for its value. Mr. Havers gave us quite a bit for it.”
“It belonged to my mother,” Lydia said, stung by her grandmother’s dismissive words. “Surely you understand why that’s important to me. Why it’s important to Jane. Papa would never have wanted it sold.”
“Your parents would have been far more supportive of Jane attending a proper school than they would about keeping a piece of jewelry.” Mrs. Boyd frowned. “I’d hope you would be as well.”
“You didn’t need to pawn the locket to send Jane to school,” Lydia muttered.
“You know how expensive Queen’s Bridge is, Lydia. We need to procure all possible funds for her initial enrollment. And we do not need an old locket.”
I do.
Lydia’s hands flexed, her chest tightening as she looked at her grandmother. Now was not the time to fight about Jane’s schooling. Lydia had other matters on her mind. “I learned the locket was purchased by Alexander Hall. Lord Northwood.”
Mrs. Boyd stared at her with pursed lips, a faintly perplexed expression in her eyes.
“Viscount Northwood? You must be joking.”
“I’m not. He bought the locket from Mr. Havers. He said he thought it was interesting.”
“You spoke to him?”
“I went to his house yesterday evening. I asked him to return the locket.”
Mrs. Boyd’s eyes widened. “You went to Lord North—”
Lydia held up a hand to stop the imminent scolding. “Before you chastise me, no one saw me, no one heard. I was careful.”
“Really, Lydia, there’s nothing careful about meeting a man like that in private! Have you learned nothing over the years? What on earth is the matter with you?”
“You should have known I’d never let that locket go,” Lydia said. “Especially after Papa died.”
“You’ve not even looked at it in ages!” In her agitation, Mrs. Boyd rose and began to pace, leaning heavily on her cane. “Honestly, Lydia, now Lord Northwood knows we visited a pawnshop and that we… Oh heavens, what if this becomes known?”
“He won’t tell anyone.”
“How on earth do you know?”
She didn’t. And yet, somehow, she did. “He’s not a gossip. He would not deliberately besmirch another person’s reputation.”
“You’re so certain of that?”
“Would you do such a thing?”
“Well, I—”
“Of course you wouldn’t. Because you know the possible consequences. So does Lord Northwood.”
She eyed her grandmother with wariness. Mrs. Boyd’s lips pressed together, but she didn’t appear inclined to argue. Perhaps because she knew Lydia spoke the truth.
Lydia shivered and rubbed her arms, pushing aside the threatening darkness of the past. Although she lived in dread of any form of gossip, she could not resist the desire to know more about Lord Northwood.
“Is it true?” she asked. “Did his mother run away with another man?”
“Oh, such unpleasant rumors.” Mrs. Boyd waved a hand. “It’s why most people still want nothing to do with them, even though they’re quite wealthy. But yes, as far as I know, the countess, who everyone believed exceedingly proper, was caught having an affair with a young Russian soldier. She ran off with him, and the earl petitioned for a divorce. Quite rightly, I must admit. Northwood returned to London in the midst of the whole thing. Terrible, really, that he had to contend with the aftermath of such a scandal. They’ve never recovered, that family.”
“What happened to the countess?”
“She’s been banned from the estates, though I don’t think she ever tried to return. I imagine she’s still living in sin, probably in the wilds of Russia.” Curiosity narrowed her grandmother’s eyes. “So what was he like?”
“Lord Northwood?” Lydia searched for words. “Polite, I suppose. Implacable.”
Angry.
Compelling. Handsome. Tempting…
Lydia cut short the thought. She must not think of any man in that way, least of all Lord Northwood.
“Hmm.” Mrs. Boyd tapped her cane. “From what I understand, Lord Rushton’s sons have something in their blood, Cossack ancestors and all. The earl has an ancient family that extends back to the Normans, I believe, pure English lineage there. Not from their mother, though. It accounts for their roughness, that Russian blood. Even before the scandal, Lady Chilton was concerned about the prospect of her daughter marrying Lord Northwood.”
Lydia blinked. An unpleasant emotion rose in her chest, something greenish brown, the color of slimy grass beneath a layer of slush.
“Lady Chilton’s daughter is going to marry Lord Northwood?” she asked.
“Not anymore, no. They were affianced at one time, but then after Lady Rushton behaved so abominably, Lord Chilton called off the engagement. He refused to have his daughter associated with the Halls, despite their wealth.”