by Liana Lefey
He eyed her and made a snap decision. “I came because I wished to speak with your husband concerning Lady Diana Haversham. Specifically relating to the incident which caused her uncle to disown her.”
The lady’s face went white, and for a moment he feared she might faint dead away. Instead, she turned and went to the drawing room doors to close them before addressing him in a hushed voice. “When I was told of your arrival, I wondered if that was what brought you here,” she said, bidding him sit. “I almost refused to receive you, but to be perfectly honest I’ve been wanting to unburden myself for years. I’m sure she has already told you the truth of what happened.”
Lucas couldn’t believe his good fortune but managed to keep his surprise and excitement hidden. “She has not told me anything,” he said slowly. “But yes, that is why I’ve come. I wanted to know why…” He stopped himself just in time—he couldn’t tell her he’d discovered proof the excuse Grenville had given for abandoning Diana was a lie without exposing Harrow for a fraud. And he couldn’t tell her he was trying to persuade Diana to leave Harrow without sabotaging the ruse they had in place. Damn it all! Why hadn’t he thought this through more carefully?
You must tell her something…think!
His hostess, however, saved him the trouble of concocting a plausible excuse. “It was wrong of us, but we could not help ourselves,” she whispered through trembling lips. “Grenville and I realized we were in love after he asked Diana to marry him.” The lady’s fingers twisted the fabric of her skirts. “My husband invented the story that ruined her to justify our elopement and preserve his honor.”
Sniffling, she looked at the ceiling as if seeking absolution, and he saw her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. When she looked back at him, it was with a brief, shaky smile. “I thought the scandal would blow over once Diana refuted the claim. I was horrified to learn she’d been disowned over it. I wanted to come out with the truth at once, but my husband forbade it. And then…it no longer mattered, because Diana became Harrow’s mistress.”
Tears ran unhindered down her face. Lucas knew he should offer his kerchief, but instinct told him to be still, that there was more to come. As usual, instinct proved right.
“I learned afterward that her uncle had been depending on funds tied to her marriage contract to pay off a large debt,” she continued, her voice thick. “As part of a sealed addendum to her father’s will, Diana’s guardian—which the duke presumed would be her mother—was to receive a tidy sum separate from her jointure in order to care for them both. In the event Diana was orphaned, that sum would be awarded to her uncle upon her marriage in return for caring for her in his stead. I doubt she ever knew about it. I only know because I overheard my husband talking to one of his friends about how Bolingbroke had confronted him in a drunken rage at their club and revealed it.”
Lucas remembered Diana saying Bolingbroke had robbed her. She couldn’t have meant this, since the money wouldn’t have gone to her. She must have been referring to something else.
“When my husband lied, Diana’s uncle believed him,” Lady Grenville went on, her voice breaking. “He thought that money forever out of his reach, and that was what drove him to disown her. By the time he came to his senses, it was too late. She’d run away and taken up with Harrow, making her truly unmarriageable.”
Hoisted by his own petard. He couldn’t bring himself to feel any pity for the bastard. In fact, he hoped that mistake haunted the man and gave him regret and sleepless nights for the rest of his life. He, not this woman’s foolish husband, had condemned his niece. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Will you…will you tell Diana I’ve never stopped regretting my part in what happened to her?” She covered her face with her hands as a sob broke free.
“I will,” he promised. Someday.
He watched as she struggled to regain composure. “I’ve had to live with my guilt, with knowing my foolish heart led to my best friend’s undeserved ruin.” Her voice hardened. “Grenville, however, absolved himself by pointing out how quickly Diana took up with Harrow. He told himself and anyone who would listen that he’d narrowly avoided marrying a harlot. But I knew her,” she said with fervor, “and she was not what he said she was. I’ve never forgiven myself or him for what we did to her. He knows it, and it has made him hate me. What began with love and a lie has ended in misery.”
Lucas had been ready to condemn her along with her husband, but now he found he couldn’t. Grenville was partly to blame, but Bolingbroke was the one ultimately responsible for what had happened to Diana. His greed had been her undoing.
The sobbing woman across from him demanded his sympathy. When he at last addressed her, it was with as much gentleness as he could manage through his simmering anger and mounting disquiet. “I cannot forgive you because the forgiveness you desire is not mine to grant. But what you did, though it was wrong, was for love, and I’m truly sorry for your disappointment.” Discomfort spiked as his hostess broke into a fresh round of sobs, and he rose. “If you will please excuse me, I’ll leave you now.” He paused at the door before letting himself out. “I hope you find peace, Lady Grenville.”
His mind raced as he boarded his carriage for the return home. Now he finally had the whole story, and it hadn’t been at all what he’d expected. Not one, but three people had engineered Diana’s downfall. She’d been utterly undeserving of her fate.
Lady Grenville’s words echoed in his thoughts: But I knew her, and she was not what he said she was. Greed and deception had robbed Diana of the life she could have had.
And now he’d taken her virginity, robbing her of yet another possible future, one where she wouldn’t have to lie to the man she one day married.
She could have refused. But she’d chosen not to. Why had she really done it? And why had she continued seeing him?
