There had never been an intention in her mind to eavesdrop on the men. She’d had every plan to simply join them in their discussion and add whatever information she had to Lucas’s. Because she’d been foolish enough to see herself as his partner in this investigation. To believe him when he said she was. To believe in him at all.
But when she’d begun to open the door, she’d heard her name. Her father’s name, and the word traitor. It had shocked her so much that she’d stood there, silent and dumbfounded as the two men talked about the evidence Lucas saw against her father. About how he’d gleaned that information from her.
She’d listened as he’d danced around the edges of her secrets so that Stalwood couldn’t possibly misunderstand them. Tears filled her eyes and she fisted her hand on the wall as she fought not to let them fall.
She’d trusted him. With her body. With her past. With her heart. And here he’d been using her in order to sully her father’s name. Her heart ached and she wanted to scream in response.
She wanted to run away from this and him and never come back. And yet that wasn’t possible.
“Diana, is that you?” She turned to find that Emma had come up the hallway while she’d been lost in her thoughts. The pretty duchess reached her, and her expression softened. “Oh, dearest, what is it?” Emma caught her hands and drew Diana closer. Her kindness was so honestly meant, and yet Diana wanted to run from it, too.
She forced herself to remain calm and said, “I-I was a bit overwhelmed and got lost on my way to the retiring room.”
Emma wrapped an arm around her and guided her down the hallway. “You know, I’ve lived in this house for over a year and a half and I am still getting lost from time to time. Let me take you there, for I could use a moment, as well.”
Diana nodded and let herself be taken to the room where the ladies took their air and gathered themselves. Only she knew there would be no gathering herself. Not today. Perhaps not ever.
Lucas forced a smile as Diana and Emma entered the ballroom together. Once again, seeing her with the wives of his friends made him feel comfortable somehow. He didn’t want to think about that overly much. Just as he didn’t want to think about Stalwood, who had already left to follow up on Lucas’s theories.
He would have to face that when the time came. Have to decide what to do and what to tell Diana if his ugly theories were correct. But for now, he intended to enjoy the time they had together.
He left the refreshment table and crossed to Emma and Diana, who lifted her gaze and watched him as he approached. With each step, his heart sank, for there was something…changed in her gaze. Empty. Pained.
He reached them and bowed slightly. “Ladies,” he drawled as greeting. “Wherever did you two run off to?”
“The retiring room,” Emma said with a concerned glance at Diana. “We were both a bit overcome by the warmth of the ballroom.”
Diana shot her a brief, grateful look, and Lucas held back a curse. Something had obviously happened to her tonight, while he was distracted by his work. Perhaps someone had been unkind to her or she’d been reminded of something painful in the surroundings. Either way, he wanted to help.
“Perhaps you would grant me this dance, Miss Oakford,” he said, holding out a hand. “A bit of movement might relieve some of your discomfort.”
She stared at him a beat. Another. The coldness didn’t leave her expression. “Of course, Your Grace. I see no way to refuse such an offer,” she said at last.
He wrinkled his brow at her carefully chosen words, but smiled at Emma and guided Diana to the floor. The music began and they swayed into the steps. He was a bit slower than those around them, perhaps. After all, his arm and his leg were still pained, especially after getting so little rest for them today. But he was pleased that he was still capable of at least a modicum of grace.
“What is wrong?” he asked at last, when they had settled into the movements.
Her gaze left his and her lips pursed. “Nothing at all.”
He pivoted them and shook his head. “I think I know you better than that, Diana. I can see something has happened—did someone say something to you to hurt your feelings? Or is it something else? I understand that you could have been reminded of your father or your…your daughter…”
She did not answer, though her green eyes, now dark with emotion, flashed over his face. But it was like she was seeing him for the first time. Like she didn’t know him, despite all they’d shared.
That disconnected expression hit him in the gut like a knife blade and made him want to claw her close and fix whatever had changed her expression.
“I want to go home,” she said softly.
He pressed his lips together. That was not an answer to his question. Nor did it explain why she seemed to hold him responsible. But it was a request he could honor. “I admit, I am not particularly comfortable either, and my body is punishing me for all this activity. We could depart early. I’m certain Abernathe won’t mind, as I’ve completed the mission I came here to fulfill.”
Her brow arched and she said, “I’m sure you have.”
