Derek watched these exchanges with interest and eventually decided it was not merely politeness that motivated the people of this village to speak to her. Most of them seemed genuinely fond of her and distressed over her tragedy.
Diana greeted the people with deference, calling most by name and accepting their sympathy with genuine warmth. She refused to allow pity to enter into the conversation and again reiterated her determination to rebuild her ruined home.
By meal’s end, Derek was forced to admit he had been guilty of misjudging Diana. She must have told him the truth about Giles and her life in Cornwall. A woman so well respected, so admired, by so many people, could not be guilty of the deceit he had accused her of.
Derek wanted to tell her just that, but it seemed unlikely he would get the chance to be alone with her. As the hour grew late, Mrs. Potter, the innkeeper’s wife, descended on the table. Waving a beefy arm, she shooed away the three men clustered around Diana.
“Be off with you, lads,” Mrs. Potter clucked. “Can’t you see Lady Diana’s weary to the bone? She needs to be resting now, not listening to the likes of you three carry on.”
After much shuffling of feet and lazy nods, the three men took their leave. Mrs. Potter grumbled her approval and then turned her attention to Diana.
“I’ve had the boys fill up the copper tub for your bath, milady,” she said. “’Tis a good thing your old traveling coach broke down again just outside of town. The Sutters were only too happy to take in your maid, Amy, and her poor husband, Richards. Thank God they were still at the farm when the fire broke out at the manor house. My Joe’s gone down to the Sutters to pick up your traveling trunk. At least you’ll have a few fresh changes of clothes.”
“You are a wonder, Mrs. Potter!” Diana exclaimed. “How can I ever thank you?”
“No thanks are needed,” Mrs. Potter said, blushing at Diana’s gratitude. “We both know I owe you far more than I can ever repay.”
Derek, watching the exchange with pure fascination, was startled to see Diana leap to her feet and give Mrs. Potter a small hug. “I shall find my own way upstairs, Mrs. Potter,” Diana said. “With Joe gone, you are quite shorthanded. Best see to your customers. I can manage by myself.”
Then Diana turned to Derek, and the warmth and tenderness left her eyes. “I think it would be best if I bid you farewell tonight, my lord,” she said in a cool voice. “I doubt I will be seeing you in the morning since I will be gone very early. I presume any future correspondence between us will be done through our solicitors. Thank you for accompanying me home. I wish you Godspeed on your return journey to London.”
Dismissing him with a curt nod of her head, Diana turned and bolted from the room before giving Derek a chance to reply. Derek reluctantly allowed Diana to leave, knowing he could not very well have a scene with her in a public taproom—especially a taproom where she was surrounded by dozens of loyal villagers. They would probably lynch him if they thought he was upsetting her.
A burly man carrying a sizable traveling trunk entered the inn and spoke with Mrs. Potter. Derek decided he must be Joe, who had been sent to fetch Diana’s clothes. He watched the man climb the short staircase with the trunk and waited expectantly for his return.
When Joe came back down the stairs, Derek signaled him, requesting a bottle of brandy with two glasses. After Joe placed them on the table Derek filled both glasses and pushed one toward the other man.
“Would you care to join me, Mr.—”
“Potter, Joe Potter,” he said, hesitating briefly before picking up the glass.
“Ah, Mr. Potter. You must be the owner of this fine establishment,” Derek said in his most charming voice. He quickly refilled Joe’s glass and indicated that he should sit down.
“Just for a moment,” Joe said reluctantly after determining Mrs. Potter had the rest of the taproom well supplied with food and drink.
“I am Derek Rutledge,” the earl stated.
“I know who you are, milord,” Joe said with barely concealed distaste. “Word travels fast in a small village.”
Derek could not help but compare Joe’s attitude with that of the fawning innkeeper, Harry. Joe, it appeared, was not so easily impressed with money and a title.
“Is Lady Diana all right?” Derek asked.
The innkeeper shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. “I didn’t see her,” he answered. “She told me to leave her trunk outside her door. Guess she was taking her bath.”
