he wasn’t certain that Elinor was still a maid. Oh, she knew Elinor would never have given herself willingly to anyone in the past, but there were secrets, whispers and lies that had moved beneath the surface of their small family. Angry comments Nanny Maude had made, the grief and loss on Elinor’s face when she’d disappeared for a time when they were younger. Whatever had happened, it had been bad, and for her sister’s sake Lydia had chosen not to pry.
She’d instinctively known who to blame. The one person she could never forgive, the one person who had doted on her to the exclusion of everyone else. The author of their destruction. Their mother.
Somewhere along the way Lady Caroline had lost her right to the compassion Lydia held for everyone else. Not for her feckless ways and the disaster she’d drawn them into. But for her sister’s sake. Lydia could overlook anything, forgive anything. Except when it came to Elinor.
If she was wrong about Rohan, if he hurt Nell, she would find a way to make him pay. But she wasn’t wrong. She had seen him look at her when he thought no one was watching. Bad man or not, Lydia had faith in him. He might be the King of Hell, but there was redemption slipping past the brimstone.
And Lydia could do her part. She’d made up her mind, and indeed, as far as sacrifice went, it was little indeed. She’d learned long ago that bright pretty things were all well and good, but settling for dull and sturdy was the wise, the generous thing to do.
Not that anyone would consider Etienne de Giverney dull and sturdy. He was a very handsome man. A little lacking in humor, perhaps. A bit stiff, and most of his understanding had gone into his study of medicine and little into the rest of the world. There was something else beneath the surface, something she didn’t quite understand. It disturbed her, but she decided that was simply her own reluctance. A reluctance she had every intention of ignoring.
Which would be no problem. Her mother had been the same, and she knew just how to deal with it, fashioning conversation around them, rearranging life and the past to best flatter them. Etienne saw her as a pretty ornament to his life, and he would treat her well, never hit her, give her children and a secure life.
Author: Anne Stuart
But even more important was what he would give Elinor. The freedom from worrying about her baby sister.
It was a small enough sacrifice after all Nell had done for her. And it wasn’t as if she’d had any choice. Charles Reading had never said or done anything to suggest she was of any importance to him. She only knew that he was beautiful and scarred and that she was no possible mate for someone in need of an heiress. She’d seen him only a few times, and for some reason when it came to him her instincts failed. She couldn’t read anything in his stormy gaze, in his polite behavior. Not admiration or desire or even regret. And she was mad to dream about anything else.
Etienne had been the one to bring her out here, when she’d been secretly hoping Charles Reading would appear by the carriage, and he’d come to visit each day, drinking tea and giving her such long accounts of all the ways Viscount Rohan had robbed him of his birthright that Lydia ought to be outraged at the injustice of it all. Lydia had listened to the repeated litany of offenses and murmured all the right things, and Etienne had slowly begun to calm himself and even preen a bit.
And surely that was a good role for a woman in life. He was a doctor, a man given to helping people. And she could help him, by soothing him, bolstering him, tending to his feelings of ill usage and resentment.
It just wasn’t what she wanted.
But what she wanted didn’t matter. At least, not to her. She’d never been able to do much for Elinor, to help shoulder the burden of living with Lady Caroline, and for all Elinor’s efforts their mother only had eyes for Lydia. She could only assume her dislike for Elinor’s father had been passed on to his daughter, but it was cruel and wicked and Lydia had hated her for it.
Now she could finally pay her sister back, just a little. How could she possibly resent such a choice?
She’d left her bedroom door ajar. Mrs. Clarke poked her head in, her plain face smiling. “You’ve got a visitor, dearie. ”
Lydia rose. Etienne again. He’d said he wouldn’t be able to come today, announcing it with the air of a great treat to be denied her. She’d said all the right things, of course. She knew her duty, she owed it to Elinor. She smoothed the front of her dress, one of the pretty ones that Rohan had provided, put the perfect smile on her face and followed Mrs. Clarke down the broad staircase of the château with its odd architecture.
It was bisected—one half was kept locked, and Mrs. Clarke warned her against wandering into those parts. Her imagination had gone wild, and she’d tried to peek through windows when she’d walked out on the grounds, but it all looked distressingly normal. A little ornate and ostentatious, unlike the comfortable quarters of the rest of the house, including her bedroom.
“He’s in the library, miss,” Mrs. Clarke said, barely concealing her smile. Lydia paused by the door, just for a moment to remind herself why she was doing this. Clearly Mrs. Clarke approved, though she hadn’t seemed to have much of an opinion of Etienne before, and Etienne treated the housekeeper like a peasant. But if Mrs. Clarke had decided she liked him then clearly there was more to Etienne than Lydia had at first imagined.
She pushed open the door, breezing through. “Etienne, I had no idea you’d be able to make it today…” Her words trailed off, and Charles Reading turned to look at her, and she froze where she was halfway across the room.
“I’m sorry, I’m not Etienne,” he said, his rueful smile twisting his face.
Oh, merciful heavens, she thought, swallowing. How was she going to get through this? If she was just assured that she’d never have to see Charles Reading again, never be alone with him, never look into his dark, unreadable eyes, then she might be able to do what she needed to do.
“Why…why are you here?” she stammered. “I’m sorry, that’s unforgivably rude. It’s just I was so surprised. May I have Mrs. Clarke bring you some tea? You’ve had a long ride. Perhaps something to eat? It’s no trouble, I assure you, I can just…”
While she nattered on he crossed the room to her, taking her hand. “Hush,” he said. “Hush, Lydia. ”
She stared up at him, and a sudden dread filled her. For him to have used her name meant dire things were afoot. “Has something happened to Elinor? Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. Rohan says she may leave, and I thought I would see if you wanted to return to Paris. ”
“He’s letting her go?” The panic did a quick dip into pain. Elinor loved him. Lydia knew it as well as she knew her own heart, hopeless as it was. She’d hoped for some kind of happiness for one of them. If he was letting her go then that hope was dashed.
“He is. ”
She suddenly realized he was still holding her hand in his gloved one. She pulled it away quickly. “And where will we go?”
“He’s an honorable man…”