- -
- 100%
- +
Besides, he’d rather savour seeing her tonight, when he could undress her, caress by caress. Warmed by that thought, he entered the jeweller’s establishment.
Taking one look at him, the junior clerk who greeted him sent at once for the owner. Though he tried to extinguish his curiosity, after that gentleman had shown him several fine silver pieces, one of which he selected for his sister, he couldn’t help asking casually whether the lady who’d just left the shop had purchased something similar, so beautifully wrought were the vases.
‘I’m afraid she was selling, rather than buying,’ the owner replied with a sigh—before his eyes lit. ‘I bought from her a particularly nice pearl necklace. Truly, the piece is so fine, I don’t think I’ll have it for long. A vase is a charming gift, but ladies often prefer a more...personal item. Might your sister be interested in such a necklace?’
Jane might not, but Alastair certainly was. ‘Please, do show it to me,’ he replied, his curiosity tweaked even further.
Why would Diana be selling jewellery? Whatever the reason, he knew at once he would buy the necklace back.
Beaming, the jeweller disappeared, returning a moment later with a long double-twisted strand of perfectly matched pearls.
For a moment, shock displaced curiosity, as Alastair recognised the necklace. One of the few mementos Diana had of her mother, who’d died giving her birth, the pearls had been a gift to her from her father on her sixteenth birthday. She’d mentioned several times how special it was to her. He couldn’t imagine why she would part with it.
Glad he’d encountered the jeweller before the piece had been shown to some other customer, he said, ‘You are right. It’s exquisite. I shall take that, too.’
Purchases completed, he picked up the wrapped parcel containing the vase and tucked the velvet case with the pearls in his pocket. He’d give Jane the vase just before guests arrived for dinner, leaving them only a short time for conversation, then slip away when her party left for the theatre.
Already impatient to see Diana again, he was now even more eager for the day to fade into evening. He’d present her with the pearls immediately—and try to discover what circumstance could possibly have induced her to part with something that held such dear memories of her long-dead mother.
* * *
Alastair arrived at the rendezvous even earlier than the previous nights, then paced the parlour until Diana arrived. Though he’d intended to return the pearls to her immediately, the intensity of the kiss she gave him in greeting fired his simmering desire at once to irresistible need. Almost ravenous enough to take her right then and there, he restrained himself, barely, hurrying her to the bedchamber moments after she stepped in the door.
She seemed as ravenous as he was, kissing him urgently while she tugged at his neckcloth and made short work of the buttons of his trouser flap. Pushing him back to sit on the bed, she lifted her skirts and straddled him, guided him deep and rocked against him, driving them both to their peak within moments.
The next loving was nearly as swift, clothing scattered as it was removed in haste. Then after another, languid cherishing they both drifted into the sleep of the satiated.
* * *
Awaking sometime later with Diana tucked in his arms, Alastair smiled as he surveyed the chamber: candles burned low in their sconces, her gown tossed on the back of a chair, her stockings on the bedside table, his neckcloth flung into a corner. Sated for now, he knew that after they consumed the cold collation he’d had set out for them, he’d want her again.
He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Underlying desire, this odd sense of impending loss throbbed in his head like a ticking clock, as if the hours they had together would be limited this time, as they had been before, by some malevolent fate.
Nonsense, he told himself, shaking off the feeling. Eight years ago, they had both been young, still susceptible to the demands of Society and dependent upon others for their support. With him the master of his own estate, she a widow, they now controlled their own destinies, alone and together.
At that encouraging thought, Diana stirred in his arms. Waking, she opened sleepy blue eyes—those beautiful, mesmerising, intense blue eyes—and smiled at him.
Ignoring the wise intention to proceed with caution, his heart leapt with gladness.
Placing a kiss on her forehead, he eased her up against the pillows. ‘I’m famished. There’s refreshment in the next room.’
He wrapped her in his banyan, donned another, and escorted her to the sitting room, where a fire glowed on the hearth and a simple meal awaited. Though she sipped her wine and accepted bread and cheese, something in the set of her body and the guarded expression of her face suggested an underlying tension.
