Regency Romance: A Race Against The Lord (A Historical Romance Book) (COMPLETED)

03

Nicholas watched Lydia closely as she ate her food. Her movements were neat and precise, but there was something too restrained about them, as if she had frightened herself with that display of hunger.

If he were honest with himself, he hadn't intended it to go so far. She was a beautiful girl but noble, and no matter how you sliced it, that meant trouble.

There was something else tugging at him as well though, and for some reason, Nicholas found himself reluctant to turn it over. He didn't shun aristocratic women just because of the trouble. He supposed, not to put too fine a point on it, there was something about women of his own class that he found distasteful, as if they were orchids that would only bloom in certain rarefied conditions.

Lydia, he could tell, was made of sterner stuff. Otherwise, he had a feeling that she wouldn't have been in that mail coach in the first place.

Finally, Nicholas broke the silence.

"Are you going to tell me where you are going and what you were doing on that coach?"

"Are you going to ask?"

Ah, there were still some claws on the cat, and he grinned a little. He would far rather have her spitting mad than subdued.

"Very well. Why is a gently-reared young woman in mourning weeds making her way to London by Royal mail coach?"

"Are you so very certain I'm gently-reared?"

"Good clothes, refined manner, convinced that you will be getting your way... Yes, I think I am making a fairly good guess."

She blushed a little at that, and Nicholas was struck all over again by how much he liked her. Liking women, that was a bit new, too, now that he considered it.

"Well, I suppose you have caught me out. Yes."

"And will you tell me who I have the honor of entertaining?"

She threw her shoulders back and met his eyes. God, but her gaze cut like faceted emeralds when she was showing her temper.

"I am Lady Lydia Waverly, daughter of the Marquess of Carmody."

"A very great pleasure and an honor to make your acquaintance, Lady Lydia," said Nicholas, as respectful as he would be at a ball.

She looked at him suspiciously, but he saw her let out a breath when she realized that he was not teasing her.

"Likewise, your grace."

"So, now I know your name. And obviously, you are not a widow if you are Lady Lydia. The black, is it just a disguise?"

"No, the black is for a real grief, though I believe that I am past due for changing it out for half-mourning." Lydia looked slightly startled for a moment. "I hadn't realized."

Nicholas did not think that she would appreciate it if he reached across the table to take her hand, but it did not stop him from wanting to do so.

"Grief has a way of clouding the mind. It sounds like your grief was fairly great."

Unexpectedly, she shot him a rueful look.

"You are fishing for my story, Nicholas. Will you not ask for it outright?"

"I would like to know it, yes. I do not want to cause you any distress, however."

"I find that after the last few months, I am not distressed. I am resolved. I am going to London to find the true circumstances of my brother's death. I intend to bring his murderer to justice."