The Lord’s Persuasion of Lady Lydia

‘Love didn’t in those days, you know, and no one thought anything of it. Sometimes, Lydia, I wish I had your backbone. You may not realise it, my love, but I am so very proud of you.’

Lydia swallowed and blinked back sudden tears. ‘Mama, that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.’

Chapter Four

Harry scowled at the sheets of paper in front of him that his major domo had presented him with a few moments earlier. They made for disturbing reading.

Lydia Field was indeed in possession of a considerable fortune and heiress to an even greater one. Her godmother had recently left her another very large sum of money. Just before Jeremy had approached Harry. Coincidence?

Harry snorted. He didn’t believe in coincidences.

Jeremy, it seemed, had dipped very badly in more gaming hells than Mrs O’Connor’s and was being dunned for money. Some very villainous thugs had been seen outside his lodgings, and although they had been refused admittance, it didn’t bode well for the man. Even if Harry signed his heir’s money over to him, Jeremy would be hard pressed to keep his head above water.

Stupid fool.

Harry read on, and slowly let the paper fall to his desk. The second sheet had even more disturbing news. Over the previous week or so, Jeremy had begun to repay his debts.

Where on earth had he got the money? Harry’s solicitor informed him he had someone looking into it all.

All this on top of yet another visit from Jeremy, stating emphatically he would marry Lydia and soon. It was no wonder Harry had a constant headache.

He massaged his forehead wearily. Was Jeremy truly enamoured with Lydia, or was it her money that called to him? He had no way of knowing. Whatever, she was not the one for Jeremy; she would eat him and spit him out in tiny pieces.

The rest of the epistle made him sit up straight and read it twice. Lady Lydia Field was known throughout the ton as a shy, demure, effacing young lady who had little to recommend her to a gentleman, except her fortune. She had turned all offers down, was considered to be on the shelf, and no one was surprised, even though she was an heiress.

That didn’t match with what he had seen over the past weeks. The lady intrigued him more and more. If he did nothing else he would have to discover the true Lady Lydia Field. It seemed his psyche, for reasons know only to it, had decided she piqued his curiosity, and he’d better do something about it.

And make her his?

****

Four days later, after very properly greeting his hostess, exchanging quips and indulging her with the sort of light flirtation she expected, Harry scanned the ballroom of the Earl and Countess of Leominster’s town mansion as he searched for one specific female.

‘Harry, are you on the prowl?’ Diana Leominster asked him teasingly. ‘You have the look, you know. Do I need to do the nicety and introduce you to anyone?’

‘When am I ever not?’ Harry laughed and shook his head. He’d best beware – the last thing he wanted was for the ladies to notice his intentions. ‘The day I need to be introduced is the day I hand over my rake’s title and retire to the country to breed pheasants. No, no prowling today, I’m just looking around.’

‘For your next conquest?’ Diana asked shrewdly. ‘Surely that’s no hardship. I could name at least a dozen women who would willingly grace your bed at the crook of your little finger in their direction.’

‘Ah, but there is the rub, Diana,’ Harry said mockingly. ‘Such willingness is not to my taste. I’m no longer of an age where I want a bed-hopping lady, who warms my sheets for one night and happily moves on. Nor do I eventually, when it is time, a long time hence, want a wife who does the same. I’ve become more discerning in my old age.’

‘Lady Mostyn?’

He shrugged. ‘She wanted more than I could or would give. I made my intentions clear, and she indicated she was of a like mind. Utter rubbish, it transpired. Why, my dear, do you ladies choose to forget the rules? Agree to something not meaning it, and then get upset when the gentleman in question, in this case me, reminds you of them and has no intentions of changing them. Therefore, no longstanding intentions or attachments. I have had enough of such playacting. I want disinterest and, well, you understand…’

Diana opened her eyes wide in disbelief. And so she should, he thought wryly. Not only was he contradicting himself, but it was diametrically opposite to the persona he did his best to project to his peers. That it was all an act he hoped no one realised. Harry had never been interested in casual liaisons. His few mistresses and lovers had been long-term, with like and mutual respect on both sides. He’d never set anyone up in a house, or given them silly, expensive knick-knacks, and had always treated them with courtesy and politeness. Any gifts were thoughtfully and carefully chosen for the woman concerned and would never give false hope or cause trouble. He knew, in the eyes of the ladies, he was considered to be a thoughtful, energetic and demanding lover, and no one who got the chance to lie with him turned him down. So why was he now considering how best to bed Lydia?

