He got to her coach in a trice and pulled down the door handle to whip it open.
“Good God!” Lydia gasped. “Where did you spring from?”
“God called away t’London, a bit after I sent you a letter,” he said, knowing that he was grinning like a loon and not caring if he was or not. He sprang inside her coach, ignoring her goggling maid-servant, and sat beside her. “I sent a note round your house, and got told you’d already left, so I was hopin’ t’run across you like this, somewhere on the road, at any rate … comin’ or goin’, no matter. You look simply … wonderful!”
And ain’t ye goin’ t’gush somethin’ back? Lewrie wondered at Lydia’s reticence. She was smiling, but it wasn’t the same sort of adoring look that he remembered. In point of fact, one of her brows was arched, as if nettled by his sudden appearance. And, she had yet to offer him even one of her hands, much less a cool peck on a cheek! He put that down to the presence of the maid-servant. Lydia could be warm, open, and girlishly animated in private, very quick to smile or laugh out loud. In public, though, her demeanour was arch and imperious, guarded, cautious, and aloof. Given that she had been the victim of nearly three years of scandal and newspaper gossip when she had pled for a Bill of Divorcement in the House of Commons, with charges and countercharges from her bestial husband almost a daily thrill for avid readers, it was no wonder that she had need to armour herself. During the procedure, and even after Parliament had voted her Divorcement and rejected her husband’s, Lydia had become a scorned and rejected woman to all but her closest old friends and her small family.
Lewrie had forgotten that in his eagerness, and silently chid himself for being so boyish.
“I tried to spot your coach on the way to London, but no luck,” Lewrie babbled on. “And now you’re returning to the city?”
“You were not in Portsmouth,” she replied, nigh accusingly.
“Admiralty,” Lewrie told her with a shrug. “They summon, I have to go, and I hadn’t gotten your reply to my invitation, so I could make no plans for your arrival ’till I knew where we both were, when you were coming down, if you would be coming at all.”
“The George Inn was full,” Lydia said, rustling her skirts in irritation. “I ended up spending the night at some place called the Blue Posts … full of Midshipmen and … eager young Lieutenants.”
Ouch! Lewrie cringed; Full o’ lusty young sprogs, she means, and her the only woman in sight!
“Sorry for that, Lydia,” Lewrie said. “That couldn’t have been enjoyable. Er … you’re not in a tearin’ rush t’get back to London, are you? Mean t’say, Liphook’s but a few miles away, and there’s an inn there.”
Her expression was stony, and her dark-emerald-coloured eyes bore a leery squint.
“We haven’t seen each other in ages, and at the least I could offer you dinner, or just a pot of tea, or…,” Lewrie offered, feeling his neck beginning to burn when he realised that he was pleading. “Talk things over? Catch up on the latest news since your last letter got to me in the Bahamas? The last I got was four months ago.”
“I would be getting into London a little after dark as it is, Alan,” Lydia said, turning her head away in contemplation for a moment. “Even if my coachmen are in Percy’s regiment, and go well-armed, he’d have a fit did I expose myself to the risk of highwaymen at night. I fear that I cannot accept your kind offer.”
At least she called me by my Christian name, he bemoaned.
“I will take a breath of air, and a stroll whilst we are here,” Lydia said to her maid. To Lewrie, with the beginnings of a smile at long last, she said, “If you will be so good as to hand me down, sir?”
Lewrie sprang from the coach to do the footman’s job of folding down the metal steps, then offered her a steady arm to support her as she descended. With her left arm atop his right, they began to stroll toward his hired coach. With fewer witnesses, Lydia leaned close to him, pressing her cheek to his shoulder for a second.
“It is so good to see you, too, Alan,” Lydia said with evident fondness in her voice, and looking into his face with a grin so wide that her nose did its usual, endearing, crinkle. “I, too, have most anxiously tried to spy you on the road, after I sent a note out to your ship, and your First Officer, Westcott, sent me a reply that you had gone up to London. I dearly wish that I could accept your invitation of dinner, or a pot of tea, but … I fear you must be back in Portsmouth by dark yourself, must you not?”
“True, I must,” Lewrie told her, explaining the sad condition of his ship’s bottom, and the urgency of her cleaning before joining Popham’s expedition. “The earlier it’s started, the earlier it’s ended, and we’ll be off.”
“To the South Atlantic?” Lydia gasped. “So soon?”
“I am so sorry, Lydia,” Lewrie said with a long sigh. “Barely back to England, and whish!—then God only knows how long we’ll be before Reliant is de-commissioned and paid off at home, again. Who’d be a sailor, hey? Or … someone who waits for one?” he asked as he gently slid his arm round her waist and drew her to face him.
“This is so cruel!” Lydia whispered, her eyes going moist. “God, how I’ve longed for you to return, and not knowing when that would be. I thought you were still on the other side of the ocean, then your note arrived saying that you were in Portsmouth, with no hint that you were returning!…”
“I’d have gotten back before any letter would have arrived, we left so quickly,” Lewrie explained. “The mail packet’d still be mid-ocean. Sorry about that.”
“How blissfully happy I was to know that you were back safely, and wanted me to come to you,” Lydia said, almost in a whimper. “And to dash off like a bloody … fool!… to find you gone, without one thought for me. No lodging arranged, not even an explanation left for me ’til I had to beg one from your Westcott. Damn you, Lewrie!”
Uh-oh! I’m in the “quag” up t’my neck! Lewrie cringed.
“I didn’t know you’d be coming down, so how could I…,” Lewrie tried to wriggle out, but stopped and peered into her eyes. “I’ve made you angry, haven’t I? Lydia, I am so sorry. Believe me, I wanted to see you just as desperately. If I’d been aboard to get word that you were coming, I’d have strewn the road with rose petals. I did not mean to seem like I ignored you. Don’t be cross with me, Lydia. If we have only a few minutes together here—”
“Yes, you have made me angry, Alan,” Lydia snapped with an impatient toss of her head. “Angry with you, and angry with myself for being such a bloody idiot! Angry for laying myself open to such disappointment. I am angry with you for having to spend a night being gawked at, goggled, and snickered over like a high-priced whore at that horrid lodging house. God knows, I should be accustomed to snickers, scorn, and snubs by now, but I find that I am not, and I did not care to be reminded of how scandalous people think me!”
Christ, I’ve opened Pandora’s Box! Lewrie quailed; She’s ventin’ hot as Vesuvius!
“Lydia, I didn’t mean for that t’happen, I could never—,” he tried to say to mollify her, but she was on a righteous tear, by then.
“Now, just because you ran across me on the road, you’d wish me to lodge with you in some ratty country inn, so you can use me for a convenient vessel for your pent-up lust?” she spat.
Thought of it, Lewrie qualified to himself; but I’ll not admit that to her, by God!
“That’s not what I intended, Lydia,” he lied, trying to assure her. “Just an hour or so of your company over tea, or— Oof!”