"I am not," Diana said firmly as she rose, needing to assert just a little bit of authority. After all, she was not some meek piece of fluff that Lachlan needed to protect. Well, at least not in her own drawing room. "I am sorry Lord Wright, but I made myself clear, as did my father. At the moment, I am only accepting calls from Lord Hallstone."
When Wright didn't immediately speak, Lachlan was more than happy to fill the silence. "I believe you heard the lady." That dangerous edge was back, along with a deepening of his brogue that meant his temper was growing short. Funny how she knew that in such a short time. "Her attentions are otherwise engaged."
"Of course," Wright said with a gulp as he began backing towards the door as swiftly as he could without making it appear as if he was running for his very life. "My apologies, Miss Saintwood." Lachlan growled again and Wright nearly tripped over an embroidered footstool. "I will not trouble you again. I will make certain my friends know of your, ah, change in situation as well." Then he was gone, hurrying to the door without a backwards glance.
For a moment, Diana and Lachlan simply stood there until the closing of her father's study door broke the silence.
"That one. He smells." Marie tossed out in heavily accented English. "I do not care for him. He is no good. Also, he drinks." Then, as if she hadn't just pronounced the man soundly lacking, she scooped up three more lemon tarts along with her needlework and made her way to the far corner of the drawing room where she all but disappeared into a ball next to the hearth.
When Diana was finally able to turn and face Lachlan, she felt her face flame with the memory of what they had done the night before. "My lord. It is good to see you," she managed and indicated that he should sit. This felt awkward and wrong, Diana decided as she somehow managed to sink gracefully into one of her mother's oversized parlor chairs, the very ones she hated with a passion but chose now simply to place her closer to Lachlan. Well within smelling distance and it was all Diana could do not to inhale the lovely scent of sage and bay rum that clung to him, making her remember all of the very wicked, very lovely things they had done in his carriage.
After what they had shared the previous night, there should have been an ease between them that was unfortunately not present. Though Diana also realized that having an audience in both Marie and her father did dampen the mood a bit. That was the downside to being an unmarried female, even one rapidly approaching spinsterhood.
"I had hoped you were receiving callers," he said with a sniff of disgust, "but I did not think to find one still here given the lateness of the hour." The humor in his eyes softened his words, bringing back the Lachlan that Diana was coming to know so well.
She stifled a laugh when she detected the added teasing tone in his voice. "Lord Wright was the most persistent of the lot," she confessed. "Were I not a lady, I would have tossed each one out the moment they arrived." That statement elicited a snort of derision from Marie. "However manners and society dictated that I offer them at least a cup of tea and a biscuit." She made a face. "Unfortunately, all of them accepted as well."
"Well, they are gone now," Lachlan said with a smile, one that was far more wolfish and seductive than was proper for a drawing room. "And I cannot stay long either. However, I was wondering if you might be attending the Redwing's fête this evening. I am given to understand that it will be quite a crush, but an enjoyable evening nonetheless."
"As a matter of fact, I am." Diana had no idea how Lachlan had learned of her plans for the evening, but she did not care, either. Though her mother would be chaperoning her, unlike the previous evening when Diana had finally been granted some small amount of freedom, she was certain she could find a few moments to sneak out from beneath her mother's watchful eye and steal a kiss or two from Lachlan. She was also fairly certain he would be agreeable to that plan as well.
Then she remembered the source of her mother's megrim that had kept her abed for the better part of the day. "Or at least I believe we are. Mama is somewhat distraught over the news of Miss Banbrook and the duke being caught out together." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "However I doubt that Papa will allow her to stay home, especially as I am certain he knows you just inquired about my plans for this evening."
So, Lachlan thought as he took a moment to simply drink in Diana's beauty, unable to hide a smile, the viscount approves of my courtship of Diana.
That was a good sign. A hopeful sign. Perhaps he might have a better future than he had planned after all. Perhaps. If his family or Claire didn't muck things up, anyway.
