Sweet Torture (Fated for Love) (12 page)

Lydia was instantly skeptical about the propriety of Lilly li
ving with an unwed bachelor, even with his aunt in residence as chaperone. There was something about Lilly that changed when she spoke of the earl. Lydia’s eyebrows shot up when she used his given name so casually, and Lilly’s happy glow intensified tenfold when she talked about their time at his country residence. Lydia worried that maybe this earl had taken advantage of Lilly, but by the looks of it, Lilly was smitten and maybe that was not such a bad thing. She would hold her opinion until she met this earl. In the meantime, Lydia recognized that perhaps she was a little jealous of Lilly. She had gone through the worst of scandals and came out the other side looking happy and well, maybe even in love. Lydia wished she could have Lilly’s strength, for it must have been sheer strength of character to accomplish such a thing.

The three ladies
went shopping on Bond Street escorted by Chance. It was a pleasant afternoon and Lydia relished the chance to push aside her aching heart and just enjoy the company of good friends. It was easy to pretend that everything was all right when no one else knew about her affair with Devon. She behaved as she used to, laughed and chided Olivia for her outrageousness, teased Chance about his unwed state, and enjoyed Lilly’s enchanting wit. Lydia had missed pleasant afternoons such as these, when life seemed much simpler. Lydia dived head first into her part of Lilly’s return. Evening after evening, entertainment after entertainment, together with Olivia and Chance, they spread the word about Lilly’s return.

She saw very little of Devon, but when she did her body would simmer with the heat from his gaze. They rarely spoke beyond mere pleasantries
, and never did he ask her to dance or try to pull her away to a private area of the party. Lydia was half-disappointed and half-relieved. She needed the space to think clearly and plan how she was to go on with her life. It was as it should be, but Lydia felt at odds with herself. She wanted it to be the way it was just a few days ago. She wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to be pulled into a dark room and tortured with pleasure as before. She was grieving the loss of his nearness every moment she was away from him. It had to stop. She needed to have control of her heart once again, and close that last door to dreams of love and passion. She needed to cage all her wanting and longing for him inside, and like a beautiful bird, keep it hidden only for her pleasure when she was lonely and aching for him in her empty marriage bed.

How does one do such a thing? How does one go about life empty and cold—always aching for another
—when one looks into thy husband’s eyes? Death sounded easier. As days went by, Lydia began to feel like a shell. Outside she was as she always looked—serene, polished, and always proper, but inside she felt hollow. Unfulfilled desires ricocheted inside her like echoes, never finding satisfaction. By the end of a fortnight, she was the personification of a porcelain doll. Her façade was effortlessly perfect, and her manners flawless and her practiced smile an art form, in and of itself. She had watched her dear friend, Lilly fall madly in love with her handsome guardian, and tonight at the grand ball that would be the conclusion to their carefully laid plan. Envy was a constant pain in her heart.

She stood watching as her friends laughed and anxiously awaited the arrival of Prince George. She wanted to be happy with them
, but tonight, as she stood among her friends and other guests dressed in their finest eveningwear and jewels, Lydia silently shattered. Her fine icy shell broke apart and as she watched Devon—so startlingly handsome in his black and white attire—she barely stopped herself from moaning in agony aloud. Her heart thudded slow and painfully in her chest, her hands began to shake, and palms grew damp as she clutched her hands together, desperately holding onto control.

It was rapidly slipping from her grasp.

As a sorrowful beacon, Devon felt a pulse of longing so acute he turned to the source of it. He found Lydia staring back at him—pale as a ghost and nearly shaking out of her slippers. He was by her side in an instant. “Dear God, what is wrong.” He took her hand and it was cold as ice.

“I…
I need to be alone with you,” Her whisper shivered out through tense lips. The intensity of his gaze sliced through her but he nodded and began to lead her to the side of the room. Around them, the room buzzed with excitement and talk of the discreet arrival of the Prince Regent. They passed unnoticed to a small stand of potted palms hiding a door for the servants. Slipping out of the ballroom, they came to a halt in a corridor used only by servants.

“This is as accommodating as I get considering you threw me over.” Devon joked
, but the words were a stab to his own heart. The past fortnight had been his personal hell. He had watched and waited from a distance as Lydia danced, laughed, and carried on as though ripping his heart out had caused her little more trouble than opening her correspondence. She was a masterful artist of self-control, but he knew deep down she still wanted him and tonight as he turned and saw the raw emotion effusing her whole body, he was both thrilled and shaken to his very core. Dare he dream that she had finally made her choice? Would she admit she wanted him and loved him?

“Thank you
.” Lydia took a steadying breath, grateful to be away from the press of bodies and glaring light of the chandeliers. She had almost fallen apart in front of the whole of society, but now in the quieter corridor and dimmer light, she felt as if she could breathe again. Especially, now that Devon stood before her with genuine feeling in his eyes.

“We better make it quick before any servants come through here
,” Devon warned. “What is it, darling?” He held both her hands between them and pulled her close to him to look deeply into her eyes.