In a rush, he remembered the necklace. She might well be troubled by whatever had made her part with that once-cherished memento.
‘I’ve got something for you,’ he said, hopping up to find his breeches and extract the velvet pouch from the pocket.
‘What, more gifts? You really don’t have to get me things.’
‘I like to get you things—especially when you have such delightful ways of appreciating them.’
‘Ever calculating,’ she said with a smile. ‘Ingenious Alastair.’
His mouth dried and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. Ingenious Alastair... Diana had coined the nickname, and taken up by his cousins, it had stuck.
It was only one of those she’d devised, her favourite in the game they played, he praising her in verse, she describing him in different moods and circumstances: Adulating Alastair, Adamant Alastair, Eccentric Alastair. He’d joked that she would run out of adjectives, and she’d assured him she had an endless trove of them, enough to last all the years they’d spend together.
He refocused his gaze on Diana. From the stark expression on her face, he knew she was remembering, too—the lost years, the unrealised promise.
‘I’ve brought you something,’ he repeated, breaking the mood. He held out the pouch.
Uncertain—the wounded look still in her eyes—she took it from him and extracted the pearls. Colour came and went in her cheeks before she looked back up at him. ‘How did you get these?’
‘I happened to stop by the jeweller right after he purchased them. Thinking me a likely customer, he showed them to me. I knew at once they must be yours, and bought them back. Why on earth would you sell your mother’s pearls?’
The subtle agitation he’d noticed in her earlier intensified. At first he thought she’d simply refuse to answer, but after obvious struggle, she said, ‘I was short of funds. I must consult a solicitor about a matter I’d hoped to delay until...until later, but changing circumstances make the need to settle it urgent.’
‘Short of funds?’ he tossed back, his tone sharpened by a bitterness he’d not quite mastered. ‘I find it hard to believe a duke’s widow would be less than amply provided for. Graveston was exceedingly wealthy. I should think the settlements would have left you very well off.’
She shook her head. ‘In the haste of the wedding, I don’t believe settlements were ever drawn up.’
Alastair frowned. ‘It would have been exceedingly careless of your father to neglect doing that.’
‘You must remember, the Duke possessed a large number of my father’s vowels. If the Duke assured him settlements were unnecessary, he was not in a position to press the issue.’
‘In the absence of settlements, you’re still entitled to the dower. Though much of the estate, like my own, is probably tied up in land, your right to a third of it should provide more than sufficient funds to meet whatever needs you have.’
‘Perhaps. Except for the fact that the new Duke despises me. Any claims I might make against the estate, whether entitled to them or not, he would do his utmost to disapprove or delay. And I can’t afford to delay.’
‘What is it you must do that is so imperative, you would sell your mother’s pearls to accomplish it?’
She opened her lips, closed them. With short, jerky movements, she set down her wine glass and leapt up. ‘I...I must go. It’s late, and I cannot stay the night this time.’
Everything about her radiated distress. His concern intensifying, Alastair caught her arm. ‘What is it, Diana? You can tell me. Surely you know I wouldn’t break a confidence.’
Eyes wide, she stared up at him, her breathing quickening, then cast a glance through the open door, towards the dressing table.
‘Talk to me,’ Alastair urged, following the direction of her gaze. ‘I think I can be at least as much help as a mirror.’
She snapped her gaze back to him and pulled her arm free. ‘You don’t understand! I...I can’t talk to you. I can’t confide in anyone. I don’t know how any more.’
‘We used to talk easily, about everything. We can do so again. Won’t you trust me?’
The urgency of her expression became tinged with sadness. ‘Even if I could, you won’t be here for long. Why should you? This...trouble has nothing to do with you. I’ll have to face it alone. I should prepare for it alone. After all, I’ve had years of practice.’
For a moment, he had nothing to reply. She was right; he hadn’t planned for this to be more than a temporary liaison, initially one restricted only to the physical. He’d not yet resolved the conflicting desires pulling at him to embrace her, or to escape before she drew him in more deeply.
