by Laura Landon
They were taken to their rooms on the second floor of the manor, Diana barely heeding the way. She kept taking deep breaths and trying to ignore the crushing pain in her chest.
It was all so silly. What did she care if Lord Thorne had made a joke of her? She had long been immune to such childish antics.
After the housekeeper had seen to all their needs, Diana closed the door of her bedchamber, then leaned heavily against it.
“Colin Sinclair, Marquess of Thorne and Viscount Thorne,” she said between clenched teeth. She’d barely been able to sleep last night, replaying every moment of their meeting. “I should have known it meant nothing—that you were simply toying with me.”
She thought about the packet he’d pressed into her hand. It was in the trunk she’d brought with her, because she had been foolish enough to take her promise to him seriously.
Now she was tempted to rip the packet to shreds.
She headed toward the trunk, which one of the servants had placed on a short wide table in the corner. But to get there, she had to move past the dressing table, and could not miss the large floral arrangement displayed there. A crystal vase filled with pretty lavender and yellow wildflowers stood atop the ornate table and a note was propped against it.
Curious, she picked up the note, the scent of lavender filling her nostrils. She broke the seal on the note and read the elegant lines.
Miss Harwood,
Please accept my apology for my behavior last evening. I was not myself. I hope we can be friends.
Yours, etc.
Lord Thorne, Viscount Thorne
“I was not myself,” she repeated incredulously. He certainly was not, since the man she’d met had introduced himself as Henry Lanford.
Did the gentleman have no shame?
She ripped the note in half, then picked up the vase, tempted to throw it against the wall. But she paused and gathered herself, taking another deep breath. With great care she set the vase back on the dressing table.
She wouldn’t let a man like Lord Thorne make her lose her temper. He simply wasn’t worth it.
And how could Bertie befriend a man like that? A scoundrel, through and through. But then, they’d met as children and formed a bond, and Fanny had once said she admired Bertie’s sense of loyalty above all else.
Still, could Lord Thorne really think so little of Diana that he believed a simple note and flowers would appease her?
Diana turned toward the long gilded mirror to face her reflection and the truth. A man like Lord Thorne would never be drawn to someone like her. He’d simply been toying with her from the very beginning.
And she would find a way to make him pay for it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Thorne had to wait until dinner that evening to gauge Miss Diana Harwood’s mood.
He’d long been a connoisseur of women, although no one had ever managed to steal his heart. And he’d taken great pride in his ability to read them well.
Diana Harwood was different. She sat straight in her chair, her face expressionless. But her eyes—those dark, shining orbs—couldn’t hide the sparks of anger that shot in his direction the few times she deigned to look at him.
He might not know what she was thinking, but he could easily guess.
Miss Louisa Harwood sat beside him and kept trying to engage him in conversation, making it difficult for him to focus on Diana. Louisa was a sweet and cheerful girl, he thought to himself, but rather exhausting with her incessant conversation. And even worse, the conversation centered around his friend Barrett. How long had he known Captain Barrett? Had Barrett always been so amiable? Did Barrett sing well?
This last question made him choke on his wine and Mrs. Sterling, who sat on the other side of him, pounded him so hard on his back to ʻhelp him recover his breathʼ that she’d probably left bruises.
He almost believed Diana had told her family of his perfidy and now they were taking revenge on him. But although he’d just met her, he sensed that Diana would never share the story of their secret meeting with anyone—for her own sake, rather than his.
And yet, he saw a sprig of lavender adorning her dress and it must have come from the flowers he’d had sent to her room.
Perhaps that meant she’d forgiven him.
He smiled to himself at that bit of wishful thinking, but he did need to find a way to speak to Diana privately. Then he could apologize in person and kindly ask her to return the packet he’d given her.
Thorne just hoped she’d kept her promise to keep the packet with her. Because if she’d left it back in Pembury, he had a long midnight ride ahead of him.
And that would be perilous—since he’d been followed on the road to Marwick Manor and escaped more than one close call.
Thorne shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable and enjoying a temporary reprieve from conversation as Louisa and Mrs. Sterling were each engaged with their other dinner partner.
His ribs still ached and would for awhile, given his past experience. Fortunately, his head wound had finally stopped bleeding. He’d taken great pains to conceal it with his thick hair so it didn’t provoke uncomfortable questions.
Then Louisa turned to him. “So, I notice you looking often at my sister Diana,” she said in a low voice. “May I ask why?”
Bollocks. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to avoid uncomfortable questions, at least not while seated next to Miss Louisa Harwood. He needed to speak to Bertie to make sure that did not happen again.
“She is seated directly across from me,” he replied evenly. “Did you know Barrett is an excellent swordsman? He even bested our fencing master once.”
Louisa’s eyes widened with delight. “No, he never mentioned a word about it. Tell me everything!”
. . .
By the time Thorne found his opportunity to speak privately with Diana, his ribs hurt like the devil. He wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed after too many sleepless nights on the road.
She was strolling outside on the terrace while everyone else was playing whist in the drawing room and chatting about the wedding. Only Lady Marwick had retired early, heading upstairs to her private suite shortly after dinner.
