Page 30 of No Match for Love (Regency Love Stories)

Which brought to mind another man’s even more attractive attributes, both physical and otherwise, and it took a great deal of effort to push his visage from her mind. Lord Berkeley was not an option. Not now and likely not in two years either.

As their carriage rumbled toward home in the dark of the early morning hours, Lydia watched her guardian’s slumped form as he seemed to barely retain consciousness.

He seemed tired and not just from the night, but increasingly so.

Was he truly sick? He had been coughing, and his appearance indicated more than a simple ailment.

If he were sick, why was he insisting on pushing both himself and her through a rigorous London Season?

The man could likely use a week or two’s recuperation, which would play well into her own desires.

He hadn’t let her leave before, but maybe if he wasn’t feeling well, he would be more amenable to returning to the country, where Lydia could hide away until the inheritance was hers.

The carriage swayed as it turned, and not expecting it, Lydia bumped into the wall, her head hitting the side.

The pain that lanced through her head—exacerbated by an elaborately pinned hairstyle—served to highlight the pain she felt at the idea of leaving.

Why though? What was in London that would make it hard to leave?

It was a farce of a question. She already knew the answer.

Lord Berkeley.

She could have groaned. His quiet, understated ways had gotten to her. Without realizing and likely without him even attempting, he’d pierced her heart. If she had any idea what love was, she might have wondered if she was falling into it with him.

But the facts remained. She could not . He was not an option.

***

The next two days were spent without a single social engagement.

She did not see the disapproving eye nor furrowed brow of her taciturn guardian, and that was not because he’d suddenly realized what a gem he had in terms of ward.

Lord Tarrington was once again sequestered in his room, and Lydia was left alone.

“You’ve a visitor,” Jones said, entering the room with some freshly laundered clothing.

Hopefully it was not Mr. Frank Colbert again. The man was proving difficult to put off.

As she came down the stairs into the entry hall, she saw it was Lord Charles. And he was alone. She squashed the small dip of disappointment that his brother had not joined him. Stupid heart. “Lord Charles, I am happy to see you in good health.”

His grin was bright, and though she could see the similarities between him and his brother, mostly there were differences, particularly in the use of that expression.

Lord Berkeley hardly seemed to smile. Was it because of his past?

He’d spoken of losing a sister. But even the loss of someone so very close would have to ease after nearly a decade.

“I am happy to be in good health, though frustrated by the timing of my illness. How did you enjoy the boat ride and picnic?” He tucked his hat under his arm and followed her into the drawing room.

“It was enjoyable, though not what I’d anticipated for a day’s outing.”

“I had hoped to surprise you. I wish I might have seen your face when you first saw the boat. Being on the water is novel, is it not?”

She laughed a little, his enthusiasm catching. “Once I got over the fear of falling in, yes, it was certainly an interesting experience.”

He nodded, seating himself a moment after she had. “One day I hope to go to America on one of those large ships. What would you say to that?”

She blinked at him. “I cannot say I have given it much thought. I suppose the adventure would be enticing.”

“Indeed, would it not?” He stretched his legs in front of him. “I admit, I am itching for some excitement. London just does not seem to provide it as well as it once did.”

“I am sorry to hear you are not enjoying your time.”

“No, no, it is not that exactly. It is just...” He leaned forward, looking more boyish than usual as he met her gaze, his hands folding over one another and his expression earnest. “Do you ever feel that... that... Agh, I do not know how to describe it. It is a sort of discomfort. The kind that comes when you’ve been in a carriage too long and need to walk.

Or when you sleep too late and—” He caught her eye, cutting off.

“I apologize, I do not mean to go on in such a manner.”

She tilted her head, sensing his need to unburden himself, though she could not see why he’d chosen her as the conversation partner. “It is no trouble. You are welcome to go on.”

He waited only half a second before jumping back into it. “I suppose I am just tired of it all. The monotony and consistency of Society. I want something more, more than just being my father’s spare heir, more than being a second son. I want to make something of myself.”

This side of Lord Charles was unexpected but not off-putting.

She too wanted something more, after all.

More than living a life dictated by her guardian or an overly demanding husband.

“What would you do if you were free of the constraints placed on you in Society?” As she asked the question, she suddenly wondered what her own response would be.

What would she do if she were no longer concerned over her future?

Drat it all, her heart knew the answer to that all too readily.