‘Then… oh lord, there is your annoying heir.’ Diana rolled her eyes as she changed the subject, much to Harry’s relief.

The annoying heir he intended to rescue Lydia from.

‘Joking aside, Harry, marry and put him out of the equation,’ Diana said seriously. ‘Do you know he’s been dropping very unsavoury hints about his soon-to-be good fortune? Even if he is to overnight become fabulously wealthy, it is so not good to boast about it. Where is the money coming from? You?’

‘Good lord, no.’ Harry shook his head emphatically. ‘He’s probably trying to force my hand to let him take control of his inheritance,’ he said, thinking furiously. Things were developing that he suspected needed nipping in the bud. Hopefully Pugh would soon have some information for him. ‘I told him to grow up first.’

‘I doubt he can with a mother like his, though,’ Diana observed shrewdly. ‘I… ah ha.’

Jeremy had got to within a few feet of Harry and his companion, seen them, scowled and turned on his heel.

‘He needs to learn better manners as well,’ Diana said quietly, but no less forcefully for that. ‘He was sniffing around Donald until Leominster sent him away with a flea in his ear. Jeremy not Donald.’

‘Ah? Sniffing for what?’

‘Lord knows. Although sometimes my son would try the patience of a saint, he is not scheming and I suspect, my dear Harry, that your heir is.’

‘I fear you could be correct,’ Harry said slowly. ‘Now let’s change the subject. I’ve had more than enough of him – more than any man could stomach. I have feelers out, so don’t worry.’

‘Good. Now, why do I hear Lady Raith introduced you to Lydia Field, who, I assure you, would not be up for dalliance or, I suspect, anything else? She is a perfectly well behaved but spiritless lady who would bore you rigid in minutes.’ Diana smoothed a strand of her hair and looked at him with shrewd eyes. ‘What is going on?’

‘Diana, my dear, you know my godmother,’ Harry said suavely, not at all surprised by her rapid change of subject, as he watched Jeremy disappear in the direction of the card room. ‘Once she gets a bee in her bonnet, none of us is safe. She decided Lady Lydia needed an escort to get some air, and I was chosen. I did as I was bidden. Now I’ll take a turn round the room, as I know you want me to. Smile and look interested, avoid predatory mamas, have a duty dance, put some young deb in alt, and then retire to the card room.’ And no doubt have to watch Jeremy like a hawk.

Diana sighed, and patted his cheek. ‘Ever the rake. Dance with Lydia Field and really stir things up.’

Harry waggled his finger at her. ‘You, my dear, are a troublemaker. A gorgeous, devious troublemaker.’

She giggled and looked like a young deb, not a matron with a happy marriage, a grown-up son, and a mischievous three-year-old daughter. ‘I do hope so. Now shoo, go and set hearts a-fluttering. Johnny is in the card room.’

Harry bowed and turned on his heel. He and Diana had once, many years ago, thought about a relationship. Her first husband had died and she was sad and alone. However, he sensed it would not be what either of them wanted and so instead introduced her to John, the Earl of Leominster, stood beside John at the couple’s wedding, and was godfather to Florence, their only child together.

He circled the room, in a seemingly careless, no destination in mind manner, nodded to some acquaintances, ignored a pair of giggling debs who stared at him with hungry eyes, and avoided a lady he knew had her heart set on him as her next protector. It was not going to happen. He intended to devote all his attention and energy to Lydia. If he found her. He still hadn’t fathomed why he needed to wrestle her from Jeremy’s clutches. Something about her tugged at him. He’d never expected to have the sort of interest in anyone he experienced when he thought of Lydia. It wasn’t the cock-hardening rush of lust he’d had with some of his past mistresses. Or the friendly interest he had, say, for Edward’s wife. For once he had no idea exactly what he felt and it was very disconcerting. Even so, he intended to find out. With or without her agreement.

