Lydia did not disagree with that. The men around her eyed her with open interest. One rather frightening looking man even leered at her.
“Pretty piece of muslin you have there,” he said to Brodie. “How much for a quick taste?”
Brodie’s hand on her waist tightened. “She is, isn’t she? But I canna share her. She’s my wife, you ken. No good Scot ever shares his woman, especially his wife.”
If Lydia hadn’t already been controlling her expression, she would have jolted at Brodie calling her his wife. It was only for the sake of dissuading the interest of the other men, but it still startled her.
“Ah, some men aren’t so picky where coin is involved. If’n you change your mind, I’ll be here.” The man winked at Lydia.
She scooted closer to Brodie, a wave of panic making it hard to breathe. What if he changed his mind about her? What if he became upset with her and tossed her to dreadful men such as these? She had no money, no way to get home. She was not brave like Joanna, nor was she clever or inventive like Lysandra. She was a woman with little choice but to throw herself at the mercy of Brodie Kincade.
“You’re trembling,” Brodie whispered in her ear as two glasses of wine were brought over.
“Please, Mr. Kincade, do not give me to those men.” She expected him to laugh and say he might just do that if she didn’t please him. Instead, he seemed quite furious, but not with her.
“I wouldna do that. I’ll not let a man lay a hand on you, you ken? You’re safe with me, lass.”
She hated that lass sounded wonderful on his lips. She placed one of her hands on his. “You mean that? You swear it?”
“I do.” He nudged her glass of wine. “Now, drink up. I’ll have some food brought over.” He waved the serving maid down and ordered three bowls of soup. Rafe joined them a few minutes later.
“Not the safest crowd here tonight. Quite a number of ruffians outside.” Rafe said this calmly to Brodie, like he was reporting on the weather.
“Aye. Someone offered to pay me for time with Miss Hunt.”
“Oh, that’s famous,” Rafe chuckled. “Did you kill him?” He glanced around. “Should I ask where you hid the body?”
“I thought it best not to rip off any arms before we had our dinner.”
“Quite right. Wouldn’t do to spoil our appetite.” Rafe grinned at Lydia, as if she were somehow in on the joke.
When they had finished their meal, Brodie reached for her hand. “You had better get some rest. The horses will be fresh tomorrow morning.” He led her upstairs, stopping at one of the rooms and handing her the key Rafe had given him.
“Lock yourself in,” Brodie counseled.
“Oh, but I need a maid,” she whispered. “Could you send one of the young ladies from downstairs up to see me?”
“What for?” He looked her over critically.
“My dress. I cannot undo it on my own.”
“Is that all?” He shouldered his way into her room. She gasped in protest, but before she could stop him, he had turned her around and was unlacing her gown and stays. He did it far more gently this time than he had the night before, and for that she was grateful.
“There. Now, to bed with you,” he ordered.
Lydia waited until he had left the room before she removed her loosened gown and the stays, along with her stockings and slippers. She retrieved a dark-red shawl embroidered with green vines and draped it around her shoulders to stay warm. It was not overly chilly for a June evening, but after everything that had happened, she felt very small, very alone, and very cold.
What was her family up to? Surely they’d tracked Brodie’s movements back to Rafe’s home, but then what? Did her father even suspect that they’d left Bath? Would Cornelia be shouting the roof down about scandal and wildly fluttering her ostrich feather fan to keep from pretending to faint?
A smile pulled at Lydia’s lips. Hadn’t she longed for a change of pace? For her life to have a bit of adventure? Well, she certainly had it now. More than she could handle. Abduction by a Scottish scoundrel, scandalous passion with said scoundrel, and a wild ride to Scotland. Only what her fate would be once they reached Edinburgh she couldn’t know. That was part of the risk of having an adventure—one did not know if one would ever return.
She thought back to the book Park’s Travels in Africa with a heavy heart and wondered if her fate would match that of Mungo Park. He had traveled up the Niger River and drowned after trying to escape an attack from natives. All of his journals, his maps, and his observations during his second journey into the heart of Africa had washed away in the jungle river. Adventure had cost him his life, as well as that of his sons, who had dared to follow in his footsteps. Only his daughter had survived to continue his legacy, but she’d had no chance for adventure . . . being a woman. That was just as tragic in a different way.
“What will be my legacy?” she asked herself as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
With her reputation ripped to shreds and her virtue soon to follow, she would have nothing left on which to survive. A woman’s value in society lay in her virtue, cruel and unfair though that was. Lydia desperately wished the more fanciful articles that Lady Society penned in the Quizzing Glass Gazette would come true, that women would one day be given a chance to have value in trade or employment.
She had no head for figures or sciences like Lysandra, but she was diligent and organized. She understood everything about efficiency in one’s household. She had taken control of her father’s home and run it for the last five years, better even than most married women would have.
Lydia had a talent for hiring servants to certain positions and training others so they might improve their situations. The servants of the Hunt family were incredibly loyal because of that. They knew that Lydia valued them and, more importantly, that she sought to help them better themselves. She insisted that everyone, right down to the scullery maids, learn to read and write. Consequently, productivity in the Hunt household increased dramatically.
If for whatever reason she could not live at home with her family, perhaps she could offer those services to her friends. Yes. Joanna, Lysandra, and the others of her close-knit group of friends would not abandon her after this, yet they would not be allowed to publicly be seen spending time with her. But if they hired her to consult on the running of households in a more efficient manner, that would give her an opportunity to see her friends. Clinging to that small bit of hope, she smiled.
And then, unexpectedly, strains of music began to come from below, a jaunty beat that soon had her feet tapping. She was unable to resist, and in a matter of moments, she found herself standing up in her bare feet and beginning to dance.
Brodie rejoined his friend at the table. “Where’s your kitten?” Rafe asked.
“In bed.” Brodie waved for a pint of ale.
“I don’t suppose she realizes you will be joining her tonight?” Rafe’s blue eyes glinted with mischief.
“I dinna think so.” Brodie smiled. “She will be surprised later on.”
“Indeed she will.” Rafe watched a man hang a circular wooden board on the wall, and several men stood, pulling knives out as they formed a line. The men began to take turns throwing the knives, trying to hit the bull’s-eye that had been painted in the center.