Can it possibly be that she loves me?
Something huge and scary swelled in his chest until it throbbed with an almost physical pain. He’d vowed never to become emotionally attached to any woman, but that pain forced him to acknowledge that it had happened. It had happened without him even knowing it. He stared out through his carriage window with unseeing eyes.
She’s in love with me. And oh, God, I’m in love with her.
Trepidation transformed into sheer terror. Even if she was in love with him, it was unlikely to last, at least on her part. He could never tell her the truth. To do so would be to abandon all pride and open himself up for every indignity a man could suffer. She’d only use it against him, just as his mother had against his father. His poor, miserable father, who to this day still mourned the loss of his heart to the unworthy woman who’d deceived him.
A wise man would cut bait and run as fast and as far away from this disaster as possible. But he wasn’t feeling wise. Though it be the height of foolishness, he wanted Diana—more than anything he’d ever desired in his entire life. And he meant to have her. He’d just have to be careful to hide the true depth of his folly and find a way to make her his without exposing himself for a fool and her for a fraud.
Chapter Seventeen
Something had changed. Diana didn’t know why, but in spite of successfully evading discovery and despite them having found a happy compromise that allowed them to see each other on an almost daily basis, Lucas had renewed his attempts to persuade her to leave Harrow.
She’d asked him why he was suddenly so keen to alter what they’d put in place, but he’d avoided answering her, instead leading her off topic or misdirecting her attentions elsewhere. There was something he wasn’t telling her, and no matter how she tried to get it out of him, he kept it securely behind his teeth.
A fortnight after she noticed this shift in his behavior, the gates of Hell opened and unleashed its demons in the form of a damning article in The Tattler. Five lines. Five lines was all it took to expose her ‘ongoing affair’ with Lucas, firing off London’s gossip grapevine, tearing apart the careful facade she and Harrow had built.
&n
bsp; “I’m going to stop seeing him,” she told Harrow, who’d come over within an hour of receiving her frantic note.
“I won’t let you do that.”
“You cannot make me do otherwise,” she said crisply, sticking out her chin.
He passed a hand over his face, which was pale and drawn. “It won’t matter. The damage is done. What I want to know is how. How did this happen?”
“One of the servants must have seen him,” she reasoned. “Ours know to keep quiet about anything that happens here, but it could have been one of them. There is no way to know who is responsible. But that’s not what troubles me most. What worries me more than anything is what else they might discover—or worse, already know, concerning you and René.”
“No. If they knew about us, it would be here,” said Harrow, tossing the mangled paper he’d been holding onto the table.
“We cannot risk them finding out. What are we going to do?” She watched as he paced the room, afraid to speak lest she disturb his thoughts. Harrow was brilliant. He would think of something.
“We are going to have a row.”
She felt the blood leave her face. “You’re going to call him out?”
He looked at her with incredulity. “He’s my friend and your lover—of course I’m not going to call him out. No, you and I are going to pretend to have a fight. Then you are going to play at contrition, and I, anger at your betrayal. Give it a fortnight, and we’ll put on the appearance that we’ve ‘patched things up’ until I can think of a more permanent solution to the problem.”
But there was no permanent solution that would allow her to keep her friends safe and continue seeing Lucas, and she knew it. This is it. This is the end of it. She’d known it was inevitable, but for some reason it was still a shock to realize it was actually happening. We had so little time… “What of Lucas?” she forced herself to ask.
“I’ve asked him to call at my residence later this evening where we will discuss the matter in guaranteed privacy. None of my contemporaries will dare inquire of me concerning this matter, but his friends might ask him, and he must know how to answer.”
“And that answer is?”
“That he made the mistake of thinking you meant more to him than he should have.”
It sounded so cold. “I assume that means your friendship must appear to be at an end, as well?”
“Yes.”
At least that will put him back in his family’s good graces. “You know what they’ll say about you when you don’t call him out. Better to call him out and simply make certain your aim is poor—”
“I cannot call him out, Diana,” he said, his face finally betraying his upset. “We are both too skilled with pistols and blades to make it believable without grievously wounding each other. Ending our public association will have the same result. It’s the easiest way.”
“I have a better solution.” She steeled herself. “Cast me out. Publicly.”
He stopped pacing, his eyes wide. “If you go to him—”
“I won’t. I’ll disappear. Like we originally planned. Give me a week to make arrangements, and then cast me out. Once I’m gone, you’ll find another mistress and life will go on.”
Coming to her, he put his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “You love him, Diana. Please, just give me a little time to figure this out, to find a way to make it work.”
“There is no way!” she hissed, furious and wanting to shout but unable in case there were ears listening outside the door. “Not one that ends with everyone happy. We both know it. But you and René still have a chance, provided we do this right. You must cast me out.”
“No,” he said in a tone she knew meant there was no winning. “Give me two weeks. I beg you. Let me at least try.”
Sighing, she capitulated. It would make no difference, but she would give it to him. If nothing else, it would allow her more time to get her affairs in order. The new start she’d had planned to make didn’t seem even remotely appealing now, but it was all she could hope for. Some irrational part of her had wanted so much to believe that she, Lucas, Harrow, and René could continue on as they were indefinitely and be happy, free of the world’s interference. But that wasn’t realistic. In truth, life was painful, unfair, and utterly without mercy. Especially when it came to love.
