Page 65 of Her Beautiful Bastard
Her mother gasped, while Amelia grinned, shifting to a more comfortable position on the floor.
“Oh, this like something out of a novel,” she murmured, earning herself a withering glare from Perdita.
“Lydia,” her mother said, her voice stern but uncertain. “Please tell me you did not … with your employer?”
Lydia bit her lip, trying to determine where to go from here. She did not want to lie to her mother, but some parts of her relationship with Sinclair felt too close to her heart to share.
“It isn’t what you may think,” she said quickly, her hands beginning to shake. “His marriage was a loveless one, but even still, he was determined to honor his vows. We tried … we resisted, but our feelings for one another were always there, stronger than ever.”
Amelia laid her chin on Lydia’s knee and sighed. “An honorable sort. I like him already.”
Perdita’s mouth grew tight at the corners as she stared off across the room, seeming unable to meet Lydia’s gaze.
“Mother, please, look at me,” she urged. “I know you must think me horrible for loving a married man, but I could not help it any more than I could having blue eyes.”
Perdita turned to her, her eyes now watery as if she might weep. “Tell me you have not become his mistress, Lydia. Tell me you have no allowed this man to turn you into something … something your father and I, and Michael, raised you not to be. Even for love, there are certain things a lady should never allow herself to fall to. Not when she has a loving family to come home to.”
“I am not his mistress,” she said. “But I will not lie to you, Mama. We could only resist one another for so long.”
Amelia sighed. “It is not ideal, but one can hardly fault you for your feelings. Besides, I’ve met Lady Drucilla Clayton and have heard some less than favorable rumors about her … habits. It’s no wonder Mr. Clayton was miserable with her.”
“Amelia!” Perdita exclaimed. “Honestly. The woman has just died.”
Amelia shrugged. “That does not negate the truth about her, Perdie. Besides, her death means that he and Lydia can now be together.”
Lydia’s mother probed her with a pensive gaze, her chin quivering. “Is that what will happen now, Lydia? Will you return to Buckton to become his wife?”
“Th-that has not been decided officially,” she hedged, choosing her words very carefully. “Sinclair has made it clear he wants a future with me. But we are both aware that it may not happen as quickly as we might want. There is Henry to consider, after all. We would not want him to think we are trying to replace his mother.”
Perdita lowered her head, taking in a deep breath and releasing it on a sigh before looking back at Lydia. “You are two and twenty years old, and have always known your own mind. If you tell me you love this man, and that he loves you, I believe you. But I cannot pretend I do not have reservations concerning the circumstances that brought you together. I must also say this … I have concerns that this man’s supposed ardor for you will cool once this part of his life has passed. Perhaps he thought you a pleasant diversion, someone to find succor in during his loveless marriage. I do not wish to frighten or worry you, but you must prepare yourself for the possibility that things might change now.”
She shook her head, her heart sinking at the thought of her mother coming to dislike Sinclair before she’d ever met him. It would break her heart if her family could not accept the man she loved.
“I understand why you feel that way, Mama,” she said, turning her hand over and fitting her palm against her mother’s. “But when you meet Sinclair, and come to know him, you will see. You will love him, as I do, I am sure of it.”
Raising her chin, Perdita nodded. “Very well. I will reserve my opinions for after I have met this Mr. Clayton. When will that be, exactly?”
She glanced to Amelia, who gave her a little smile of encouragement. Lydia knew if she could count on anyone in this, it would be her sister-in-law. She would help bring her mother around.
“A few weeks at the least, a few months at most,” she said. “Lady Clayton’s body needed to be transported to Belcourt so she could be buried among her family. Sinclair thought some time spent there with the Strattons would be good for Henry. He will write to me when he intends to return home, and we will determine how things will happen from here. You’ll see, Mama. Everything will be all right.”
With another sigh, Perdita nodded. “Very well. I am glad you are home, and will enjoy your company in the meantime. Now, there is only one last issue at hand, and we are not leaving this room until it has been dealt with.”
Lydia furrowed her brow, confused. “What issue is that?”
Perdita looked to Amelia, who winced, averting her gaze.
“Which of us is going to tell Michael about this?” she asked.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Three months later …
Sinclair’s grip on his reins tightened as he rode into view of Oakmoor Manor, the sprawling mansion situated in a holding that spanned tens of thousands of acres. Despite the anxiety twisting his insides into knots, he found himself smiling. Somewhere within those walls, Lydia waited for him.
They’d been apart far longer than he had intended, his time at Belcourt with Drucilla’s family having given way to an unexpected journey to Essex, where matters of his estate there demanded his attention. He’d put things to rights as quickly as he’d been able while spending all his spare time with Henry. The boy seemed more himself as the days went on, though he often fell into moments of melancholy. The evenings were especially hard, as he was accustomed to spending time with his mother just before bed. Henry had taken to sleeping with him, and Sinclair found it chased away his own loneliness, so he did not mind sharing his bed with the lad in the least.
He’d written to Lydia often, assuring her of his continued devotion and his intention to come to her as soon as possible. She’d sent letters of her own, telling him of her family’s reservations concerning their relationship, but assuring him that the Darlings would love him once they’d met him.
