The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [67]
“Yes, well, those stories abound.”
“Not here in Birmingham. Mother was shocked and still will not tell me who it was.”
They talked on about scandals of Seasons past, and by the time he was in his carriage headed back to his town house, Chase wished he had not consumed quite so much brandy.
Griffin had just told him that Lydia Chernov was too honest. How interesting. He was almost positive she had been less than honest with him. Gambling, years of serious gambling, had taught him what to look for. For all her honesty in business, Chase was sure that there was something in her personal life she was hiding from him. When would she trust him enough to tell him?
NINE
“Chase, I’m not sure meeting Grandmama is a good idea. Let me talk to her alone.” Lydia began to reach for the coin around her neck and then stayed her hand, dropping it back to her waist.
“Lydia, take me upstairs. I expect she is as curious about me as I am about her.”
“Yes,” Lydia said with an anxious sigh. “She has been nagging me endlessly.”
“Are you afraid she will not like me or she will like me too well, before you’ve decided what you think?”
“I don’t know. Both, I suppose.”
“That’s what your hesitation is about? You do not want to be pressured into a decision?” He took her face in his hands and kissed her, letting his hands slide to her neck and then her shoulders as he pulled her to him. When they broke apart, each gasping for breath, he smiled. “I think you have decided. Or else I have misjudged you and you’re not nearly as virtuous as I believe.”
Lydia’s face drained of color. Didn’t she know he was teasing? Or was she the sort that did not take teasing well? Chase began to walk toward the stairs. “Take me up to her, my dear. I cannot stand a moment more of the suspense.”
With an annoyed huff, she punched his arm lightly and went ahead of him. So as not to crowd her, he left a few steps between them, which gave him a delightful view of her swaying hips.
The flat that Lydia called home was small and tidy, just as he expected. One table was piled with fabric samples in no apparent order, but that was the only sign of disarray in the main room. There were two—no, three—doors off the main room, and one of the doors was ajar. No sooner had Lydia closed the door behind them than someone called out to her.
“Lydia!” The voice was strong but tinged with age and impatience. “Who do you have with you?”
“A friend, Babushka. When you are ready for a caller, have Delphie bring you out.”
Chase could hear the woman berating the serving girl. Lydia turned to him and shrugged her apology. Going over to a cabinet, she pulled out a bottle, vodka he assumed, and three glasses. Vodka before sunset? Is that how Russians dealt with difficult conversations?
“We are at the table, Grandmama,” Lydia said as a very old, very frail woman came out of the bedroom, using a cane to feel in front of her rather than for support.
“A friend? You said this man is a friend. Is this the gentleman that you have been seeing?”
“This is Lord Chase. He is related to the Duke of Bournemouth. He is the gentleman who rescued me from the abduction.”
“Exactly, and he has been here almost every day since. It’s about time you brought him to see me.”
“Yes, Grandmama,” Lydia said.
“Do not use that long-suffering tone with me, Lydia. Someone must look out for your best interests if your own family will not. Where is my vodka?”
“Right here, dearest.” Lydia led her to a chair and helped her make a comfortable seat.
A few minutes passed in conventional conversation. When the topics of weather, fashion, and the health of the king had been dispensed with, Lydia filled the silence with the first pressing question. “Grandmama, before he left on his last trip, Alexei gave me a coin that he asked me to wear and regard as my greatest treasure.”
Grandmama straightened her already straight spine and spoke in Russian, paused, and then reverted to English. “Alexei gave you the coin. Thank God! I thought he drowned with it.”
“You know about the coin?” Lydia