Page 49 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

“I should have forewarned him,” Lydia fretted, pressing a hand to her stomach to try and push away the guilty sensation that swirled there.

She had not abandoned the townhouse out of pettiness but out of necessity. If she had remained there another evening, she knew she would be a husk of a woman, for she had not been able to sleep for more than a couple of hours in that bedchamber. Every creak and tiny sound had roused her from slumber with a start, thinking it was the adjoining door opening.

Worst of all, part of her hadwantedit to be the door opening and her husband sneaking in to work his magic on her senses, sending her to paradise once more.

For her own sanity, she had needed distance. The irony was not lost on her.

“No, ignore that,” Lydia decided, interrupting her own thoughts. “Iwouldhave forewarned him if he had done the decent thing and said ‘farewell’ to me before venturing off to tend to his business matters. Besides, I left word with his brother—that ought to be good enough.”

Emma smiled. “Certainly, it is, and if William takes umbrage with your earlier departure, I shall tell him that I coerced you. That I insisted. After all, who would attempt to quarrel with the requests of a pregnant woman?” She nudged Lydia lightly in the ribs. “Stop worrying, and enjoy yourself. A gown like that must be worn with confidence.”

Lydia took a breath, relaxing at her sister’s encouragement.

They continued down the stairs, and as they turned the corner, a few delighted gasps went up from the guests who were stepping into the grand entrance hall.

Lydia searched the small crowd for any sign of Will, but he was not among them. Perhaps he would not come at all, satisfied in the knowledge that she would likely look for him all night.

“Lydia, my goodness!” Joanna cheered, applauding the descent. “I was worried for a moment that I had invited a foreign princess to my ball and quite forgotten!”

Lydia blushed, snapping out her fan to cool her face. “You flatter me too much.”

“Have you seen yourself?” Joanna chuckled. “It would be impossible to flatter you too much. You look… Goodness, I cannot even describe it. In all the years I have been in Society, I do not think I have ever seen a lady as beautiful as you. It is a transformation for the ages!”

A few gentlemen murmured their agreement, their eyes surveying Lydia hungrily. A few ladies were also in agreement, though the majority of the women seemed to be wearing hollow smiles that did not reach their pinched eyes. One or two mothers even turned up their noses in distaste.

“Jealousy is to be expected,” Joanna whispered in Lydia’s ear. “Pay no mind to it.”

Remembering her lessons from Mary, Lydia straightened her posture and pulled her shoulders back, raising her chin ever so slightly. It bewildered her that anyone could be jealous of her, but even she was jealous of the character she had created—a bold and fearless woman who was not afraid to play teasing games with her husband.

A short while later, Lydia could breathe again as she stood on the periphery of the ballroom with Emma, Silas, and Joanna. Shewould have preferred to sit at one of the tables that surrounded the dance floor, or even on one of the chairs where the wallflowers congregated, but standing with friends and family was better than nothing.

Still, it did not prevent gentlemen from coming up to Lydia to ask if they might put their name on her dance card, and though it went against the rules, both Emma and Joanna had encouraged her to accept. And who was she to defy the instructions of other duchesses who undoubtedly knew better than her what was the right thing to do?

“It is how connections are made,” Joanna explained. “And there are to be no waltzes tonight, so there is nothing scandalous to worry about.”

Emma nodded. “It would be strange if you didnotaccept, though it is your choice. If you do not feel like dancing, you do not have to.”

“You can always put their name down, and if you do not feel like dancing when they come to collect you, you can refuse,” Joanna added. “There is liberty in being a married woman, Lydia, for one can almost do as one pleases. If I feel like dancing, I will. If I do not, I will not.”

Lydia frowned. “And Edwin does not mind if you dance with someone who is not him?”

“Heavens no!” Joanna laughed. “He used to, but that was years ago, before he remembered how to be amongst Societyand before Society remembered how to treat him with respect. Now, sometimes, I think he prefers to watch, for it builds the anticipation for when he and I dance together again.”

She shot Emma a sneaky look, and not for the first time, Lydia felt as if she was on the outside of a secret society, trying her best to gain membership but, nevertheless, being turned away. Her books, such as they were, only covered so much. If nothing else, the feelings that Will had evoked inside her were enough to tell her that.

No book in her possession had ever described how her body had been transported to a realm of absolute bliss, how liquid fire had coursed through her veins, how she had bucked and writhed as if something else were in control of her, how one small, secret bud could create such a ferocious, euphoric storm, and how powerfully it had swept her away on its waves of pleasure.

Nor how much she would crave that feeling, now that she had a taste.

“Very well,” Lydia said, for even if Will did not appear, he would undoubtedly hear of her exploits. And, as she had been assured by Mary, several days ago, nothing stirred up a man’s wildest desires than hearing that she had been in the company of another man.

I almost got him to agree to my demand the other night, I am certain of it. A few more nudges, and I shall have him where I want him.

If she thought back, she could just about envision the moment that temptation had nearly overwhelmed him, the last time she had seen him. There had been such hunger in his eyes that it had been as frightening as it was exciting. But she had misjudged his restraint—she would leave nothing to chance, next time.

By the time an hour had passed, still with no sign of Will arriving, she had a full dance card and knew that the first gentleman on it would soon come to collect her for their agreed set.

Agitated, Lydia’s gaze kept returning to the ornate, gilded ballroom doors, waiting for her husband to make his entrance. He was not the sort of gentleman to be early, but nor was he the sort to be unfashionably late. And he was becoming very late, indeed.

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