‘That may be so,’ he said at last. ‘But you’re no longer forced to be alone. You can fashion a life for yourself now, the life you want, with friends and allies and advocates. There’s no danger to them any more for helping you. If you’re going to be confronting the Duke, you’ll need allies.’
In her face, he could read the hesitation, the conflict between the urge to speak and the habit of withdrawal. Pressing, he continued, ‘If there’s something threatening you, a friend would want to help.’
Her eyes widened, and he knew he’d scored a hit.
‘A threat. Yes.’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘You are right. When battling a duke, one should enlist all the allies one can muster.’
‘So tell me.’
To his intense satisfaction, at length, she nodded. ‘Very well. There is a threat—but not to me.’
Anxious to have her begin before she changed her mind and fled, he urged her back to her seat. ‘What sort of threat?’ he prompted, pouring more wine and handing it to her.
‘Blankford’s—the new Duke’s—solicitor called on me today. I’m not sure how he traced me so quickly, but I anticipated the demand. He wants to take my son back to live at Graveston Court.’
‘Were you not planning to return at some point to the Dower House at Graveston anyway?’
A look of revulsion passing over her face, she shook her head. ‘I’ll never willingly set foot on the estate again. Nor do I want my son there. I’ve told you how the Duke coerced me into wedding him. His heir was raised with the same beliefs—that he possesses ultimate power and the right to do whatever he pleases with it, heedless of the desires of anyone else. Even if I didn’t fear for James, I wouldn’t want my son reared under the influence of such a man.’
Alastair raised an eyebrow. ‘Fear for him? Is he frail?’
‘No, but he might be in danger. You may remember I told you that when Graveston—the late Duke—first paid me attention, his wife was still living. Before I could become too uncomfortable with his unusual regard, it ceased, and he struck up a friendship with Papa. Guileless as he was, Papa welcomed anyone who seemed interested in the botanical studies that consumed him. Within the year, the Duke’s wife died and, using the debts Papa had accumulated, he forced me to wed him.’
A frown on her forehead, Diana leapt up and began to pace, as if the agitation within was too strong for her to remain still. ‘I was...rather oblivious of my surroundings after being brought to Graveston Court, only dimly aware of the quarrels between my husband and his heir. Blankford had not previously acknowledged my existence or exchanged a word with me, but the day he broke with his father and left Graveston for good, he tracked me down in the garden. He accused me of having bewitched the Duke, obsessing him so that he drove his first wife to her death and lost interest in his only son and heir. He warned me that he’d outlive his father, and when he inherited, he would exact vengeance for himself and his mother.’
‘Troubling words, but he was younger then, hot-headed as young men often are. Are you sure he still bears such enmity?’
‘He is his father’s son. In the coldness of his absolute will, Graveston spent almost a year setting up the trap to force me to wed. Blankford would be fully capable of nurturing his hatred for five years. He wants to deny me access to James to punish me, of course. But why would he have any interest in nurturing the son of the woman he holds responsible for the death of his mother and the break with his father? I cannot trust his intentions.’
‘You really believe he might harm the boy? I have to say, that seems...excessive.’
‘So was Graveston’s poisoning my dog and threatening to ruin my father,’ she flashed back. ‘For men of their stamp, the lives of others are of no importance. Only their will matters.’
Alastair still thought it highly unlikely the new Duke, however arrogant and wilful, would go so far as to harm a child. But quite obviously, Diana believed it. And that was enough for him.
‘I sold the pearls, the most valuable of the jewels I possess, to obtain funds to hire the best solicitor I can find,’ she continued. ‘One who can build a case for retaining custody of James that will prevail against the Duke’s claim in a Court of Chancery.’
‘Preparing such a case is likely to be a lengthy endeavour—which will cost you far more than the value of a string of pearls. I already have an excellent solicitor on retainer. Why not let him look into it? As you already admitted, if you contest the Duke on this, he’ll likely do everything legally possible to delay or tie up whatever you’re entitled to as dower, so you need to conserve the assets you have with you. Unless you have substantial cash reserves on hand?’