Lord Charles’s face twisted in thought. “I do not know, to own the truth. I suppose what I want is simply the opportunity to find that out for myself. Perhaps I would go to America. Or tour the continent. Maybe I would learn how to farm or study some minor and likely unnecessary skill or trade. I simply itch to do something .”

Lydia nodded along. “I do not blame you. You want a purpose, but you want to be the one to choose it.”

“Yes. Yes, that is exactly it.” He heaved a sigh, leaning back and closing his eyes. Then they popped back open. “I do apologize. This conversation was not my intention in coming to see you.”

Lydia shook her head. “It is understandable. Someone as full of life and energy as yourself would naturally find the monotony of doing the same things over and over again nearly excruciating.”

He was nodding along. “Thank you. You understand perfectly.”

She smiled, feeling a wave of sisterly affection for him that seemed to come from nowhere. She wished to help him but could not see how she might manage it. Hopefully listening to his worries would be help enough.

“To the point of why I did come though...” He straightened a bit, suddenly appearing bashful. Lyda grew wary. “Well...” He took a deep breath, giving her a chagrined sort of smile. “You may have noticed my increased attentions toward you.”

Lydia struggled to keep her face impassive, but internally, she was flooded with dread. Was he about to declare an intention to court her? And she had just been ruminating on her very sisterly feelings toward him.

“To own the truth, I had an interest in courting you.”

Lydia held her breath.

“But—do forgive me if this comes out muddled; I never was much of a wordsmith—but I do not believe I am ready for marriage.”

All the air whooshed out of Lydia, bringing a wave of relief in its wake. Had Lord Berkeley convinced him of this? Thank the heavens if he had.

Lord Charles continued, speaking rapidly.

“I am terribly sorry to have led you to believe anything contrary, and I assure you, I hold you in the highest of esteem, but I feel it would be a disservice to you were I to... ah... I am not managing this well. Lucas told me this would happen, and I ought to have believed him, you know. It is aggravating how often he is right.”

“Your brother?” Lydia could not help herself from clarifying. It was as if her brain had joined her heart in waiting for just such a moment to speak of Lord Berkeley.

Again, a chagrined look crossed Charlie’s face.

“Yes. He agreed to accompany me in visiting you so that my attentions would not be so overt in case I determined that I did not want to court you after all. But blast, forgive me, that came out wrong. It is not that I don’t want to court you.

It is that I do not believe I want to court anyone. As I said, I—”

She had stopped listening halfway through his speech. Lord Berkeley had only come as a favor. That made a great deal of sense. She likely could have guessed that possibility had she given it much thought.

Yet it made her feel as if she were falling.

She grasped hold of reality and forced herself to focus on the man in front of her. It was generally rude to cut someone off, but in this case, it seemed imperative. “Lord Charles, I understand completely. You have not offended me in the least, I assure you.”

His pinched expression softened, and his hands, which had been lifted in explanation, fell to his lap. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

He heaved a sigh. “Thank goodness. You cannot know the extent of my concern.”

“I think I have a fair guess.” She could not help the lifting of her mouth.

He grinned at her, his joviality quickly returning. He slapped his thighs and came to a stand. “Well, I will not take up more of your time than I already have.”

She came to a stand as well, smiling at him. “It was a pleasure to see you, Lord Charles. I hope you get the adventure you are craving.”

“As do I, Miss Faraday. And I hope we might remain friends.”

She affected a stern look. “I expect nothing less.”

With another smile, he took his leave, and she settled slowly onto the couch and allowed the feeling of emptiness to fill her.

Lord Berkeley had joined his brother in calling on Lydia as a favor to Lord Charles, not because he wished to get to know her or enjoyed her company. Only to keep the gossips from learning that Lord Charles was considering courting Miss Faraday.

My, but that was a sobering thought. Her mind had been pushing back against thoughts of a future with Lord Berkeley for days now, but her heart had evidently remained steadfast. Wretched feelings—acting without her say-so.

She was pained to learn that nothing but necessity had brought him to her side time and time again.

Could she hope that at any point they’d grown a real friendship?

Or perhaps he was as grateful to hear that she did not want to marry his brother as she had been to hear Lord Charles call off their courtship.

Perhaps Lord Berkeley had just been seeking out an excuse to rid himself of her.

After all, she’d turned out to be far more than he bargained for.

She bit the inside of her cheeks, trying to push aside the unhappy feelings. Everything was as it should be. The two men she might have been most concerned about ruining her chances at receiving her inheritance were, of a sudden, not a problem.

She would convince Lord Tarrington to send her home. She would not take no for an answer this time.