by Bree Verity
Diana noticed Simon flush under the praise, his smile strengthening. "It is always pleasant to be in the company of those who share my concern for the poor."
"Your concern is rather more hands-on than ours," remarked Lady Edenburgh with twinkling eyes.
"True," replied Simon, "but without your funds, I could do little."
Lord Edenburgh elbowed Diana softly and said, "It is a little ring of reciprocal back-patting," he murmured. "Shall we leave them to continue to congratulate each other?"
Diana laughed behind her hand and allowed Lord Edenburgh to lead her away to introduce her to another group of young people.
Simon watched her go with a strange breathlessness about him. She had not changed one whit in ten years. Still the same soft blonde hair, now twisted up into a complicated knot, and the same intelligent, startling blue eyes. Her figure had always been slim and remained so, but perhaps in the past ten years, her womanly attributes had come more to the fore.
Knowing Lady Edenburgh's shrewd eyes would be watching his every move, he said, "Lady Diana and I were children together."
"Oh, that's lovely," replied Lady Edenburgh, linking her arm with his. "You shall have to tell me all about it at dinner. We do not have any stuffy rules here about precedence at the dining table, so I am able to sit and talk to whoever I choose."
Simon smiled but it did not reach his eyes. He was not sure he wanted to exhume all his memories of Diana.
While it was true most of them were fond, there were a few that certainly were not. Memories he had tried to put out of his mind, of a girl he had tried to forget by burying himself in study and work.
It seemed all his efforts had been in vain, though. The effect of her on him was instant, the moment he realized she was in the room.
He was still very much in love with her.
Chapter Three.
"You must choose between them, my girl. There is no other alternative."
Seated at the noisy dining table at Edenburgh Manor between her two suitors, Diana's mind drifted back to the scene a few weeks ago when her stepmother turned her well-ordered world upside down. The new Lady Dartmore, apparently jealous of her husband's daughter's presence in her new home, had insisted that Diana reinstate her search for a husband. Diana assumed bitterly that it was the only way the new Lady Dartmore could think of to push her out of the place she had called home for six and twenty years.
Diana had treated the request with disdain to begin with. Surely Lady Dartmore would come to accept the situation, given time. Diana would never marry, and her father's house would be where she would stay.
But when Lady Dartmore began to bring various questionable gentlemen to the house to sniff around Diana, she realized her new stepmother was serious.
It had been with no little sadness that Diana had firmly insisted that she would find her own suitors, thank you very much. If she was to be forced out of her home, it would be on her own terms.
She had attended a swathe of balls and routs and engagements, her first season in seven years, and had hated it as much as she had always done when she was younger. However, at one overcrowded soiree she had come across Captain Littleton and Mr. Carling conversing together, and their conversation had been witty and amusing, and from that time on, the two of them commenced a friendly rivalry over her. It was flattering, and Diana was happy to play along.
"My dear, you are lost in thought," said Captain Littleton, breaking into her thoughts. "Anything you wish to share?"
"Oh, please do," added Mr. Carling from the other side of her. "For I can think of no more tedious thing that Littleton's conversation all by itself."
She gave a short laugh. "No, it was nothing of interest. Just some old memories." She picked up her spoon. "You should eat your soup before it goes cold, gentlemen."
"We would have, sweet lady, except it would be very poor form to start before you. I wish you would hurry up. I do not know about Mr. Carling, but I am famished to death." Captain Littleton's chastisement was accompanied by a weak hand to his forehead.
"Oh dear," Diana said, "I do apologize. You should ignore me today. My thoughts are scattered."
Mr. Carling smiled on her fondly. "It was of no consequence. Littleton's demise should not have been too much of a disaster to the world."
"Mr. Carling," Diana said, feigning shock. "That is a very uncharitable thing to say."
"All I meant by it was that if that unfortunate event occurred, it would sadly fall to me to be your one and only escort."
"And is that your desire?"
"To escort you? I suppose it is one of my desires. I have no wish for you to be without an escort."
"I am not certain that is what the lady meant, Carling," Captain Littleton said through mouthfuls of soup.
"Of course, it was not," replied Mr. Carling cheerfully. "I feign ignorance, secure in the knowledge that Lady Diana need only ask, and I would give her my heart." He placed a hand on his chest and tried for a sincere expression, failing wildly.
Diana laughed. "Be careful what you say," she warned. "I may actually take you up on that someday."
Mr. Carling chuckled and took up her hand, kissing it loudly.
Mr. Littleton, not to be outdone, put down his spoon and said, "My heart is also at the ready, my lady."
"Oh, my dears," she sighed theatrically. "It is kind of you to give some hope to an ailing old spinster."
It was banter they had engaged in many times. Diana was not certain whether the two gentlemen knew they were in serious contention for her hand, or if they were simply amusing themselves. She supposed the end of the house party would throw their true motives into sharp relief, when she would actually be forced to choose one of them.
The thought brought her spirits low.
"Neither of them wish to marry me," Diana had insisted to her stepmother. "They are simply flirting with me."
But her stepmother had been adamant. "If you will not choose, your father and I will choose for you."
