by Bree Wolf
Whisper behind her back: yes.
Speak to her directly: no.
“Lady Eleanor,” Diana beamed, trying to glance behind the young woman in the hopes of spotting her brother. “How lovely to see you.”
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lady Eleanor asked, a twinkle in her eyes as they shifted down and came to rest on Diana’s midnight blue dress.
For a moment, Diana tensed, but then she noticed the touch of envy in Lady Eleanor’s eyes and her heart warmed to the young woman. From what she knew, Lady Eleanor had every reason to feel disappointed with her lot in life as well.
Diana drew in a deep breath and met Lady Eleanor’s gaze openly. “I came here in the hopes of enjoying myself, yes,” she spoke freely, sensing that the young woman did not and would not fault her for it. Why was it that only the two Stanhope siblings seemed to have any compassion these days?
“I admit I am awed by your courage,” the young woman said unexpectedly as she glanced at the many intruding glances around them. “I often wish I were more daring.”
Diana smiled. “But you are. After all, you’re speaking to me.” Eleanor chuckled. “Apparently, people are of one mind not to address me tonight. I am glad you have a mind of your own and are not afraid to use it.”
“Thank you.” Sighing, Lady Eleanor held her gaze, and Diana wondered if there was any chance of befriending the young woman. After all, it would be wonderful to have someone like Lady Eleanor with whom she could spend her time.
However, the moment that thought entered Diana’s mind, an elderly matron appeared behind Lady Eleanor’s shoulder, her eyes narrowed and a rather familiar frown of disapproval on her face. “My dear,” the woman stated in a cold voice, her gaze settling on Lady Eleanor, who seemed to deflate at her mere presence, “Lord Ebbington is asking for you.”
With a last apologetic look, Lady Eleanor followed the older woman−whom Diana presumed to be her mother, Lady Stanhope−to the other side of the ballroom. From what Diana could see there was no Lord Ebbington there, eagerly awaiting the pleasure of Lady Eleanor’s company.
The only one who stood there waiting for them was Lord Stanhope.
At the sight of him, Diana’s heart leapt into her throat, and for a moment, she thought she would faint as her pulse began to hammer in her veins. Smiling at him, she tried to catch his gaze, but although he occasionally looked in her direction, his eyes never locked with hers.
Was he avoiding her?
Instantly, Diana’s spirits crashed to the ground, the excited tingle that had danced over her skin all night turning into cold shivers that raised goose bumps up and down her arms. Swallowing, she stepped back until her back came to rest against a wall, her legs barely able to support herself.
How foolish she had been! Diana cursed herself. Thinking him different from everyone else! Apparently, her heart had not learnt its lesson after all for she had once more rushed after a man who did not care about her, making a fool of herself.
Maybe she was destined not to be loved, Diana thought. Maybe it was her punishment for her reckless behaviour. Could she truly not redeem herself? Was one error of judgement enough to ruin an entire life? Was there no way back?
Diana sighed, the muscles in her jaw tightening as determination once more settled over her. Well, if that was indeed the case, then nothing she did truly mattered. Her life, her reputation were forfeit. All she could do now was make the best of an awful situation.
If not Lord Stanhope, then maybe she could find someone else who would make her forget the life she so desperately tried to escape…at least for a few moments.
Glancing around the ballroom, Diana smiled as her eyes came to rest on Lord Oakridge, a known rake without morals or conscience.
Perfect!
***
The moment he caught sight of her, Arthur froze. What was she doing here? And in that dress? Had she not heard a word he had said to her the other night at the theatre?
Dragging his gaze away before his mother would notice, Arthur did his utmost to ignore her until it was in fact Lady Stanhope who became aware of her daughter’s intimate conversation with a woman she deemed undeserving of their mere presence.
“Unbelievable!” she huffed and immediately set off to save her daughter−or rather her reputation−from Mrs. Reignold’s toxic influence.
