Feeling only a little better after a cup of tea, Diana decided to remain in bed. She had almost drifted back to sleep when her mother knocked and walked into the room.
“Oh, Diana.” Lady Westbury looked tragic. “What on earth happened last night? You have always been such a good girl, so why, oh why, did you let Lord Cotson kiss and…and…fondle you?” she cried. “And to be seen by Lady Whittingham, no less. What are we to do? Your father is upset and placing full blame on the young man. However, it will be you who will ultimately suffer.”
Diana groaned. Bits and pieces of the events on the terrace and her inglorious exit from the ball slowly came back to her. It had not, then, been a nightmare. She brushed her hand over her mouth as if trying to erase the memory of that unsolicited kiss. Yet far worse than the kiss was Lord Cotson’s squeezing her breast painfully, and when she had tried to pull away, her gown had ripped. Why had he violated her in this way? And why had she allowed herself to be alone on the terrace with him? She had never paid Lord Cotson more attention than any of the other young men in her circle of acquaintance. Her only excuse was that she had drunk too much champagne. But what sort of excuse was that? She should have known better.
“I am so sorry, Mama. I feel wretched and I know I have let you and Papa down badly. I left the ballroom for fresh air because I was feeling dizzy and thought I might faint. Lord Cotson followed me and…well, you know the rest. I did not encourage him, Mama, I am sure of that.” Tears were falling down Diana’s face as she implored her mother to believe her.
Lady Westbury gathered her daughter in her arms and let her cry. “I know, my darling, that you wouldn’t have acted so if you had not drunk so much champagne. Nevertheless, we will have to live with the consequences. I am afraid your reputation will be much damaged.”
“What can I do? I am so sorry, so sorry.” Diana wept as the implications of what had occurred crashed in on her.
“You stay in your room today and rest. Perhaps tomorrow, when you are feeling a little better, we can decide what to do. Do you want me to ask Caroline to come to you?”
Diana shook her head. She did not want to talk to Caroline or anyone, apart from Mama, at the moment. Her mother’s kindness made her feel even worse; she deserved to be scolded, shouted at and possibly disowned. That her mother believed her about what happened was beyond relief.
When she was alone she looked under the fabric of her nightgown. She saw the tell-tale bruise right where Cotson had grabbed her. She buried her head in the pillow and wept some more.
* * *
Diana kept to her room all day, her shame enveloping her like a dark shroud. The hazy memories of what had happened the previous evening kept flitting through her mind. Knowing she could not hide away forever, she dressed and descended from her room for breakfast the following day. Her mother gently told her that her father had tried to find Lord Cotson to make him offer for her, but it seemed that Cotson had not only fled London, but had left the country.
“I would not want him, Mama,” Diana protested. “I have no feelings for him.”
In his search for Lord Cotson, Lord Westbury had uncovered details of the wager. Knowing that Diana would eventually hear of this, Lady Westbury told her daughter.
“That is cruel!” Diana stormed. “Two hundred guineas! He did this to me on purpose for the money. I hate him!” Her eyes brimmed with tears of anger and grief.
Caroline came into the room at this point and Diana stopped shouting when she saw her cousin’s tear-stained face.
“Caroline,” she said reassuringly, “do not be upset. My behaviour can surely not reflect badly on you.”
“It’s Mr. Straw,” Caroline sobbed. “He, too, was in on the wager. Was he planning the same for me? Now I must tell him I will not see him again.” Her face was the picture of grief. “But I like him so much it hurts.”
The girls clung together, crying, and Lady Westbury left the room, allowing them some time alone. She went to find her husband to discuss with him what they should do next.
Eventually it was agreed that they would remain in London, as Lord Westbury had business to attend to and had arranged to visit the Earl of Brockwood at the end of the season with a view to expanding the Westbury stables.
Caroline would continue to attend social functions, but Diana would remain quietly at home until the incident was off everyone’s lips. Lady Westbury pleaded for an early return to Yorkshire, but Lord Westbury remained firm, naively thinking the scandal would quickly pass.
