Page 43 of No Match for Love (Regency Love Stories)

Since he’d claimed her supper set without actually requesting it, Lydia had not seen Lord Berkeley. And she had done her utmost not to look for him, but it was growing harder to ignore the pull she felt toward him.

In truth, it may be worth forgoing her inheritance for the sake of marrying a certain lord. After all, a marquess did not need her thirty-thousand pounds. She would be well provided for as Lady Berkeley.

But that was idiocy, was it not? She was not fit to be the wife of a marquess. The idea was almost laughable, especially when he had shown only glimmers of potential interest in her.

Still, her eyes skimmed the room as she neared the end of this dance.

What if he did not return for their set?

She followed the ending steps of the dance, attempting to keep her focus with her current partner—though she hadn’t managed to recall his name.

She only knew he was a hair shorter than she.

The music came to an end, and the dancers clapped for the musicians.

Her partner returned her to the side of the ballroom, where Lady Cheltenham stood in conversation with none other than Lord Berkeley.

They both looked up as she returned, a smile on Lady Cheltenham’s face and no discernible expression on her son’s.

Lord Berkeley stepped from his mother, offering Lydia his arm without a word. Lydia took it, unable to keep from teasing him as he directed her closer to the dancers. “I am so looking forward to our dance, Lord Berkeley, even if I never officially agreed to it.”

He slowed his steps, looking down at her. This man was certainly not a hair or two shorter than she. He was nearly an entire head taller. The right corner of his mouth seemed to lift imperceptibly. She took it as a success.

“Miss Faraday,” he said, coming to a complete stop, “will you dance the supper set with me?”

Her mouth bloomed into a smile. “I would be delighted , Lord Berkeley. How kind of you to ask.”

He nodded but froze halfway through the motion. Lydia laughed a little, certain she knew what had stopped the rote action. He shook his head in exasperation. “You’ve gotten to me with your comments on my nodding. Suddenly it seems I am doing it all the time.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but for as long as I’ve known you, you have been doing it all the time.”

They reached the line of dancers, and Lydia took her position across from him.

When she looked up, she was surprised to see he was even smiling a little.

Meaning, not really at all, but she could see the lessening of the lines around his mouth and eyes, which was essentially a full-blown grin from him.

The music began, and Lydia took the first few steps, taking particular care with her footwork. But when she looked up, she became aware of something. It became more evident as the dance continued.

“Ah, Lord Berkeley?” she asked as they executed a slow turn.

“Yes?”

“Why is everyone watching us?”

Lord Berkeley did not look around, which meant he was already aware of the many sets of eyes on them, both from the dancers and from those waiting at the edge of the ballroom. He expelled a breath. “Because I do not dance.”

“But you are dancing right now.”

“And, therefore, everyone is watching us.”

Lydia blinked at him, missing a step. “When is the last time you danced at a ball?”

“I cannot recall.”

“Well... That is... I am flattered, Lord Berkeley.” But he was only dancing with her because his mother wished it.

That was what he had said before, and that was what she needed to remember when her heart picked up its pace at the insinuation of his asking her to dance despite it being something he never did.

His responding smile seemed more a grimace. “I apologize for the undue attention.”

She took a turn with the gentleman to her right, but the moment she was back with Lord Berkeley, she asked, “Do you dislike dancing?”

“I dislike the rumors that attach themselves to me when I dance with a young lady.”

“I am a young lady.”

“Really? I had not noticed.” His dry humor made her smile.

“I shall choose not to take that as an insult. Why are you dancing with me then?”

A frustrated look flitted across his brow. “You were nearly overset by men. I felt it my duty to give you at least one dance away from them all. One dance where you did not need to put your partner off or worry that he would come calling tomorrow.”

Her heart plummeted. She truly needed to stop getting her hopes up with this man. “I see. You are always and forever saving others. I could help you now and again, though. I know how you hate balls. If you need an excuse to escape, I may have just the thing.”

“What is that?” He stepped to her, grasping her hands again. Momentarily, she lost her train of thought, and it took several seconds until she found it again.

“A dress-full of punch,” she managed. “It is the perfect reason to leave any social event.”

“Is that all it takes? If so, I shall spill punch on myself forthwith.”

