Page 15 of The Truth about the Duke
“That is an utterly dreadful thing for him to say!” Sophie looked all around, as though she wanted to say something to the Duke directly only for Lydia to squeeze her hand again and pull her attention back.
“It may have been but I did my best to show no pain,” she answered, managing to dry her tears. “Though I did tell him that I was a bluestocking and, therefore, my parents were already ashamed of me.”
Sophie closed her eyes, shaking her head as she did so. “You should not have had such a thing said to you, my dear friend. The Duke ought to be better mannered than that.”
Lydia took in a long breath and let herself settle inwardly, swallowing hard as the final few tears drained away. “I am quite myself again, I am sure.”
Her friend gazed back at her for some moments, perhaps ascertaining whether or not such a thing was true. “Will you say something to the Duke?”
Fervently, Lydia shook her head no. “All I shall do is stay away from him,” she answered, hating the wobble still in her voice. “And continue my research into his family so that I might complete my piece for The London Chronicle. Then, I shall forget all about him.” Part of her now regretted pursuing the Duke of Melrose as her first subject for The London Chronicle but her study had already begun and she would not start again. Earlier that very afternoon, she and Sophie had visited not one but two libraries, as well as a bookshop that was more akin to a library than anything else! Subsequently, she now had not only a good deal of information about the area of England in which the Duke and his estate resided, but she had some books by which she intended to take on further study. Then, the article could be written, it could be sent to The London Chronicle, and her mind free then to release the Duke of Melrose entirely.
“That sounds wise to me.” Sophie released her hand though she continued to look into Lydia’s face. “Are you sure you are quite all right?”
With a nod, Lydia gave a light toss of her head, her red curls catching the sunshine as they bounced. “I shall be, yes. Thank you, Sophie. You came just when I needed you.”
Pressing her lips tightly together,Lydia took the letter from the footman and tried to keep her gaze away from her mother’s sharp eyes. “I thank you.” The previous day, after the Duke’s hard words to her, Lydia had found herself filled with a new determination – a determination to complete her piece of work on the Duke of Melrose just as quickly as she could. Thus, she had feigned a headache and had remained at home rather than go to the ball she had been expected to attend. In the hours she had garnered of solitude and silence – for both of her parents had gone to the ball after her promises that she would be quite all right – Lydia had read and read and read. She had found one or two rather interesting things, including a story that had made her eyebrows lift high in surprise. It had all been included in her article which, in the early hours of the morning, she had sent to The London Chronicle.
This, mayhap, was their reply.
“Is it a letter from a gentleman?” Lady Hampshire arched one eyebrow. “Lord Kendall, mayhap?”
Lydia shook her head. “I think it is from Sophie, Mama.”
“Lord Kendall was present at the ball last evening.” Much to Lydia’s relief, her mother rose from her chair and made her way to the door. “Had you been present, then you would have been able to dance with him.”
“I am sure another opportunity will soon become available,” Lydia murmured, seeing her mother shake her head in evidentdesperation at Lydia’s lack of interest in the gentleman before quitting the room entirely.
Relieved, Lydia broke the seal and unfolded the letter, tension grasping at her as she read the few short lines.
‘Thank you for your article. We find it an excellent piece and would be glad to publish it in tomorrow’s edition. As requested, we shall publish it under a gentleman’s name rather than your own. Might we request another piece just as soon as you have one available?’
Her heart leaped, joy spread like fire across her chest and sent her smile wide. Jumping around the room, Lydia clasped the letter to her chest, twirling and spinning as though she were dancing with an invisible partner. The world opened up to her again, no longer closed, holding her only to propriety, to dancing, and to dull conversations with gentlemen where she pretended she was not what she truly was.
She could read! She could learn! She could write! And best of all, her work was valued and appreciated by others.
Lydia could think of nothing better.
I dowonder if he has anything on the history of St Albans.Lydia traced her fingers along the row of books, tilting her head this way and that as she kept one ear open for any of the other guests who might step into the room. She was attending Lord Montrose’s soiree and though her friend, Lady Markham, was in attendance as well as other acquaintances, she had no interest in conversation and remarks about the weather. Her mind was racing, full of thoughts about the Duke and his family and just how well the article would be received by theton. She knew that The London Chronicle had been published this afternoon.It would, by now, be in the hands of thebeau mondebut as yet, she did not know as to what society thought of it. Would it go unnoticed? Would there be only a few remarks made about it? Or was thereanypossibility that it would capture the attention of a good many of the gentlemen and ladies, making them eager for more?
Lydia tried to calm herself a little, pushing her thoughts to what area – and what family – she might write about next. The Duke of Melrose had been an interesting subject, for she had certainly discovered one or two things that had pricked her curiosity but whether or not she would find the same about another gentleman or lady, Lydia could not say. St Albans was an area known to her, and there were certainly many distinguished families from that area, but as yet, Lydia had not settled on anyone.
I wonder if –
Her heart slammed hard into her chest as the door to the library was pushed back, hard. She turned quickly, pushing her back against the shelves of books, pressing into the shadows for fear that she was about to witness something quite improper, or be set upon by a rogue, come in search of a lady alone.
Her fears faded as a gentleman staggered in, though Lydia recognized him at once. It was none other than the Duke of Melrose! He had one hand pressed against his forehead and was muttering under his breath, his shoulders a little hunched. With seeming irritation, he made to push the door shut but Lydia moved quickly, not wanting to be seen alone with him.
“Your Grace. If you would excuse me before you shut the door, then I would be grateful.”
He started violently, his hand dropping to his side, peering at her. “Lady… Lady Lydia?”
“Melrose, are you quite all right?”
Before Lydia could answer, Lord Kendall stepped into the library, only to stop short at the sight of Lydia and the Duke together. His eyes widened but Lydia smiled quickly, gesturing to the door.
“Forgive me, Lord Kendall, I was just about to take my leave. The Duke stepped into the library without being aware of my presence.”
Lord Kendall smiled quickly. “You sought some solitude in here, mayhap?”
