Wayward by Carole Mortimer

Chapter Thirteen

“Does it feel strange to be back in London after all this time?” Lydia prompted as the ducal coach traveled over the cobbled streets of the capital.

Gideon turned from gazing out the window. “I believe the lingering smog and smells are worse than they were ten years ago.”

Lydia noticed he hadn’t actually answered her question. She, on the other hand, had found the journey back to London even longer than the journey to Cornwall had been three weeks ago.

Because of that short length of time between the two journeys, Charlotte had begged to be allowed not to accompany them. Leaving only Lydia and Gideon to travel alone together in the black lacquered Esher carriage, their maid and valet in a second coach which had traveled ahead of them on this last leg of the journey.

For his part, Gideon had sent word on ahead to his solicitor to instruct the custodial servants of Esher House to open up and air the rooms in preparation for the arrival of the duke and his ward.

He had also, he informed her during the same conversation, asked that same solicitor to look into the Beecher family.

Another letter had been sent to the Prince Regent informing him of the day of Esher’s expected arrival in London.

Before leaving Cornwall, he had also instructed that every vestige of pink be removed from Lydia’s bedchamber in their absence!

The atmosphere inside the Esher carriage during the lengthy journey had been cordial if slightly stilted. As if neither Gideon nor Lydia wished to disturb even that level of harmony.

Lydia had been too stunned that night a week ago, after reading her father’s letter, to know what to say to Gideon.

She was pleased for him, of course, in that her father appeared to have arranged for his return to Society and for the previous friendship he had enjoyed with Prinny to continue, whenever or if he chose to do so.

No, it was the final paragraph of her father’s letter which caused Lydia’s current feelings of discomfort.

She had no doubt that she and Gideon had grown fond of each other in the almost three weeks they had known each other. That she felt more than fondness toward him. But she did not want Gideon to feel in any way obligated to return those deeper feelings or do anything about them if he did.

Consequently, immediately after reading her father’s journal and letter, she had excused herself as being tired and needing to retire to her bedchamber. Despite their earlier intimacy, Gideon had not argued the point.

They had continued in that strained way for the two days of preparing for their journey to London. Their only private conversation during that time had been Gideon’s suggestion that Lydia need not accompany him if she did not wish to do so. An offer she had refused.

As a consequence, the week of travel to London had been spent mainly in silence, the two of them behaving toward each other more like acquaintances than lovers. It was the same at the coaching inns they stayed at overnight on the way. They would eat a polite dinner together before retiring to the night to their respective bedchambers.

“They appear to have done a wonderful job in restoring Esher House to its previous grandeur,” Gideon approved as he stepped down from the ducal carriage outside his rebuilt home.

Lydia had obviously not seen the original house, but the huge white town house that stood on the plot, built in the architecture of the day, was very pleasing to the eye.

The inside was equally as magnificent, with marble floors and pillars and a high domed ceiling above the entrance hall, with several doors leading off into a number of beautifully furnished salons. There was a gallery above them on the second floor, with hallways leading to the bedchambers and other private rooms.

It was, in fact, a home fit for a duke.

And Lydia’s only interest, now that they had arrived, was to go down to the cellar and open up the trunks salvaged from the fire to see if Harriet had kept a diary, if it had survived. Not because Lydia needed to see further proof of Gideon’s innocence, but because she believed he did. Harriet’s diary might help to alleviate the last feelings of guilt he carried with him.

“Several letters have arrivedfor you in the past few days, Your Grace,” the butler informed Gideon. “I have placed them in your study.”

Gideon was not familiar with this new butler, the previous servants of Esher House having either retired from service or moved on to another household. This fellow seemed likeable enough, though. “Could you bring refreshment there for myself and Lady Lydia?” he requested as he handed over his cloak and hat.

“Certainly, Your Grace.”

Gideon nodded abruptly, determinedly putting aside any feelings of reluctance to enter the room where apparently the fire had been started ten years ago. He reminded himself that, despite being built almost in replica, this was not the same house nor would it be the same study.

He waited only long enough for Lydia to hand her bonnet and cloak to the butler before striding off down the hallway toward his study.

It was not the same room.

Whereas the old study had been of all dark mahogany wood and blue furnishings, the walls of this study were covered in pale oak panels. The Aubusson carpet on the polished wood floor was of autumn colors, ranging from gold to russet to brown. The curtains were of the same warm russet color. The desk was also made of oak and ornately carved, with a brown leather chair behind it.

Two letters sat upon the leather desktop waiting to be read.

Gideon ignored them and instead turned to face Lydia. He was at once amazed at how the new colors in his study complemented the color of her hair and the pale brown gown she was wearing. It was as if the room had been fashioned to flatter her.

Making Gideon even more aware of his ignorance regarding the pink of Lydia’s bedchamber at the house in Cornwall. Hopefully, that would have changed by the time they returned.

By the time we return.

It was Gideon’s dearest wish that they would both return to Cornwall once their business in London was settled.

He wished even more for them to return as more than guardian and ward.

He was not sure as to the reason for it, but there had been a strained politeness between the two of them since the reading of Chessington’s journal and letter, despite Lydia’s assurance that its contents would not alter her feelings for him. Several times, Gideon had attempted to surmount that politeness, but to no avail.

