Married By May

thoughts.
“Really, Lydia,” her mother twittered like a little bird, “you shouldn’t be gathering holly. Can’t you get a footman or a maid to do it for you?”
Lydia shrugged, unrepentant.
“I enjoy it,” she answered simply. “And it wouldn’t be fair to pull them from their duties because I insist on having it.”
“When will the ball be?” Miss Farago asked, her dark eyes, though not as dark as her brother’s, shining with excitement.
“Twelfth Night Eve,” Lydia answered excitedly. It truly was the highlight of her calendar. “Will you still be in the area by then?”
“Not in the area,” Miss Farago answered. “Here!”
Lydia’s stomach performed a strange little flip at the news that she would be sharing a house with the mysterious stranger and his sister.
“Oh?” was all she managed with a suddenly dry throat.
“Yes, they have travelled from Aldonia!” her mother said, her tone awed as though she’d just announced they’d arrived from the moon.
Lydia was suitably impressed. “How envious I am that you have travelled so far.” She smiled. “I should love to travel to Europe—Aldonia, Italy, Spain, France! I’ve never gotten past Yorkshire,” she finished glumly.
But then she remembered something. “Huntsforth has family in Aldonia,” she said. “I wonder if you know them? Some odious nephew who can’t wait to get his greedy paws on Huntsforth’s wealth but apparently can’t bring himself to write a letter.”
“Lydia, really,” her mother chided with scalded cheeks. “You cannot say such things. We do not even know Horatio’s nephew.”
“I know enough,” Lydia continued, unrepentant. “Imagine ignoring an elderly man on his last legs then having the audacity to inherit everything. Oh, and I would just wager that he is rich as Croesus and has no need for Huntsforth’s money. If he were a poor man, he’d have been here begging years ago.”
She turned to look at their guests and was ashamed to see their expressions; Harriet looked both confused and embarrassed; Mr. Farago brooding and most displeased.
“Oh dear.” Lydia was immediately contrite. “Please, forgive my forwardness. I do let my tongue run on.”
Then she was struck by the most horrid thought.
“You don’t know his nephew, do you? I haven’t just insulted a friend or cousin or something?”
Miss Farago opened her mouth to answer, but her brother got there before her.
“Not at all,” he answered smoothly, “but we do know Huntsforth from Aldonia. At least, our family knew him when he lived there. I was just a child when he left, and Harriet hadn’t even been born.”
Lydia breathed a sigh of relief. Wouldn’t it just be like her to put her foot in it?
“I’m glad to hear it,” she answered.
Poor Miss Farago looked bewildered by the conversation, so Lydia decided it was time to change the subject back to more pleasant things.
“Well then, if you’re staying here, you shall be able to help me with arrangements for the ball,” she exclaimed. “I only hope that Huntsforth is well enough to be able to host.”
“Huntsforth would never allow the ball to be cancelled,” Prudence said now, clearly relieved to have had the conversation move on. “Even if he cannot attend himself, he will be happy for us to host on his behalf.”
“I am not sure that I have a suitable gown,” Miss Farago stated, biting her lip.
“Are you old enough to attend?” Lydia asked. “Have you had your come out?”
“Oh, yes. I was—ah—presented last year,” she answered with an odd look for her brother.
Perhaps he was the overprotective sort.
And wasn’t that just lovely?
Lydia knew she was in danger of turning this man into one of the heroes in her Gothic novels, and she gave herself a mental shake. He had barely spoken above five words to her. And he surely wasn’t perfect.
“So, how did your family know Huntsforth? I never hear him speak of his time abroad.”
“Oh, we, um—that is to say, our father is—”
“Our father is dead, unfortunately, Miss Charring.” Mr. Farago cut in smoothly as his sister floundered with the question. “He was quite out of touch with Mr. Huntsforth at the time of his death, but my sister and I were curious about the man who had once been so close to our family, and since we wanted to experience the delights of England anyway, it seemed a good time to visit.”
Lydia beamed at him.
How kind of him to try to rebuild a lost friendship.
“I am sure Huntsforth is delighted to have you here,” she said.
“Unfortunately, Huntsforth hasn’t been able to greet them yet, as he is still quite unwell,” Prudence said. “But after a couple of days of rest, I am sure he will be thrilled to have you here.”
“Well,” Lydia said, standing, needing time to sit in her rooms and pore over every detail of the short meeting she’d just had with Mr. Farago like any self-respecting young lady, “I must remove the forest nymph costume and ready myself for dinner.”
Her comment earned her a pair of matching smiles from their guests, though only one set her heart racing.
“I am so pleased to have you here. The house will be much livelier for it.”
“I, too should like to freshen up from our journey,” Miss Farago said. “Alexander, would you please escort me to my rooms?”
It was a bit unusual for a young woman to ask her brother to show her to her rooms, rather than call for the housekeeper.
But, Lydia reasoned, she was probably shy in these new surroundings.
“Certainly,” Alexander responded, and with a bow to both Lydia and her mother, he followed his sister from the drawing room.
Lydia watched him leave and couldn’t stifle a dreamy sigh.
Alexander.
What a wonderful name.
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