He ran his palm up and down Lydia’s arm, hopefully to ease her a bit. Her shaking was becoming noticeable to the ladies. “I’m afraid you will be disappointed, my lady. The Ambassador had to leave.”
He had to get them out of here before the crowd grew. He could see two men and another woman standing at the entrance to the Ambassador’s theater box. “If you will excuse me, I’m afraid my betrothed has developed a megrim and I must see her home.”
He moved them both forward, almost having to elbow Lady Barlow for her to allow them to pass.
“I assume you will be visiting with Lord Sterling in the morning, Mr. Rose?” Lady Barlow sniffed again.
“Not that it is any concern of yours, but I assure you, my lady, I am well aware of how the procedure works, having two brothers.”
“Well, I never.”
“I’m quite sure you never have. Good evening ladies, gentlemen.”
He hustled Lydia out of the box, down the stairs, through the lobby and outside. They passed clusters of people speaking in hushed tones, mostly about the Ambassador he was sure, but with a few glances cast their way, word of their situation must have leaked out. It amazed him how gossip seemed to spread so quickly without it even seeming physically possible.
Lydia continued to shake as they awaited the carriage. He removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders, then pulled her against him. “Hold your head up, sweeting. Do not allow these harpies get the best of you. You are a viscount’s daughter.”
She merely shook her head, tears that she’d been holding sliding down her cheeks. He wanted more than anything to put her into the carriage and go back and throttle those horrible, judgmental women.
Once they were settled and he tapped on the ceiling to alert his driver to move forward, he pulled Lydia over to his side. “It will be all right.”
She moved away from him, accepting the handkerchief he handed her. “No, it won’t. What are we going to do now?”
Dante leaned back and rested his foot on his other knee. “I believe you heard the conversation between me and the ladies. I will visit with your father first thing tomorrow morning.”
Lydia wiped her nose and smirked. “Oh, surely you don’t think I believe that?”
“Why not?” Truth be known, instead of feeling ‘caught’ or angry at the judgemental women finding them in the Ambassador’s box, to his amazement, he’d actually experienced a sense of relief. He no longer had to wrestle with his feelings and decisions. The matter had been solved for him. For them.
They must marry. Despite Lydia being of an age considered on the shelf or a spinster, she was still the daughter of a viscount, an innocent, and someone whose reputation would never survive if they did not wed.
“Dante.” Her voice came out muffled, mostly from crying. “I know you have no intention of ever marrying. You’ve said it numerous times. The last thing I want to do is marry someone who was forced into it.” She shook her head. “No. I don’t care about my reputation. ‘Tis a blessing, actually. Now I can stop going to those endless balls and musicales.”
He leaned back on the seat, attempting to look indifferent. Certainly not how he felt. “I see. And if you are shunned by society and do not attend all the balls and musicales, what do you plan to do with the rest of your life?”
She raised her chin and he immediately had to quell the urge to laugh. She looked very much like the old Lydia he’d first met. “I shall work.”
“Indeed. And what will your employment endeavors encompass?” No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t hide his smile.
?
??Well. There are many things I can do.”
This was becoming more amusing. “Such as.” He waved his hand at her.
“I can teach.” She nodded. “Yes. I will seek a job as a governess or tutor.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sweeting. With disgrace in your background who do you think will employ you?”
“Oh.” She slumped and then glanced at him sideways. “I can work at the Rose Room.”
“No.” He sat up and scowled at her. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” She sniffed. “I’ve worked there before. I can deal cards. I can continue doing the books.”
“No. And that is final.”
She frowned. “Again, why not?”