He thanked God that he had not been talked into the wig.
“Gabe, you may be interested to know that Arthur is a great patron of the mechanical arts,” Lydia said, with perhaps more loyalty than accuracy. “Perhaps you could tell him about your—”
Gabriel did not seem to be listening. “Do you vote your seat in the Lords, Strathrannoch?” he asked abruptly. “I have some legislation I want to introduce on the disposal of refuse in urban districts, and I—”
“Oh Jesus,” said Ned. He threw himself down onto a settee and balanced his boots on the wooden arm. “It has been, quite literally, less than two minutes, and you’ve already brought up fecal matter.”
Gabriel scowled. “It is an issue of public health, as you well know, and I will take support wherever I can get it.”
“No one wants to bring out your shit bill, Gabe. It lacks a certain refinement.”
“It is not ashit bill—”
“Lord Strathrannoch votes by proxy,” Lydia cut in. She had the timing of one long-practiced in interruption.
Ned and Gabe fell silent and turned identical dismayed looks upon him.
“Oh bollocks,” Ned said. He swung his feet down and sat up, which Arthur felt was not a good sign. “Don’t tell Theo. He thinks proxy voting should be abolished. Enables corruption, something something, political cronies, and so forth.”
“I prefer to remain in Scotland,” Arthur said grimly.
In fact, he could not afford to travel to London and stay for the duration of the parliamentary session, but he would have rather chewed off his own arm than admit such a thing to Lydia’s brothers.
“Do you?” inquired Ned curiously. “And Lyddie wants that too?”
He looked helplessly to Lydia. He thought she did. Hehopedshe did, as preposterous as it seemed here in this opulent sitting room.
“Yes,” she said softly into the silence, and his heart leapt.
He wanted to pull her into his arms. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair. He wanted to ask if she was certain, if she could possibly be certain. He wanted—
To his mingled relief and dismay, their locked gaze was broken as two more Hope-Wallaces entered the sitting room. He turned reluctantly away from her.
The final brother was a buttoned-up sort of fellow, auburn-haired and of a height with Jasper and Gabriel. He looked to be a handful of years older than Arthur, and he had on his arm a tiny, fairylike woman in perhaps her midfifties with silvery-blond hair and familiar dark blue eyes.
Lydia was on her feet and in the arms of this eldest brother in an instant.
“Theo,” she mumbled into his jacket, “I’ve missed you!”
After a moment, Theo set Lydia back away from him and gave her a thorough once-over. “I’ve missed you too,” he said gravely, “Lady Strathrannoch.”
Lydia went red to the roots of her hair and then slowly—like a woman facing the gallows—turned to the petite blonde at Theo’s side. “Mother.”
On a sob, Mrs. Hope-Wallace snatched her daughter into her arms and buried her face into Lydia’s hair. “My baby! My little girl! I’ve been beside myself!”
The Hope-Wallace brothers emitted various scoffs and groans.
“Come off it, Mother,” Ned said. “You thought she was in Sussex like the rest of us did.”
“I knew,” said Mrs. Hope-Wallace damply. “I felt it in my heart that she had left England. A mother always knows.”
After submitting to her mother’s attentions for longer than Arthur would have thought possible, Lydia wrestled herself free. “I’m fine, Mother.” She half turned to Arthur, though she did not close the distance between them. “Ah—let me—that is, allow me to…”
She seemed slightly at a loss for words.
“The giant is her new husband,” Ned put in. “Your baby outranks you, Mother.”
Lydia visibly blanched.