* * *
It was the morning after the Whittington Ball when Rollo became aware of what had occurred. Oliver told him casually over breakfast that Cotson had won the wager.
“What the hell?” Rollo exclaimed. “Surely not!”
Oliver, keen to be the bearer of this news, continued, “Yes. It seems that Lady Whittingham herself caught him kissing and fondling the lady, so there can be no denying it. He won fair and square.”
“And who is the young lady in question?” Rollo asked out of interest, wondering which of the silly young misses had been foolish enough to allow this to happen.
Oliver laughed. “You will never believe me when I tell you. It was Miss Wells.”
This brought Rollo up with a start. “Miss Diana Wells?” he asked, just to be sure he had heard correctly.
“Yes, yes. I admit I was surprised because she has never shown any great preference for Cotson, but I hear that she had drunk a trifle too much champagne. And now Coston’s done a bolt.”
Rollo left the breakfast room and went into his study to think. He could scarce believe what his brother had told him, but there was no reason to think that Oliver had not been telling the truth. Of all the debutantes the gentlemen had been hanging around, Diana Wells was the last one he would have thought susceptible.
His next thought was that he was partially responsible. He had been told of the wager and could have warned all four of the foolish young men not to pursue it; instead he had extracted that promise only from his brother. Diana, who had been kind enough to keep his secret, had now had her reputation tarnished, if not ruined. She did not deserve this.
All day Diana’s predicament churned in his head and he could not think of any way to right this for her. Cotson obviously had no intention of marrying her, but perhaps he could be made to. It was the only course of action Rollo could see.
With this in mind, the next day Rollo found himself knocking on the door of Viscount Westbury’s London residence and asking for an audience with the ladies of the house. He was admitted to the drawing room, where Lady Westbury, Miss Diana Wells and Miss Caroline Colpert were seated with sewing on their laps. Both the young ladies, he noted, had red eyes from, he rightly assumed, much crying.
After stiff and formal greetings Rollo took a seat in the chair indicated.
“I was not sure if you would still be in town following the unfortunate occurrence at Lady Whittington’s Ball.” He saw them all flinch and Diana’s eyes brimmed with fresh tears; he did, however, continue. “I am ashamed to say that my brother was one of the young men involved in the wager, and although I ordered him not to pursue it, I realize now I could have done more in respect of the other young men.”
Lady Westbury had been wondering why Lord Brockwood had visited when he had never previously done so. “I am sure no blame can lie with you,” she said. “It was not your brother who behaved abominably. But thank you. Your concern does you credit.”
Rollo needed to determine Diana’s feelings for Cotson before he decided on his next course of action. “Lady Westbury, with your permission, could I please take Miss Wells for a stroll in the garden? She is looking a little pale. We will, of course, stay within sight at all times.”
Lady Westbury looked surprised but nodded her assent. Diana hesitantly stood and took the arm he proffered.
Once outside he got straight to the point.
“Miss Wells, as I said, I am quite aware of what occurred at Lady Whittington’s Bal
l.” Seeing Diana blush, he continued, “I wondered if your parents were demanding satisfaction from Cotson. Your parents must know that unless he marries you, your reputation is quite ruined.”
Large brown eyes full of unshed tears met piercing blue ones as she replied, “My papa was unable to find Lord Cotson, and I myself have no wish for him to be found. How could I marry one who tricked me so cruelly to win a wager? And what if my papa called him out? Papa could be killed.”
Marriage to Cotson did not, therefore, seem a solution that would be welcome, so Rollo did not press this. “I am sure your papa will not call him out, but should you wish for such retribution, I will gladly do so on his behalf.”
His words caused Diana to look up and scrutinize his face, which, as usual, was void of any emotion. She smiled faintly at him, but the pain and hurt in her eyes caused Rollo’s stomach to tighten in discomfort.