At least now he understood the working of her mind a little more, and nowadays knew the sorts of places he would see Lydia. As he expected, she was ensconced in a corner with several other ladies who were collectively known as wallflowers. Almost, but not quite, on the shelf and supposedly resigned to the idea. Now he understood Lydia a little more, Harry thought he could see how she was being very clever by hiding among them. Only if you looked closely could you notice her glazed expression as the ladies chatted.

He made his way efficiently through the crowds to her side.

‘So we meet again, my dear.’ He let his glance rove over her with pleasure, noted the quick flash of temper – swiftly masked – and bit back a grin. Contrary to what he knew he was expected to see – a mousy girl dressed quietly and elegantly, but boringly, in a pale-blue dress with a darker-blue flounce – he saw the exact opposite. What he suspected she had hoped to disguise. Lustrous hair, sparkling eyes, a perfect complexion and a body his own ached to discover. Harry still marvelled how no one else saw through her obvious – to him – disguise. Why did no one else understand that to itch to discover what was hidden under fine blue silk was so much more tantalising than being shown it.

She smiled insipidly, stood and curtsied, and held out her hand. ‘What a surprise, my lord. After all, we have only been missing each other for years.’

Harry returned the smile and turned her hand over deftly to kiss her palm. He was satisfied when she gasped and the tiny pulse in her wrist showed. The lady next to her gave her a glance that could only be described as envious. Harry ignored her and curled Lydia’s fingers over the spot he had touched.

‘Save it for later, my dear.’

The pulse in her wrist jumped and she licked her lips.

Damn it, does she know how arousing that is? She might pretend to be immune, but he knew differently. Thankfully.

‘My lord,’ she said pleadingly. ‘Do not.’

‘Harry.’

She shook her head. ‘My lord, please do not single me out so. People will talk.’

‘I swear that “no” and “do not” are the most used words to come from your charming mouth, my dear. Now, my name is Harry and I give you leave to use it.’

She firmed her lips and a tiny sigh came from between them. ‘I cannot. It is not seemly and you know it. Tittle-tattle discomposes me, especially if I am at the centre of it.’

He tilted his head slightly and considered her. She didn’t seem overly discomposed, just a mite irritated. ‘People always talk. Come walk with me.’ He held his arm up and waited, daring her to agree or perhaps cause a scene. ‘They will gossip even more if they think I snubbed you – or, worse, that you snubbed me.’

****

Lydia saw three young ladies glance her way and nudge each other. Next they would send her either envious or pitying looks. She might as well be the centre of attention in a manner those women and others thought of enviously. Just once. With that thought uppermost, she inclined her head and took the proffered arm.

‘There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ Harry said cheerfully. ‘I didn’t bite or make you jump. No sky fell on us, no footman fainted, or rake felt as though he were stabbed through the heart.’

She chuckled. ‘No, indeed, so all is well in our world then.’

He gave her a glance that could almost be construed as suspicious. She made haste to change his mind. ‘They do not understand things, some people. It is fine, is it not? Our world at the moment.’

‘Almost, my dear, but not totally. You are still insisting you will leave London soon.’

Lydia glanced up at him. His dark eyes gave no hint of his emotions. As ever he was immaculately dressed. The sapphire that sparkled in the snowy folds of his cravat matched the stones at her ears and around her neck, and his waistcoat had a thin, discreet thread of blue shot through it that complimented the jewels they wore, and the ruffle of her gown. Very clever. One could almost think he knew what she was going to wear before she did. For one fleeting moment she wondered if his valet were in cahoots with her maid before she dismissed the idea.

‘Leaving London is the major good thing,’ she said as she nodded to Lady Cowper and Princess Lieven as those ladies thankfully passed by without speaking. ‘I can hardly wait.’

‘How long have I got to change your mind?’ Harry drawled. ‘Nod at Lord Firth.’

Lydia smiled wryly, and nodded as indicated. He was like a dog and his bone. ‘You won’t. Can you not accept that?’ It seemed as if all she ever did was repeat herself to him, and he chose not to listen.

‘It seems not. Where is your dance card?’

‘My what?’ His abrupt change of direction confused her. ‘Oh, my dance card.’ It was something she rarely had cause to use. ‘Why?’

‘So I can sign it,’ he said patiently. ‘I assume you do have one somewhere, even though it is not on show?’