With a low, courtly bow, Lachlan took Diana's hand in his and kissed it gently. "I will see you there, lass. In fact, I am very much looking forward to it." Then he was gone, leaving Diana with a fluttering heart and an even more fluttering stomach.
Chapter Ten
"I suppose you will not be waltzing with Lord Hathaway tonight. Such a pity but you can hardly be held accountable for not wishing to associate with the man. Not with the way he was carrying on with that woman." Ursula Saintwood fairly bristled with indignation at Diana's side. She was still fuming over what she viewed as Hathaway's slight towards Diana, and would have, if given a choice, stayed at home that evening, Diana by her side.
Joseph Saintwood, on the other hand, saw no reason why Diana should remain at home. After all, he had pointed out to his wife, it wasn't as if the duke and Diana were betrothed. He also pointed out that Diana had a young man who was courting her and was planning on attending the Redwing ball. So what point, he had argued, would be made by remaining at home? Her father had shaken his head in disbelief several times as his wife argued her case, and then said something about being thankful to finally be rid of the idiot. Diana assumed he meant Hathaway and not Lachlan. After all, the older man seemed to like the marquess a great deal.
Diana had expected her mother to challenge her father but she watched in silent fascination as an understanding look eventually passed between them, and then with a deep and long suffering sigh, Ursula had instructed Diana to go dress for the ball. She also made certain that Marie knew Diana was to look her absolute best. Better than she had ever looked, if possible.
In some small way, Diana felt sorry for her mother. It had been her dream to wed her daughter to the son of her former friend. Now, that dream was, if not dead, then certainly dying a slow and painful death. It wasn't that Diana wanted to cause her mother pain. She truly didn't. However she also knew that she could not continue to live her life waiting for a man she did not want to propose marriage out of some misguided sense of duty. Especially not when there was Lachlan, a man who made Diana's body tingle in the most inappropriate of ways. More than that, he made her laugh and he seemed to respect her for more than just her appearance. He truly seemed to care that she had a brain in her head. In fact, from their first meeting, it was one of the things about her that he had remarked upon.
True, he might be a bit overbearing at times, or perhaps a bit too hot-blooded was the correct phrase she was searching for, such as when he all but claimed her as his in the middle of her drawing room with Lord Wright looking on. However, Diana decided that was simply the Scot in him, the side that he often chose to pretend he did not possess. Except that he did and that slight bit of roughness about the edges was one of the things that Diana liked most about him.
Lachlan also made her feel womanly, more than just a pretty bit of fluff meant for nothing more than to decorate a man's arm. He made her feel desired, and that was something she had never known before. Given the way Hathaway had often ignored her in the past, Diana had no expectation that she ever would. Except that Lachlan had ignited something inside of her and once set ablaze, could not be put out. Diana would hate to go back to being the woman she had once been. She wasn't certain she even could.
"Mama, I have honestly not given the duke much of a thought all day." She hadn't. In fact, Diana's mind had been far too full of thoughts of Lachlan for anyone else to even squeeze in. "He has made his choice. Please let it go."<
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Another sigh, this one far deeper than she had given her husband earlier. "It is merely such a shame that your dream has died, my dear. This is not what a mother wants for her child." Then she looked across the ballroom to where Patience was once more practically hanging off Lord Henry Fontaine, her breasts nearly tumbling out of her dress that was clearly at least a size too small. "Or that, either."
Diana did not point out that it was her mother's dream and not hers. She also did not mention that she had seen Patience practically attacking the young lord at the theater the previous evening. Both were unnecessary and would only hurt her mother, something Diana did not wish to do, especially when she was so emotionally overwrought in the first place.
"Come, Mama," Diana said, leading her mother away from the scene her daughter-in-law was making, Oliver nowhere to be seen. "Let us get you settled with your friends. I see Lady Evanston along the wall. You have not chatted with her in an age. I am certain she would love to speak with you."