Diana had looked over at her father seated on a nearby couch. He looked old, his hair was thinning, and his clothes seemed very slightly too big for him. His jaw was working, and he was picking distractedly at his fingernails. He would not even catch her eye, and Diana knew he would side with his wife, still, she entreated him. "Father, you cannot force this choice upon me."
He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by his wife. "He most certainly can. He can marry you off to whoever he chooses."
"Father," Diana said again, her eyes upon him.
He glanced up at her and then away again and murmured, "You should listen to your mother, pet."
Lady Dartmore butted in. "No man ever wants to marry, Diana. You must push them into it. Captain Littleton and Mr. Carling are both of them well-favored, well situated gentlemen with fortunes of their own. They are both perfectly acceptable as husbands. Why do you tarry?"
"What about love?" Diana asked quietly, staring into the deep hues of the Axminister carpet.
"You must speak up, Diana."
She looked up into her stepmother's eyes with a little defiance. "What about love?"
Lady Dartmore trilled a laugh. "Oh, my dear, where do you get these strange notions? Love grows only after one is married, not before. Look at your father and I." She walked over to where Lord Dartmore was still sitting silently. "We barely knew each other when we were married, and now, we are the most affectionate of couples." She smiled and patted her husband on the shoulder. He did not move at all. Her smile became more determined and she patted him again, this time a little harder. This time he looked up at her and she bent down to kiss him on the lips. "You see?" she said triumphantly.
Diana nodded, although she knew Lady Dartmore was wrong. Love came when you least expected it and from the direction you least expect it to come from. Diana had loved - and lost. What she felt for the two suitors was nothing more than friendly feeling - it would never blossom into love.
And she was simply not sur
e she could marry someone she knew she would never love.
Chapter Four.
Periodically through dinner, Simon glanced up at Diana from his perch beside Lady Edenburgh, however she did not pay him the least mind, apparently entertained sufficiently by the gentlemen on each side of her. Simon knew he had no reason and no right to be jealous, yet he couldn't help but tighten his jaw at the banter that flowed freely between the three of them.
He had heard the rumors of course, how Diana had been forced back on the marriage mart when the new Lady Dartmore had insisted on her being sent away from Dartmore Manor, but he had placed no stock in them - the Diana he remembered was headstrong and would choose her own path.
"I see you've noticed my goddaughter and her two beaux," said Lady Edenburgh in his ear, bringing him out of his reverie. He turned to find her smiling at the threesome with some satisfaction. "I invited them along to try to bring one or the other up to the mark. I must say, either of them would make her a very handsome husband."
At Simon's drawn brow, she chuckled and slapped his arm. "Oh, do not look at me like that. It is merely that I, for one, would be glad to see her out of her father's household and in one of her own. She was always destined to be the mistress of her own establishment."
"And while her father remained unmarried, that is exactly what she was," Simon mused with a slow nod.
"Exactly. But now?" Lade Edenburgh shrugged. "I think it would suit her better to be away from there."
"So, you're facilitating her engagement?"
Lady Edenburgh let out an unexpected bray of laughter which brought all heads spinning in their direction, and a flush to Simon's face. "Heavens no. Diana would never listen to anything I said. But I thought by bringing them all together in such a confined space for a few days, she might discover a preference for one or the other."
Suddenly, Simon was no longer hungry. Diana was going to marry one or the other of the fools at her side. It was glaringly obvious that she liked both of them. And perhaps for a woman in Diana's position, that was enough.
Lady Edenburgh continued to speak to him, but Simon no longer heard her. His jaw tightened again. He could not like it. The Diana he remembered would lay in the low bough of her favorite tree and bore him to death with passages from the romantic novels she borrowed from the traveling library. She would sigh over dreamy heroes and their too good to be true heroines.
And once, she had told him that she loved him.
Certainly, a woman like that would not be satisfied with mere friendship to base a marriage on?
But then again, ten years had passed. Diana was no longer a young girl. Perhaps she had little choice. Perhaps she was pleased that her choice of husband would be the culmination of a firm friendship. Simon did not know.
His brow knitted together. There was much that he did not know about Diana anymore. In those ten years, he had heard tidbits about her from his mother, of course, since they were neighbors of Lord Dartmore. But it was only the surface things he had heard. He knew nothing of the deeper feelings that she harbored.
Then he reminded himself - he had rescinded his right to those feelings when he had refuted her declaration of love.
With a deep sigh of remorse, he picked up his knife and fork and applied himself to his meal, cursing that he had accepted the Edenburgh's invitation. He had certainly never expected Diana to be in attendance - nor that he would be required to bear witness to her pledging herself to another man.
It was going to be a long couple of days.
Chapter Five.
Diana enjoyed Captain Littleton and Mr. Carling's company, she truly did, but it was a relief to exit the dining room in a flutter of silks with the rest of the ladies and adjourn to the parlor. In her current scattered state of mind, Diana could hardly keep up with their banter, let alone join in. For most of the dinner, she had spent the time smiling at whichever of them was talking, without following very much of the conversation at all.
