he would dream about her, and that scent of wildflowers that made him think of home.
6
Lydia giggled softly as something tickled her cheek. She brushed a hand against her face, trying to make it stop. She stilled, her laughter dying as her hand felt warm flesh. Her eyes flew open, and she saw the pale morning light illuminate a hand close to her face. Brodie had been brushing the backs of his knuckles over her skin ever so lightly.
“Time to wake, lass. You need to dress so we may leave.” He gripped the covers and tugged them off her body, which made her shriek and cover herself with her hands. The filmy chemise felt far less protective of her body in the light of day. She nearly toppled over in her attempt to escape the bed, lest he decide to remove her from it himself.
“Bathe and change. I’ll have Rafe send a maid.” Brodie left the room abruptly after that announcement.
Lydia scowled at the closed door. Then her angry expression turned to a worried frown. She had slept in Brodie’s bed all night. Even though he had not touched her, if the fact were ever revealed, she would be completely and totally compromised. Even if she managed to escape and return to her family, she knew what her great-aunt would say. She was unmarriageable. Whatever life she might have dreamed of was now impossible.
Grief and longing for a life she’d never have came swift and sudden, like a violent storm, drowning her. Lydia covered her face with trembling hands as she gave in to silent sobs. It was a long while before she was able to collect herself. She straightened her shoulders, a look of resigned acceptance upon her face.
As she gazed into the mirror, seeing her pallor and the lost look in her eyes, she felt homesick for the safety of her own bed, her own family, even if they did drive her mad at times. To be trapped with this brute of a Scot who wouldn’t believe her when she said she wasn’t Portia—it was enough to turn her stomach.
But she wasn’t going to let him use her as a carpet to walk all over. She still had some backbone, and she would find a way to make this work to her advantage somehow. If Brodie wanted a mistress, he would have one.
Her reasoning was simple: if the damage could not be undone, then she might as well enjoy what pleasures the man could offer. Brodie was incredibly handsome, and she could not deny that she had imagined belonging to him after first seeing him at the ball. And now he would be hers.
More importantly, he would not be Portia’s.
There was some bitter amusement to be had at that particular fact. Her scheming sister had sought to entrap Brodie, but all Portia had done was drive him to abduct the wrong sister. Once Portia discovered this, she would no doubt be outraged at the notion of Lydia being mistaken for her, which also gave her some satisfaction.
A young upstairs maid, a shy girl by the name of Jane, came to the bedchamber to help her bathe and dress. They reviewed the gowns that Portia had packed in the two travel cases. At least her sister had thought to pack the prettier of her gowns.
Lydia chose a dark rose-colored satin gown with gold netting on the skirts. Pink silk peonies had been sewn around the hem, with delicate green satin vines and pale pink buds decorating the sleeves and bodice. It was one of her more extravagant day gowns.
At Lydia’s request, Jane styled her hair in a simple Grecian fashion rather than the current vogue of ringlets about her face. When she was ready, she thanked the shy girl and exited the bedchamber. She half expected her abductor to be waiting outside the door to grab her, but the corridor was empty.
She headed for the stairs, noting the layout of this fashionable townhouse, which was much like the one her father had purchased. This must be Rafe Lennox’s home, as her sister had said. Lydia couldn’t help but wonder how Portia had discovered this bit of information in so short a time. It worried her how her sister’s cleverness could get everyone around her into trouble, and yet somehow never Portia herself.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and heard Rafe and Brodie chatting quietly in the dining room. She approached the open door with apprehension.