Arthur sighed as he saw his sister’s smile vanish the moment their mother interrupted them, and he felt guilty for not interfering on Eleanor’s behalf…if only he knew how. At the moment, short of defying her mother and marrying Mr. Waltham without familial consent, there was no possible way for Eleanor to be with the man she considered her other half. Had Mrs. Reignold’s company truly presented a temporary distraction? Was she a potential friend Eleanor would be able to confide in?
As his mother and sister returned to his side, Arthur once more averted his gaze, pretending he had not even noticed Mrs. Reignold’s presence…and it made him feel as cowardly as he never had before.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her beautiful face light up as she caught sight of him, and he drew in a sharp breath, feeling the sudden urge to approach her, to look into her eyes and ask why she had come that night. Had it been for him? Had she truly desired to see him? That couldn’t possibly be.
Reminding himself that any connection between them was impossible, Arthur forced himself not to acknowledge her, but instead stared right through her as though she wasn’t even there.
Instantly, he felt even smaller.
Turning back to his family, Arthur stepped forward as his mother lectured Eleanor on her misstep. “I do believe Eleanor was merely being kind to her,” he interfered. “After all, all people do is whisper behind her back. She must feel rather lonely.”
Lifting her head to stare at him, his mother shook her head, her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Are you suggesting that society ought to welcome a woman who displays not even the smallest bit of decency and manners?”
Arthur drew in a careful breath as his muscles tensed. “I merely meant to point out that everyone condemns her without knowing her reasons.”
“It does not matter what her reasons are,” his mother huffed. “There is no excuse for such an open portrayal of impropriety.”
Arthur swallowed, and his heart sank as he realised he could not rationally refute his mother’s argument. Stepping back, he looked at his sister apologetically, for the first time in his life feeling utterly incapable of resolving a situation to his liking.
The remainder of the night, Arthur spent almost rooted to the spot, only moving in order to keep his eyes firmly fixed on Mrs. Reignold. Every once in a while, he would curse himself, berate himself for his inability to simply enjoy the evening and ignore her latest escapade.
But he couldn’t.
As though they were two magnets drawn to one another, he followed her, watched her, and the pulse in his neck became more erratic with each minute that passed.
At first, she appeared somewhat dejected, and Arthur wondered if it had something with the way he had looked through her, not seen her. However, she had quickly recovered−too quickly for Arthur’s liking−and had soon−to his great dismay−asked Lord Oakridge to dance. Although the man had seemed somewhat surprised, he had accepted and then led Mrs. Reignold onto the dance floor.
After spending some time chatting after procuring themselves a drink from the refreshment table, they had once again stood up together. This time for a waltz!
Gritting his teeth, Arthur watched as she smiled up at Lord Oakridge, wondering why she would insist on ruining her reputation further. After all, there was no rational reason for her actions, and yet, a part of him thought she might be acting out of spite. Was that it?
Arthur shook his head. No matter what had happened, he could not help but believe that her motivations spoke of a deeper emotion than mere spitefulness. That night at the theatre, she had seemed truly disheartened, disappointed by the world and on the brink of abandoning hope
. He had feared for her then.
He feared for her now.
When the dance ended, Mrs. Reignold and Lord Oakridge slipped through the crowd toward the back of the townhouse, just when Lord Timbell stood up to address his guests, drawing their attention.
Retreating to the back, Arthur weaved his way past the throng of guests as they listened with almost rapt attention. Lord Timbell truly did his reputation justice as the most entertaining man in London!
Spotting Mrs. Reignold and Lord Oakridge by the terrace doors, Arthur quickened his steps, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw the doors close behind them. What was she doing? Was she intent on having an affair? And with Lord Oakridge no less? Or was she not aware of his reputation? If not, then she would be soon…unless Arthur could reach her in time! After all, was it not the responsibility of the strong to protect the weak? Was it not his duty to ensure her safety?
