The Scoundrel Who Loved Me

by Laura Landon

  And that opportunity had finally arrived with a job offer from a Mrs. Maude Smithers Watson, who currently lived in India and was in need of a companion. Her husband was a captain in the British army there and often away from home. They were a childless couple and Mrs. Smithers Watson enjoyed traveling, which sounded like a perfect fit for Diana.

  She could hardly wait to board the ship that would take her there.

  “Diana, are you ill?”

  She looked up to see Louisa standing beside her, looking resplendent in a pale pink gown. “No,” she said, glancing down, happy to see the unsightly splotches were finally fading. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

  Louisa tilted her head to one side. “Because I have asked you twice to give me your dance card and you didn’t appear to hear me. I thought you might be having a fit of some kind.”

  “I don’t have fits,” Diana said calmly. “And why do you want my dance card? Because yours is full already?”

  “It is,” she admitted, a conspiratorial gleam in her blue eyes, “but I don’t want to take yours. I want to add a name to it.”

  Diana stiffened. “Oh, no….”

  “Yes,” Louisa said with a smile. “You have a partner for the next dance! A very handsome partner, I might add. I told him all about you and how you’re so intelligent and so calm in a crisis.”

  “Calm in a crisis?” Diana echoed. “We don’t have crises in Wiltshire, Louisa, other than Rupert Hendry’s pigs escaping from their pen.”

  “And you solved that problem, didn’t you?” Louisa insisted. “You’re so good at managing people, Diana. Once the pigs were caught, you advised Mr. Hendry how to repair his fence, and even tended to Clara Plankett’s bruises after that big sow pushed her over.”

  “As you must recall, Mr. Hendry did not appreciate my advice,” Diana said. “And Clara complained about the odor of the poultice I applied.”

  “The smell was ghastly,” Louisa admitted. “Although after she made fun of you at the Parkers’ party, perhaps she deserved it.”

  Diana smiled. “Perhaps she did.”

  Louisa suddenly frowned. “You’ve changed the subject, Diana. Now you are trying to manage me.”

  “I don’t care to dance,” Diana said firmly. Then she reached for her sister’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “But thank you for your thoughtfulness, Louisa. I am perfectly happy right here.”

  “I don’t believe it.” Louisa curled her slender fingers around Diana’s hand and began pulling her toward the dance floor. “The gentleman is quite eager to meet you. And you haven’t danced yet this evening.”

  Diana could once again feel people staring. She stopped struggling to avoid making a scene and leaned closer to her sister. “Please let go of my hand, Louisa. I only came tonight because this ball is in honor of Fanny and Bertie’s engagement.”

  “Just one dance,” Louisa said, still walking in the direction of the dance floor. “You’re the best dancer of the three of us, but no one knows it. You’ll be wonderful.”

  The guests began to assemble on the dance floor once more and Diana could see it was the quadrille, one of her favorites.

  Perhaps just one dance wouldn’t hurt, she thought to herself, sorely tempted. After all, the poor gentleman that Louisa had cajoled should not be left stranded. And she’d never have to see him or anyone else in Wiltshire once she set sail for India.

  This could be her last dance in England.

  That thought buoyed her spirits and made her finally give a surrendering nod to her sister. Leaving England meant she’d also be leaving Louisa and Fanny behind. She’d miss them terribly, but Fanny would be newly wed and she knew Louisa would soon find a husband of her own among her many beaus.

  With Louisa’s hand still holding her own, she let herself be led to the center of the dance floor. A handsome young man stood there among the other guests, his gaze fixed on Louisa.

  “There you are!” he said. “It’s time for our second dance.”

  “Oh, not yet, Mr. Haverly.” Louisa smiled up at him, then stepped to one side and presented Diana to him. “This dance is for you and my sister.”

  His gaze moved to Diana and she could see the flash of disappointment in his green eyes.