‘Oh, I have one.’ Her mama asked her more than once every time they attended a ball. She thought she knew her daughter well, and understood Lydia had no interest in dancing. Actually, Lydia did like dancing and had been taught well at the exclusive ladies’ seminary she had attended. However, she did not wish to dance with someone who had been coerced to ask her and only did so on sufferance. ‘I just choose not to advertise the fact.’

‘Why on earth not?’ Harry asked in a bewildered voice. ‘It is the reason for a female to attend a ball, surely?’

How little he knew of a debutante’s world. ‘Not in my case. I attend because my mama decrees so. Do you know how embarrassing it is to those of us who are only asked to dance because our hostess has forced a gentleman to ask us?’ she demanded, ignoring the fact she had intended to revert to her meek and mild persona. ‘Knowing he’d rather be anywhere else than leading us down the room? Forced to smile and say thank you to someone who is so patently uninterested, you can see him eying up everyone except you? Knowing that once the obligatory dance is over he will bow and scurry away? And do not get me started on the so-called debutantes who are the toast of the ton, who laugh behind your back, and then shower you with false, syrupy sympathy. Their beauty is only skin deep.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Oh, believe me, I could go on and on.’ Lydia stopped talking abruptly and bit the inside of her mouth, conscious of how close they were to other people. The last thing she needed or wanted was to cause a scene. ‘Sorry.’

He patted her hand. ‘It is I who should say that. I honestly hadn’t realised how self-centred and unthinking we males are. However, I would like to have the first waltz with you and the supper dance. Look on it as thumbing your nose at the tabbies if you like. And those insufferable incomparables who do not have one tenth of your personality.’ Behind them the sound of violins got louder. ‘Your card?’ he prompted. ‘Perhaps now it will be the second waltz.’

‘I’m sorry, my lord.’ She raised her head and worried her lip; something she had seen shy, sweet young things do to great effect. However, Lydia would wager she just looked stupid. She might want to come across as docile and boring, but never stupid. ‘What do you want me to do now?’

‘Walk on, so we aren’t interrupted, is a good start.’ He urged her out of the long windows that led to the gardens, and along the terrace to where several flickering sconces lit a selection of seats and tables. ‘I see that annoying Miss Dixon and the even stupider Mr Fitchett to our right. If we increase our pace they shouldn’t catch us up and regale us with inane conversation.’

‘Ah, yes.’ Oh, stupid.

Only one table was occupied, as most couples were drifting back inside to where the strains of a waltz could be heard. ‘We can sit here, a perfectly conventional couple and chat…’ – he paused and winked – ‘…about anything we like. As long as you don’t blush or hit me.’

Lydia allowed Harry to seat her on a curved, padded bench and waited as he sat down beside her, leaving a correct distance between them. ‘I would never be so unladylike as to attack anyone,’ she said in a suitably shocked voice. ‘I’m sure you are much too much a gentleman for me to ever have the urge or the need to do so.’

He quirked one eyebrow in a manner she knew was intended to intimidate. Damn it, she would not let him see how it – and him in general – affected her. Lydia wondered how she could make herself blush without reason and lowered her head in order, she accepted, to mask the fact she wasn’t intimidated. Then she caught a glimpse of his staff, outlined by fine material, and knew the answer. Her thoughts strayed to what was under that material and how, she had read, it was used. Heat rushed into her face. Where was her fan when she needed it? ‘You would not behave in that way,’ she added faintly for good measure.

‘If you think that, my dear, you are truly more naïve than I give you credit for. Somehow…’ Harry tipped her chin up with the tip of his forefinger. ‘No, I do not accept that.’

Lydia had no comeback. She folded her hands in her lap. It was that or mangle her reticule. Damn him. Was he going to be the one who saw through her façade? Why, oh why, had he singled her out? Any other gentleman would have left her once she assured them she was fine. Not him. He had to involve Lady Raith, who Lydia was certain would not have introduced him to her without his insistence, and now at another ball he had once more given her his undivided attention. Why?

A servant approached with a salver and Harry took two glasses of champagne from it and held one out to her. ‘Will this help and give you something to do with your hands?’ Harry paused and grinned. ‘Other than hold your fingers so tightly together your knuckles are white. I’m not here to upset you, my dear Lydia, more to reassure you I am a good, upright citizen with your best interests at heart.’