Although his firm believe in right and wrong told him that his argument was sound, he still knew that Mrs. Reignold’s affairs were none of his business. After all, she was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. Had she not already ignored his advice? Did that not mean that she had made her choice?
Nevertheless, Arthur found himself crossing the terrace and hastening down the few steps into the gardens as they lay before him, dark and threatening. Hesitating, he waited until his eyes had grown accustomed to the lack of light before he strode down the path. Mumbled voices drifted to his ears then, and he took a sharp turn to the right, like a bloodhound following a scent.
The moment he saw them, standing under the large maple tree, Lord Oakridge’s hand cupping Mrs. Reignold’s cheek, Arthur almost toppled over. It felt like a blow to his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs.
Fighting to stay upright, he strode toward them, a part of him wondering what on earth he was doing! For quite obviously, both parties wanted to be there, had chosen to be there freely. Who was he to interrupt?
And yet, he did. Rational reasons be damned!
“Get your hands off her, Oakridge,” he growled, now only a few steps away. “This is not how you treat a young widow.”
At the sound of his voice, their heads snapped sideways, eyes wide, startled. However, neither showed the proper amount of shock he would have expected considering the nature of their meeting and the severity of the consequences should it become public knowledge. What was the world coming to? He couldn’t help but wonder.
“Stanhope?” Lord Oakridge asked, his brows rising in question as he looked from Arthur back to Mrs. Reignold.
“What are you doing here?” the lady in question asked, the look in her eyes strangely contradicting. For although she appeared to be annoyed with his appearance, there was something in the way she looked at him, the way the corners of her mouth twitched as though wishing to be allowed to smile, that made him think−hope−that she was glad to see him.
Arthur drew in a deep breath as he came to stand before them, relieved to see that Lord Oakridge had already taken a step back, his hands no longer touching Mrs. Reignold’s skin. “I came because it is quite obvious that you are in no state of mind to make decisions tonight that affect the rest of your life.”
At the harsh tone in his voice, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line. Then her mouth opened in protest.
However, before she could speak, Lord Oakridge interfered. “Since it is quite obvious that I’m not needed here,” he said, a touch of humour and calculation in his voice as he glanced from Mrs. Reignold to Arthur, “I shall take my leave.”
Arthur merely nodded, his eyes fixed on the woman before him, who seemed to be ready to tear his head off. Had he truly expected her to be grateful? After all, she quite obviously did not care for her reputation, then why would she appreciate that he was trying to save what was left of it?
With a last chuckle, Lord Oakridge left, walking back the path they’d come, whistling a merry tune as though it had been a truly entertaining spectacle.
Holding out his hand, Arthur glanced around, well aware of the precariousness of their situation. How was he going to return her to the ballroom without anyone noticing?
“How dare you?” Mrs. Reignold snarled, disgust on her face as she glared at him, ignoring the hand he offered her. “How dare you interfere? This is none of your concern!”
Inhaling deeply, Arthur dropped his hand.
Chapter Nine − A Tempting Dare
Forcing her hands to stop trembling, Diana placed them on her hips, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the man who had ignored her all evening, only to interfere in the very moment she thought she might feel something again.
Well, now she did.
Only it wasn’t excitement and passion.
No, right then in that moment, Diana was furious.
“How dare you ruin everything?” she demanded, the muscles in her jaw clenching as she did her best to hold her emotions at bay.
At her words, Lord Stanhope’s jaw dropped open and his eyes narrowed. “I ruined everything?” he spoke, his voice dangerously calm. “Do you even hear yourself? What were you doing out here? And with him? You have no idea what a precarious situation you’ve put yourself in. Lord Oakridge is…of questionable character. You were fortunate I came by or he might have−”
“Kissed me?” Diana snapped, shaking her head at him. “Has it ever occurred to you that that was my intention in bringing him out here?”
“You?” Lord Stanhope gawked at her as though she had sprouted another head, his voice sounding strangled. “Why on earth would you do such a thing? Have you no regard for your reputation?”
