Elisabeth Kidd by My Lord Guardian Page A

saying lately. Why did she do it? It could not even be simply because she was frightened of Lyle—although Sydney recognized now that this was a part of it. There must be some other reason.
    As if he felt her eyes on him, Lyle turned his head unexpectedly and looked at Sydney. Equally unexpectedly, he smiled. A sudden awareness that she and Lyle were the only two people present who understood each other’s thinking came to her—and with it the irrelevant thought that this was not to be wondered at, their being both, so to speak, alone in the world.
    Sydney felt her own cheeks turning scarlet. Furious with herself, she turned again—forgetting Susan’s arm in her own and nearly causing that young lady to trip on the edge of the carpet.
     

Chapter 8
     
    The party for London set out a week later, Sydney having declared herself more than ready to go, and having convinced Prudence of her fitness to do so. Cedric’s interest in life outside Long Hill revived and he went off cheerfully to order his curricle to be polished. Lyle’s attention, on the other hand, flagged discourteously; he shrugged his shoulders, instructed his servants to lend every assistance to the travelers, and retreated into his library.
    He did, however, emerge long enough to bid farewell to his guests as they waited in the long, gracefully curved drive of Long Hill for the carriage to be brought around. Cedric had invited Sydney to ride beside him on his curricle, but she was told firmly by Prudence—who was prompted by Murray who was ordered by Lyle—that she would do no such thing. Sydney, Prudence, and Susan would travel in Lyle’s best carriage, as befitted gentlewomen. Cedric could drive himself if he so desired, with Hitchin up behind him. Jenkins and Daisy would follow with the baggage coach.
    The April sun lifted everyone’s spirits, and Sydney was even moved to approach the Marquess and shake his hand.
    “Good-bye, my lord.”
    Her smile was as sunny as the weather. Lyle returned it.
    “Good-bye, Miss Archer. Do not turn London upside down too quickly, please.”
    “I could, you know,” Sydney reminded him with an impertinent grin.  She then climbed up into the carriage with no assistance from Chambers, to whom—and to Murray, Mrs. Collins, and the other servants, Lyle noted—she bade an even warmer farewell than she had to her guardian.
    Lyle watched the little expedition set off down the drive, and his smile faded to a faint scowl. Blast the little minx! He had expected to feel a blessed sense of relief at seeing the last of her, but here he was, still wondering what lay behind that impish grin. The thought struck him that she had humbugged him after all—that she had no intention of behaving herself once she was out of his sight, but had deliberately lulled him into believing he had scotched her grand, if ill-defined schemes once and for all. He could not now change his oft-expressed determination not to go to London himself—Sydney doubtless counted on that—but he was mightily tempted. It would certainly be entertaining to see precisely what she got up to there! Lyle made a rude noise to himself and turned back into his suddenly very empty house.
    Sydney, unaware of Lyle’s doubts, sat back happily in the carriage and concentrated her mind on the delicious opportunities ahead of her—pushing to the back of it the nagging notion that she had left something unfinished behind—and gazed out the window at the ever-changing view of the springtime-green countryside. Prudence, for once acting up to her name, refrained from mentioning to Sydney until they were approaching the village of Chiswick, some dozen miles from London, that they would be making a brief stop there to pay their respects to Lady Romney, whose home was charmingly situated with a sweeping view of the nearby Thames. Sydney turned her head to scowl at her chaperone.
    “Dear Vanessa will give us a lovely tea,” Prudence said brightly, not meeting Sydney’s