Lydia rolled her lips together, nearly overwhelmed by the urge to cry. Grateful for, and a little stunned by Jeremy’s gesture, she watched Ollie scoop his old jacket off the ground and take a step backward.
“No more slamming into ladies, understand?” Jeremy pinned his gaze on the boy, who was looking more than a little surprised by this turn of events.
“Aw wite, mister.” And then he bolted, vanishing as quickly as he’d appeared.
Coachman John, driving one of the Blackheart carriages, chose that moment to pull up behind Jeremy’s less-pretentious-looking one.
“This is my ride.” She gestured, staring up at him, feeling awkward all of a sudden. Jeremy was not a hopeless cause at all.
He glared back at her with cold eyes. “Go home, Lydia,” he growled. “And don’t come back alone. If I discover otherwise, you won’t see a penny of my money.”
But she found herself biting back a grin. “Thank you, Jeremy,” she said, walking backward toward the second carriage.
“Go home, Lydia.”
Chapter 4
The following day, Lydia sat across the room from her aunt in the drawing room, staring down at a book but not comprehending any of it. Not for the first time, the memory of Jeremy aiding little Ollie the day before played itself over in her mind.
He had provided immediate warmth to a child in need, and she refused to believe that austerity and indifference were all that remained of his character.
True, he’d not once smiled as he helped the boy into the new coat; he’d been clenching his jaw, and his eyes had been stern the entire time.
But his action had gone beyond charity. Compassion had fueled it. Not that there was anything wrong with donating funds—the orphanage would be quite dependent upon that sort of generosity. But surely, seeing the wonder in Ollie’s eyes had to have touched him?
It was terrifying, and perhaps foolish, but she refused to give up on the man she knew he was meant to be. His actions the day before had strengthened her hope.
Hope that he could come to respect her affectionately once again, but more importantly, hope that he would thaw, that he could appreciate that life consisted of so much more than tragedy and loss.
“A visitor for you, My Lady.” Mr. Hill stood in the open doorway of her favorite drawing room. “Lord Tempest.”
Even though he’d told her he would come, her heart jumped while Aunt Emma merely nodded from where she sat knitting near the window.
“Excellent. Send him up, and could you have Mrs. Duckworth bring some tea?”
They were to discuss the plans, and then later, drive to the warehouse so that she could answer any questions he had.
A shiver of anticipation danced down her spine.
Jeremy appeared in the doorway, the plans she’d sent over rolled up in one hand, and then bowed. “Lady Lydia.” He turned to her aunt. “Lady Emma, I hope you are well.”
Aunt Emma, who was nearsighted, but not blind, and only partially deaf, held her opera glasses to her eyes. “As well as anyone my age can expect. You’ve certainly made yourself scarce. Come here, my boy, so I can get a look at you.”
Lydia bit back a smile as she watched this proud man bow over her aunt’s hand. She was secretly pleased that her aunt treated him no differently than she had all his life.
“You’ve lost weight. Likely worrying about your mother, no doubt. How is Lady Tempest? Dreadful business, this growing old. And do sit down. My neck’s going to get a crick looking up at you like this.” Before Jeremy could answer, she turned to Lydia. “Lydia, my dear, you and I will make it a point to visit Lady Tempest later this week. You will find time to come with me in between all this orphanage business of yours.”
Lydia nodded but watched to see if Jeremy would provide any more details than he had the day before.
“She is fragile,” he said softly as he took a seat on the opposite end of the settee where Lydia sat. Turning toward Lydia’s aunt, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She may not recognize you. Most days, she doesn’t know me from Adam.”
The admission was a startling one. No wonder…
No wonder.
“I’m so sorry, Jeremy.” Of course, his aunt would call him by his given name. She’d known him as a child, and then a young man. “I imagine her heart weakened from young Arthur’s passing. There is too much tragedy in this world.”
If Lydia had not been watching him very closely, she would have missed it. Despair flickered across his face.
His throat worked, as though he was swallowing unwanted emotion. And then his eyes shuttered once again. “We’re doing our best to keep her comfortable, for now.”
But Lydia realized something that perhaps even he didn’t know.
He’d lost the will to hold onto hope.
Aunt Emma nodded. “But I know you did not come to visit me. Feel free to go about your work while I knit.” She glanced down at the two needles and half-finished project on her lap, almost as though she’d forgotten it was there.” “If only I could remember what I was working on. Was this the scarf for your sister? Oh, no, I forgot, it’s a blanket for the baby.”
Lydia met Jeremy’s eyes in an unexpected moment of shared amusement.
“Lucinda is expecting later this spring.” Her sister had married later in the same Season the twin sisters had made their come out… and then moved away and become quite caught up with her new husband’s family.
As she should.
However, it had left an emptiness in Lydia that she never would have expected.
“I remember,” he said.
Of course, she’d told him when she’d received Lucinda’s letter—when they had shared these sort of details with one another.
Lydia blinked, forcing herself not to dwell on the past. Jeremy was here on business. “What did you think of the plans?”
“I have a few questions.” He opened them, spreading them on the low table in front of them, while she placed a candle holder on each of the corners to keep the papers from rolling back onto themselves.
Over the next half an hour, while taking tea, they discussed the design, some issues she’d considered, and some she had not. In that time, both of them had moved to the center of the sofa, and Lydia became acutely aware of his thigh touching hers.
His scent—which reminded her of leather-covered books, and clove, and freshly cut cedar—only served to heighten her awareness.
She was so in tuned in to his presence that she could almost feel him breathing beside her. Altogether, she was more than a little distracted.
She straightened her spine and focused on what he was actually saying.
“I’m a little concerned about your garden area. If it was used for disposal, you might have problems with the soil…”
“I had not thought of that.” Lydia wrinkled her nose. When she’d first toured the warehouse, she’d only spied the yard from a window. Until it could be cleaned up, it was not at all inviting. She and Clarissa had also caught sight of a few vagrants. “I have no idea…”
“No way to find out other than to see for ourselves.” He’d turned to stare at her, and their faces were only inches apart. His gaze flicked to her lips, and then quickly back to her eyes. “Shall we drive over now then? Did you wish to change first?”