Only, her father had been a duke.
Was that why she’d agreed so quickly to work on this project with Clarissa? Because of guilt? She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as Louise carefully poured a pitcher of water, rinsing the soap from Lydia’s hair.
Life wasn’t fair. Was it wrong that guilt motivated her?
Working out her motivations would have been a good deal easier if her mind didn’t persistently return to the most astounding fact that Jeremy had kissed her! And not in the manner he’d kissed her last summer.
This kiss had been… alarming. Devastating. Exciting.
This kiss had been magnificent.
Her heart fluttered, and she shivered.
“Your towel, My Lady,” Louise assisted her out of the copper tub and helped her to dry off and then don one of her day dresses, a low-waisted jonquil muslin with a V-neck and sleeves large enough to store a small dog in each.
Too discombobulated to join her aunt in her knitting downstairs, Lydia sat down to make notes of what she and Jeremy had discussed.
Only… rather than summon words to write, her mind kept going back to those few moments before Ollie had interrupted them.
Jeremy had kissed her with the same desperation she felt. Did that mean he felt the same?
His lips had been hard and demanding, almost as though he was angry. At her? No, she decided, most definitely not at her.
At himself? Lydia dipped her pen in the jar of ink.
When he’d dragged his mouth along her jaw and then down her neck, he’d softened.
He’d fondled her. He tasted me.
It had made her want to taste him as well—to know the essence of his skin in every way imaginable.
Lydia frowned down at the large drop of ink that had plopped onto the parchment and then crumpled it in frustration and tossed it onto the floor.
She’d been exasperated with him one moment and clinging to him desperately the next. Remembering the feel of his body, all hard planes and muscles pressing into her, heat raced to her core.
This was useless. Lydia set down the pen and closed the jar of ink. Had he kissed her because he was regretted sending her away last autumn?
Throwing herself onto her bed, she squeezed her thighs together at the same time she allowed one of her hands to edge over her belly, to just below her breast.
A knock sounded on the door, causing her to sit up guiltily.
“Come in!”
Clarissa peered around the door. “Mr. Hill sent me up.” Her friend looked elegant and sophisticated, wearing a puce linen day dress with a low waist and billowing long sleeves. As she entered the room, she removed her bonnet and then tossed it onto the bed.
“How is little Alexander?” Lydia touched her fingertips to her cheeks, hoping they weren’t flushed.
The young countess shrugged and waved a hand through the air. “He’s fine. That was just an excuse to leave you and Lord Tempest alone.” She dropped into the chair near Lydia’s vanity. “Tell me everything.”
Lydia shot her friend a disapproving glance but then sighed.
“Well?” Clarissa prompted her.
“He’s decided to invest, and he’s amenable to the plans we’ve had drawn up.”
“That’s not what I mean. Is there hope for him? Did the two of you discuss anything personal? Did he kiss you?”
Lydia bit her lip.
“He kissed you!”
“A thief attacked us on the street.” Lydia made an attempt to avoid discussing what had happened between her and Jeremy. Because she didn’t quite understand it herself.
“No!”
“He was a child, Clarissa, the most precious boy you’ve ever seen.” Lydia went on to tell her all about Ollie, and the coat Jeremy gave him, and how he’d returned today, bruised and beaten. And about the gang boss, causing both of them to frown.
“Mason has warned me that there could be trouble. He and Lord Tempest may be forced to deal with the gang bosses early on. But what can we do about the boy until then?”
“Jeremy took Ollie home with him,” Lydia announced and then paused abruptly. He’d surprised her. And yet, it was precisely what he’d have done before his brother died.
Clarissa tilted her head in disbelief. “Your Lord Tempest? A gentleman who had to be coerced into the project to begin with? He has opened his home up to an orphan?”
Lydia nodded. “He said his cook would put Ollie to work. And even though he says he’s only doing it to keep me from bringing Ollie home with me to Heart Place, I refuse to believe it.” She held Clarissa’s gaze, almost afraid to appear too hopeful. “I could see it in his eyes, Clarissa. He could no more leave that child alone there than I could.”
“But when did this kiss happen?”
Lydia smoothed the fabric of her gown and then shrugged. “Just before Ollie came running in.”
“Was it more than just a kiss?” Clarissa asked.
Lydia pinched her lips together, feigning innocence.
And obviously failing.
“Oh, Lydia.” The other girl was shaking her head.
Lydia hadn’t intended to tell Clarissa anything about it, but since she already knew… “It was glorious. Fantastic. It’s never been that way before, and I never wanted it to end.”
“Oh, dear.” Clarissa looked more concerned than delighted. “I should have thought this through better.”
“What?”
“It’s a good thing that kiss did end, though. Little Ollie deserves your thanks. You’re terribly young and if Tempest ruined you, Baxter would have to send for Blackheart to defend your honor.”
Which, all in all, would be an utter catastrophe.
“I really do need more friends who don’t read my mind like you do.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible, what with your emotions written all over your face.”
Lydia conceded with a shrug. It was true. “What should I do if he kisses me again?”
“What do you want to do?” Clarissa countered.
“Probably something that I oughtn’t.”
Her friend brushed her hands together decisively. “And for precisely that reason, the two of you cannot be alone together again. At least not until we know his intentions are honorable. I’ll host a dinner party next week. That will give him the opportunity to show his affection for you in a socially acceptable manner.”
Lydia held back a groan. “Next week?” She didn’t want to wait until next week to see him again.
“And in the future, I’ll not send you alone again to discuss the orphanage with him. I ought to have realized…” Clarissa wagged a finger. “But let him stew a little. He’s had a taste, now he must decide: is he prepared to commit to the entire meal?”
Lydia groaned. “I don’t know.” She wished it was as simple as that.
“Keep yourself busy. Visit Madam Chantal and ask her if she knows of any seamstresses we can hire. The children will need proper clothing and we might as well have them wear uniforms. And if you’ve time, drop by the employment agency as well. No time like the present to begin interviewing teachers and whatnot, now that we’ve secured funds.” The young countess rose and brushed at her skirts. “I can’t stay long. Mason is taking me to the opera this evening. He rather enjoys sitting in the dark with me.” A grin flashed across her face, but she schooled it and sent Lydia a warning glance. “Don’t do anything foolish.”