Page 35 of Gone with the Rake

“What do you mean that won’t do? It’s perfect.” Lydia’s voice rose slightly with indignation.

“Yes, but you can’t just ask him to share every aspect of his life without sharing yours.”

Lydia grimaced, slumping against the bed frame. “What am I supposed to say? I do not know anything about Miss Prescott, do you?”

“No.” Honoria shook her head. “But you’ll have to come up with something.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes on Honoria, a calculating thoughts swirling in her mind. “Fine. Write this.”

Chapter 11

…Now you might think, my dear Lord Thornton, why should you be the one divulging all your information, sharing all your secrets while I have not provided you with any anecdotes from my life?

Well, I would be happy to tell you everything, except that my life is rather boring. At this moment, I am sitting on my bed writing the letter to you, while my sister is looking over my shoulder and insisting that I am doing it all wrong. Apparently, addressing you as Lord Thornton is too formal, and telling you about my nagging sister is too familiar.

I beg of you to ease her mind. Is there a less formal way for me to address you? Or would you rather we kept to more formal communication?

Thorn chuckled as he read through the letter, the sound echoing in his empty study. He hadn’t imagined Miss Prescott to be amusing. In fact, he had thought her to be rather uptight. Yes, she was uncertain of her dancing abilities even during the ball, but she didn’t seem… He shook his head, running a hand through his dark hair. He wasn’t certain how to describe her now.

She was nervous, reserved, and full of doubts during their dance. Now, he found out she had a light sense of humor. His fingers traced the playful words on the page. Perhaps, she felt more at ease in the comfort of her own home. Would she feel as comfortable under Thornton’s roof?

If so, bestowing revenge upon his father might not be such a chore after all.

Thorn picked up a quill and rotated it between his fingers. He pursed his lips in thought as he considered what to write, then dipped the quill into the inkwell with decisive movements and started writing, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Dearest Miss Prescott,

You would be surprised to realize that reading about your little tiff with your sister was the highlight of my social calendar. As much as it might seem to be a fancy lifestyle from the outside, the balls and soirees get tiresome after a while. And I am saying this as someone who has not frequented many social events in my life.

You shall see it well enough once you become a viscountess. I am certain the life of a merchant’s daughter has been far more eventful than anything awaiting you after our marriage.

I do not mean to make the prospect of our marriage unappealing to you. I just don’t want to see you disappointed. However, rest assured that I shall work tirelessly to ease your acceptance into society and make the entry of your sisters as smooth and painless as I can.

Sincerely,

Thorn

P.S. Please assure your sister that my friends, and therefore my fiancée and her family, have leave to call me Thorn. I hope that this will appease your sister’s spirit and that perhaps she will cease reading your personal correspondence with your fiancé, lest I share very intimate details in my further letters.

* * *

“Lest I share very intimate details in my further letters?” Lydia paused in her pacing the length of Honoria’s tiny room, a flush creeping up her neck. “Is he flirting with me? I mean us, I mean her!”

“What if he is?” Honoria lifted her shoulder in a shrug and righted the stack of papers against the surface of her bedside table. “He thinks he is corresponding with his betrothed. Why would it be wrong of him to flirt?”

Lydia grimaced, twisting a loose thread from her sleeve, then continued her nervous pacing. “I suppose it wouldn’t. And I suppose it is to our advantage. I was thinking of a rather devious plan—”

“Lydia!” Honoria exclaimed in horror, nearly upending the inkwell.

“What?” Lydia halted once more. “I haven’t even told you the details yet.”

“I do not like the word devious in this context.”

“Just listen, would you?” Lydia raised her forefinger.

“Fine.” Honoria’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What is your grand plan?”

“Well,” Lydia expelled a breath, gesticulating wildly with the letter as she spoke, “we can ask him to attend one of the plays next week in the Medusa Theater, and I can accost him on the way there—”