  “Are you quite sure?” he asked, looking back at Louisa. “I understood I was to dance with her later this evening, after my two dances with you. Was that not our agreement?”

  His words made Diana’s stomach drop to her toes.

  Louisa blanched as she quickly shook her head. “No, sir, you misunderstood….”

  “Enough,” Diana gasped, backing away from the two of them. She couldn’t stand the thought of the other guests overhearing the conversation. Or the flash of pity in her sister’s eyes.

  Honed by years of similar rejections, she’d learned how to compose her expression. “I have brought Louisa to you, sir,” she said, her voice much steadier than the beat of her heart. She gently nudged Louisa toward him. “Please enjoy your dance together.”

  “Oh, Diana,” Louisa cried softly, anguish creasing her pretty face.

  “My apologies,” the man stammered, obviously realizing his ungentlemanly remark even as he reached for Louisa’s hand. “I meant no….”

  Diana didn’t linger to hear the rest of his apology, making her way off the dance floor with measured, even steps and a serene smile on her face. Despite her outward demeanor, she couldn’t help but notice that the pink splotches on her neck and chest were now ablaze.

  She smiled and nodded at friends and neighbors as she continued her steady pace toward the garden. The doors had been opened to let in the cool night air and she longed to disappear into the darkness. But first she had to pass by the affectionate couples who had been seeking the dark themselves. She heard furtive, whispered words and a shocked, feminine gasp, followed by a giggle.

  Diana picked up her pace, making her way toward the small grove of trees past the garden. Clouds filled the sky, making it hard to see the path in front of her. She stepped on a large stone and almost lost her footing, but kept walking.

  A silent tear trickled down her cheek, soon followed by others. She didn’t make a sound, even though her throat ached and her shoulders heaved.

  Fortunately, no one noticed her.

  As she moved well beyond the garden and into the trees, the sound of music from the ballroom faded into silence. She kept walking, welcoming the blanket of darkness that now enveloped her and eager to escape all those prying eyes.

  If she had the means, she’d walk to the nearest ship that could carry her to India. She’d already mentally composed the letters she planned to leave behind for her family. If she tried to tell them in person, she knew they’d protest. Or worse, implore her to stay with sobs and wails until she could not refuse them.

  Still, the thought of their reaction when they realized Diana had abandoned them made even more tears well in her eyes. Just as she reached up to wipe them away, she tripped over a thick tree root and fell facedown onto a solid but yielding surface.

  "Oof,” exclaimed the mound beneath her, proving it wasn’t a tree root.

  It was a man. And she could feel every inch of his body pressed against her as she lay sprawled on top of him.

  Horrified, she pushed against his chest in an attempt to lift herself off of him, but his hands tightly gripped her waist as he struggled to regain his breath.

  “My apologies, sir,” Diana stammered, realizing now how perilous it had been to walk this far alone in the dark. Not that she’d ever drawn the attention of scoundrels or bounders. She had neither the looks nor the fortune to interest them.

  The man seemed dazed by either sleep or, more likely, the impact of a woman weighing a smidge over nine stone falling on top of him. She took a moment to study his face, which was so close that she could see into the depths of his blue eyes.

  He looked about her age, although it was difficult to tell in the dark. And the fine fabric of the tailored garments he
wore identified him as a gentleman of means.

  Unless he’d stolen them. Because no gentleman of her acquaintance would choose to bed on the ground when a reputable inn stood just down the road.

  “Good evening,” he said, still holding on to her. His warm breath carried the scent of fine whiskey. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  This was hardly the time or place for polite introductions, Diana thought to herself, but perhaps the man was too intoxicated to realize it. “Please unhand me, sir. I’m crushing you and this situation is quite….”

  “Enticing?”

  Her suspicion had been correct. He was no gentleman. “I was going to say indecent.”

  “Forgive me,” he said, lifting her off him as if she weighed nothing at all. He seated her carefully on a grassy spot beside him and then, wincing, clambered awkwardly to his feet.

