Never Love a Scoundrel (33 page)

Lydia stared at the garden until she heard her aunt leave the house. She relaxed slightly knowing that Aunt Margaret had gone, but the ultimatum she’d delivered weighed heavy on Lydia’s mind. She turned from the windows as the butler entered.

Tate clasped his hands behind his back. “Lady Lydia, Lord Wolverton is here to see you.”

What on earth was he doing here? And to see her? Lydia turned fully toward the door. “Show him in.”

She instinctively smoothed her skirt and curved her lips into a welcoming smile.

The broad-shouldered gentleman strode into the drawing room. He looked around and assessed the space before settling his gaze on Lydia. “Good afternoon, Lady Lydia, I do hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all. However, my aunt is not at home.” Lydia couldn’t imagine why he was here to see her, particularly when he was of an age with Aunt Margaret. Although, Lydia had never known the two of them to speak, which made his call even more curious.

“That is just as well because I came to see you.” He looked around again then said, “Is it too much trouble to ring for tea? Perhaps you’ve a maid who can bring it in?”

It was an odd request—Tate, the butler, could easily serve them—but perhaps Lord Wolverton did things differently in his household. She smiled at him and went to ring the bell pull. “Our housekeeper can bring up a tray.”

Tate reentered, and Lydia instructed him to have Mrs. Erickson deliver tea.

As soon as the butler left, Lord Wolverton gestured for her to sit and then followed suit, depositing his tall frame on a blue patterned settee. “You have a butler and a housekeeper? But perhaps not much else given the size of the house?”

Was he making small talk? Lydia wasn’t sure what to make of his questions, but didn’t wish to be rude. She situated her skirts around the gilt legs of her chair. “We’ve three maids, and a trio of footmen. Our housekeeper does the cooking with the assistance of one of the maids.”

He nodded. “I see. A good complement then.” He smiled benignly. “I do hope you won’t find the reason for my visit to be too forward, but after last night’s . . .
activities
at Lockwood House, I simply had to pay you a call.”

Lydia assumed he’d come to ascertain whether she was actually going to marry Jason or declare him a madman. She didn’t know about the former and would never do the latter. Adopting her haughtiest tone, she said, “I’m afraid I’m not interested in discussing what happened last night. Perhaps you should return when my aunt is at home.”

He chuckled. “No, no, my dear. That isn’t why I came. In fact, I called hoping to find you at home without your aunt. I believe she’s probably out recounting last night’s debacle to anyone who will listen, no?”

Yes, and unlike Lydia she had
no
problem advertising Jason’s “lunacy” to the entire population of England. Lydia suddenly felt very weary and only wished to get to the point of this visit. “Then why have you come?”

“To lend support, which I suspect you’re in need of after last night. You surprise me, Lady Lydia. I’d always assumed you were a model of your aunt. I’m quite delighted to see you are not. You are not to blame for anything that occurred at Lockwood’s party. The battle between your aunt and Jason Lockwood’s family is old and complicated.” Wolverton’s very gray and very bushy brows dipped low over his eyes. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to share with you some things you likely don’t know about your aunt. Some things that might put her in a different light.”

Lydia stared at him, her curiosity more than piqued. But no one ever dared gossip about Aunt Margaret. “You’re not afraid of upsetting my aunt?”

“Not at all. I’m not the least bit afraid of your aunt. I do believe, however, that she is quite afraid of me.” His eyes twinkled as if he appreciated that fact. She ought not care that he gloated. Aunt Margaret certainly deserved such treatment. However, Lydia found she didn’t have the stomach for it—even at her aunt’s expense.

Mrs. Erickson entered with a tea tray and poured out. When she departed, Wolverton picked up his tea and took a long sip. “Has your aunt ever told you about her youth? Her first Season?”

“Yes. She said she was close to becoming engaged to Lord Lockwood, but that he threw her over for the current Lady Lockwood.”

