Page 7

Lydia

Lydia fanned the pages of the novel in her lap from where she sat on her favorite worn chaise in the manor’s library.

Her eyes blurred watching the pages of the book.

The one she had blindly picked up. She had needed something for her hands to do as her thoughts scattered like leaves in a gust of wind.

And just like those leaves, she couldn’t grab hold of a single one.

But she did know one thing. Every thought was about him .

Not that that was new. She bit her cheek.

He wouldn’t call her Lydia. Probably feared the potential consequences.

His position—livelihood. She hated the power imbalance her position created.

Lord, she hated everything that the situation created.

She was a married woman. She knew some men had no compunction cuckolding another man.

But Lydia had absolutely zero doubts in her mind that Mr. Campbell—Malcolm—wasn’t one of those men.

She must find a way to explain her situation and get him to understand.

If he was even interested in her. Which she thought he was.

No one had ever looked at her the way he did.

That had to mean something. Her lids fell shut.

But the only way to know for sure was to put it all on the line.

Offer herself up, body and soul, for the taking.

For the rejection. She flopped back on the chaise and threw an arm over her eyes. And that was terrifying.

“Is something amiss, Lyddie?”

Her eyes popped open, and her gaze immediately went to the library doorway. Where her husband and best friend stood.

“Hullo, Freddy,” she said, sending him a quick small smile.

He made his way around the settees in the middle of the library and stopped before her. “I wanted to let you know I am planning another trip to London. I plan to leave in the next day or so and stay for a fortnight. I’d like to spend Valentine’s Day with Hannah.”

Lydia’s chest grew heavy. Freddy’s love for Hannah was…

beautiful. And Lydia wanted a piece of that.

Badly. She tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat.

The thick envy and choking emptiness. She had done so well without it.

Without that kind of love. She had her babies, her lovely children.

And Freddy was a joyous partner, supportive, quick with a jest, keeping the family on their toes with new fun competitions and games.

But she kept having moments more and more often now where she felt… adrift. Lonely.

The cushion she sat on sank and then Freddy’s finger gently tilted her chin up until their stares met. “Why so glum, Lyddie?”

She flipped the book over in her hands absently. “I’m feeling a bit lonely is all.” Her words came out tight, rough with the emotion sneaking up on her.

He pushed a tendril of her hair away from her face, his amber brows knitting.

“I know you’ve denied my assistance in the past…

But perhaps it is time to start looking for someone who can keep you company.

The last thing I want for you is to be lonely, Lydia.

The children…they’re getting older. I know they’ve kept you busy—and happy—but they won’t be living with us forever.

You deserve to find someone to make you happy.

I want more than anything for you to find something like what I have with Hannah. ”

Piercing slate-blue eyes flashed in her mind, and something swooped low in her belly. A feeling not unlike the one she experienced when perched atop a great height.

“I think I’d like that, too.” She cleared her throat, infusing strength into her voice. “I’m ready for that now.”

“Would you like me to discreetly ask around in London? Perhaps I could invite some gentlemen here—a house party of sorts—and if you get along with any of them, we can see if they would be amenable to an arrangement.”

She picked at the blanket in her lap, pulling the fabric over the book and off it again. “I actually had someone in mind,” she ventured.

Lydia met Freddy’s gaze, his eyebrows disappearing into his riotous amber curls. His lips split into a disarming grin, dimples popping. “Why, you sly minx. Who, Lyddie?”

She let out a soft snort and rolled her eyes.

His smile softened and turned fond. He ran a finger down her nose.

“I love that Felicity acquired that trait from you.” Then his amber eyes sparked with devilry again.

“But I must know who.” He bounced slightly.

Excitable as a child even at seven-and-forty.

She hoped he never lost that exuberance.

And she hoped it was a trait the children inherited.

“Mr. Campbell,” she said nearly inaudibly. Heat splashed across her cheeks. And intensified when Freddy burst into laughter. She glared at him. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Apologies, Lyddie,” he said between chuckles. “He’s a dashing man, if I’m allowed to admit that. And a kind one, too, not something easily found in this world. But goodness. He’s brawny and burly and a big ol’ Scot. And you’re…you’re a little slip of a thing.”

She frowned harder at him. “Does that matter? Why should our size difference matter?”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m sure it won’t. If you two are…compatible. It shan’t matter. I just am surprised, is all. Would have thought you’d have been interested in a more soft-handed gentlemen.”

She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at him. She was feeling woefully uneducated at the moment. “Freddy. Are you telling me…size matters in relations?”

And her husband lost it. Snorted and guffawed and choked on his laughter.

She blew out a frustrated breath. “I would appreciate some seriousness,” she gritted out. “I have only ever been with you, Freddy. And we both know those instances were not what a typical coupling is like.”

He sobered instantly, the sparkle in his eyes dimming. “I’m so sorry, Lyddie. I hope I haven’t marred your view of intimacy.”

She waved him off. “Don’t apologize, Freddy.

I just meant to say I have very little experience.

I’m a married woman with three children, and I feel about as knowledgeable as a maiden.

” She pursed her lips. “Goodness, do you think I’ll be a disappointment to him?

I have no idea how to please a man. He’ll probably have expectations. ”

Freddy’s brows slammed together, and the Earl of Bentley materialized before her.

“If he ever even gives the slightest indication he feels that way, he’ll find him out of a position before he can blink.

If the man is worthy of you, Lyddie, he’ll not give one bloody damn about your past experience—whether it exists or it doesn’t.

All that should matter to him is you . Your pleasure. ”

He leaned forward, his lips flattening, his forehead a map of serious lines. “You will accept nothing less, Lyddie. You deserve nothing less. You have made a monumental sacrifice for me. I do not take that lightly.”

“You speak like it is not common amongst our class.”

“Just because it is common does not make it acceptable.”

Her heart softened. “You are a good man, Frederick Jennings. And I am blessed to have you as a husband and best friend.”

“I’m not too bad, am I?” He shot her a lopsided smile. The one that made him look like a mischievous puppy. The one her sons had inherited, and she knew would be the cause of all sorts of trouble as they got older. “Now, let’s discuss your Scot. Do you have a plan?”

“He’s not my Scot, Freddy,” she said with a huff of laughter.

He winked. “Not yet.”