Derek’s body immediately heated at the notion of Diana naked in the tub, her full breasts rising provocatively above the water. He shook his head and took a large gulp of brandy, attempting to banish his erotic thoughts.
“Your wife seems very fond of Lady Diana,” Derek said, stretching out his long legs.
“Everyone is partial to her,” Joe said simply, “and with good reason. Lady Diana isn’t like most other gentry we have around here.”
Joe leaned forward in his chair warming to the subject. “The majority of the land around here is owned by the Duke of Hereford, but the family is seldom in residence. Now, normally I would say that an absentee landlord is not the best kind, but in this case we all prefer it. Last time the old duke came down to visit, two of them London dandies who came with his grandson had a carriage race right through the center of town. Knocked over everyone in their path who couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. Blacksmith’s four-year-old son was killed.”
Derek grimaced at the callousness of his peers as Joe continued with the story.
“Soon as Lady Diana found out, she was spitting mad. Marched right up to the castle, she did, and read them the riot act. ’Course, the family had already left, but she browbeat the steward into paying the damages for the property that was destroyed, not to mention the little boy’s funeral. There’s not many who would go against their own kind for a laborer’s child.”
“No, I don’t suppose there are,” Derek agreed.
“’Course, Lady Diana’s helped in all sorts of ways around here. She’s given a job to just about anyone who’s needed it, and she will always come to help when there is sickness about. She has a talent for healing, she does, and she’s generous with her skill and time. That’s how come my misses is so grateful to her.”
“What happened?” Derek said, knowing Joe was waiting to be asked before he spoke.
“My boys took powerful sick a few years back,” Joe said, his voice wavering. “I traveled all the way to St. Ives to bring the doctor, much good it did the poor lads. All he did was bleed them and tell us to pray. Mrs. Potter was practically dead on her feet, what with staying up all night trying to care for them and worrying so much.
“On the third day, Lady Diana arrived. First, she brewed this awful-smelling concoction from the bag of herbs she brought and fed it to the boys every few hours. Then she sent Mrs. Potter off to bed and sat up the whole night caring for my lads. Imagine that, a countess caring for an innkeeper’s lads.” Joe wiped a tear away at the memory. “That’s a pure lady.”
“What about her husband, the earl? What was he like?” Derek asked after Joe had taken a sip of his drink.
“Never set eyes on him myself,” Joe said. “Heard tell he was a mean one though. It was common knowledge most of the maids working up at the house were scared to death of him, and I heard the earl used to upset Lady Diana something fierce whenever he came home.” Joe regarded Derek sheepishly, suddenly aware of whom he was speaking with. “Was he your brother?”
“Cousin,” Derek said absently. Noticing the innkeeper’s wary look, he added, “I always thought he was something of a bully myself, Joe. I have to confess I never much liked him.”
Joe seemed to relax after Derek’s admission and accepted a third glass of brandy. Mrs. Potter came up to the table, casting a deep frown at her husband.
“We need another keg of ale brought up from the cellar, Joe,” she told him. “And best bring up some more cider. Had a lot of women in this evening to see Lady Diana, and
the cider’s nearly all gone.”
Joe drained his glass and stood up. “I can show you to your room when you’re ready, milord,” the innkeeper said.
“His lordship will be taking the front room at the end of the hall,” Mrs. Potter informed her husband.
“Is that next to Lady Diana’s?” Derek asked casually, suspecting it was not.
“No,” Mrs. Potter stated firmly. “She is sleeping at the other end of the hall. Her room is directly below our bedchamber.”
Derek swallowed his amusement and faced Mrs. Potter with what he hoped was a sincere countenance. She stood with her hands on her hips, looking down at him like a mother hen defending her young.
“I should like the room next to her ladyship. Would you be so kind as to arrange it, Mrs. Potter?”
“No,” she replied flatly.
“Mavis,” Joe Potter cried out. “I am sure you can accommodate the earl.”