In the end, he had decided that perhaps it was best to leave that distance between them for the duration of the journey to London. Otherwise, he might not have been able to keep his hands off Lydia and so cause even more tension. It had not been easy maintaining that distance from her this past week.

“Aren’t you going to open your letters?” Lydia prompted the moment the butler had departed after delivering their refreshments.

Gideon shook off the heaviness of his feelings to look up at Lydia. “No.” Instead, he leaned back against the front of his desk before holding out his arms to her. “I need to hold you first.”

Her expression was one of puzzlement as she slowly walked toward him until she stood between his parted thighs. “You could have held me any number of times during our journey here.”

Gideon winced at how stiffly she stood in the circle of his arms. “As we were alone for the main part, I believed it better not to do so. Also, there has seemed to be an invisible barrier about you, one that stated clearly you did not wish for physical closeness, least of all from me.”

She sighed heavily at the same time as the stiffness left her body. “I have felt…awkward, uncomfortable, since reading my father’s letter to us.”

Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” Although he had a feeling, now that Lydia had explained, that he might know the reason for her discomfort.

The last paragraph of Chessington’s letter had been ambiguous in that it could be interpreted in several ways.

Chessington had wished them both love and happiness in their future.

Separately.

Or together.

Gideon now believed it was the latter which had caused Lydia’s feelings of awkwardness these past ten days or so.

She gave an awkward shrug. “My father meant well, I am sure, but he should not have… He could not have known… He had no right to imply… To expect…”

“You are his beloved daughter, and he had every right to want a happy future for you,” Gideon cajoled.

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing.” His arms tightened about her to pull her even closer and force her hands to rest on his chest. He released a slow breath before making the next comment. “I love you, Lydia.”

She visibly swallowed before answering. “You love me?”

He nodded. “I wish you to know that before we read any more letters or look for diaries that might not exist.” He gazed into her eyes. “I love you, and it is my dearest wish to ask you to become my wife. I know that you could do so much better than me, but I truly believe that no other man could love you as deeply as I do.”

“I love you too!” she cried out joyously, her arms moving up about his shoulders. “And there is no man finer than you,” she added fiercely. “None.” She kissed him with that same fierceness.

Gideon had no doubt Lydia would bring that same fierceness into their marriage and the bed they would share. As his wife. As the mother of his children.

“Will you make love to me, Gideon?”

It was as if Lydia was able to read his mind, nor could he deny how much he wanted her when his fully engorged cock was pressing against the softness of her abdomen.

“You have not answered my marriage proposal yet,” he teased indulgently.

“Because of course the answer is yes!” she chided impatiently. “I will marry you today. Tomorrow. Any day you wish me to do so. But here and now, I wish for you to make love to me.”

Gideon chuckled as he swung her up into his arms. “Will you always be this demanding, wife?”

Color bloomed in her cheeks at his having called her that. “Undoubtedly.”

“Thank God!”

Gideon carried her up the stairs, a cloud appearing on his happiness only when they passed the mistress’s bedchamber in order to reach his own.

“Don’t.” Lydia reached up to smooth the frown from his brow. “Once we are married, I will not require a bedchamber of my own because I shall be sharing your bed every night. We could perhaps make the adjoining bedchamber into a private sitting room for us both. Or perhaps a nursery?” she added with a blush.

The thought of his and Lydia’s children caused Gideon’s chest to swell with happiness. “How many children shall we have?”

“I had thought four, but if you wish for more…?”

“Four!” Gideon echoed disbelievingly.

“Or more.” Lydia nodded. “I grew up an only child. I do not wish that same loneliness for my own children.”

Gideon’s arms tightened possessively. “Then you shall have half a dozen children, if you wish. A dozen!”

“Perhaps a maximum of six. After all, my love, you are approaching forty and would be into your fifties by the time I had given birth to a dozen children. I would not like for our eldest to have to push your bathchair by the time the youngest is born.”

His eyes narrowed. “Just for that…” He kicked open the door into his bedchamber, barely noticing the new blue-and-white furnishings, his attention wholly on the woman he loved beyond imagining as he laid her gently down on the bed before claiming her lips as he followed her down.

Lydia learnedin the next hour exactly how it felt to be made love to and cherished by the man she loved and whom she knew loved her.

Gideon removed their clothes one garment at a time, until they lay naked on the bed together.

His slightest touch gave her pleasure. His lips were gentle at first and then unrelenting as he gave her climax after climax before lifting his body over hers and carefully but resolutely claiming her innocence.

There was only a little pain before it was followed by the most exquisite feeling of fullness, of belonging, as she gave herself to Gideon and he gave himself in return. Completely.

Their movements were fluid, perfectly in harmony, a symphony of naked bodies moving together toward the pinnacle of becoming, and forever remaining, one.

Gideon raised his head to look at her with tumultuous gray eyes. “I will love you forever, Lydia.”

“I will love you forever, Gideon,” she vowed in return.

She cried out then as the pleasure exploded inside her, quickly followed by the tensing of Gideon’s body above her, and then the warmth of his release entering and filling her.

If they had conceived the first of those children, then Lydia knew they would both be overjoyed.