveal the reason she’d vowed to never return to London after her first Season, or why she could never marry. It was not something she wished to endure, and quite frankly, did not even like thinking of such things herself.
So, it would be this, then.
As she approached the smooth, stone steps leading up to the large double doors of Buckton, Lydia reminded herself that the position was all but hers. With several sterling references, as well as the letter of introduction from the Egglestons, she was being fed this position on a silver platter. All she had to do was make it through the interview.
After ascending the steps, she made use of the massive, brass door-knocker. It did not take long for one of the doors to open, and for an austere butler to fill the gap.
“Good afternoon,” she said when he simply stared at her, unblinking. “I am Miss Lydia Darling, here to meet with Mr. Welby.”
The man’s blank expression shifted to display polite interest, and he held the door open wider, stepping back to allow her entrance. “Ah, yes. You are here to interview for the governess position.”
