It Had to be the Duke - Christi Caldwell Page 0,40

each other. They might have aged. They might have lived entire lives apart and created entire families with other people, but ultimately, he and Lydia were fated to be together. Their lives were meant to intersect, regardless of anything that had passed or would pass.

Or at least he believed their lives and hearts were inextricably linked.

What of Lydia, though?

Did she feel that same sense of shared destiny between them?

He certainly knew that during these past two days together, she’d laughed as easily and as comfortably with him as she had all those years ago, and he’d felt that same lighthearted joy and amusement. He knew passion was still there, as she’d responded in his arms with a woman’s unabashed—and unashamed, and beautiful for it—desire.

But also, it had been just a couple of days, too. What if she, a widowed woman, was content with the freedom she now had? The thought slithered around his mind and settled there.

His stomach muscles gripped tightly.

For the truth remained that she’d chosen another road before. What if she saw a different fate for them? One in which they’d always wander different paths?

Geoffrey balled his hands hard. No. He couldn’t think of it. He wouldn’t. He’d failed to make her see before. He’d not fail again. Not this time.

He felt her before he heard her. But then, they’d always been so in tune with each other.

The door opened, and Geoffrey looked up.

“Her ladyship, the Countess of Chombley,” his butler announced as though it were the most natural thing in the world for Geoffrey to take company with one of Society’s leading matrons alone, at night, in the gardens.

But of course, that was a luxury afforded Geoffrey as a duke. No one ever questioned him. Only Lydia had freely challenged him, and he’d missed it.

“Geoffrey,” Lydia called over the moment the servant had gone. She stepped forward with a hesitancy to her step that he didn’t ever recall from her. Tiptoed, more. And then she stopped. With the half moon hanging in the sky, just as it had all those years ago, the universe might as well have mocked them with their past and their pain. The pale glow of that orb cast a soft light, bathing Lydia’s cherished features. Within her fingers, she gripped the missive he’d sent, tightly enough that all the blood had left her knuckles, leaving them white. “Is… everything all right, Geoffrey?”

“Is everything all right?” he repeated wistfully. “Do you know, for a very long time, it hasn’t been, Lydia.”

“I know something of that.”

“Something?”

“A lot,” she amended.

He drew in a deep breath once more, and he, the charming rogue with a reputation that preceded him, found himself at sea, struggling to find the right words for the woman who mattered so very much to him. “Thank you for meeting me here.”

*

Lydia hovered there, uncertain.

He’d thank her for meeting him here. So very formal with those words of gratitude. As though they’d not once been best friends. As though they’d not been lovers.

But then, how easily you just want to dismiss the hurt you caused…

“Of course I’d meet you, Geoffrey,” Lydia finally said. “We are friends,” she added softly.

“Friends,” he murmured. Giving her a wistful once-over, Geoffrey, his hands clasped behind him, rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet in the same way he had as a boy.

His hadn’t been a question, and yet… “Yes. Friends.” Lydia bit the inside of her cheek. “Unless… we’re not anymore?”

“No, Lydia.” He slid closer, and his palm came up. Her eyes slipped briefly shut, but his hand sailed past her as he brushed at a spot on the brick wall behind her. Her heart fell at his words and at the absence of his touch.

She put her shaking hands behind her and folded them to hide their trembling, and in a bid for casualness, she leaned against the wall, taking support from that hard brick surface. “No?” She made herself ask that question she feared an answer to. “As in too many years”—and wrongs on her part toward this man—“now separate us?”

His high brow dipped. “Of course not,” he scoffed, and the wings of hope brought her heart rising and fluttering in her breast. “No, as in we’ve always been friends, and that hasn’t changed.” His brow slipped another fraction. “Unless it’s changed for… you.”

“No!” She spoke on a rush, abandoning her place at the wall and propelling herself toward him. “Never.” Her feelings had never changed for this man. Yes, she’d come