Page 28 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
“No.” The word was out before Alexander could even consider the question.
“Well, then. It is not as though you want to leave a space in your life for another woman.” Samuel braced his elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely between his legs. “Consider it, Rayment. She could stay here in this life she has created for herself, and you could return to London. Eliza would not lose a friend, the duchess would not lose her position, and all could be perfectly pleasant. Don’t act rashly just because you have a bee in your bonnet about the things you ought to do.”
Alexander’s hand balled around his pen, knuckles whitening. “Enough.”
“Just consider it. Eliza tells me how very lonely the duchess was until recently. Will you force her to endure that all over again?”
Irritated with his friend, irritated with Lydia, and irritated with himself, Alexander rose from his chair and strode to the door. The idea in and of itself wasn’t a bad one, especially as he had no particular desire to ever be in this house, but it would require informing everyone in his life about his change of heart.
As for Lydia, would he be able to leave her here, knowing she was in essence his responsibility, and knowing too that she was prone to making foolish decisions such as walking in the snow?
He was on the verge of storming out in search of her when he heard a bright laugh spilling from the hallway. He hung back to watch as Lydia shook out her cloak, apologizing laughingly to Mrs. Jones.
“Iamsorry about the mess. I always forget how much snow tends to collect things when it sticks to your clothes.” As though to demonstrate her point, she held out a stick.
This wasn’t the ice-cold duchess that Alexander, in his worst dreams, had envisaged himself being forced to marry for the sake of his line.
She was soft, pliable, smiling up at the footman Oliver with such genuine gratitude that Alexander’s chest tightened with still more irritation.
Not once since his return had she looked at him like that.
“Thank you for coming out after me,” she said softly. “I hate to think I’ve distracted you from your other duties.”
“Not at all, ma’am,” Oliver answered stoically, but Alexander knew his servants enough to know the man was genuinely charmed.
Of course he was—everyone in this damn house had fallen under her spell.
“You see?” Samuel piped from behind him. “She belongs here.”
Alexander tried his best not to jump. “I hadn’t thought this would happen,” he murmured, massaging his temples. The relief he felt at knowing she was well, felt overpowered by his uncertainty of his next path. For the second time in his life, his future felt utterly shrouded, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
“Eliza is hosting a dinner tomorrow evening,” Samuel added. “I’ll be inviting Lydia. Give you an evening alone to come to a decision. And who knows—maybe you’ll decide she can stay.”
CHAPTER TEN
To Lydia’s shock, the duke seemed amenable to her spending the evening with Eliza’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Parsons. It was an opportunity for them to celebrate Eliza’s recent ‘engagement’—which Mr. Godwin was quick to assure her didn’t truly exist.
“I know it sounds shocking,” he said with a lazy grin. “But you may ask Eliza about it all you like. It’ll allow her the opportunity to form attachments without the burden of her parents requiring her to make a match.”
Lydia folded her hands neatly on her lap, forming her own thoughts, along with the memory of Eliza’s list. “What doyouget from it?”
“The same freedom from my parents,” he shrugged, stretching out in the armchair. The duke lingered by the window, hands tucked behind his back, appearing to ignore them. “They are equally as concerned with finding me a match before I alienate all the eligible ladies of London.”
Lydia had to smile. “Is your behavior that shocking?”
“They have no idea, of course, but they assume the worst of me.” He winked at her, audaciously flirtatious, yet Lydia had spent enough time with him to know that for all their bickering, his heart belonged to Eliza.
She wondered if her friend knew.
The duke pivoted from the window, arms folded and scowling. She half expected him to turn around and tell her that she would not be able to attend this dinner because she would have to pack in readiness for their trip to London. Instead, he said in his usual clipped tones, “Enough of your nonsense, Godwin. So, Lydia? Do you wish to attend?”
She looked into his handsome, remote face, wishing she could read his thoughts behind the mask. “Do you have any objection?”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I would very much wish to go, then.”
“Very well.” He nodded at Mr. Godwin. “Be sure to return her at a reasonable hour.”