“
He
threw
her
over?” Wolverton laughed deeply. “I suppose that’s not terribly far from the truth, but it sounds as if she neglected to share a detail or two. He did drop her like a stone—but only after she gave him her virtue.” His eyes hardened. “You see, some gentlemen think it acceptable to enjoy a lady’s charms and then cast her aside to become another man’s problem.”

Lydia was glad she hadn’t yet picked up her teacup for she surely would have dropped it like Miss Vining had done weeks ago when Jason had appeared at Mrs. Lloyd-Jones’s tea. “Lord Lockwood sounds a perfect reprobate.” Did people know of this? Had it contributed to Jason’s reputation? She was worried then that her face drained of color because she realized that Jason had done the precise same thing to her—though he hadn’t cast her aside. Yet.

He
wouldn’t
. But his hurt expression and his outrageous behavior pervaded her mind.

He might.
He hadn’t rushed over here today to apologize or assure her that the engagement was actually real.

She tried to keep her attention focused on the conversation at hand instead of her wild imaginings.

“Yes, Lockwood was quite the scoundrel.” Wolverton shook his head with disdain. “However, you can’t blame him entirely. Your aunt was desperate to marry. When Lockwood turned his attentions elsewhere, she came after me.”

Lydia tried to follow along. How was it Wolverton knew these intimate details? Unless Lockwood had shared them. “Did Lockwood warn you away from her?”

“No, in that respect he was a gentleman.” He sighed with regret. “I’m afraid I learned of your aunt’s indiscretions firsthand . . . though I’m not proud of my own actions. I was carried away. I wanted to marry her. Until I realized she hadn’t been honest with me.”

And now Lydia could see that her aunt hadn’t been honest with her either. She’d said that Jason’s mother had employed dishonest measures to steal Lockwood, that Harmony Lockwood had spread lies about what her aunt had done to entice him—lies that now seemed to be the truth.

Furthermore, Aunt Margaret had also given herself to Wolverton. Despite all of her aunt’s cruelty and machinations, Lydia felt a pang of sorrow for the young woman who’d made foolish choices and likely seen her dreams crushed. She began to see how her aunt had perhaps become corrupted. She’d acted rashly and had paid for her behavior, though she’d amazingly avoided ruin. Perhaps she’d then set out to ensure she was never on the wrong end of scandal.

Lydia internally shook herself and focused on Lord Wolverton who’d gone back to sipping his tea. “I take it your engagement to my aunt wasn’t publicized?”

“No, no, it was never that formal. She enticed me, I professed my love, things . . . progressed, and when I discovered she was no longer pure, I told her I couldn’t marry her. Please understand, I would never have gone down that path with her if I hadn’t fully intended to wed her. And I still would have, if it hadn’t been clear that she was using me to provide a name for her unborn child.” Lydia couldn’t stifle her gasp. Wolverton grimaced. “Perhaps I’m the lesser man for it, but I couldn’t commit my life to someone who would do that.”

Lydia was shocked by every one of his revelations. “What happened to her child?”

“I assume she lost it. She never left town to whelp.” He shrugged. “I’m telling you this so that you can perhaps understand the reasons for your aunt’s hatred of Lockwood and his family. I’m sure she sees your fiancé as a copy of his father—just as I mistakenly took you for being like your aunt.” He shook his head and his mouth spread in a self-deprecating smile. “I should have known better than to judge you like that.”

Lydia was surprised by Wolverton’s kindness. She’d also wrongly cast him as a frightening peer who fancied himself above everyone around him. “Why didn’t you tell anyone about what my aunt had done?”

Wolverton’s face wrinkled into an expression of distaste. “I don’t care for gossip, and I saw no reason to ruin her. As it was, certain gentlemen talk amongst themselves, and she was all but ruined anyway. It’s a pity, but I’m afraid the situation was of her own making.”

Lydia picked up her teacup and took several sips because she didn’t want to say that it took at least one other person to create that situation. Indeed, the whole conversation made her uncomfortable, largely because she was guilty of the exact same indiscretion.

Lord Wolverton set his teacup down. “Tell me, Lady Lydia. How do you plan to wield this information?”

Lydia blinked at him. “I don’t.”

