The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [56]
“My Christian name?” She paused and he wondered if she would refuse outright to tell him or if she was distracted by images of him naked as well. He could hope so.
“Well, Mr. Chase,” she said with a smile, not coy but teasing, “I do work with purple cloth.”
It meant nothing to him at first. “Could you be a little less cryptic?” he asked, smiling as he used her own phrase. Then it came to him. “Lydia!” he announced as he turned more fully toward her.
“Very good, sir.” She laughed and touched the chain at her neck. “You know the Bible.”
“Not all that well, I’m afraid. But I had a . . .” He stopped before he used the word tutor. “Um, teacher who insisted on starting each day’s lesson with readings from the New Testament.”
He closed the door that he had opened only a crack. “And what else do you share with St. Paul’s Lydia? It’s from one of his letters, is it not?”
“No, from Acts: ‘a certain woman named Lydia, a seller of purple.’ It’s unclear whether she sold the dye or the fabric, but for my purposes it’s fabric.”
“But the important thing about Lydia is that she was a successful woman of faith and generosity. A lovely name, Mrs. Chernov. You wear it well.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chase. I will see you tomorrow.”
It was a dismissal as surely as if she had opened the door for him, but he had left her smiling.
He admired so much about her besides her amazing beauty. She was brave, independent, and sensible, with a few less appealing attributes mixed in: cautious, skeptical, and prickly.
All of those qualities, the good and the less than perfect, would put him at a disadvantage when he told her his true name. How odd that the “advantage” of birth and wealth would not work in his favor at all.
Then she would have to decide if she wanted any more to do with him. And he wanted to be part of her life. As much as he wanted her physically, he wanted to know where she came from, why she lived here, what she hoped for the future. But he was afraid that once she knew who he was, the image of Lydia Chernov swathed in purple cloth might be as close as he would ever come to making love with her.
“Lydia, dearest, you must stop worrying. It has been days now and there has been no sign of trouble.” Grandmama struggled up from her seat and moved to the table, feeling her way to her place. “Come eat your dinner and tell me when you have rescheduled your meeting with Mr. Allerton.”
Lydia sat down and stared at the usually appetizing fish in a clear sauce. The filet was a modest serving at her request, but still she could not bring herself to do more than take one small bite. She made sure to clink the silver on the edge of the plate so that Grandmama would think she was eating.
“Mr. Allerton will be away for another week. Irina has been in once since Tuesday and is all impatience when there is nothing I can do about his travels.”
“Yes, Irina wants everything now, if not sooner, and you are left to pacify her as best you can. Wise you are to discourage her from calling on me, or I fear I would be reduced to poking my own granddaughter with my stick to make her leave.” Grandmama took a dainty bite of her fish before she went on. “Now, that gentleman who keeps calling. The one who rescued you. Please do send him up to visit.”
Lydia all but shuddered at the thought of Mr. Chase and Grandmama with their heads together. If Grandmama considered him worthy, Lydia would not have one secret left. Grandmama would tell him everything. God forbid, she prayed.
“I would not embarrass you, I promise, my dear one. I only want to meet the man who gives all appearances of appreciating what a treasure you are.”
And so it went. By the time Delphie had cleared away their supper and came to help Grandmama to bed, Lydia had a headache from Grandmama’s pressure, kindly meant, but pressure nonetheless. Taking a seat by the window, she thought about sending a cup of tea to the man standing on guard, but then she saw him take