Page 54 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
“Do you?” Alexander countered.
For once, Godwin didn’t produce his ready smile. “Do you know,” he murmured, “I think I might finally be starting to…”
To Lydia’s surprise, she found Lord Scunthorpe in attendance; he must have been another of the guests who had traveled down from London especially for the event. And, by some design or other, she found herself seated by him at dinner.
“Duchess,” he said upon seeing her, inclining his head in greeting. “How unexpected—yet may I say how delightful—to see you here, and in such good spirits.”
“Lord Scunthorpe.” Lydia smiled, genuinely delighted to see her old beau. There had never been much affection between them; their bond had been one of friendship, and although she had hoped once that he would marry her, she did not feel as though her life was in any way worse for him having not. She knew as well as anyone that his interest in her had in part been from a desire to know her father better. Once her father had passed away, that connection no longer existed.
One of the reasons she had agreed to Alexander’s offer was because she knew Lord Scunthorpe would not be so keen on marrying her immediately. Or, indeed, marrying her at all.
But for all that, there were no hard feelings between them. At least, she hoped there weren’t.
“What a wonderful surprise,” she chimed, smiling up at him. Twenty years her senior, she supposed she had always seen him as somewhat of a fatherly figure. “Do you know Mr. Godwin?”
“Who doesn’t, my dear? He is a very up-and-coming young man, you know. I believe he knows about everyone in London.” Lord Scunthorpe’s eyes lingered on her face. “I was very sad to hear the news of your father.”
“Yes, it was very sudden and very tragic…”
“Fortunate indeed that you had such an old friend on hand to help.” Lord Scunthorpe gestured to Alexander, who was watching their conversation from across the dining table, his eyes narrowed. Eliza was doing her best to speak with him, but he hardly looked as though he noticed.
“Anold friend?” Lydia asked.
“The duke. I presumed—forgive me if I made an improper assumption.” He cleared his throat, glancing away from them both. “Your marriage was very sudden, you know.”
The irony of it was, of course, that he was not precisely mistaken. She and Alexander were not childhood friends as such, but she remembered him from her childhood, and if they hadn’t met—if he hadn’t saved her—then she would have felt entirely differently about trusting him to be her husband.
“That was—it was a period of adjustment, to be sure,” Lydia said, and out of friendly affection, she placed her hand briefly over his. “I am sorry I didn’t formally write to let you know of my change in circumstances. That must have been a shock to read about in the papers, and it was really up to me to—”
He shook his head, patting her hand clumsily. “Not at all, dear girl. There was no formal agreement in place. Nothing for you to break. I entirely understand why you acted as you did, and you were quite right to.”
Lydia could practically feel Alexander’s glare from where she was sitting, but she refused to give in to it. This was nothing she ought to be ashamed of, and it was only right that they were having this closure now, after their courtship over a year ago.
“Are you well?” he asked. “Are you… happy?”
Lydia glanced into the eyes of the man she would have married if her father had not died and Alexander hadn’t stepped up, and found that she had an answer ready and waiting. And more, that she regretted nothing.
“I am,” she smiled softly.
“Aduchess.” Lord Scunthorpe gave a wry smile as he returned to his dinner. “I could not have done half as well for you as you have done for yourself, and it’s all for the best.”
“Have you any thoughts as to a future Lady Scunthorpe?” Lydia asked politely.
“Not at the present time. Debutantes do not get any older, and alas, neither do I. But I find myself perfectly contented with my lot in life, which is all any man can say for himself.”
“So you, too, are happy?”
“Now that I know you are, it is not churlish to admit, is it?”
“It wouldn’t have been, regardless. You and I were good friends, and I hope we may continue to be good friends, but I think it’s safe to say we were never in love.” She picked up her knife. “Which is all to the best, I think, given the circumstances.”
He nodded, and she thought she saw relief on his face that they were both in the same position, feeling the same way about their prior courtship and their current situation. She wanted nothing but good things for him and his future; equally, she had no desire to be married to him and could not regret agreeing to marry Alexander instead, even if her future was still a little in the air.
When she glanced across to see Alexander watching her, however, his hands clasped before him and that customary expression on his face that made her think he had certain thoughts about her conversing with Lord Scunthorpe—she couldn’t say she felt any different.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Truth be told, Alexander didn’t know precisely why he felt so very strongly about the sight of his wife smiling at another man.