When he walked outside, Diana Harwood’s back was to him and her gaze on the west horizon. The setting sun painted the landscape in pink and purple hues. He stood there silently for a moment, just watching her.
She wore a pale yellow gown and matching pelisse that couldn’t hide her magnificent stature and comely figure, despite its simple cut and style. In fact, he thought its simplicity made her look all the more intriguing. Her raven hair was swept up in a loose chignon, but several curls spilled over the back of her long, graceful neck.
“We meet again,” he said at last.
She stood there for a long moment, making him wonder if she planned to ignore him. Then she finally made a slow turn until she was facing him.
“Lord Thorne,” she said politely. Then she arched one winged brow. “Or is it Mr. Lanford? I am quite confused.”
She spoke in a soft, quizzical voice with no animosity or anger. And yet he tensed, feeling not quite safe under her penetrating gaze.
“Please allow me to apologize again, Miss Harwood. My full name is Colin Henry Lanford Sinclair, Marquess of Thorne, and I can explain everything to your satisfaction, I believe.”
“Please do.”
Had her brown eyes narrowed ever so slightly? Her tone grown just a little sharper?
“It was my intention to attend the ball in Pembury,” he began, “but after I suffered a small accident…” He smiled at her, a maneuver that worked to soften a lady’s heart. “In truth, I fell off my horse. And I hope you’ll be kind enough not to share that with my friends. They will never let me hear the end of it.”
“I can give you my promise on that,” she replied. “And I perfectly understand now.” She leaned over to the flowering bush next to her and plucked off one of the full purple blooms. Then she began walking toward him, holding
out the flower. “Let’s be friends, Lord Thorne.”
Satisfaction made his smile widen and his gaze fell to the sway of her hips as she drew near.
A great error on his part.
Before he realized what was happening, Diana shoved the flower under his nose, the sticky petals tickling the inside of his nostrils. He sneezed violently and stepped away. That’s when she lifted one prettily clad foot and came down hard on the instep of his right foot.
The impact felt like a spike driving through the top of his soft leather boot.
He swallowed a cry of pain and bent half over, his nose running freely and another sneeze preventing him from speaking.
“Oh, dear,” she said, “I am so clumsy, as you already well know. And now you seem to be injured.” Her tone was sweet and deadly. “Shall I call for help? Unless you are carrying a secret document you would like to conceal first.”
He slowly rose to his full height and saw her pull a handkerchief from the sleeve of her yellow pelisse and hand it to him. It was the same handkerchief he’d given her last night.
Lord Thorne plucked it from her hand without a word and wiped his runny nose. So much for reading her mood. Diana had made her feelings for him quite clear.
“Let’s stop playing silly games, shall we?” he said, no longer trying to charm her.
“You followed me out here,” she reminded him. “And I’m not the one who started this silly game.”
“I am aware of that,” he said, gritting his teeth. “And I have apologized. Twice.” He met her gaze. “But perhaps not for my worst offense. I never should have kissed you, and deeply regret it.” He saw something flash in her eyes. “Perhaps, as you implied, I was out of my head.”
But she appeared no more appeased by his third apology.
“I suppose next you will tell me that you are the danger in the dark that you warned me about. Do you think me a simpleton, sir? Do you toy this way with all the ladies you meet, or just the ones like me?”
He didn’t know how to reply to such a question.
She stood tall and proud, her shoulders squared and her head raised in defiance. A goddess, he thought to himself, ready for battle.
A strange energy pulsed between them—something he’d never experienced before. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready to walk away.
The sound of a jaunty whistle broke the taut silence. Thorne turned around and saw Haverly approaching them.
“There you are, Thorne,” Haverly’s gaze moved between him and Diana. “And, I say, this is good fortune. You are just the lady I wish to see, Miss Harwood.”
Thorne noticed that Haverly seemed completely oblivious to the fact that his presence wasn’t welcome at this moment. But that was nothing new.
Diana bestowed a cool smile on Haverly. “Lord Thorne was just telling me how much he enjoys playing games.”
Haverly laughed. “Indeed, he does. Or at least, he used to.” His amusement faded. “But the less said about that, the better, I believe.” He cleared his throat. “Miss Harwood, may I ask a tremendous favor of you? It’s about your sister, Miss Louisa.”
Thorne found himself staring at Diana, amazed at the serene expression on her face. He was reminded of the spring-fed lake near the manor, smooth on the surface but with turbulent currents running underneath.
His sore foot was proof of that, he thought to himself, which led him to wonder if she’d hired some cobbler to fashion her shoes with steel-tipped heels.
Diana smiled at Haverly. “I will be happy to help you if I can.”
“It’s about what happened at the ball last evening,” Haverly began. Then he glanced over at Thorne, his eyes widening. “I say, where were you last night, Thorne? Bertie told us you’d be attending.”
“I was detained,” Thorne said, glancing at Diana.
But her serene gaze was fixed on his friend. “What is it you’d like me to say to Louisa?”
Haverly cleared his throat and took a step closer to her. “Please tell her there was a reason for my bad behavior towards you at the ball. I was so overwhelmed by her beauty and charm that I forgot my manners.”