Surprisingly, that seemed to perk Ursula up a bit. "Theodosia is here?" She looked around for a moment before spotting her old friend seated among the other chaperones, an empty chair next to her. "I was under the impression that she was still recovering from her apoplexy last year. It is why I have not called upon her yet this season, much to my shame. Oh, she must think me a goose! I must remedy that immediately!"
All thoughts of Patience and Lord Hathaway forgotten, Diana's mother scurried across the floor as politely as possible. Diana simply watched her go, trying to see her mother as the young debutante she once was.
Did Ursula Pipwick once have dreams of marrying a duke? Probably. Most young ladies of good breeding did - Diana excluded, of course. Did she dance with other men, maybe even the previous Duke of Hathaway, with stars in her eyes, hoping to capture his attention? Had she loved a man other than Diana's father? Or was Joseph Saintwood the only man who had made an impression on the beautiful young debutante her mother had once been?
Sadly, Diana discovered that she did not know the answer to any of those questions. She should, she realized. Perhaps it would better help her understand her mother and the reason why she clung so tightly to this ridiculous dream of the Duke of Hathaway. Was there more to it than just wishing to see her daughter marry a duke? Diana vowed to find out. Her mother deserved to be understood and strangely enough, Diana wanted to be the one to understand. She owed her mother that much.
Just as Lachlan said that there were events he could not understand and knew nothing about that had shaped his mother into the woman she had become, the same was true of Ursula Saintwood. Only Lachlan's mother was no longer alive to ask those questions of. But Diana's was.
Then, as if merely thinking of him could conjure him up out of thin air, Lachlan was beside her, his charming smile warming her to the tips of her toes. If Joseph Saintwood had smiled at Ursula Pipwick like this, then perhaps Diana could understand her mother a little better after all.
"Lord Hallstone." Diana could not keep the smile from her face. "You are looking well this evening."
"Merely well?" he teased her, his eyes smiling in a way that they had not earlier that day in the drawing room. "I was hoping for debonair at the very least."
"Fishing for compliments are you?" Oh Lord, how he took her very breath away. "Very well then. Handsome. Is that better? Or would you prefer ravishing?" Diana knew she was flirting a bit more than was proper but she did not care. This was Lachlan. He would understand. More than that, he would appreciate it. And her.
Something deep and primal flared in his eyes at her words. "I should prefer to ravish you, lass, if given the chance." She could see him clench his fists at his sides as if he was fighting for control, his accent deep and his tone hungry. For her. "Though I'd prefer to do it in a much more private place than Redwing's ballroom."
Diana was about to respond when she felt someone approach them and turned to see Lord Hathaway there, his lips in a tight grimace. He bowed before them and then held out his hand to her. "Miss Saintwood, if I might have this dance." Then he looked at Lachlan. "With your permission of course."
Lachlan's temper flared. How dare this man ask his permission to dance with Diana? She was not a piece of property he owned. That might be the way of things here in London, but Lachlan was used to a more independent sort of woman. Still, he knew what was expected of him and he inclined his head as graciously as he could. "Certainly. If the lady wishes, of course."
He could tell from the dark look in her eyes that Diana did not really want to dance with the man - especially as it was a waltz - but she also knew she could not refuse and still appear every inch the lady she was at heart. With one final look at Lachlan she allowed the duke to lead her onto the dance floor.
As he watched them go, Lachlan felt two things. One was a sense that Hathaway had best be careful with Diana, especially given the notoriety he now enjoyed after last evening's jaunt through town with Miss Banbrook in plain view of all. Diana did not suffer fools lightly and Hathaway was truly a fool if ever there was one. The second was a pure, hot spike jealousy that ripped through him when he saw Diana's small hand in Hathaway's much larger one. It made him want to forget his half-English side and thrash the other man within an inch of his life and claim Diana as his, just as he would have back in the Highlands.