‘I wouldn’t have sold the necklace if that were so,’ she admitted.
‘Then let me find out what I can,’ he urged.
She frowned. ‘As much as I appreciate your offer, I...I really ought not to accept it. The battle will likely be ugly as well as expensive. The Duke will not forgive anyone who takes my part, and I don’t want you dragged into it.’
‘I’m not a callow collegian any more, Diana. I can hold my own. Besides, you need to utilise every resource you can muster to protect your son.’
‘To protect James,’ she repeated with a sigh. ‘Very well, let your solicitor look into it. I’ve been a poor enough mother thus far, I cannot afford to turn away help, hard as it is to accept.’
‘You, a poor mother? That, I can’t imagine.’
She laughed shortly. ‘Do you remember the paints? The books? The music? Everything that might affect me was utilised by the Duke to try to force a reaction or keep me under control. A child was just one more tool. The only way to protect him was to be indifferent to him...whatever the Duke said or threatened.’
Her voice faded. ‘To my shame, as the years went on, I didn’t have to struggle so hard to be indifferent. Not nearly as hard as I should have. Every time I looked at James, I saw...his father.’
‘Truly? I knew the first time I saw him that he must be your son. He has your eyes.’
Startled, Diana looked back up at him. ‘You think he has...something of me?’
‘Absolutely! Have you never noticed?’
She shook her head. ‘I am trying to do better, now that I can. But after years forcing down and bottling up and restraining emotion, I...I’m afraid I’ll never find my way back to loving him.’
Alastair thought of how he doted upon his nephew, how easy and affectionate the relationship was between Robbie and Jane. A pang of compassion shook him, that the honest, open, loving Diana he’d known could have been brought to shut out her own son.
The late Duke of Graveston had much to answer for.
‘Just let him love you,’ he said, thinking of how Robbie had inveigled himself into Alastair’s heart. ‘In time, you will find yourself responding.’
Diana smiled sadly. ‘I hope so. Now I really must go. How long do you think it will take for your solicitor to have an answer? If Feral—Graveston’s man—left Bath today, he could reach the Court by week’s end. Which means Graveston could make some new demand within a fortnight, if not sooner.’
‘I could summon Reynolds, but it would be faster for me to call upon him in London. If I leave tomorrow, I should be able to return with some word in six or seven days, so you have time to prepare before the Duke can make another move.’
She nodded. ‘I would like that.’ Swallowing hard, she said softly, ‘How can I thank you? Or ever repay you?’
‘Protecting a child is payment enough. As for thanks...’ He gave her a wicked grin. ‘When I return from London, I’m sure I can think of something.’
She managed a wan smile. While normally he would have tried to persuade her to stay longer, now that he was aware of the worry consuming her over the safety of her son, he made no attempt to seduce as he helped her track down and slip on her garments. When she was clothed again, her hair tidied as best they could manage and the concealing cloak in place, he pulled her close. To his delight, after a moment of hesitation, she clung to him.
Though he didn’t regret his offer to go to London, it meant probably a week or more until he would see her again. Already he felt bereft, and with her pressed against him, his body protested the abstinence about to be forced upon it.
‘Try not to worry too much,’ he told her as he released her at last.
‘I’ll try. I’ll try with James, too.’
He kissed the tip of her nose, still reluctant to let her go. ‘I’ll miss you,’ he admitted.
‘Then come back quickly.’
With that, she walked from the room.
* * *
Alastair followed her through the bedchamber to the stairs, listening to the soft footfalls as she descended and the murmur of voices in the entry below where Marston, as previously arranged, waited to engage a chair to carry her safely home.
Once the last echoes faded, he returned to the sitting room, threw himself in a chair, poured another glass of wine, and reviewed what he’d just committed himself to doing.
It did not represent him easing the reins restraining his feelings, he assured the cautious voice in his head. Any man of honour would step in to assure the safety of a child.
It did indicate, however, that sometime over the course of their renewed association, he had come to accept as true the explanation she’d given him for breaking their engagement to marry the Duke.
