Page 60 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

Indeed, she could not have been happier, for she had located the library of Stonebridge House. It had seen better days, the furniture old and threadbare, everything coated in a layer of dust, and there were not many of her sort of books to be found on the shelves, but finding ithadgiven her purpose.

After two days, with the help of the staff that she had come to like very much and seemed to like her in return, it had become a rather cozy hideaway. Heavy velvet drapes now adorned any of the walls where the paper had been peeling, every bookcase and shelf and speck of the parquet floor had been dusted and mopped and scrubbed back to life, and two less ancient armchairs and a settee had been moved from the sunroom to the library.

Ever since its resurrection, she had taken to retreating there after dinner and luncheon, whiling away the hours. And that night was no exception.

A knock sounded at the door, drawing Lydia out of the chapter she had been reading—one of her own collection.

“Come in,” she said, putting her fingertip at the end of the sentence she had just finished.

Jenny Hen poked her head around the door. “I just wanted to see if you needed anything before I retire to bed.” She looked around the room, smiling. “Goodness, this is bonny, isn’t it? You’ve done fine work here.”

“No, no, you must not give me any praise whatsoever,” Lydia insisted. “This is all the work of the wonderful staff. I tried my best to be of assistance, but in truth, I think it would have been transformed more quickly if I had not been in their way. They were too polite to tell me to get out from under their feet, but I know the look.”

Jenny chuckled. “Are you warm enough? There’s a chill tonight. I don’t mind stoking the fire for you.”

“You have already done far too much for me,” Lydia replied in earnest. “If I cannot manage to put a few logs on the fire by myself, I do not deserve to be here.”

Jenny paused. “Well then, I’ll leave you to your reading.” She hesitated. “Beth is so excited to have you back at Stonebridge—-she hasn’t stopped chattering about that book you’ve been reading to her. I can’t recall the name.”

“Sense and Sensibility,” Lydia said, delighted. “It is a favorite of mine.”

Not one of hermostfavorite books, but she would not dare to read one of those to her lady’s maid. It would be a challenge of who blushed the most ferociously first, and she doubted she would ever be able to look Beth in the eye again.

“Would you look at me, fussing over you like a mother hen.” Jenny laughed. “But… for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re weathering this so well. It’s nice to have a lady in the house again, making good changes, restoring some of its former glory. I don’t think His Grace knows that even small adjustments can make the mightiest difference. You’ll have to tell him so when he sees this library. You’d never know no one had entered it in years.”

Lydia’s heart sank, but she did her best to keep a smile on her face. “I will be sure to. And, if I may, I would like to thankyouand all of the staff who have made me feel so… welcome. I thought it would be a lonely wait, but it has not been lonely at all.”

“Aye, with Beth around, you’ll never be lonely.” Jenny chuckled softly, but as her laughter faded into silence, both women seemed to understand that some things were not being said. Andin that quiet, there was a mutual agreement to pretend that all would be well, that the head of this householdwouldreturn, and it would not hurt if he was as transformed as the library when he did.

Lydia offered a grateful smile. “You ought to retire, Jenny. There are buns to be baked in”—she glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece—“five hours, and you know that the dough does not like it when you are weary.”

“Quite right you are, Your Grace! You see, it’s not just you who can teach others a thing or two.” Jenny winked but continued to linger at the door as if she felt bad for leaving Lydia alone. “Well then… Aye, that’s me to bed. You rest well when you retire, and if you need aught else, you just ring the bell, and someone will come.”

Lydia nodded. “I will.”

With at least five more attempts at a ‘goodnight,’ Jenny finally closed the door and left Lydia to return to her secret book.

She curled up and pulled a blanket over her legs, bathed in the heat that radiated from the fireplace, perfectly content in the sanctuary of the library. Even if the rest of the manor did not feel at all like her home, this one room did.

“Now then, Captain Kildare, whatwillyou do with the sneaky stowaway?” she whispered, shivering with excitement.

Of course, being one of her favorites, she already knew that the stowaway was secretly a marchioness who had crept aboard in a bid to escape her brutish husband, who she did not know had just been killed in a terribly violent brawl. But every time she readthisparticular novel, it was like reading it for the first time.

Her eyes devoured every word, gobbling up the first thrilling encounter between the secret Marchioness and the rugged, coarse-tongued, tempestuous Captain. Meanwhile, her mind was already leaping forward, letting the anticipation build for her best-loved and most dog-eared scene.

Actually, I could get used to this…

For with her husband elsewhere, in a residence that was technically her own where the servants would not disturb her, she could read all day, every day if she wanted to. Who was going to stop her?

Perhaps she might even write a few of her own. Indeed, no one would ever suspect a duchess of being the author of such illicit literature. And if her husband was going to keep running away or kissing her before she could ask for an annulment, she would needsomethingto amuse herself.

Lydia held her breath, her cheeks flushed, her heart racing, eagerly turning the page as Captain Kildare swept the Marchioness, Ursula, into his arms and carried her to his cabin. She wiggled her toes as the Captain kicked open the door andwielded her inside, already knowing what was about to happen but desperate to read it again.

Outside, a summer storm raged, a downpour pelting the library windows like thrown pebbles. Lydia imagined she was on Captain Kildare’s ship instead, tossed and turned by the waves… and the rugged Captain himself, though she could not stop picturing him with Will’s face.

“Oh, Captain,” she whispered, grinning like a fool. “Of course, you should not tear her gown off. You should take it off sl?—”

She screamed as the library door flew open and a storm-swept figure in a billowing greatcoat barged in. The fire blazing in the hearth swayed and lashed wildly, casting strange shadows on the walls. It was almost like the page of her book had come to life, but the second she realized she was not imagining things, she shoved her beloved novel under the nearest cushion.

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