Her mind had been completely taken up with the question of her betrothal. How could she choose between two gentlemen she truly liked but did not love?
She took a seat on a low chaise, noticing the fresh scent of pine needles and the holly and berry decorations strategically strewn about the room. The shadow of a smile crossed her face. She did love Christmastide. A merry fire danced in the hearth and the room was lit with plenty of bright, warm candles.
If only she could truly enjoy herself while she was here. She loosely clasped her hands in her lap and sighed.
"Are you quite alright, my dear?" asked Lady Edenburgh, easing herself down beside Diana.
Diana threw her a wan smile. "I will admit, I am a little distracted."
"Do you wish to speak of it?"
Unbidden tears sparkled in her eyes at the very real concern in her godmother's voice. "Thank you," she said. "Only I am not certain even where to start."
"If it has made you cry, then it certainly starts with that she-devil your father married," Lady Edenburgh muttered, and Diana was surprised into a laugh which turned into a sob.
"She is doing all that she can to get rid of me," she said, "And I confess, I am at my wit's end to know what I should do."
"What has she done now?" Lade Edenburgh took Diana's hand and squeezed it. "We shall work through this together."
"She insists on me choosing between Captain Littleton and Mr. Carling, and has cornered my father into agreeing to choose for me, if I cannot."
"Why, that's preposterous," declared Lady Edenburgh. "You are not a child. You are a woman of nearly seven-and-twenty, well old enough to take your own decisions on such matters."
"It is not the husband that is the issue, godmother," replied Diana sadly. "It is forcing me from my home that she is interested in."
Lady Edenburgh nodded, her lips tight. "And your father, weak as he is, does nothing to stop it."
Diana protested weakly. "He must take the views of his wife into account when he makes his choices."
"Except he is not making any choices."
Diana sat silently, looking down at her hands. The tears threatened to fall, but she refused to allow them, touching the corner of each eye with a gloved finger to soak them up.
"And I, fool that I am, forced you into close proximity with the two gentlemen I suppose you wish to see least in all the world," continued Lady Edenburgh ruefully. She patted Diana's hand. "I had thought a little close, private conversation might have been good for you."
"You were not to know," said Diana fondly. "And I truly do enjoy both Captain Littleton and Mr. Carling's company. They are very entertaining. But I had hoped for a few days of respite from the pressure of having to choose."
"I shall do what I can to minimize your contact with them," said Lady Edenburgh, at which declaration Diana shook her head.
"No. Do not trouble yourself. As I said, I do enjoy their company."
They sat silently with their thoughts for a moment, the trill of conversation from the other ladies enveloping them in a comfortable, feminine wave. Then, with a sigh and a last pat of Diana's hand, Lady Edenburgh said, "We should prepare ourselves, then, for the onslaught. The gentlemen will be with us momentarily." She lifted herself to her feet, groaning as she did. "I am getting old," she said with a rueful rub of her backside. "My hips are not what they used to be."
Diana, too, stood and shook out her gown, patting her hair in place. She raised a finger to a waiting footman, who brought her a glass of wine, which she accepted with a smile of thanks while Lady Edenburgh went to join another group of older women.
True to Lady Edenburgh's prediction, it was only minutes later that the double oak doors were pushed open and the gentlemen entered the room, boisterous and merry. Diana smiled to see her godmother go straight to her suitors and engage them in conversation, taking both of their arms.
But her smile was cut short when Simon Moore came to stand before her.
"May I procure you a drink?" he said formally.
"No, thank you," Diana replied, just as formal. "I have just recently refreshed mine."
There was an awkward silence that Diana filled. "Is it not a lovely party?"
"Yes. Extremely lovely." Simon made a gesture that took in the whole room. "It is very festive."
"That it is."
She nodded, trying not to take her lower lip between her teeth, and to keep her heart from pounding in her chest. Why did Simon approach her? They were casual acquaintances now, at best. There must be many others in the room he would rather be talking to.
And yet he continued to stand beside her, tall and silent and foreboding.
From across the room, one of the other young guests, a Miss Crisp, said, "Look! Mistletoe!"
Diana's stomach churned as she, and everyone else, looked above her head to where the treacherous bouquet of green and red hung from an exposed rafter.
"Doctor Moore!" Miss Crisp almost screeched in her excitement. "You must kiss her!"
The other guests murmured an amused agreement as Diana stood, mortified. Crimson spread across her cheeks as she turned to Simon.
"You need not," she started to say, only for her words to be stopped by Simon's hand upon her upper arm and his lips upon hers.
The kiss was swift, but Diana felt every moment of it. It took all her strength not to reach up and grasp the lapel of his coat. The softness of Simon's lips against hers and the contrast with his bristly mustache. The reminder of his scent, once so familiar. The instantaneous loss of all feeling to her extremities, only for it all to return an instant later, from her toes to the tips of her hair, in chaotic turbulence, burning through her every fiber. And the devastating, wondrous feeling that she would do it again, in less than a heartbeat, should Simon ask her to.
Chest heaving, she risked a glance into his hazel eyes.
"Merry Christmas, Diana," he said softly.
They were the only two people in a world of soft hues and starlight.
