“He’s never been overly friendly, I’ll admit. But he changed last year, especially in November... What with the circumstances surrounding his brother’s death… and Naomi and Baby Amelia and my brother Lucas…” Lydia exhaled a weighty breath.
“Lord Lucas married his brother’s widow, and is now raising the man’s daughter. Oh, but the child is Tempest’s niece. How could I forget that?” Clarissa winced. “And Mason had to go and insist Tempest take part in this Tuesday Warehouse project! I know he thought he was doing what was best, but if I ask him, he can fix this.”
“Jeremy minds more than I do.” Lydia met her friend’s concerned look with a weak smile.
“Ah…” Clarissa studied her closely. “I take it he has hard feelings, then?”
That was putting it mildly. “I thought he was handling it well enough, last summer. He even attended their wedding. I thought…” Unexpected tears pricked the back of her eyes. “I thought that he and I…”
“Oh, Lydia.” Clarissa stared back at her, horrified. “Tell me you’re not in love with him?”
“I’m not!” Lydia shook her head adamantly.
“Oh, but you are. I can see it in your eyes.”
Lydia silently cursed her inability to dissemble. Her twin sister, Lucinda, was far better at it. Of course, if she were here, and not with her new husband and his family, Lucinda would see right through her as well.
“Lord Tempest is considerably older than me.” Lydia felt the need to defend something that never was and never would be. “Twelve years, actually. But I didn’t think age mattered if two people were truly in love.”
“It’s not his age that’s the problem. And you’re right, it doesn’t matter. Baxter is older than me by nine years. And even if it did, you seem far more mature than most girls your age. You are something of an old soul. But I have a hard time picturing you with him. You are so… optimistic and well-mannered and sweet, and he… is not.”
“He used to be—in his own way.” She pinched her lips together. “Our families were close, before Lucas and Naomi…”
“But that is hardly your fault.”
“I agree, believe me. But he is holding it against all of us.” His turnabout simply didn’t make sense. He’d attended the wedding; he’d given the couple his blessing. “At least, I think that’s what it is.”
“What else would it be?”
Lydia shook her head. “I wish I knew.” Perhaps it was something she had done—something she’d said. She’d even questioned that she wasn’t pretty enough—that he’d decided he wanted to marry someone who was more sophisticated. Only…that was not like him at all.
“One day, he seemed to truly care for me—more than care for me. And he kissed me—twice. And then the next… I might as well have been one of his worst enemies.”
“Did he lead you to believe he would make an offer?”
He had. Although he’d not made any promises.
“Perhaps I only saw what I wanted to see. For as long as I can remember, I have been at least a little in love with the dark and mysterious Jeremy Gilcrest. Of all my brothers’ friends, he seemed… special. Unlike his younger brother, he wasn’t overly boastful, and he didn’t joke about ungentlemanly pursuits. My greatest fear growing up was that he would marry some other woman before I was old enough to be taken seriously. In the end, I suppose, it didn’t matter.”
“Sometimes,” Clarissa tilted her head, “these things simply need to work themselves out. I went six years without knowing where Mason was. I didn’t know if he was alive or dead—I didn’t even know his true identity! And then… there he was.” She smiled dreamily and then shrugged. “And the rest is history.”
Lydia couldn’t help but smile, knowing how happy her friend was. Even if she was a little jealous.
Clarissa tapped her gloved finger to her chin thoughtfully. “If a tragic event changed him, perhaps the opposite could change him back.”
Lydia pictured a scenario where Jeremy became very involved with the building and opening of the orphanage. A scenario where he changed children’s lives for the better. “Do you suppose that is what Lord Baxter was hoping for?”
“It didn’t occur to me before, but it seems like something he’d do. Perhaps your Lord Tempest merely needs a nudge in the right direction?”
Or perhaps he needed a weighty shove.
“I don’t want to get my hopes up.” Lydia rubbed her chest. The ache in her heart had just begun to dull.
“It can’t hurt, can it?” Clarissa asked.
“I’m not so sure about that.” She sent the other woman a weak smile. Even if Jeremy didn’t find hope again, at least she would have a chance to learn the truth. And then, perhaps she could move on, putting her love for him to rest once and for all.
“If you don’t try now, you’ll always wonder. Whereas, if you at least try, even if you fail, you’ll know you did everything you could.”
Clarissa was right. Perhaps Lydia needed to consider these circumstances an opportunity—a chance to help Jeremy find hope again.
And furthermore, she wasn’t ready to give up on love quite yet.
With determination chasing away her doubts, she met Clarissa’s gaze. “He’s meeting us at the warehouse tomorrow at noon. If he agrees, he won’t be free to walk away from his commitment as easily as he walked away from me before.”
“Not if Baxter has anything to say about it,” Clarissa mused. “And regardless, you and I are going to improve the lives of hundreds of children. How can anyone turn their back on something so worthwhile?”
But Lydia had never seen anyone’s eyes look as cold as Jeremy’s did today.
“It’s a beginning, anyhow,” Clarissa added and Lydia nodded.
Or it could be the end. The proverbial nail in the coffin of what might have been.
Chapter 3
The next morning, Jeremy planted his cane on the road, sounding an even thumping rhythm as he neared the entrance of the Tuesday Warehouse, located on the corner of Tuesday and Wapping. Since his own office was located nearby, he’d decided to cover the distance to the warehouse on foot and instructed his driver to pick him up here at noon—he glanced down at his fob watch—in one hour’s time.
A few urchins dashed past him and ducked into an alleyway, likely looking for trouble. He twisted his mouth into a wry grimace. He supposed these were precisely the sort of residents Lydia wanted for her orphanage.
With the engineer’s report tucked safely in his jacket pocket, he was tempted to tell her the structure wasn’t sound. She had no business taking on such a project anyhow—saving thieving orphans, for shite’s sake.
She was naught much more than a child herself.
If he kept telling himself that, he just might believe it.
A dark figure pacing up ahead caught his eye, and when he recognized her graceful profile, a drumbeat pounded in his head.
What in the hell was she doing loitering outside on her own? At the docks, the section crawling with the worst vermin humanity had to offer?