Really? Oh, Hades. Lydia took the glass with a murmur of thanks. Why did she think his ideas would not mesh with hers? She was going to need to have her wits about her, and be very alert. Please, God, do not let my attraction or nervousness show. These sorts of nerves were not due to innocence or reticence, more down to the discovery he seemed to see through her façade.

Why?

‘So kind,’ she said faintly, and watched his lips quirk.

‘Isn’t it?’ he agreed amiably. ‘I can be even more kind when it is warranted. Shall we discover if this is one of those times?’

Oh lord. When would she learn not to treat him like most of the other idiotic young bucks who couldn’t see what was under their nose?

Her stomach lurched. If only the servant had brought food as well. She was thirsty and felt somewhat nauseous, but her overwhelming fear was her tummy might rumble because she hadn’t managed to eat any supper. Perhaps she had better take her time with the champagne.

Lydia put her glass down and took a deep breath, knowing she was probably going to say something she would regret later. ‘What were we talking about earlier?’

‘Your dance card.’

With a sigh that rustled the hem of her dress, Lydia opened her reticule, resigned now to becoming the focus of people’s interest. ‘If you must.’ She handed the card with its attached pencil over to him.

Harry grinned. ‘I must.’ He scribbled his name twice and handed it back to her. ‘I’d fill it except then that would cause a stir.’ He bowed very formally. ‘I believe this is our dance, my dear. Ready?’

She sighed again and hated the way it sounded breathy, not resigned. ‘As I will ever be.’

Harry laughed and his dark eyes sparkled. ‘You do my ego so much good, my lady. There is no chance of it becoming overinflated with you around.’

‘I, er…’ she stammered, not knowing what to say, and he winked.

‘Don’t worry. I know that secretly you want to dance with me and only your innocence and reticence stops you showing it.’ He took her glass and sat it down on the table next to his. ‘Into the fray?’

There really was no answer to that. Lydia swallowed and smiled as he led her on to the dance floor and hoped she would not disgrace herself. It was a long while since she’d danced properly with someone who had asked her because he actually wanted to be her partner and not because he had been forced into it. She suspected it might feel different.

It did.

Once Harry swung her into his arms and began to waltz, Lydia forgot everything except the joy of dancing with someone who wanted her in his arms, and was not wishing for the dance to end. Someone who danced beautifully and let her do the same. Their steps matched, and she knew that, for once in her life, she was envied and not pitied. Her skirts brushed his legs as they executed a flourishing turn, and she could almost imagine his arms tightened as he steered her around another couple. Did his chest touch her? Did he really press his lips to her hair? Goodness, was he flirting?

Lydia glanced up at him and he smiled in such a way she could almost imagine she mattered to him. Which, of course, was stupid. Harry Birnham’s views on women were well known. Love them and leave them, and no love came into the equation. Even so, it was rumoured women queued up to share his bed, even briefly. That would never do for Lydia. To be a convenience seemed so demeaning. He had no intention of getting leg-shackled and, when he did, everyone knew he would take a wife to ensure the line and nothing more. Even more humiliating. It would never do for her and Lydia knew it. But he danced like a dream and, for one brief moment, it was good to be envied not pitied.

They danced on. Sadly, it was all too soon that the music stopped and she remembered to curtsey to her partner.

Harry bowed as he held her hand for a second longer than was truly acceptable. His eyes gleamed and he chuckled softly. ‘How the hell you are not inundated with suitors for every dance I do not know. That was sheer pleasure, my dear, and I look forward to the next.’

The sincerity in his voice was enough to make her body tingle and tiny pinpricks of desire danced down her spine. The man had enough charisma for three men and it was oh so dangerous. How simple it would have been to bask in his admiration and go with the flow. And how easily that could lead to the destruction of her carefully constructed world. Even so… ‘It makes a difference to be with someone who wasn’t forced to ask you to…’ She broke off. Her unruly tongue would be the social death of her. Lydia might want to leave, but preferably not in disgrace. ‘I, er…’

Harry glared. ‘You infuriating woman. Are you intimating I was coerced into dancing with you? No such thing. I was not forced to ask you, and you know it.’

It was interesting, she thought, how he could convey such annoyance and still speak in a level tone.