He turned her a few more times, concern growing in him with every moment. At last the song ended and he executed a bow. She curtseyed with the barest of politeness and then turned on her heel as if to abandon him on the dance floor entirely.
“Diana,” he managed through gritted teeth as he caught her arm and guided her from the floor instead. “What is wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said, perhaps a bit too loudly, for the eyes of some in the crowd shifted to them. She blushed in the moment she realized that, and tugged her arm from his. “Just a headache, Your Grace. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”
He shook his head slowly. She was correct, of course. If she did not wish to include him in her troubles, he was owed no explanations. He was not her family, he was not her husband. And yet when she said it, he realized how untrue it was. Her wellbeing was his concern. Her happinesses and her heartbreaks, her laughter and her tears—in the weeks they had spent together, they had all become so very important to him.
In that moment, when she would barely look at him, when she had pulled away from him in body and soul, he recognized why. He recognized, suddenly and powerfully and deeply, that he loved her. He loved Diana Oakford with a power that nearly dropped him to the floor and made everything else around him fade.
“Is everything all right here?” Simon asked as he and Meg approached.
Diana’s cheeks darkened with embarrassment. “Yes. I am just…weary.”
“I have finished my business,” Lucas said, somehow managing to find words when his mind was still reeling from the recognition of his heart. “I’ll take Diana home.”
She jerked, as if that wasn’t what she wanted, but she didn’t argue.
Simon wrinkled his brow. “I’ll go have your carriage sent around so you can say your goodnights,” he said softly, sending Meg a meaningful look.
Meg returned it, but her expression was bright and kind as she looped her arm through Diana’s and said, “I know everyone will be very sad to see you go. But I will expect you to join the group of us for tea in a few days.”
Diana cleared her throat and said, “Of course. I will want to return your gown.”
Meg pursed her lips, but maneuvered Diana to the group of friends, who were standing together on the edge of the dancefloor. Lucas managed to say his goodnights, ignoring the questions in the eyes of his friends. He had no answers, so it was impossible to address what he didn’t understand.
He was more focused on Diana, who was quiet and stiff as she said her farewells and embraced each duchess in turn. Meg was last, and Lucas heard her whisper, “Is there anything I can do?”
Diana looked at her evenly. “No. You’ve been lovely. Thank you for that.” Then she turned and speared Lucas with a long look. “Your Grace.”
He flinched. She had always switched back and forth between
calling him by his given name and addressing him more formally. In fact, she was the only person he knew that could “Your Grace” him and not make his stomach turn.
But now when she said it, it was not a playful tease or a formal acknowledgment. It was a way to distance herself. Until he could talk to her, until he could be alone with her and really understand what had happened to change her feelings toward him, he wasn’t going to be able to cross that distance.
He took her arm and led her from the ballroom and into the foyer. Simon stood at the door, and Lucas could see that his carriage was waiting outside.
“Good night,” Diana said to his friend, then detached herself from Lucas’s touch and slipped out to the carriage to be helped in by his footman.
Simon stared at him. “What changed?”
“I have no idea,” Lucas said softly. “But I’m going to find out.”
He moved to join her, but Simon caught his arm, holding him steady. Lucas looked into his friend’s eyes. Normally Simon was playful, light, nothing but kindness, but now his expression was intense and focused.
“I almost lost Meg,” he said quietly, “because I was not willing to speak my heart. I feared the consequences so much that I almost created far more dire ones. I make up for it every day, but I will never truly be able to erase those months and years that I was not brave. Don’t do the same. If you love this woman, don’t lose that chance at happiness out of fear for the consequences.”
Lucas swallowed hard. He had not been around for Simon and Meg’s desperate and difficult courtship. One that had broken up her prior engagement to Graham, one that had temporarily destroyed the friendship between the men. He’d heard about it, of course, in letters from a few of the others. Now he saw the truth of it in Simon’s stare. The pain of it. And the desperation Simon felt that he not make the same mistakes.
“It’s complicated,” Lucas murmured.
Simon shook his head. “If you don’t think it always is, then you should talk to each and every one of your friends who has been married recently. It’s worth it. You’re no coward, so fight.”
Simon released him and stepped away. Lucas nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
“See that you do. I’ll come call in a few days. Let me know if you need anything in the interim.”