One set of emotions Lachlan could deal with. The other? He wasn't quite so certain.
"Thank you for waltzing with me," Hathaway said quietly when he had Diana in his arms on the dance floor. "I wasn't certain you would speak with me otherwise."
"Is there a reason I should speak with you, my lord?" Diana wasn't trying to be impertinent, but she had no idea what the duke could wish to say to her that she would want to hear.
The duke niggled his upper lip with his teeth, something very unseemly for a gentleman of his stature. "I would like to apologize," he finally said, "and perhaps beg your forgiveness. In fact, I would beg it strongly enough that you might give me another chance."
That brought Diana up so short that she stumbled a bit and would have fallen had Hathaway's arms not steadied her. She wanted to risk a look back at Lachlan who was probably fuming at the moment, but she did not dare. "Another chance, my lord? I am afraid that I do not understand." Except, of course, that she did understand. The last thing she wanted was to grant this man another chance at winning her heart. He had been offered the chance - repeatedly over the years, in fact - and had shown no inclination to favor her. Why should the situation be different now? What had changed?
"I was a fool," Hathaway said and there was a small smile on his lips, the sort that most young debutantes craved to see directed at them. He was a handsome man. Diana would give him that. She wasn't blind, after all. "I had a wonderful woman - you, in case I did not make myself clear - in my grasp and I allowed her to get away, thinking that when I was finally ready to set up my nursery, she would always be there. Waiting."
If Diana had been wary before, she was even more so now. "So what, precisely, are you asking my lord?"
"I wish to court you," Hathaway said simply, as if Diana was a simpleton for not understanding that already. "I wish to be given the chance to win back your heart, if you will allow it. I would make you a far better husband than that half-Scottish marquess you are so infatuated with at the moment. If your goal was to make me see what I had lost, it worked, my dear. It worked beautifully. I am not jealous, certainly, for there has never been any great affection between us, but there was an understanding. And I did not uphold my end of the agreement, much to my dishonor. I wish to remedy that."
"And Miss Banbrook?" Diana could not quite believe what she was hearing, her mind reeling, but needing to hear the rest of the truth - or at least the truth as the duke saw it. An understanding? A woman to do no more than fill a nursery and provide the Hathaway heir? Was that all she was to him? All she had ever been?
"A silly, stupid diversion. Nothing more." Hathaway smiled at Diana again, wider this time, a
s if not understanding that Diana was not taking his words as he intended them. "Last night, I discovered that a pretty face is nothing without a good heart. Miss Banbrook, for as lovely as she is, does not possess such a good heart. She is too socially grasping for my taste, too eager to snag the first title that passes by. You, however, are the model of restraint. Pretty, well mannered, and a lady who knows her place, the perfect duchess. I could ask for nothing more from the mother of my children."
Except that Diana could. Never once had Hathaway mentioned any of the things Lachlan had upon first meeting her. Pretty, yes. Lachlan had mentioned her looks, more than once, in fact. He was a man after all. But he had also remarked upon her intelligence and wit, not to mention her spirit. At one time, perhaps, what the duke was offering her would have been enough. It no longer was. Not since Lachlan. The marquess had seen her in a way no other man ever had, and when he had kissed her senseless, it was not out of a sense of duty but rather out of desire. That was what she wanted. It was what she deserved. And nothing less.
Lachlan might not love her, but he had shown her that she was worthy of love. He desired her for more than her face and her sense of propriety. More than her ability to provide heirs. He desired her for both who and what she was. That might not be common among the ton, but in the span of a few days, it had become very important to Diana.
Not to mention that she could not imagine Hathaway ravishing her in a carriage the way Lachlan had. Or chasing away Lord Wright from her drawing room. No, the marquess might not be her happily ever after, but he had shown her that she had a right to expect some degree of affection. In Hathaway's eyes, Diana was nothing more than an obligation and an ornament. At best, a vessel for his heirs.
A Marquess Is Forever Page 17