Diana snorted, her head suddenly feeling heavy as she looked at the uncomprehending expression on his face. “You truly don’t understand,” she mumbled, her hands sliding off her hips as the weariness of life−of her life−returned, weakening her limbs. “My reputation is already lost no matter what I do or how I act. It will not suffer from an association with Lord Oakridge.”
“That is not true. You−”
“Why do you even care, my lord?” Diana interrupted as he stepped toward her, the tone in his voice appeasing. “I am nothing to you.”
Staring at her, he swallowed, clearly at odds about what to do, about what to say or whether or not to leave. His gaze, however, remained kind as he studied her face, took in the sorrow that rested in her eyes as well as the tension that held her body rigid.
Watching him watch her, Diana drew in a deep breath, and her eyes narrowed. Had she been wrong? Quite obviously, he had noticed her. “You acted as though you didn’t see me,” she accused, and the pain she had felt earlier that evening claimed her heart anew. “You wouldn’t even meet my eyes.”
Drawing in a deep breath, he swallowed as his jaw clenched. For a moment, he closed his eyes before they once more sought hers. “I apologise,” he said, his voice quiet and serious. “I acted wrongly. I had my reasons. I−”
“You sought to protect your reputation,” Diana finished for him, nodding her head in understanding. How could she fault him for that? After all, he still had a reputation that was worth protecting! “Your mother even considered it necessary to interrupt her daughter and me in order to save her from my harmful influence.” Diana’s heart sank. Never had she felt so insignificant, so alone and worthless.
“She was wrong to do so.”
Lifting her head, Diana watched him. More than once, his words and actions stood at odds with one another. Why was he even here if he was so afraid to harm his reputation? After all, they were still alone in the gardens. If someone were to happen upon them…
“You ought to return inside, my lord.”
Again, he stepped forward and offered her his arm.
Diana shook her head. “No, it would be harmful to you and your family if we were seen together.”
His eyes narrowed, and a determined set came to his jaw. “I am not leaving you out here by yourself.”
Diana scoffed. “Why did you even come? Yo
u’ve already counselled me, and I’ve disregarded your advice.” She held his gaze as he looked at her, her question reflected in his eyes. “Why did you come?”
“I do not know,” he whispered, a touch of unease in his eyes as he looked at her. Then he swallowed, and his shoulders drew back, new determination coming to his gaze. “I consider it my duty to look after…”
Enthralled by the way his grey eyes looked into hers, Diana felt her heart quicken. “Me?” she asked, and almost imperceptibly, his head bobbed up and down. “And you consider it your duty?” she pressed, her heart now dancing in her chest, sending shivers of excitement through her body. “Or is it rather a desire?”
His eyes narrowed, and the muscles in his jaw clenched.
“My dear Lord Stanhope,” Diana exclaimed, a deep smile claiming her features as she stepped toward him, “if I didn’t believe it to be impossible, I would think that you were jealous.”
At her words, all colour drained from his face. “That is ludicrous,” he croaked, his voice far from steady.
“I should think so,” Diana agreed, delighting in his telling reaction. Could this be true? Had he followed her because he was jealous? “And yet, all evidence points to the contrary. Do you deny it?”
He drew in a deep breath and for a moment averted his eyes as though unable to bear her inquisitive gaze. “Why did you come out here?” he asked then, his eyes studying her face once more. “Did you truly wish to have an…affair with Lord Oakridge? Would you rather I had not followed you?”
Diana sighed. “Do you not remember what I told you that night at the theatre? I told you that I wanted to enjoy myself, did I not?” He nodded. “And I did enjoy myself that night.” Holding his gaze, Diana took another step toward him, noting the slight tension that came to his posture. “I enjoyed our encounter. I enjoyed it very much, more than I ever would have expected. You made me feel,” she whispered, reaching out a hand, and gently placed it on his arm.
The muscles in his arm jerked at her touch, and yet, he remained perfectly still.
