Page 31 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

The carriage waited up ahead, loaded with enough belongings to last a week or so, for Lydia had no idea how long she would be staying in London. Will might well send her back immediately, despite her lessons in seduction and the gown she wore.

“Well, farewell until I return,” Lydia said, taking Jenny’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

Jenny squeezed back. “Enjoy yourself. We’ll be looking forward to you coming back, though. I hate it when the manor is quiet.”

“Then it is fortunate that it constantly groans and creaks of its own volition.” Lydia smiled and began to make her way down the steps to the carriage.

“Your Grace?” Jenny said, prompting Lydia to pause.

“Did I forget something?”

The cook headed down to meet her, whispering, “No one in this manor will tell a soul that you’ve spoken with the Dowager, so don’t you be worrying about it. It’s… right that you’re getting to know her.” She hesitated. “Of course, don’t tell His Grace I said that.”

“I will not if you will not,” Lydia promised, confused—and not for the first time—about what had occurred between son and mother to make their relationship so frosty.

Indeed, Anthony did not seem to share Will’s opinion of their mother, for Lydia had seen them walking together often and talking amiably in the past few days, which made it all the more bewildering.

Still, at least she could be safe in the knowledge that her rule bending would not make it to Will’s ears. After he had brokenherrule, thenshe might admit the truth. Not a moment before.

The carriage came to a standstill outside the resplendent white pillars of the Opera House, but Lydia did not emerge immediately. Her heart was racing, her nerves a violent force that had her trembling from head to toe. It was almost as terrifying as debuting again. In a way, she supposed she was—making her first grand entrance into Society, unaccompanied, as the Duchess of Stonebridge.

“If you cannot do it, or he is not there, you know where to find us,” Emma said, putting her arms around Lydia. “I am sorry we cannot attend with you, but I fear I would embarrass you by ejecting all of those delicious cakes that the cook packed for us.”

Silas nodded, resting a gentle hand on his wife’s back. “My offer still stands, Lydia.”

“Thank you, but I think it would be less appropriate to enter with a gentleman who is not my husband than it would be to enter alone,” Lydia replied, putting on a brave face.

There was one stark difference between being an unwed woman of the ton and being a married one, and that was the lack of need for a chaperone. She had never really done anything by herself when it came to gatherings and events, but the prospect of shocking Will strengthened her resolve.

If you thought you could just leave and I would accept it, you do not know who you have married. But you are about to find out.

“You look… ethereal, Lydia,” Emma said, choked up.

Silas smiled. “The Duke of Stonebridge clearly does not know how fortunate he is, but he shall this evening. Any man who marries a Bennet woman is destined for great things.”

“They do not always realize it immediately, of course,” Emma teased, flashing an adoring smile at her husband. A moment later, she seemed to remember that her sister’s situation was not her own and whispered, “He will undoubtedly regret losing you, but I look forward to your day of true freedom. And if you need somewhere safe, or any further help, come to us.”

Lydia pressed a kiss to her sister’s cheek. “Go home and cease your worrying. It cannot be good for the baby, and I fear I am delaying your rest. I will be quite well. If nothing else, I will get to enjoy the opera.” She paused. “And I will see you soon to let you know how I fared.”

With that, she knocked on the door to let the footman know she was ready.

The young man barely remembered to offer his hand to help her down, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open. He also seemed to have forgotten that he had already seen her when they had departed Stonebridge.

“Have a… lovely evening, Your Grace,” he struggled to say, letting go.

Lydia flashed him a bright smile. “I hope to.”

With no husband at her side, she took a steadying breath and made her way up the wide marble steps of the Opera House. Other ladies flowed upward in streams of jeweled color, holding onto the arms of husbands, brothers, and fathers.

She was barely halfway up when she heard the first whispers.

“Whois that?” someone gasped.

“Is she from the Royal Court?”

“Cecilia, do you know her?”

“Why is she alone? It cannot be safe for such a lady to be unescorted. Do you think I ought to offer my hand?”

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