At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

Lydia lifted her chin. “People are fickle. They will soon forget.” Perhaps it was a naive assumption, easily made when one lived a provincial life. “Next month someone else will be the topic of conversation in the salons.”

“This is serious. Something must be done to mitigate the damage.”

Keen to discover if Arabella really did have a list of demands, Lydia said, “Then in light of the fact I am utterly ruined, I will have to alter my plans. When I come into my inheritance, I shall sell the London townhouse and buy a property by the coast—perhaps Brighton. No one knows me there.”

“Brighton? Brighton!” Arabella’s scowl disappeared. Her bottom lip quivered. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Lord Randall raised a coy brow. “Bravo. Most ladies would crumble beneath the weight of such news. But not you, Miss Lovell.” He rose languidly to his feet. “Might I be so bold as to sugges

t another option?”

Oh, Lord!

Had the window been open she might have dived out.

“While some would view you as a trifle soiled,” Randall continued as he prowled towards her, “I am willing to overlook this mishap. A few words in the right ears, coupled with an announcement of our betrothal, would bury the gossip for good.”

Their betrothal?

She would rather marry old Albert.

“Oh, you would do that, Rudolph?” Arabella clutched her hands to her chest in feigned appreciation. “How awfully considerate you are.”

“I know.” Lord Randall smiled as he stopped a mere foot away from Lydia. He caught her chin between his fingers and stared into her eyes. “I think we will suit very well, Miss Lovell. You will have to modify your behaviour, of course. But once we have you swathed in the latest gowns from Paris, and bathe you in eau de chypre, I think your attitude will change.”

Lydia noted the heated look in his gaze as his thumb brushed her chin. How was it that Randall made her feel like a silly girl while Greystone made her feel like an irresistible woman? Oh, the days until her birthday could not come soon enough.

“Do not answer now,” Randall continued. “You may give me your answer at dinner tomorrow evening.” His green eyes flashed cold. “But know this is the only time I shall make the offer.”

Lydia did not need time to think. She had a strange suspicion Lord Randall was not as kind and understanding as he seemed. The man was a snob brimming with superior pretensions. Even so, there must be an abundance of wealthy heiresses of excellent character willing to marry the popinjay.

So why her? Why now?

Chapter Twelve

“And I told Mother that even quiet hens lay eggs.” Miss Pardue put her hand to her mouth and giggled. For a woman approaching thirty, she still behaved like a girl from the schoolroom. “Didn’t I say that, Mother?” she called to the hunched figure in the chair, sporting an ear trumpet attached to a chain around her neck.

Lydia sipped her tea as the white-haired woman fiddled about with the contraption. Even though a conversation with the duo often proved difficult, Lydia would rather sit with them than Lord Randall and Arabella.

“What was that, dear?”

Miss Pardue leant forward. “I said quiet hens lay eggs, too.”

“Eggs?” Mrs Pardue narrowed her gaze as she forced the end of the trumpet so far into her ear she was likely to do herself an injury. “No, I’m not hungry, dear.”

Miss Pardue pasted a smile. “Oh, that silly machine. It’s no use you know. We shall have to write things down.”

“Well, it might be worth persevering. These things often take time.”

“Perhaps you’re right though I fear I may lose my voice and my patience long before then.”

A brief silence ensued. Miss Pardue suffered from a nervous disposition, much like Ada.

“So you came in the carriage today,” Miss Pardue clarified for the second time.

With the Pardues’ cottage situated on a narrow lane off the main street in the village, Cecil’s coachman had no choice but to park the carriage next to the church.

“My brother feared it might rain,” Lydia said, placing her cup and saucer on the side table. It was a lie. Arabella insisted on accompanying her and only rescinded when Lydia agreed the coachman could ferry her door to door.