  “I am Henry Lanford,” he said with a stilted bow. Then he offered her his hand. “Please accept my apologies. Perhaps I injured my head when I blocked your path, Miss…?”

  “Harwood.” Diana ignored his proffered hand and found her own footing, rising from the ground.

  They stood facing one another and Diana was surprised to find herself looking up at him. That rarely happened, and for some ridiculous reason she found herself blushing.

  He smiled, his blue eyes now a deep sapphire in the glow of moonlight peeking out from the clouds.

  Diana looked away, fearing there might be enough moonlight for him to see the ugly splotches her aunt and sister had commented upon. Knowing she must look a mess after taking such a tumble, she focused her attention on brushing away the dirt and grass sticking to her gown.

  “No apology necessary, sir,” Diana replied at last, wondering how to make a graceful exit. “It was my fault. I did not see you there.”

  “Why were you crying, Miss Harwood?”

  The question startled her. Then she realized that he’d been able to see her face up close as well and had no doubt noticed her wet eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

  “A foolish reason,” she said at last. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

  “You should not be walking alone out here,” he told her, handing her a neatly folded handkerchief.

  “You are correct, sir.” She hastily wiped the tears off her cheeks, then held out his handkerchief.

  “No, please keep it.”

  “As you wish,” she said briskly, suddenly aware that she’d lost some hairpins as several long, dark tendrils began falling around her cheeks. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall make my way back to the house.”

  Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

  Heavy footsteps sounded behind her. “You must allow me to escort you, Miss Harwood. You never know what dangers might be lurking in the dark.”

  Men rarely escorted her anywhere, much less a man who stood a good four inches taller than her. Sensing that he would brook no argument, Diana gave him a curt nod.

  He bowed slightly and then offered his arm. “I am at your service, Miss Harwood.”

  She curled her fingers lightly around his arm as the moon fully emerged from the clouds and lit their path. They’d only taken a few steps when she noticed the smudge of blood oozing on the dark hairline at his temple. “You are bleeding, Mr. Lanford.”

  “Am I?” he asked in surprise. He took three more steps before his knees buckled.

  Diana caught him around the shoulders and eased him to the ground, unable to support his full weight. “I shall seek help for you, sir.”

  “No, wait,” he said, his handsome face pale in the moonlight. “I…must not….”

  “Sir, you are unwell,” Diana insisted, all too aware that he was gripping her forearm and would not let go. “And I cannot carry you to the house myself.”

  “Then carry this,” he said, his voice tight with pain as he pulled something from inside his jacket and pushed it into her hand.

  Diana looked down to see a small, square packet tied with string in her palm. The paper wrapping was frayed, as if it had been in his jacket for weeks. She wondered if his head wound had scrambled his brain. “Sir, I don’t understand.”

  He pushed himself up on his elbows, then slowly rose to his feet.

  “Mr. Lanford, you are unwell!” Diana positioned herself to catch him again if he fell. His face was so pale and haggard that she expected him to keel over at any moment.

  “Please,” he said, his voice low as he moved a step closer to her. “Keep it safe for me. Keep it always with you and tell no one. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” she said, “but why is it so important to you?” She glanced over at the house, wondering if she should call for help. But first she had to satisfy her curiosity. “What’s in it?”

  He met her gaze. “The danger in the dark.” Then he leaned forward and kissed her, right on the mouth.

  Diana froze, so startled that she wondered if she’d sustained a head injury as well. But soon the extraordinary sensation of his mouth on hers made her forget everything except this moment.

  He tasted of whiskey and secrets, and the sensual scrape of his whiskers on her skin made her heart skip a beat.

  Her eyelids fluttered closed and she found herself leaning up on the toes of her dance shoes. He gently cupped her cheeks in his hands, deepening the kiss. The warmth and breadth of his tall, muscular form was so alluring…and something she’d never experienced before.