“Fine. But I’m coming with you. I want to speak to Lucas one last time. He deserves to hear this from both of us.” She held his eyes until he lowered his, and she knew she’d won the argument. There was a reason his plan wouldn’t work, but he couldn’t see it. Neither would Lucas. She had to make them both understand.
When Lucas arrived at Harrow’s house that evening, it took every ounce of willpower not to throw herself into his arms.
Harrow closed the doors, shutting out the world, before addressing his guest. “We have put our foot in it, so to speak,” he began quietly. “And now there is nothing for it but to attempt to salvage the situation.”
“Agreed,” said Lucas, his eyes on her, though he was talking to Harrow. “I assume we won’t be facing each other on the field tomorrow morning, or I would not be here.”
“Correct,” said Harrow. “As I told Diana earlier today, I cannot call you out without us either wounding each other or making a mockery of the practice, which would be even more damning. There is a way to settle this without bloodshed.”
She watched Lucas’s face as Harrow laid out the plan, such as it was, knowing what he was going to say before he spoke.
“And in two weeks we’ll be in the exact same place we are now,” Lucas said when he finished, looking at her. “Unless you defect and become my mistress.”
“No,” she told him flatly. “If this were a true rivalry, the two of you would not be able to coexist in the same city if I did such a thing. Harrow would be honor bound to seek satisfaction in order to save face. No. I must do as I originally planned. It’s the only way—and you know it is,” she said to Harrow over the objections he’d begun to voice. She knew he was wroth with her for gainsaying him, but this was the only way to be sure he and René were safe and Lucas stayed alive. “Harrow and I will make a show of disagreement and strife between us over the next two weeks. It will culminate in a public argument, at the end of which he will cast me aside. Then, I disappear.”
“No,” said Lucas, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he shook his head. “I won’t agree to that.”
She pressed her lips together briefly before rebutting, knowing her heart was about to break and powerless to stop it. “I’m afraid you don’t get to make that choice.”
…
Lucas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He thought she loved him. He knew now that he was in love with her, because he hurt more than he’d ever thought possible. And there was nothing he could do but sit there, listening to their plans, and suffer in silence as everything inside him unraveled.
Because he wouldn’t—couldn’t show what he was really feeling.
Every now and again, he caught Harrow staring at him with a look of sympathy. He suspected the man knew something of what he was keeping pent up inside but thankfully said nothing. Lucas didn’t want his pity. He didn’t want anyone’s pity.
The longer he sat there, the angrier he became. I’m a bloody fool, just like my father. He’d made the mistake of letting himself get too attached, and although he hadn’t fallen into the marriage trap, he’d put his foot into a nasty snare just the same. And the pain he was feeling? It was his own damned fault.
He couldn’t bear to look at Diana anymore. He knew if he did, he’d see the same unfeeling mask he now wore, only unlike his, hers would be more than skin deep.
The plans they were discussing didn’t even involve him, save for the caution to stay out of their way. After today, his part in this was over and done. They didn’t need him anymore. She’d never really needed him at all.
By the time they finally agreed on what was going to happen, Lucas was itching to leave. At last, the d
iscussion ended, and he found himself standing up and shaking Harrow’s hand.
“I’m truly sorry,” the fellow was saying. “If either of us manages to think of a better way to solve this problem, we must send a message to the other. Until then, I think it best we sever casual communication lest we make matters even worse.”
He had no problem with that at all. “I truly regret having cast your happy arrangement into chaos,” he said, and he meant it. “I know the stakes for you are especially high, and I would not willingly bring tragedy down upon you or your loved ones.”
Then it was Diana’s turn. He took in her waxen cheeks and downcast gaze. She wouldn’t even look at him. Coward. Blessed wrath burned away the unmanly stinging in his eyes. “I suppose this is goodbye, then,” he said, keeping his manner brisk.
No response.
As he stared down at her, the pain in his chest blossomed into an unbearable, empty ache. He filled it with cold fury. “I, for one, will be glad to put this whole disaster behind me,” he said with an air of supreme indifference. Did he imagine that flinch? The idea that she might actually feel something brought him great satisfaction, and he craved more. “My father was right. It’s time I set aside selfish fancies and attend to my duties. I hope your plan works as you imagine, and that you’re able to put this all behind you, as well. Good day, madam, and I bid you the best of luck.”
Still nothing. As far as he could tell, she wasn’t even breathing. She might as well be a marble statue. His eyes burned again. Before he lost all remaining dignity, he turned on his heel and strode away.
As he approached his carriage, he realized he didn’t know where to go. He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t bear the thought of catching a glimpse of her house from his windows. He didn’t want to see the gardens he’d navigated on so many nights just to spend a few stolen hours with her. He’d just as soon burn the whole place to the ground as see it right now.
Going to the driver, he instructed the man to take him to his club. He could go to any tavern and drink himself into a stupor, but then people might think him a coward—as well as a molly. This thought only stoked his anger.
