Three Weddings And A Kiss (31 page)

After supper she expressed a desire to retire early to her room, pleading a headache in order to avoid socializing with the De Grays. Dollie followed her, wearing a pucker of concern on her forehead. Together they paused in the central hallway. “Lidian…
are
you all right?”

“I’ll be fine after a long night’s rest.”

“You don’t like my brother very much, do you?” Dollie asked sadly.

Lidian hesitated. “I really have no feelings for him one way or the other.” She smiled warmly at Dollie. “However, I adore you and your parents.”

“We feel the same way about you. Perhaps you would regard Eric in a different light if you spent more time with him.”

“Perhaps,” Lidian said doubtfully, and hugged her briefly. “Good night, Dollie.”

The girl smiled at her and went back to join the others while Lidian ascended the great curving staircase.

Late that night, when De Gray’s carriage was gone and the household was asleep, Lidian donned a hooded cloak made of heavy gray wool and slipped out of her room. Her heart pounded as she crept carefully to the servants’ stairs and made her way to the first floor. Crossing through the kitchen and the servants’ hall, she left through the entrance at the back of the house.

The February air was cold and biting, but the sky was unusually clear with only a few streamers of cloud winding through the star-dotted sky. Lidian shivered and pulled the hood of the cloak over her face as she hurried through the courtyard of De Gray House and out to the street. After a few minutes of walking, she saw the dark outline of a hackney cab rattling toward her. She hurried toward the vehicle, waving her arm. “Here,” she called, “over here!”

The hackney came to a stop, and she caught a glimpse of the driver, a wizened little old man wearing a dark knitted cap. “Take me to St. James Street,” she said.
“To Craven’s.”

“Aye, milady.”
He waited until she had climbed into the carriage, and clicked to the horse.

As the hackney traveled toward the south of London, Lidian smoothed her hands over the velvet pouch of her reticule, feeling the shape of coins and rustling bank notes. She had scraped the money together shilling by shilling for emergencies such as this. Glancing at the scenery they passed, she saw dark shapes scuttling in and out of the shadows, pickpockets and prostitutes emerging to mingle with the gentlemen who would devote themselves to an evening’s revelry.

“‘T’isn’t safe for a pretty young girl to be alone out at night,” the driver remarked, turning onto St. James and passing the endless line of carriages stopped in front of the gambling club. The hackney came to a halt.

“I’ll be all right,” Lidian said, handing him some coins and descending from the vehicle. “Good evening, sir.”

“Sir,” he repeated with a croak of a laugh, as if no one had ever called him that, and he waited until she crossed the street before the carriage rattled away.

She was intimidated by the palatial white building, the light pouring from the windows, the thoroughly masculine atmosphere. Patrons entered the club in a steady stream, under the watchful eye of a butler at the door. Clutching her reticule, Lidian made her way up the steps. Many curious stares were directed at the sight of an unaccompanied woman approaching the doorway.

“Miss?”
The butler regarded her with an imperturbable expression.

Lidian summoned a smile, trying to appear confident. “I believe Lord Spencer is one of the members of your club. Would you see if he is here tonight? It is urgent that I speak with him.”

The butler shook his head. “Miss, it is not club policy—”

“Please, ask him to come out here and see me. I don’t think he’ll mind.”

The butler regarded her dubiously, glancing at her hopeful face and her respectable but well-worn cloak. Lidian could almost see his inner debate taking place. He wanted to refuse her, and yet something made him hesitate. She held her breath, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t turn her away.

All at once the dilemma was solved by the appearance of a second man. He was small and bespectacled, with an air that revealed him to be an employee with high-standing authority. He seemed mildly surprised to see her on the doorstep and turned to the butler. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

The butler lowered his head and murmured to him, while the smaller man stared at Lidian through his spectacles. Finally the smaller man identified himself as the club factotum and spoke to her briskly. “No women allowed in the club, miss. That is a rule Mr. Craven holds fast to.”

“I don’t wish to come inside. All I want is for someone to notify Lord Spencer that I wish to speak to him.” The thought of being refused made her eyes sting and glisten with unshed tears. “Please, sir.”

Both men looked rather alarmed at her expression “Don’t cry, miss,” the factotum said hastily. “I’m sure there’s no need for that. I will inquire if Lord Spencer is at the club tonight. Your name, if you please?”

Lidian answered in a rush of relief. “I’d rather not say. Just tell him that an old friend is asking for him.” She had a feeling Chance was here; she knew it in her bones.

“Very well.
If you wouldn’t mind waiting here, miss?”

“Certainly,” she whispered gratefully.

The factotum disappeared into the club, while Lidian stood back and watched as the butler admitted more members. In a few minutes she saw a man’s tall shape in the doorway. Hesitantly she pushed back the hood of her cloak and stepped forward. She heard Chance’s familiar voice, overlaid with bewilderment. “What in God’s name…Lidian? My God, I can’t believe you’re here!”

He was so handsome, so familiar, with his black hair and striking face. After a year of waiting and dreaming, Lidian couldn’t help throwing herself into his arms. She laid her cheek against his shoulder, tears slipping from beneath her lashes. “Chance,” she said in aching relief. “Chance, it’s really you.” Slowly his arms closed around her, and she gave a faint sob at the feeling of being held by him.

When he finally spoke, the smell of wine was strong on his breath. “Good God, I never expected this.” A quiver of amusement touched his voice.

“When did you return from the Continent?” Lidian asked, still pressing close against him.

“Just a few weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you come for me? There was no word from you, nothing—”

“How is it that you’re here?”