Wolverton drew back in mild surprise, but quickly covered by shaking his head. “Not publicly of course, but from what I could see last night, you might want to strike back at your aunt. It’s clear she doesn’t hold your fiancé in very high esteem.”

No, she didn’t, but revealing that Lydia knew of her scandalous past wouldn’t change her opinion of Jason. And anyway, it might not matter. Not if there wasn’t a marriage. “I think it’s best to leave the past where it belongs—in the past.”

“You’re a far kinder person than she is. To your credit.” He tipped his head in her direction. “I noticed the cameo you were wearing last night at Lockwood House. It’s an exquisite piece, is it a family heirloom? It looks to be early last century, at least.”

Lydia recalled the necklace she’d been wearing, it was one of her favorites. “You’ve a good eye, it’s from around 1700. It belonged to my great-great-grandmother.”

“It’s very special. Well, I suppose I must go,” Lord Wolverton said, getting to his feet. “Will I see you and your aunt Monday evening at Lady Holborn’s soirée?”

Lydia saw no reason not to voice her fear. “I’m not sure I want to face anyone after last night.”

“You mustn’t be embarrassed. Lockwood’s the one who came out looking bad, not you. Unless you still plan to wed him. But I’m sure you were well aware of how people would treat you if you married him when you accepted his proposal in the first place.” He paused, his gaze calculating. “Did you accept his proposal?”

Here was the moment where she could deny everything and leave Jason to look the crazed fool. But she couldn’t do that. “I did.”

Wolverton’s nose twitched. “I see. Well, it’s not too late for you to recover. Think about what you’ll do next.” His gaze turned earnest. “And don’t make a choice you’ll regret. Life is far too short, Lady Lydia.”

Lydia smiled at him, appreciating his kindness and support. “Thank you, Lord Wolverton. I look forward to seeing you Monday.”

He grinned down at her as he walked her to the door. “The pleasure will be all mine.”

Chapter Twenty

JASON AMBLED
into the breakfast room in the middle of the afternoon, his head aching and his stomach rumbling. He stopped short at the sight of Ethan seated at the table devouring a plate of eggs, kippers, and freshly baked bread.

Ethan glanced up and waved his fork. “About time you came down,” he said around a mouthful of food.

Jason took in Ethan’s clothing and though much of last night was a blur—they’d become blindingly drunk after North had tided the mess and replenished the liquor in the office—he was fairly certain his half brother was wearing the same costume as the night before. “Did you sleep here last night?”

“You don’t remember offering me the use of your ‘gold room’?” Ethan smiled as he forked another piece of ham. “You were rather soused.”

With a scowl and a grunt, Jason sat at the table and waited for the footman to bring his plate. But as soon as it was placed before him, he wondered if he wanted to eat after all.

“Bring him an ale,” Ethan said to the footman.

Jason glanced at Ethan. “Your prescription for the effects of a drunken evening?”

Ethan lifted a tankard and held it up in toast. “It’s served me well.”

Jason could only imagine, and he had to agree. He’d spent a good amount of time inebriated after Society had ostracized him and when women had turned away in disgust and fear.

“Will you call on Lydia this afternoon?” Ethan asked, setting his ale back on the table.

Jason picked up his fork and moved some food around his plate. “No.”

Ethan glared at him. “Why the hell not? Last night you decided to beg her forgiveness. Don’t tell me you changed your mind, or I might have to beat the shit out of you.”

Due to the amount of whisky he’d imbibed, Jason remembered no such thing. He did need to beg her forgiveness, but he didn’t want to go to Margaret’s house to do it. “Leave it for now. I’d rather talk about your plan.”

Ethan cut a bite of ham and speared it with his fork. “It’s really too bad you don’t remember last night. I told you all about my plan.” His mouth spread into a wicked grin.

“Horseshit.” Jason stifled the urge to throw his plate at Ethan’s head. The footman delivered Jason’s ale, and Jason eagerly took a swig.
Delicious.
And just what he needed, thanks to Ethan. Was this what brotherhood felt like?