“Lady Diana told me to put him in the room farthest away from hers, and that’s just what I aim to do.” Mrs. Potter’s tone brooked no argument.
“I am her closest male relative,” Derek said in his most commanding tone. “I must see to her safety.”
“I don’t care if you’re the bloody Prince of Wales,” Mrs. Potter snorted derisively. “I take my orders from Lady Diana. Besides, she is quite safe here. No harm will come to her while she is under my roof.”
Derek silently appealed to Joe, but the innkeeper shook his head. “I’ll not go against Lady Diana’s wishes.”
Derek cursed to himself. Were they all bewitched by her? Lady Diana this, Lady Diana that.
Sullenly Derek refilled his glass, and the Potters went back to their work. He gave them a disgruntled look, but they were too busy to notice.
Resigned, Derek decided not to make a fuss. He would sleep in the chamber they assigned him tonight. Let Diana have her small victory. She might have thought she had dismissed him, but in his mind the contest of wills between them was far from over. And he had every intention of winning.
Chapter Fourteen
It began as such a pleasant dream. Diana was strolling leisurely along the path in her formal rose garden, the intoxicating fragrance of the perfect blooms lifting her spirits. She paused beneath an arched trellis clustered with climbing rosebushes, admiring the brilliance of the scarlet dew-drenched blooms. Her gardener had surpassed himself with his efforts this season, she acknowledged, and made a mental note to inform him of her delight.
She reached up and plucked a single perfect rose from the vine, rubbing the flower’s velvet petals across her face. She cupped the flower in her hands, cradling the single blossom within her palms, mesmerized by the rose’s fiery glow.
Suddenly the flower burst into flames, and Diana cried out in alarm as her hands were scorched by the heat. She pulled her hands apart, dropping the rose, and immediately the ground beneath her feet became engulfed in flames.
The flames smoldered and crackled, and Diana felt a hard knot of fear deep within her stomach while she watched the fire grow. It ran rampant, igniting everything in its path and heading in a straight line directly toward her house.
“Dear God, not my home,” she screamed in panic. She tried to beat down the flames with her feet, but the fire spread too quickly. Her heart pounding with fear, she started sprinting toward the house, trying desperately to reach the manor before the flames.
Diana could smell the smoke in her nostrils and feel the heat of the fire on her skin, but she kept running toward the house. Tears streaked down her face and her lungs felt as if they would burst, but she kept on running, crying out desperately for help.
The air was filled with thick black smoke and Diana could no longer see what was in front of her. Debris was falling around her, and showers of sparks rained down on her as she stumbled in the darkness.
“Help me,” she sobbed in fear and frustration. “Dear God, won’t somebody help me.”
“Diana, I’m here,” a man’s voice called through the darkness. “Diana, wake up!”
“Derek,” she cried out in relief, reaching out through the thick black soot. The air suddenly cleared and she could see a tall male figure racing toward her. It had to be Derek. He had come at last.
She ran forward to meet the man, but as he came closer the raging inferno ignited again, and Giles’s cruel face came into focus. She screamed hysterically, her mind lost to all reason.
“Wake up, Diana! Wake up!”
Diana felt a stinging slap on her cheek and abruptly opened her eyes. Her body was drenched in sweat and she was visibly trembling. Derek sat on the edge of her bed, his handsome face lined with worry. She looked beyond him and saw Mavis and Joe Potter staring at her with open curiosity.
“Diana, can you hear me?” Derek asked. His voice was firm but gentle.
She nodded her head and tried to swallow the lump of fear in her throat. It had all been so frighteningly real. “I had a nightmare,” she said unnecessarily. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“Lord, woman, you nearly woke the dead with your screams,” Derek said.
Diana shuddered at his reference to the dead, and Giles’s distorted face immediately came into her mind’s eye. “I am fine now,” she hastily assured them all. “Pray don’t let me disturb your sleep any longer. Please go back to bed.”
“Well, if you’re sure you’re all right now,” Mavis said skeptically.
“I’ll sit with her until she falls asleep again,” Derek said.