Drawing back from considering the full implications of that transformation, he turned his mind instead to considering what Diana had told him about her relationship with the new Duke and her fears for her son’s safety.
Though he still thought Diana’s long, bitter association with her husband and his heir caused her to exaggerate the son’s ruthlessness and enmity, he had to admit he was curious how well she’d been provided for. If there truly were no settlements outlining the exact arrangements for her support if widowed, it represented a grievous failure of his responsibilities on the part of her father.
But it was also true that the professor had been a completely unworldly man, a scholar absorbed in his studies. If he had come to view the Duke as a friend and colleague, he might well have been satisfied with just a verbal assurance that his daughter would be well taken care of in the event of her husband’s demise. Particularly as, in the absence of some formal agreement, she would have the dower to a very wealthy estate.
He’d have to confer with his solicitor on this matter, but he didn’t see how the new Duke could deny rights guaranteed under English law. He had to admit, though, that being entitled to something and effectively claiming it could be quite different matters, especially if a personage with the power and resources of a duke set his mind to making it as time-consuming and difficult as possible.
But all of that was for his legal counsel to discover. What warmed him now, as much as the satisfaction of his well-pleasured body, was the fact that he’d managed to persuade Diana to confide in him.
Since encountering her again, he’d been accumulating evidence in mites and snippets of what her married life had been: her at first rejected account of her marriage, the episodes described by Lady Randolph, the information he’d teased out of her about the removal of her paints and books. But aside from that single moment upon awakening yesterday, when she’d looked at him with awe and tenderness, she’d maintained emotionally aloof.
Regrettable as it was that she’d found herself in such a vulnerable position, Alastair had to admit he was almost—glad of it. Without such an imminent threat to her son, she might have continued keeping him at arm’s length indefinitely.
Instead, with some persistence, tonight he’d managed to breach the wall of impassivity she’d erected to disguise her thoughts and feelings, giving him the clearest-yet glimpse into her life. It wrung his heart to realise how difficult it had been for her to force herself to reach out to him, emphasising even further how isolated and alone she’d become.
Still, the concern, independence and initiative she’d exhibited in seeking to shelter her child not only called out his strongest protective instincts, they also gave him enticing glimpses of the girl he’d once known, now more mature, stronger and seasoned by the loss and suffering she’d survived.
Having disarmed her defences to the point of eliciting those revelations, he was more determined than ever to complete the job. To release the Diana still not free of the mask, persuade her it was now safe to step out of isolation and encourage her to claim the life that awaited her.
Only after he’d arranged for her and her son’s protection and coaxed her out of the shadows, would he turn his attention to their possible future. And decide whether to try winning her anew, or let her go before it was too late for him to walk away.
Chapter Eleven
Several days after Alastair’s departure, Diana restlessly paced her parlour. Rain had kept her from a walk with James this morning, and with the resulting mud and wet, it was probably best not to attempt to walk this afternoon.
She was finding it harder and harder to force down her worry, bottle up concern over the future, and present an impassive face to the staff. Even sessions before the mirror were failing her.
Would talking with Alastair again help? She’d felt calmer after returning from their last rendezvous. She told herself it was not missing him that further complicated her tangle of thoughts.
He certainly had been effective at stirring up her feelings. Which meant it would be better to avoid him, once he ended their bargain. Since she’d started seeing him, dribs and drabs of emotion had been leaching out, each leak further weakening the dykes she’d erected to contain them.
Perhaps one day she would be able to ease those restraints, release the anguish and the memories in slow, manageable bits and at length, be free of them.
But now was not that time.
She’d thought if she relaxed just enough to permit Alastair to reach her physically, she’d be able to distract him with passion and escape more intense scrutiny.
Instead, after only two meetings, he’d managed to unearth her most shameful secret and her deepest worry.
In her defence, only the imperative to do whatever she could to protect James had pushed her to reveal the situation. In the wake of that confession, she’d careened from horror that she’d divulged the dilemma to him, shame over admitting her failings with her son, and relief that she would not have to contest the Duke alone. Embracing Alastair without reservation before she left him, she’d felt...safe. That concerned her.