The Honourable Earl by Mary Nichols

Author:Mary Nichols
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2001-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

After Ralph had left, Lydia turned to go back to the company, but the bubbly effect of the champagne had worn off and she felt sick and tired. The music was too loud, the conversation nothing more than a babble of voices, the smell of hothouse lilies, overheated bodies and congealing food all crowded in on her until her senses reeled. She wanted her bed. She wanted to lie down and lose herself in sleep.

She found her mother vigorously fanning herself by an open window and listening to the Marchioness of Brotherton talking about a performance of The Beggar’s Opera which had recently been put on in Chelmsford by a minor theatre company. Seeing her daughter approaching, she excused herself and left the lady in mid-sentence.

‘Lydia, is something wrong?’ she asked in an undertone. ‘You do not look at all the thing.’

‘I feel a little unwell, Mama. Do you think we could go home?’

Anne had seen her daughter’s too-obvious efforts to appear happy and guessed what had made her run from the room, but she made no comment on that. ‘Perhaps it would be best. I will go and speak to Sir Arthur, but you must pull yourself together, dear, and say goodnight to everyone or they will think you ill-mannered. And, Lydia,’ she admonished, ‘do smile.’

They circulated round the company, saying goodnight, explaining that it had been such a wonderful exciting day, she was quite overcome with fatigue. Sir Arthur, all consideration, said of course she must not overtax herself and kissed her cheek, before relinquishing her to her mama. Then they collected a protesting Annabelle and went out into the night where she gulped in huge breaths of cold air and willed her rubbery legs to support her.

Someone had been sent to alert Sir Arthur’s coachman and the carriage rolled up a few minutes later. They climbed in and were driven away with Annabelle still grumbling that they had dragged her away just when Lady Baverstock was softening towards her. They overtook the Earl of Blackwater, walking home alone, but no one in the coach saw him.

Once back at the dower house, Anne helped Lydia to bed because Janet had been told not to wait up for them. ‘Go to sleep, my dear child,’ she whispered, pulling the covers about her daughter’s shivering shoulders. ‘You will feel better tomorrow.’

Long after her mama had left, she lay staring at the ceiling. Would she feel better tomorrow? And what of all the other tomorrows? Soon she would be in another bed in another house and she would be mistress of it. She ought to be elated. There was no natural law that said you had to be in love with your husband. According to some of her mother’s friends being in love with one’s husband was exceptional, and was more likely to lead to misery than happiness. A husband’s role was to provide a home, clothes for his wife’s back, and any trinkets or luxuries he could afford in

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