  Then she heard the sound of music playing. And for one brief moment, when his arms came around her, she thought they were about to dance.

  Instead, he lifted his head, staring at her with a quizzical expression on his face. “Miss Harwood, I….”

  “Diana!” called a woman’s voice from the garden.

  She recognized it as her aunt Sterling and the moonlight suddenly seemed much too bright. If Aunt Sterling found them like this…. “I must go.”

  He nodded. “Farewell, for now.”

  Then he was gone, moving at a speed that surprised her for a man who had almost collapsed only moments before. She felt a little unsteady herself.

  She uncurled her left hand to see the packet he’d placed in her palm, but there was no time to open it now. The sound of brisk footsteps headed her way alerted her to the fact that no doubt her aunt would want a good explanation for Diana’s long absence from the ballroom.

  She regretted that she couldn’t tell her the truth. Because no one, not even her beloved family, would ever believe Diana had just been kissed by a stranger in the night.

  . . .

  As he watched Miss Diana Harwood walk toward the garden, he heard an odd sound, like fabric being ripped apart. If it was the linen handkerchief he’d given her, that did not bode well.

  He eased himself back among a pair of evergreen trees near the garden, wondering if he’d misread her. That kiss had been…unexpected. He’d come into Wiltshire for the express purpose of attending the ball, but matters had taken a turn for the worse. The fact that one of the Harwood sisters had fallen into his hands seemed like an opportunity not to be missed.

  So he’d taken it.

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw, wondering why he’d been so deliberately misled about Miss Diana Harwood. She’d been described to him as an aging wallflower—the plainest and least amiable of the Harwood girls.

  But he’d found her sweetly innocent beneath that shell of dignity she wore like a plate of armor. Something told him no man had kissed her before. Perhaps they simply hadn’t dared to try.

  A wave of dizziness overtook him and he reached out to the evergreen that concealed him, grabbing the nearest spiky branch to help maintain his balance. The crushed needles in his palm released a heady scent of pine that invaded his nostrils and helped clear his head.

  His knees shuddered, as if they were made of glass and one wrong step would send him crashing to the ground.

  Each breath he took sent a sharp knife of pain through his chest. He’d cracked a rib or two
that afternoon, when he’d been set upon by a pair of ruffians. And he’d been lucky to escape with only cracked ribs and the head wound that had reopened when Miss Harwood had toppled on top of him.

  But he didn’t have the luxury of giving in to the pain. He needed to keep moving.

  Leaning forward, he parted the branches in front of him just far enough to watch Miss Harwood approach a much shorter older woman whose stern expression and long, bejeweled finger wagging back and forth threatened a scold was about to materialize.

  In another place and time, he might have been amused at the picture the two of them presented, but few things amused him these days.

  If Miss Harwood didn’t keep his secret, all might be lost.

  “Where have you been?” the older woman said. He could hear worry mingled with irritation in her deep, sonorous voice.

  “Aunt Sterling, I am so sorry,” Diana told her. “I needed a bit of fresh air and went for a walk. I never intended to be gone so long. And something happened….”

  Every muscle tensed in his body. This was the moment. He watched Miss Harwood’s aunt take a step closer to her.

  “My dear girl, I thought you looked ill earlier. And I was right.” She placed a hand on Diana’s cheek. “Yes, you’re very warm. And what a time to be ill—right before we leave for the wedding!”

  His grip tightened on the tree branch, the needles stinging his hand.

  In his current condition, he’d be lucky to make it back in time to catch the coach. But he didn’t have a choice—not if he wanted to survive the evening. First, he must make certain that Miss Harwood didn’t betray him. The women’s voices had grown softer, but he could still make out the words they spoke.

  “I’m not ill, Aunt,” Diana said. “All is well.”

  Then he saw her point to the skirt of her gown.

  “But I’m afraid I may have ruined this gown,” Diana continued. “I tripped and fell, you see, and have torn it.”