Lydia summoned all her strength to say what she wanted to say.
If her hands weren’t firmly clasped in his, they would be shaking again. “I want you to come to me tonight after the ball. I’ll leave the terrace doors to the garden parlor unlocked.” She told him how to get to her room, and where he needed to be especially careful not to wake anyone up. It was pure madness to ask him of this, but as necessary as the very air she breathed. He stared at her with an intensity that set her nerves on fire. His emerald eyes darkened until they appeared black in the shadowy corridor. His breathing grew fast and harsh, but she continued until she had run out of words, and there was nothing more to say.

A roar of pure triumph sang through his mind.
“I have waited all my life for this moment.” Devon whispered. Inside his body hummed with joy and the heady sensation nearly made him drop to his knees before her. He pulled her close smothering her gasp with a fierce kiss of a man long denied what he longed for most in this world. In but a moment, he thoroughly plundered her mouth until they were both breathless before letting go of her.

“I suppose that means you will come?” She panted.

“Nothing could stop me.”

Lydia breathed a sigh of relief. Once again warm and feeling better than she had in the last two weeks
, she turned towards the door that led back to the ballroom. “We should be returning now.”

“I’ll follow you.”
Devon relished the warm slide of her fingers as she pulled away from him and left the corridor. As the door closed behind her, he leaned against the wall bringing his hands to his face. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and for a moment, tried to tame the beast inside him that demanded he follow her—swoop her up—and carry her out of the ball like a conqueror of old. He couldn’t believe what had just happened—he couldn’t believe the happiness threatening to burst from his chest. It was surreal, and he had no idea how he would make it through the rest of the evening without grinning like a fool at everyone he saw, and walking like clouds carried him. Time could not move fast enough. He sat and listened to the sounds around him, the hum of hundreds of people talking at once, the clink of glasses and scurrying feet of servants moving to and fro. It was soothing in its own way, the music of a ball in full swing. He sat and listened without a thought of time until suddenly a footman came barreling down the hall nearly tripping over him as he rushed towards the door to the ballroom.

“Whoa
, there, lad, where’s the fire?” Devon chuckled; nothing could bring his mood down.

“Pardon me
, my lord, but some ladies were kidnapped!” The footman glanced briefly before pulling the door open. “I must find Lord and Lady Ellsley!”

A rotund woman came surging through the crowd.
The ostrich feather on her head waved like a battle flag as she pushed and shoved to the group of matrons, forehead beading with sweat, and her giant bosom heaving like a storm-ravaged sea.

“Lady Gitwitch, what on earth?” Lydia’s mother exclaimed.

“There’s been a kidnapping!” She panted, “Lady Lillian—Lady Olivia—taken right from the house!”

“Oh
, dear!” Lady Covvington gasped.

Lydia grabbed her mother’s arm in shock
, and then without warning, the room tilted wildly and darkened to blackness.

There were screams as Lydia collapsed against her mother in a dead faint. They would have both fallen had there not been so many bodies standing around them. Gentlemen rushed to help as Lady Covvington struggled to stay upright under the weight of her daughter.

“Lydia, Lydia!” She tried to rouse her.

“Allow me to assist my lady.” Chance appeared out of thin air and scooped Lydia into his arms. Guests parted as they headed for the exit adding more excitement and gossip to the affair. Re
aching the front hall, Fields, the butler, rushed to assist them.

“I want my carriage at once
,” Lady Covvington demanded. She was busily fanning Lydia as her eyes began to flutter open.

“Forgive me
, my lady, but the street is overrun with conveyances, it could be an hour or more.”

“Preposterous!” Lady Covvington was shaking, “My daughter is ill
, can’t you see that?”

“Mother
, please.” Lydia struggled to pull her senses together. She looked up at Chance and blinked owlishly.

Chance smiled down at her
. “You fainted dead away. Devon will never believe it, nor would I, quite frankly, if I had not seen it with my own eyes.”

“It was a singular event
, I assure you. You may put me down,” Lydia said imperiously.

“Absolutely not! We are returning home at once
, and summoning the doctor. Lord Armstrong, if you are able please assist us to the carriage.”

“We have to stay and help find Lilly and Olivia
,” Lydia pleaded.

“That is out of the question. The proper authorities will handle that dreadful situation
. We are going home.”

Lydia looked back at Chance. “We have to do something.”

“We are, but I swore to Devon that I would see you safe first.” He adjusted her in his arms and they quickly left the house.

Lydia absorbed those words slowly.
Lady Covvington all but ran with Chance close on her heels. They searched the long rows of carriages until they spotted theirs. Chance set her down before the door as the driver jumped down.

“What do you mean Devon made you swear to see me safe?” Lydia asked as her mother harassed the driver.

Chance winked, “Don’t worry, Lydia, we will find Lilly and Olivia in no time. One of us will let you know when all is well, but for now,” he sighed, “Please, be the one female of my acquaintance who doesn’t need rescuing.”

Lydia frowned but nodded. She turned to her mother, “Mother
, please stop bothering Gregory, and get inside the coach,” she ordered. The evening was unraveling quickly, but she understood what Chance meant. He had quickly raced back to the house and was presumably working quickly to rescue her dear friends. Lydia desperately prayed as Gregory handed her into the coach that come morning her friends would be home safely.