Lidian stared at him intently. Was it her imagination, or was Chance slightly less dashing than before? She had remembered him as larger than life, taking her breath away with his masculine beauty…but now he didn’t seem quite so extraordinary. Yet she still wanted him. Chance was her first and only love, and she could hardly blame him for assuming more human proportions instead of the godlike ones her memory had bestowed on him.

“I’m staying at De Gray house,” she told him. “You must call on me, Chance. We have to talk. I’ve missed you, waited for you—”

“The De Grays,” he interrupted, his interest caught. “How has this association come about?”

“My mother and the countess are old friends. Will you come, Chance?”

“Yes, I’ll try…”

“When?”
Lidian was suddenly angry and ashamed that she was pleading with him, her pride in shreds.

“I don’t know exactly when. I’m a busy man, darling. Soon, I promise.” He smiled down at her and kissed her forehead. “Be a good girl, Lidian, and go now. This is no place for you.”

“Perhaps…” Lidian began, wanting him to take her home, but he had already turned away. How could he dismiss her so abruptly, so nonchalantly? He went inside the club, leaving her on the doorstep. “You won’t come,” she whispered. “You have no intention of calling.”

Lidian heard the butler’s voice as if it were far away, asking if she required him to procure a hackney cab for her. She shook her head and descended the steps. Numbly she approached the street, wanting only to be away from the bright lights of the gambling club. There was a peculiar thunderous sound in her ears as she tried to comprehend that she had seen Chance, spoken to him, and it had been nothing like the dreams she had nurtured for so long. He didn’t love her. What they had shared was far less important to him than it had been to her. Confusion, anger, bitterness rushed over her in a blinding tide. The thunder grew louder, and she shook her head impatiently as she walked forward.

All at once there was an angry shout, and she was caught in a viciously painful grip, jerked backward until her balance was lost and she was dragged to the side of the street. Before her stunned eyes, a large carriage with several outriders hurtled by at an astonishing speed. Many wealthy people preferred to travel at such a pace, signifying their own importance with the thunder of many horses and riders. Such a spectacle was certainly impressive, although it was hazardous to anyone unlucky enough to be caught in their path. She had nearly been flattened by them—she had been in too much of a daze to notice their approach.

Turning away instinctively from the sight, she found herself crushed against a man’s hard chest. He smelled of shaving soap and linen, and a trace of brandy. For a second she thought it was Chance—he had followed and pulled her out of harm’s way—but then she lifted her head and looked at him. “Lord De Gray,” she said in astonishment.

Eric De Gray’s face was taut and pale, his eyes gleaming with cold fury. He looked as though he were ready to commit murder. “You little fool,” he said savagely, giving her a shake that jarred her entire body. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Lord De Gray,” she gasped, her hands coming up to his steely wrists. “You’re hurting me—”

“You were walking straight into the path of that carriage,” he snarled. “You could have been killed, and hurt several others while you were at it.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” she managed, setting her teeth as he shook her once more. Tears came to her eyes. “Don’t, Eric…please…” She didn’t know why she had used his first name—it had never even appeared in her thoughts. But it seemed to have a miraculous effect on him, calming him instantly. He became very still, staring down at her as he continued to grip her upper arms.

It was a long time before he spoke. “You’re all right.” It was neither a statement nor a question but something in between.

“Yes.” Lidian lowered her face and struggled to keep her tears at bay. “Let me go.”

His grip loosened, but he didn’t release her. “I happened to be visiting the club tonight. Derek Craven came to me a few minutes ago. Apparently his factotum had told him there was a dark-haired girl at the front entrance asking for Lord Spencer. I knew it couldn’t be you, but I decided to have a look, just in case. Why in God’s name are you here?”

“Because you told me that Chance was here almost every night.”

“Of all the idiotic, reckless… I didn’t think you’d be fool enough to come here alone!”

“Well, I was,” she retorted, gazing up at him through a wet blur. “And Chance turned me away. Now I know that all his promises to me were false. I hope you’re very h—” The word
happy
wouldn’t seem to come out, and she bit her lip hard to keep from breaking into sobs.

Lidian expected him to sneer then and continue telling her what a fool she was…but instead she felt the light brush of his hand on her hair, and she heard the
ping
of a hairpin dropping to the street.

“Your hair always seems to be coming loose,” he murmured, toying with the shiny dark lock that had come free. His touch moved to her cheek, his knuckles drifting over the smooth curve. “You have the power to twist Spencer, or any other man of your choosing, around your little finger. Don’t you know that?”

“Oh, of course,” she said bitterly, thinking that he was mocking her.

Her dazed misery began to abate, her heartbeat returning to its normal pace. She began to feel more like herself. Pulling away from De Gray, she adjusted her bodice and rumpled skirts. As she reached up to her hair, she discovered that most of her hairpins were falling out. She jabbed them back in tightly, welcoming the tiny needles of pain in her scalp.

“My driver and carriage are waiting nearby,” De Gray said as he watched her. “I’ll take you back to De Gray House.”

Lidian winced. She didn’t want to face the coming hours of tossing and turning in her bed, tormented with memories, regrets, and unwanted emotions. “I’ll never be able to sleep tonight,” she murmured.

There was a long moment of silence, and then De Gray replied casually, “If that’s the case, you may as well stay with me.”

She glanced at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

A calm
, slightly mocking expression had settled on his face, as if he were contemplating a proposal he fully expected her to refuse. “Would you like to have an adventure tonight, Miss Acland?”

No one had ever said anything like that to her before. She readied herself for an insult, an offensive proposition—but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What kind of adventure?”

“Just a small one.”

She knew she should refuse immediately…yet the temptation to agree was strong. The thought of going back to De Gray house right now, fresh from such crushing defeat, was none too appealing. “What if my mother discovers that I’m gone?”