“I don’t know if you are joking with me,” she said, “but just in case you are not, I can assure you that I do not want you to call out Lord Cotson. Thank you for wanting to help. It is very kind.” Her tone was soft. Even in her disgrace this gentleman was showing kindness to her.
Rollo squeezed her arm to show his support and suddenly found Diana confiding in him as tears rolled down her checks.
“Please understand it was my own fault. I had drunk too much champagne and lost my wits, else I would never have allowed such behaviour. I cannot remember very clearly what happened, but I know it was very wrong. I felt so poorly yesterday I hoped I might die.” She gave a choked attempt at a laugh. “Of course that would have been too easy. I will have to live with my shame as best I can. It is my family for whom you should save your sympathy, as I have brought disgrace on them, as well.”
Rollo’s experience of crying females was very limited, but he produced a freshly laundered handkerchief from his pocket and presented it to Diana. “What are you going to do now?” he asked. It pulled at his heart, seeing her so distressed.
“I want to go straight home to Yorkshire, but Papa still has business to attend to here and says he cannot leave. Mama and Papa are hoping this will blow over, but I know they are mistaken. I will not be able to show my face outside the house whilst we remain in London.”
Rollo thought she was probably right—the ton did not forgive or forget easily. Society mamas were more than happy to make an example of foolish behaviour. He thought how very different it was for men, who could sow all the wild oats they wanted with very little, if any, censure. Diana, however, knew the rules and she had broken the most important one for a young lady, even though it had not been her intention. Yes, she’d drunk too much champagne, but that was no excuse. She could have used more circumspection.
Rollo wished he could reassure Diana that all would be well, but he knew this was not so. Greatly saddened, he squeezed her arm again. “Are you ready to go back inside to your mother?” he asked. She nodded her assent and together they returned to the drawing room.
Rollo then asked if Viscount Westbury was available for an audience and was immediately shown into his study.
“Good day,” he said to Westbury, “and thank you for making the time to see me. I am sorry to hear of the upset in your house.”
The viscount, a portly gentleman in his fifty-fifth year, looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I am most distressed for Diana and cannot help but feel that the young dandy took advantage of her. I would have given him two hundred guineas myself to stop the wager had I known of it. As it is, it is my daughter who will have to live with the consequences.” He sighed heavily.
Rollo’s own conscience in this matter was hardly clear, and he, too, would have gladly given up two hundred guineas for this not to have happened. Unlike Westbury, he had been given an opportunity to put a stop to the wager but had done nothing.
He could, however, try to alleviate Diana’s immediate suffering. “I am aware of your intention to visit to my stables at the end of the season, and if you have no other business to attend to, I would happily bring this forward. Your wife and daughter could accompany you to Brockwood Hall, as I know they have no wish to remain in London at this time. Lady Colpert and her daughter could also join your party should they choose to.”
Viscount Westbury considered the offer and realized it made great sense, and was bound to meet with his wife’s and daughter’s approval. His slumped shoulders straightened.
“I do have some business yet to conclude in London but could complete this by the end of this week. I appreciate your offer and would very much like to take you up on it. But are you sure you are happy to leave London in the middle of the season?”
Rollo was more than happy to have a legitimate excuse to withdraw from the round of engagements that made up the London season. To have some time away from scheming mothers and their daughters to relax at his estate in Hampshire would be most welcome.
“I assure you,” he said, “that I would not make such a suggestion were it not agreeable to me. I will leave tomorrow to make preparations and will expect you and your family on Monday next if that suits.”
“I gladly accept your generous offer and thank you on behalf of my wife and daughter. I look forward to seeing your stables and stud, as well. I find myself in your debt.” Viscount Westbury felt a trifle less downhearted than he had earlier.
