The Lord’s Persuasion of Lady Lydia. Raven McAllan

feelers out, so don’t worry.’

      ‘Good. Now, why do I hear Lady Raith introduced you to Lydia Field, who, I assure you, would not be up for dalliance or, I suspect, anything else? She is a perfectly well behaved but spiritless lady who would bore you rigid in minutes.’ Diana smoothed a strand of her hair and looked at him with shrewd eyes. ‘What is going on?’

      ‘Diana, my dear, you know my godmother,’ Harry said suavely, not at all surprised by her rapid change of subject, as he watched Jeremy disappear in the direction of the card room. ‘Once she gets a bee in her bonnet, none of us is safe. She decided Lady Lydia needed an escort to get some air, and I was chosen. I did as I was bidden. Now I’ll take a turn round the room, as I know you want me to. Smile and look interested, avoid predatory mamas, have a duty dance, put some young deb in alt, and then retire to the card room.’ And no doubt have to watch Jeremy like a hawk.

      Diana sighed, and patted his cheek. ‘Ever the rake. Dance with Lydia Field and really stir things up.’

      Harry waggled his finger at her. ‘You, my dear, are a troublemaker. A gorgeous, devious troublemaker.’

      She giggled and looked like a young deb, not a matron with a happy marriage, a grown-up son, and a mischievous three-year-old daughter. ‘I do hope so. Now shoo, go and set hearts a-fluttering. Johnny is in the card room.’

      Harry bowed and turned on his heel. He and Diana had once, many years ago, thought about a relationship. Her first husband had died and she was sad and alone. However, he sensed it would not be what either of them wanted and so instead introduced her to John, the Earl of Leominster, stood beside John at the couple’s wedding, and was godfather to Florence, their only child together.

      He circled the room, in a seemingly careless, no destination in mind manner, nodded to some acquaintances, ignored a pair of giggling debs who stared at him with hungry eyes, and avoided a lady he knew had her heart set on him as her next protector. It was not going to happen. He intended to devote all his attention and energy to Lydia. If he found her. He still hadn’t fathomed why he needed to wrestle her from Jeremy’s clutches. Something about her tugged at him. He’d never expected to have the sort of interest in anyone he experienced when he thought of Lydia. It wasn’t the cock-hardening rush of lust he’d had with some of his past mistresses. Or the friendly interest he had, say, for Edward’s wife. For once he had no idea exactly what he felt and it was very disconcerting. Even so, he intended to find out. With or without her agreement.

      At least now he understood the working of her mind a little more, and nowadays knew the sorts of places he would see Lydia. As he expected, she was ensconced in a corner with several other ladies who were collectively known as wallflowers. Almost, but not quite, on the shelf and supposedly resigned to the idea. Now he understood Lydia a little more, Harry thought he could see how she was being very clever by hiding among them. Only if you looked closely could you notice her glazed expression as the ladies chatted.

      He made his way efficiently through the crowds to her side.

      ‘So we meet again, my dear.’ He let his glance rove over her with pleasure, noted the quick flash of temper – swiftly masked – and bit back a grin. Contrary to what he knew he was expected to see – a mousy girl dressed quietly and elegantly, but boringly, in a pale-blue dress with a darker-blue flounce – he saw the exact opposite. What he suspected she had hoped to disguise. Lustrous hair, sparkling eyes, a perfect complexion and a body his own ached to discover. Harry still marvelled how no one else saw through her obvious – to him – disguise. Why did no one else understand that to itch to discover what was hidden under fine blue silk was so much more tantalising than being shown it.

      She smiled insipidly, stood and curtsied, and held out her hand. ‘What a surprise, my lord. After all, we have only been missing each other for years.’

      Harry returned the smile and turned her hand over deftly to kiss her palm. He was satisfied when she gasped and the tiny pulse in her wrist showed. The lady next to her gave her a glance that could only be described as envious. Harry ignored her and curled Lydia’s fingers over the spot he had touched.

      ‘Save it for later, my dear.’

      The pulse in her wrist jumped and she licked her lips.

      Damn it, does she know how arousing that is? She might pretend to be immune, but he knew differently. Thankfully.

      ‘My lord,’ she said pleadingly. ‘Do not.’

      ‘Harry.’

      She shook her head. ‘My lord, please do not single me out so. People will talk.’

      ‘I swear that “no” and “do not” are the most used words to come from your charming mouth, my dear. Now, my name is Harry and I give you leave to use it.’

      She firmed her lips and a tiny sigh came from between them. ‘I cannot. It is not seemly and you know it. Tittle-tattle discomposes me, especially if I am at the centre of it.’

      He tilted his head slightly and considered her. She didn’t seem overly discomposed, just a mite irritated. ‘People always talk. Come walk with me.’ He held his arm up and waited, daring her to agree or perhaps cause a scene. ‘They will gossip even more if they think I snubbed you – or, worse, that you snubbed me.’

      ****

      Lydia saw three young ladies glance her way and nudge each other. Next they would send her either envious or pitying looks. She might as well be the centre of attention in a manner those women and others thought of enviously. Just once. With that thought uppermost, she inclined her head and took the proffered arm.

      ‘There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ Harry said cheerfully. ‘I didn’t bite or make you jump. No sky fell on us, no footman fainted, or rake felt as though he were stabbed through the heart.’

      She chuckled. ‘No, indeed, so all is well in our world then.’

      He gave her a glance that could almost be construed as suspicious. She made haste to change his mind. ‘They do not understand things, some people. It is fine, is it not? Our world at the moment.’

      ‘Almost, my dear, but not totally. You are still insisting you will leave London soon.’

      Lydia glanced up at him. His dark eyes gave no hint of his emotions. As ever he was immaculately dressed. The sapphire that sparkled in the snowy folds of his cravat matched the stones at her ears and around her neck, and his waistcoat had a thin, discreet thread of blue shot through it that complimented the jewels they wore, and the ruffle of her gown. Very clever. One could almost think he knew what she was going to wear before she did. For one fleeting moment she wondered if his valet were in cahoots with her maid before she dismissed the idea.

      ‘Leaving London is the major good thing,’ she said as she nodded to Lady Cowper and Princess Lieven as those ladies thankfully passed by without speaking. ‘I can hardly wait.’

      ‘How long have I got to change your mind?’ Harry drawled. ‘Nod at Lord Firth.’

      Lydia smiled wryly, and nodded as indicated. He was like a dog and his bone. ‘You won’t. Can you not accept that?’ It seemed as if all she ever did was repeat herself to him, and he chose not to listen.

      ‘It seems not. Where is your dance card?’

      ‘My what?’ His abrupt change of direction confused her. ‘Oh, my dance card.’ It was something she rarely had cause to use. ‘Why?’

      ‘So I can sign it,’ he said patiently. ‘I assume you do have one somewhere, even though it is not on show?’

      ‘Oh, I have one.’ Her mama asked her more than once every time they attended a ball. She thought she knew her daughter well, and understood Lydia had no interest in dancing. Actually, Lydia did like dancing and had been taught well at the exclusive ladies’ seminary she had attended. However, she did not wish to dance with someone who had been coerced to ask her and only did so on sufferance. ‘I just choose not to advertise the fact.’

      ‘Why