It Had to Be the Duke by Christi Caldwell

Chapter 7

What had he done without her? he’d asked.

And yet, the question could have easily been asked in reverse—what had she done without him?

Yes, she’d come to love her husband. Her life had been full. But the feelings she’d had for Geoffrey, born of their childhood friendship, had blossomed into the passionate, all-consuming love that stayed with a woman until she drew her last breath. With him, she’d always been free to be herself. And that hadn’t changed. She’d forgotten just how very much joy she’d known in just being with him. He’d never wished her to be the perfect hostess, and that same celebration of her spirit he’d revealed a short while ago reminded her all over again of why she’d loved him so very much. He’d always accepted her for who she truly was, and not the role she’d performed as perfect wife and mother for Lawrence.

Listening to him speak about having a life with his children, wanting a life with them, was so different from her late husband, who’d been content to leave matters of their children to her and the nursemaids or governesses or tutors they’d hired. Which Lydia hadn’t minded. Her children had filled her life with purpose and happiness, but she’d also not imagined there were fathers who wished to be so involved.

“I’ve missed you, Geoffrey,” she said softly. I missed him so very much.

The small Adam’s apple at his throat jumped. “And I’ve missed you so very much, too, Lydia.” His words such a perfect echo to her own thoughts that her heart fluttered anew.

Their thoughts had always been in perfect harmony.

“I need help, Lydia,” he said quietly and then spoke more quickly, his worlds all tumbling together. “I know nothing about children or, more importantly, how to make them happy. I don’t know what they want or how to convince them to have a relationship with me.” A pained laugh slipped from his lips. “And the Good Lord knows I certainly have no reason to expect that they should want to or need to.” His gaze locked with hers. “Just as I know I have no right to ask you for assistance with this, but I need—”

Lydia touched her fingertips to his lips, stopping the remainder of that statement. “Do not be silly, Geoffrey,” she said softly. “I am the one who hurt you all those years ago. You have every right to be resentful of me.”

“I could never have resented you, Lydia,” he murmured. Geoffrey caught her wrist gently in his larger, stronger fingers and raised it to his mouth. He pressed a tender kiss against that flesh, and her lashes fluttered at the quixotic, silken brush of his lips upon her skin. “I was hurt and angry that you had to chose another, but I could have never resented you for the happiness you found or the decision you made to protect your sister.” Emotion glinted in his eyes. “In fact, even as I wanted to shake you for putting another person’s happiness before your own, it only made me love you all the more that you were a woman so devoted, who loved her sister so deeply, that you would.”

Her heart danced. She was undeserving of that understanding.

“Help me,” he implored.

Lydia brought shaking digits up and brushed them along the dusting of gray at his temples. “You show him you care. And that you very much want him and his siblings in your life. You also… speak of his sister, whose life, according to what you’ve shared, is a difficult one. You reason with him as a loving father. You remind him that the same way he wants and deserves a better life, so, too, do his brothers and sister. Especially his sister, Geoffrey.” She shook her head slightly. “The world is hard for all women. I expect it is even harder and more unforgiving for a woman who lives outside the nobility. You appeal to him with those reminders, and I expect any son would be hard-pressed to not work with you to bridge those divides.”

Geoffrey moved his gaze over her.

“What is it?” she asked softly.

“There is no one like you, Lydia.”

He lowered his head just as she leaned up, and their mouths met.

This kiss was a gentle meeting, a tender brush that sparked the same heat it always had, but that also offered a tenderness.

She sighed, and he slipped his tongue inside, lightly stroking and teasing hers.

“Geoffrey,” she whispered, resting her palms upon his chest and gripping him lightly. She never wanted this moment to end. Any of these moments with him.

Her heart pattered as he deepened his kiss, cupping her neck and angling her head, availing himself of her mouth, and she let him. She wanted every aspect of him and this kiss… She wanted—

Wait. That pattering… It wasn’t her heart.

Gasping, Lydia drew back quickly, and pressing her palms against Geoffrey’s chest, she propelled herself to the opposite side of the sofa. She grabbed for her teacup just as the door opened.

“Mother!” her eldest daughter, Caroline exclaimed. “I thought it was a good—oh.” she abruptly stopped, sending Miranda, close at her heels knocking into her. “Good… day.” Her eyes went round as she took in a thoroughly rumpled Geoffrey and then Lydia. And then shifted her gaze back over to Geoffrey.

All the while, at Miranda’s side, Lydia’s youngest daughter stared with an equal wide-eyed befuddlement.

Lydia, in that moment, did what all mothers discovered in a compromising position by daughters would do. “His Grace was just leaving,” Lydia blurted.

Miranda and Caroline cocked their heads in opposite directions.

At her side, Geoffrey’s lips quirked at the corners in a grin.

Really? He’d find amusement in this? She shot a foot out, hitting him in the shins.

He immediately grunted and wisely let his smile fade.

Caroline gasped, catching that sound with her fingertips. “Mother, did you just kick a duke?”

“It was a reflex.” The lie slipped out before she could craft a better, more plausible one. With that, three sets of stares swiveled to Lydia. Two stunned, one amused. Her mind blank, Lydia shot her foot out again, catching Geoffrey.

“Oomph.”

“See, there it goes again,” Lydia said weakly. When only silence and more of those stares met her, she let her leg fly again.

This time, however, Geoffrey edged out of reach, and her kick landed in the air.

Belatedly, Geoffrey jumped up.

Giving her a reproachful look that plunged Lydia straight into the oddest of role reversals, Miranda swept over, Caroline following close at her heels. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I’m afraid my mother has seemed to forget the societal niceties she instilled in each of us,” Miranda drawled, in complete command and self-possessed.

Despite the misery of this awkward moment, pride swelled inside Lydia.

Geoffrey swept a low bow. “No apologies necessary. I trust your mother’s, uh, recent”—he slid a brief glance over at Lydia before returning all his attention to her daughters—“condition accounts for the lapse in her usual propriety.”

At the smile her first love shared with her daughters, Lydia narrowed her eyes. It was a good thing he was out of kicking range. Oh, the lout.

Still, introductions were required, and her years of practice as proper matron and hostess reared themselves once more. “Miranda, Caroline, allow me to introduce you to the Duke of Bentley. Bentley, my daughters, Lady Carr-Gomm and Lady Collins. Girls, the duke is a friend of mi—” She stumbled and then quickly found her way. “That is, His Grace was a friend of your father and… me,” she added more softly.

“An honor, Your Grace,” Miranda said, sinking into an elegant curtsy, Caroline almost perfectly in step.

He waved off that formality. “The honor is mine. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“You are leaving?” Lydia blurted.

Caroline gave her an odd look. “Didn’t you just say he was going?”

Lydia’s cheeks instantly fired hotly, and she curled her toes into the soles of her slippers. “Uh, yes. Of course, that is…” She folded her palms demurely at her waist. “If you didn’t have to leave, you are welcome to join us…”

He inclined his head. “As much as it pains me to miss out on the company of three lovely ladies, I would not infringe. I, however, have matters to see to.”

You’re not infringing, she silently cried.

“Of course,” she brought herself to stay instead.

As he made his polite, charming goodbyes to Miranda and Caroline, Lydia surely proved the worst mother in the world for wishing it was he who remained.