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

14

Nicholas couldn't really believe he was letting the marquess sit in his house after he had struck Lydia. He was tempted to have the constables called in or at least to throw the man bodily out on his ear, but Lydia had stopped that.

Instead, they sat uneasily in the drawing room as her father got to the point of his visit.

"I come up to London for the season, to do my duty in Parliament, and what do I see but my own daughter traipsing through the exhibition gallery with the Duke of Winnefield himself, and you with your reputation, sir!"

"Tell me something; did you even notice your daughter was missing from Carmody? Were you surprised to see her because you assumed she was still at home?"

The marquess didn't seem abashed at all at Nicholas' acid words, waving his hand carelessly.

"Am I meant to keep track of my daughter? I taught her well enough to stay home. But now I see her out with you, your grace, a man with a reputation that is, shall we say, less bright than it should be? What would I do if her reputation became smirched; what would her poor dead mother and brother say?"

Nicholas was startled to see the sudden flush of shame that came over Lydia's cheeks. To see his bright and spirited girl so down-trodden, so apt to believe this monster's accusations made him ache. He could not bear it another moment, and he turned to the marquess.

"What do you want?" he snapped. "You are not here to give me a lecture on morals."

As Nicholas guessed he would, the older man dropped his charade of worrying about Lydia's reputation in a heartbeat.

"Let us say, three thousand pounds. I've some debts that need some care, and the old home is in need of a bit of repair."

"Three thousand pounds!" exclaimed Lydia. "Papa, surely, you cannot be serious."

Now that money was in the mix, the marquess ignored his daughter entirely.

"Though if you are unable to match that amount, I suppose I can go lower."

"I can think of nothing that would be more distasteful than bargaining with you. If you leave at once, I will have my solicitor make out a draft for the full amount and deliver it to wherever you are staying in town."

The marquess seemed more than happy to abide by the bargain, giving the wooden Lydia a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, it has been fine to see you, Lydia, my dear."

Then he was gone, and Lydia shook her head in dismay.

"I think my father just sold me to you."

Nicholas, who was beginning to feel more than a little ashamed of his role in all of this, shook his head.

"If you like, you can think of it being something more like a bribe to get him to leave."

"No, I know what it was. My god, I knew he was a careless man, and I knew that he was terrible, but I did not expect this."

To Nicholas' dismay, tears welled up in her emerald green eyes, and he went to kneel by her chair, touching her shoulder gently.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "He is your father, and he should have cared more for you."

"My whole life, I assumed he was just careless. Benjamin allowed me to think it, looking back. So many things that my papa should have done, Benjamin took over. God, he was barely a handful of years older than me, but he was the who hired my governess and my tutor; he was the one who settled accounts so that I could have pretty dresses. That was why he came to London."

"I know," Nicholas said, taking her in his arms. "I am so sorry, Lydia."

She shuddered, clinging on to him. They stayed that way for some timeless moment, holding on to each other. He wished he could absorb her grief in some way, simply to lift it from her frame. Then she pulled back, her eyes red but dry, and she offered him a small smile.

"I suppose I am your problem now. I am sorry. I don't know what my father believed he was doing, and three thousand pounds is so much money."

"Your father assumed I wanted you for my mistress, and three thousand pounds is a small price to pay for him to step away and to stop making you miserable."

Lydia shook her head.

"Still, you shouldn't have had to pay."

"I have paid more for things that caused me less joy than you," Nicholas said wryly. "But I'll admit that this talk is very tawdry. You are a lady and the daughter of a marquess, no matter how disreputable your father is. You should not concern yourself with such things."

Lydia laughed.

"If you think that every daughter in the peerage does not know her own dowry prospects and the amount that will be settled upon her when her father dies to the very cent, your grace, you are very much mistaken."

"So, what are yours?"

Lydia blinked.

"Well, when I marry, my father has said he will settle five thousand pounds on me, and that is quite respectable in the country. I imagine that London dowers are higher."

"It is good, I will get my bribe to your father back then."

Lydia's jaw dropped, and she stared at him in shock.

"Nicholas, don't even joke."

"I'm not. About something like this, even I wouldn't dare. Dash it all, I did not mean this to come on the heels of your father's visit."

"I don't care about my father right this moment, Nicholas, I want to know what you are saying."

"What I am saying is that nothing would give me greater pleasure in all this world than making you my wife, Lydia."

"Nicholas—"

He pulled from his pocket a wooden box, opening it to reveal a gold ring set with an emerald. The emerald was cut into a sparkling almond surrounded with diamonds, and Lydia looked as if she was going to faint.

"I don't know what to say."

"Say yes. That's all. I will do the rest. Then China, Greece, Italy, anywhere you like."

She smiled at him, and his heart squeezed tight again.

"The ring is amazing, you do not have to butter it with promises."

"Say yes, Lydia. Please."

"Yes. Oh, Nicholas, I do love you so."

There was something shy about the way she said it, as if the ring and his proposal still meant he would laugh at her. Instead, Nicholas placed it on her finger and grinned.

"If you keep telling me that every day, then I will give you all the promises and emeralds you like, my dear."