Mavis gave a grunt, but at Diana’s nod of approval, she quit the room with her husband. As soon as the Potters left, Diana threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him off the bed. He felt her body shiver, and instantly his protective nature was aroused. She had endured so much. If anyone had a right to nightmares, it was Diana.
She clung to him frantically, pressing herself close to him, as if she wanted to crawl inside his skin. Diana began muttering incoherently, her dialogue a rambling jumble of words, emotions, and fear.
“The flames were everywhere—and smoke, lots of thick black smoke. I tried to reach the house, but I couldn’t see anything. And then I heard your voice calling me, and I thought I was safe, but it wasn’t you. It was Giles.”
Derek held her close, feeling the strength of her fear. “It’s all right now,” he said soothingly, his hand stroking her hair. “I am here with you, Diana. Nothing will harm you, I promise.”
She burrowed even closer to him and he rocked her back and forth like a small child. He felt her breathe in deeply.
“Forgive me for being such a weak, helpless fool,” Diana muttered.
“You’re not a fool, Diana,” Derek insisted. “And as for helpless”—he paused and chuckled—“you, my dear, are about as helpless as His Majesty’s Navy.”
She answered his jest with a wan smile, then took another trembling breath. It felt good to be held in the circle of his strong, protective arms. Too good. It was impossible for her to disregard Derek’s cruel accusations of the previous night, but basking in the warmth of his embrace allowed her to forget his mistrust for a while. Derek’s allure was too irresistible, her love for him too impossible, to abandon in her time of need. She needed him. Tomorrow would be soon enough to begin the healing process and forget him.
Derek carefully disengaged himself from her embrace and walked over to the small dressing table. He kept a sharp eye on Diana as he lit several candles. Her head was bent low, her long blonde hair effectively hiding her expression. He could see her shoulders tremble slightly as she fought to conquer the remaining vestiges of her fear.
Derek could feel himself reaching out to her, his heart, his very soul, longing to shield and protect her from any danger, real or imagined. He shook his head over the irony. In many ways she was as much a mystery to him as she had been the first day she entered his London town home. Yet despite his various misgivings about her, Derek knew the inexplicable bond that drew him to her was forged in steel. Even if his mind dared not acc
ept how much he had come to care for her, his heart was determined to force him to face the truth.
Diana lifted her head at Derek’s blustering sigh. She might think he was the most contrary, irrational man she had known, but underneath it all she knew he was, in truth, a good and kind man. That was why she loved him so—and wanted him so.
He gazed at her exquisite loveliness in the candle glow, and the open trust he saw in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees. He would not betray that trust, he vowed, approaching the bed. He stood so close to her he could smell the sweet lavender scent in her hair. His body tightened with desire.
“Are you feeling better now, sweetheart?” he asked gently. “Perhaps you would like me to fetch you something to drink—a glass of wine or some brandy?”
Diana shook her head. “I am not sure my stomach would stand for it.” She hesitated, then wrapped her arms around his waist. She cuddled up against him, her cheek resting against his stomach. “Please stay with me tonight, Derek.” Her voice was a mere whisper.
He smiled in the darkness. “Ah, so now you are back to calling me Derek.”
“I have been very angry with you.”
“I know. I was feeling a bit of anger myself.”
“You realize, of course, since my house and all my possessions are now in ashes, I cannot prove to you I was telling the truth,” Diana said in a soft voice. “About being married to Giles, that is.”
“I now believe you were being honest with me,” he assured her, his voice equally as soft. “Besides, everyone in the village addresses you as Lady Diana. They all know you are the Countess of Harrowby.”
Diana squeezed her arms tighter around him. “That proves nothing. The people of this community know only what I’ve told them. I could have said I was Lady Godiva, and they would have called me that.”
Derek’s attention was momentarily diverted by the provocative image of Diana riding stark naked upon a horse with nothing but her golden blonde hair to conceal her charms. Her restless movement brought him abruptly out of his pleasant daydreams.
Notorious Deception Page 15
