Peter had betrayed her. Dismay at a possible end to her freedom tightened her stomach. “Tims hasn’t seen her mother all year,” Diana said, which at least was the truth.
“What mischief did you get up to without your maid? Never mind, don’t tell me. It is of no consequence now.” Dismissing her with a wave of his charcoal, he turned back to his drawing. It was of a tree by a river, with a humble cottage perched near the bank. Not a naked woman in sight.
“I like this one very much,” she said, moving closer to inspect it. “You so seldom paint a landscape.”
“There’s a mood for it, that and portraits. But I have no desire to paint clients.” He chuckled, his charcoal tracing the limbs of a stately oak. “Lady Belfries wished to commission me to paint her portrait. She would not have cared for the result because I would have included that wart on her chin.”
Diana giggled.
He turned to observe her. “It is good to have you home. The place seems to echo when you’re gone. Never noticed it before. Perhaps I should marry again,” he said, more to himself than her. “But I’ve met no one to equal your mother.”
Diana stared him in surprise. She’d thought her father hadn’t cared very much for her mother. Had he told Mama that? She hoped so, and often, because she had loved him until her last breath.
“But everything is about to change, as you will soon be married,” he added.
Her heart beating like a trapped bird’s wings, Diana waited for him to continue.
Papa left his stool and gestured to the sofa. “Sit down. I wish to speak to you.”
She joined him, trying to breathe normally, fearing what was to come. Who was this man she must marry?
“Lord Montgomery has asked for your hand.”
Diana’s mouth fell open. “Lord Montgomery? Haven’t you already refused him?”
“He approached me again. I have reviewed his proposal and see no reason to reject it. He is an upstanding fellow with good connections.” He raised his dark eyebrows. “You can hardly disapprove of his appearance.”
Diana’s heart pounded in her ears. She fought not to tremble. “He’s not a nice man,” she said. “I found his manner toward me insulting.”
He frowned. “The same old excuses. I expected you to object, and I’m weary of it, Diana. Many would say I’ve been far too lenient with you. I’m prepared to allow a reasonable time for your courtship. We will return to London and spend a month there, where you can see more of the fellow to get to know him.” He stood. “I believe you will change your mind about him in time. But get used to the idea. You have enjoyed too muchfreedom here. You ride around like a hoyden with no mother to teach you how a young lady should behave. If I don’t act now, something bad could befall you. And I prefer to hand you over to a strong man to take care of you. I shan’t be swayed from my purpose again.”
Diana left the studio. She ran up to her bedchamber and threw herself on her bed. She lay staring up at the swath of rose-pink damask overhead on the canopy. Why did Lord Montgomery wish to marry her? He must have been aware of how little regard she had for him. It unnerved her to think of their last conversation when he’d abandoned any pretense at politeness. And then he’d tried to make amends, in the belief that she would forgive him. What ithaddone was give her a glimpse into his dark soul. He frightened her. She couldn’t marry him. He was so arrogant and confident of his status in society, he felt he could treat her as he wished. She’d rather run away than marry him. As Anne had done. A shudder passed through her, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Running away was impossible. Diana had no one to aid her. She couldn’t do that to Penny or Anne. Ballantine was the one man who might agree to help her, although she doubted he’d approve. But he was gone from her life, she thought sadly.
She sat up. Grandmama would wish to help her, but she had spoken against Lord Montgomery before and that hadn’t changed Papa’s mind. She rang for Tims while she clung to the hope that something would happen to prevent the marriage in the time left to her.
*
Within days, Dianawas again in London, staying with her grandmother in her Mayfair townhouse. When she’d told her about Lord Montgomery, Grandmama had become angry buthad fallen short of criticizing her son too harshly. “Never fear. There’s many a slip between cup and lip,” she’d said enigmatically. Diana wished that had made her feel better, but it had failed to.
The previous Wednesday, she and Lord Montgomery had danced at Almack’s. Spying the triumphant gleam in his eyes, she’d come away fearing him even more. Ballantine had not attended. She hadn’t really expected to find him there. Almack’s was not the sort of venue he would go to when most who frequented it searched for a husband or wife. He had also been absent from the ball on the following Saturday, and a card party on Monday. It cast her into gloom, but when she thought about it, he could do nothing to save her from Lord Montgomery—except ask for her hand. And he had made it clear he had no intention of doing that. It would have been inappropriate and perhaps unwelcome to seek his advice or his sympathy, so it was fortunate he was not present to tempt her.
Tonight in the Inglebys’ ballroom it was good to be among people again, and she felt quite lighthearted with relief that Lord Montgomery had not approached her. But she sensed him watching her while she danced a quadrille from where he stood among the guests on the fringe of the ballroom.
Perhaps he disliked the idea of meeting her grandmother again. Grandmama didn’t trouble herself to engage in polite conversation with him, which left him looking uncomfortable. “I am at an age to please myself whom I speak to,” she had told Diana earlier. “And I don’t wish to talk to him. Should you be married to Lord Montgomery, I would make an effort.”
Diana had gazed at her, horrified. “But I shan’t marry him. I’d rather die.”
Grandmama had patted her hand. “Such dramatics. I didn’t say youwouldmarry him. Have patience, Diana.”
Patience? It had never been her strong suit and was in short supply now.
*
It was closeto dawn. After forging the storm-driven waves of the Channel for more hours than Damian cared for, flickering lights from the French landscape shrouded by the dark night were welcome. While under the cover of a deep bank of clouds, the ship moored off the coast. A few miles from Le Havre, his companions rowed to shore in a quiet bay. Wading through the shallows, he reached the gritty sand and pebbles in search of any sign of movement. As the lavender-gray dawn lightened the sky, trees and rooftops came into view.
A low whistle came from the deep-purple shadows. Two quick bursts, a break of silence, then one more. Damian replied in kind. Two men appeared at a run and crossed the shore to him. They exchanged the secret password.
“Beau,” Damian said, offering his hand to the tall, rangy fellow with the bushy, red beard.