“The dress aspect may prove a bit more difficult.”

“Indeed. I doubt my mother’s would fit.”

She stifled a laugh, delighted with his humor even though her chest was still experiencing a lingering sense of emptiness at his reason for asking her to dance.

“Miss Faraday,” he muttered as they stepped to the side to allow another couple to promenade down the center. “Do keep your mirth to yourself. People are beginning to stare.”

She shook her head at his faux concern. “I do believe we already determined it was you drawing their attention.”

“Perhaps not all of it. You tend to attract your fair share of looks.”

“It must be my inordinate beauty,” she teased, glancing up at him.

His eyes were entirely serious. “It must be.”

Warmth pooled in her stomach at his look. She tried to push it off, but her body had gone entirely rogue this evening. They turned around each other. “Will this not open you to undue attention? I know how you hate that.”

Lord Berkeley took her gloved hand for a dance step. It sent a rush of heat up to her elbow. Drat it all, everything was making her react in such a manner. His smallest finger brushing hers would likely send her into hysterics at this point.

“Do not worry over that.”

Lydia cocked her head. “You are a mystery, Lord Berkeley.” And what she would not give to figure him out.

“Thank you?”

She laughed quietly as the song came to a close. “Shall we forgo our next dance?” she asked. “I do not mind.”

He watched her, his eyes flicking between both of hers. “No. I would like to complete our set.”

The declaration spurred on her already thumping heart.

He was much more silent over the course of their next dance.

Some of the watching eyes had turned away, finding something else to entertain their curiosities, but still a large number observed their every step, including Lady Cheltenham, whom Lydia glimpsed watching them with a small crease between her brows.

All the attention was growing difficult to manage.

Already, her thoughts had been clouded with confusion regarding her future and her marriage possibilities, but now she had to be worried about everyone else’s thoughts as well.

Lydia was grateful when the dance concluded, but the eyes followed them as Lord Berkeley led her to a spot at the dinner tables. He sat beside her, leaning close. “If it is too much to manage, you are welcome to join my mother for the meal.”

Lydia shook her head. She not want to slight Lord Berkeley by leaving him or give the onlookers more to gossip about, but she also did not really want to learn what had put the crease between Lady Cheltenham’s brows.

Perhaps the woman was regretting the kindnesses she’d shown Lydia.

Perhaps she was worried there was something of a romantic nature occurring between her and her eldest son.

Was there?

Did Lydia want there to be?

Yes. heaven help her, she did.

As Lord Berkeley settled in beside her and sent her one of his almost-smiles, she felt the truth of it like a wave crashing over her.

She’d fallen in love with him. And despite the fact that she should not even hope for such a possibility as a future with him, she wanted desperately to know if it was viable.

***

“Lady Cheltenham,” Lydia addressed her hostess at breakfast the next morning.

The marchioness had not acted any differently since Lydia had danced with her son at the ball, but Lydia still felt the need to tread carefully.

Currently, her entire existence in London relied on this woman, as it had previously relied on Lord Tarrington.

Lydia was growing exhausted with relying on people, no matter how kind this family had been.

“Yes, dear?” Lady Cheltenham replied, setting down her spoon to pick up her tea.

“I wondered if I might run an errand today.” Lydia fingered the side of her cup as she spoke. The idea had been growing for some time, but last night had solidified it. She wanted to know for certain what her options for her future were.

The door to the breakfast room opened then, revealing Lord Berkeley.

Lydia had to look back at the door twice, not having expected him.

If anyone, she would have thought it would be Lord Cheltenham arriving.

Lord Charles hardly ever woke early enough to take breakfast with the family, and Lydia had not once seen Lord Berkeley at the meal either.

Though she imagined it was not because he was sleeping in.

Lord Berkeley nodded to them both in greeting then made for the sideboard of food.

“Of course,” Lady Cheltenham said. “Where is it you need to go?”

“Ah, to see a solicitor,” Lydia replied.

The woman tilted her head in confusion. “Is everything well?”

“Yes, simply a few questions I have for the man. He was... well, he was the solicitor for my late grandfather.”

Lady Cheltenham’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? Who is this solicitor?”

“A Mr. Sperry.”

Lord Berkeley came to the table, stopping with his plate of food.