This settled, Rollo took his leave and went directly back to his London residence. He informed his mother of his change of plans and she reluctantly agreed to return to Brockwood Hall with him to act as hostess, even though she had been enjoying being back in London society—she had been absent during the period of mourning for her late husband. With her tall slim figure suiting the latest Grecian-style fashions and her relatively unlined face, both giving the appearance of a woman much younger than fifty, she was attracting quite a lot of attention.
Oliver was also very upset at being taken from London, but Rollo informed him that, following the incident with the wager, he could not trust him to remain in London without his and his mother’s supervision. Rollo also felt that Diana may appreciate some company her own age.
* * *
When Viscount Westbury informed his wife and Diana of the Earl of Brockwood’s invitation, they expressed their gratitude to Lord Brockwood for the kind offer, as well as to the viscount for his acceptance of it. Lady Westbury felt this was a better option than returning to Yorkshire, for she had heard that Brockwood Hall was a fine residence set in beautifully landscaped gardens; she welcomed the opportunity to see the place for herself. Diana was just happy to be leaving London, as she dared not leave the house for shame and fear of ridicule. That Caroline had also been included in the invitation pleased her greatly.
Diana knew that the Earl of Brockwood had made this offer to help alleviate her suffering and was grateful to him for this. She realized that he felt indebted to her for not revealing that he suffered from seizures, but if she got the opportunity, she must tell him that this was not necessary, although she did appreciate his actions. She now more firmly than ever believed that, beneath his icy exterior, Rollo was a kind and compassionate man.
Chapter 5
The Westbury coach containing Diana, her parents, Caroline and Lady Colpert and a carriage containing trunks and servants, set off for Brockwood Hall on the Monday as planned. Although the journey was tiring, Diana felt her sprits lift as they left London behind. As for Caroline, she remained subdued, for although she had vowed never to speak to Mr. Straw again following his involvement in the wager, she missed him dreadfully.
“You are pining for him,” Diana murmured sympathetically to her cousin, sitting directly to her right. “Why didn’t you speak with him and give him a chance to tell his side of the story? He did call on you every day up to our leaving.”
“I can no longer trust him. How do I know if his affection was genuine or if he was just trying to get me in a compromising position to win the bet?” Caroline was again close to tears. “I really thought I ha
d met the man of my dreams and that he felt the same, but now I don’t know. The trust is gone and I do not see how that can be recovered.”
Diana, although her situation in regard to her reputation was far worse, at least her heart had not been involved. “Perhaps,” she said, “this time away will benefit us both. It can allow us to reflect and make sense of everything.”
The carriage slowed as the gates to Brockwood Hall were opened.
“Have you ever seen such a fine avenue of trees?” Lady Westbury declared upon seeing the magnificent elms lining the driveway.
“Have you ever seen such a fine house?” Lady Colpert gasped as Brockwood Hall came into view.
The Hall was built of a golden stone and was perfectly symmetrical. A large central block with an imposing entrance was flanked by L-shaped wings. The window lintels and stone carvings were finished with gold leaf, proclaiming the wealth and fine taste of the owner.
Diana lived in a fine house, but this was breathtaking and every bit as grand as she had been led to believe. She was pleased for the Earl of Brockwood; no wonder he was considered such an eligible bachelor. The shining warmth of the building was somewhat at odds with his nickname, the Earl of Ice.
As the carriage slowed to a halt in front the wide stone staircase that led to the magnificent first-floor entrance, liveried footmen came forward and assisted them down from the carriage, while other servants whisked away their luggage. An impressive man, who introduced himself as Briggs, the butler, met them at the door and arranged for their coats and capes to be taken. He summoned maids and swiftly all were escorted to their allotted rooms to refresh themselves before dining with the family at eight o’clock.
Diana was shown to a guest bedroom furnished in pale blue and silver. Her maid, Tilly helped her out of her travelling clothes, and she lay on the large four-poster bed to rest before changing for dinner. She soon drifted to sleep as she listened to the rustling of Tilly, unpacking her clothes in the adjoining room.
The Earl of Ice Page 4