Diana looked at him for a long moment. “If you believe that will help, I will go to Louisa immediately and repeat your exact words.”
“Thank you,” Haverly said with a relieved smile, watching as she walked away and disappeared into the house. Then he released a deep sigh. “There now. That was easier than I thought it would be. Perhaps Miss Harwood is not such a cold fish after all.”
“I begin to see why Miss Louisa has taken such a dislike to you,” Thorne said through clenched teeth. “How dare you refer to Miss Harwood that way.” He took a menacing step toward his friend.
Haverly held up both hands, quickly backing away. “Now, Thorne, I did not mean it. Indeed, she seems quite sympathetic to me.”
Thorne stopped himself from punching Haverly in the jaw. More due to the pain in his ribs and foot than any concern for his old friend. They hadn’t seen much of each other since leaving Ottley’s house years ago. And, the only one he still felt close to was Bertie.
“I do apologize,” Haverly said. “I was simply repeating what I had been told about her. But you are right, I do the lady a disservice.”
“And not for the first time, apparently,” Thorne mused. “Explain this bad behavior toward Miss Harwood at the ball.”
Haverly’s expression grew wary. “It was nothing much, really. A simple misunderstanding. I believed it was my turn to dance with Miss Louisa, so when she brought her sister to the dance floor to be my partner, I explained her mistake.”
Thorne stared at him. Haverly might not be the smartest man he’d ever met, but he had been well-versed in the social graces. “So you insulted the lady?”
Haverly tugged at the silk cravat at his throat. “You know I am sometimes clumsy with words, Thorne, but Miss Diana understood and convinced Miss Louisa to dance with me before she graciously left the floor.” He quickened his backward retreat toward the house. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I will rejoin the rest of the party.”
For Bertie and Fanny’s sake, Thorne did not pursue the man, although he longed to knock some sense into his head. He had no doubt it had been Haverly’s stupid comment that had caused Diana’s tears last evening.
No wonder she was angry. And a formidable foe. Haverly was too stupid to realize he’d just ruined any chance he might have had with Miss Louisa.
Thorne sat down on the nearest bench and sucked in a deep, painful breath. He didn’t know which hurt worse—his cracked ribs or his rapidly swelling foot.
But he knew his pride had taken a hit. He’d completely underestimated Miss Diana Harwood and she’d gotten the better of him this evening.
Instinct told him this wouldn’t be their last battle. And he found himself quite eager for the next one to begin.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning, Diana entered the breakfast room and was pleased to see that the only occupants were Bertie and Andrew, who were seated at the table with their plates overflowing with eggs and kippers. She’d risen early, hoping to avoid Lord Thorne. With any luck, she thought to herself, he’d have difficulty walking this morning.
She exchanged greetings with the two men, then moved to the sideboard with her plate. There were so many bowls and platters full of food she didn’t know where to begin, but with the nearest serving spoon in hand she began absently filling her plate.
Despite her weariness from yesterday’s journey, she hadn’t slept well last night. She blamed Lord Thorne for that and didn’t regret her bit of revenge last night.
Now she just hoped he’d leave her alone for the rest of the visit. She certainly had every intention of avoiding him. However, she knew he’d want her to return his silly packet.
After their encounter last evening, she’d returned to her bedchamber still burning with anger. And with his words still echoing in her ears: I never should have kissed you and deeply regret it.
She clos
ed her eyes for a moment, still standing at the sideboard with her plate half full, and waited for the pain to pass through her. Diana had heard worse, after all.
And yet, she couldn’t forgive them.
Perhaps that’s why she’d torn open his secret packet last night after returning to her bedchamber. But all it contained was a round silver snuff box.
She’d been sorely disappointed and assumed it was a wedding gift for Bertie, although she’d never seen him use the stuff.
When she’d lifted the silver lid, she’d accidentally dropped the box on the floor, the contents spilling out.
And that’s when she’d seen it. A small key that had been hidden beneath the finely ground tobacco.
She had it with her now, tucked into the top of her corset. And she had wrapped the snuff box back in the same paper and tied it with the string.
Diana had no intention of giving the key to Lord Thorne. Not until she learned its purpose and why he’d been so desperate to conceal it.
“My mother won’t be downstairs today,” Bertie told her as Diana walked to the table and sat down. “We’re expecting our two cousins and their wives to visit this afternoon. My cousins will join our shooting party and mother will hold tea in her private sitting room.”
“I hope all this activity isn’t too much for her,” Diana said. “Although she looks well.”
“Thank you,” Bertie said, “she is feeling much better than before.”
Andrew stabbed his sausage with his knife, then split it in two. “We were quite worried about her. She became ill right after the season was over and the doctors didn’t know what ailed her.”
Bertie sighed. “She wasn’t even able to attend Lord Varney’s masquerade this summer, which she looks forward to every year. But she insisted we go. Father tried to put up a fight, but….”
“He never wins,” Andrew said with a grin.
“That’s the masquerade you invited Fanny and Aunt Sterling to attend with you, isn’t it?”
Bertie nodded as he chewed, then swallowed. “Yes, and Fanny seemed to enjoy it. Perhaps you and Miss Louisa will be able to join us next year.”