Lucas turned away, back to his carriage, where he could see Diana sitting, waiting for him, though he did not think it was with happy anticipation. Simon’s words rung in his ears. His admonishment to fight for her. For a future he had not dared to envision for over a decade.
He had no idea if there was anything to fight for, if Diana’s changed behavior was any indication. But if there was, he had to decide if he could fight for it. Fight for her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Diana had expected Lucas to get into his carriage and immediately begin an expert interrogation of her. She had braced for it, for it seemed impossible to hide her feelings from him. They were too powerful. They boiled in her like witch’s brew and burned her from the inside out.
And yet he had not done that. Not for the entire ride from the Abernathes’ London home to his own. No, he’d only watched her. Silent yet focused, his dark gaze always following her every move, planning his reactions for the right moment.
She had been so foolish to let herself love a spy. She knew the very calculation and the manipulation that would follow were part of who this man was. She’d known it from the beginning, and yet she had believed in him. She’d slipped into a blissful confidence that it could be different. Tonight had slapped her in the face with the truth.
Everything between them had all been part of a deeper goal of his. She was a piece on his complicated chessboard. Perhaps that was all she’d ever been.
And yet she still loved him.
The carriage slowed as it entered his drive, and stopped. Still he said nothing as his footman helped her down. He didn’t even try to take her arm as they walked up to the house and into the foyer, where Jones took their wraps.
“I’m going upstairs,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes. Meet his eyes and the pain would follow. She knew that now.
He nodded. “I’ll go with you.”
“Why?” she asked before she could stop herself. Immediately she regretted it, for he leaned in and brushed his fingertips across her cheekbone. That gentle touch made her heart flutter, her body react, her anger dissipate for a brief moment.
“Do you really think I’m going to let you pretend that things didn’t change?” he asked. “We are not finished, Diana. I want to talk to you.”
She let out her breath in a burst and turned toward the stairs. She felt him watching her as he followed her up. But what could she do? Her emotions were so close to the surface, if she let them out she could lose control. This was not a man to lose control with.
He was always in control.
She opened her door and turned back to him. “Can’t we leave it be?” she asked. Her voice trembled.
“Fight,” he said softly.
She tilted her head, for the whispered word was no answer. “I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I can’t leave it be.”
She clenched her jaw in frustration and walked into her chamber. She threw herself into the chair at her dressing table and began to tug the pins from her hair. She had been so happy to have it put up—she’d felt like a princess when she looked at herself in Meg’s mirror all those hours ago. Now she recognized it for what it was. A mask. A costume.
As fabricated and false as any moment between her and Lucas, now poisoned by his conversation with Stalwood.
He shut her door and leaned against it, but made no move to come to her side or touch her. At least he gave her that. “Tell me.”
“Am I your foot soldier now, Your Grace?” she asked, tossing a pin on the table and watching it bounce off the surface and clatter to the floor below.
He recoiled. “What?”
She pivoted in her chair and looked at him. “That was an order, was it not? To report?”
“Diana,” he said, pushing off the door. His face was twisted with pain, with confusion, with desperation. All of it seemed so real. Like her anger and her heartbreak actually moved him. She had to force herself to remember that what she’d heard earlier proved his expression wrong.
“I thought you were going to tell me when you were meeting with Stalwood,” she snapped.
His eyes widened. “Is that what this fit of pique is about? That I didn’t tell you that Stalwood and I were meeting? Diana, you have been a great help to me, I appreciate that more than you could ever understand, but let me be clear: this is my case. I decide what I should share and not.”
She glared at him. “Yes, that is patently obvious. As is the fact that I am an idiot for thinking we shared anything more than a few nights in a bed.”
He recoiled. “You cannot be this upset about a meeting, Diana. To think that nothing else mattered because I went into a parlor without you. That’s madness.”
“George Oakford is the traitor,” she said softly. “That is what you told the earl, isn’t it?”
He froze, his expression going blank because he’d spent years learning how to do that. How to turn emotion off and on. How to lie without blinking.
“Tell me to my face that it wasn’t,” she continued, rising to her feet and stepping toward him. “Lie to me, Lucas, as you have been for weeks.”
He lifted his chin. “You eavesdropped on my meeting.”
She folded her arms. “Do not turn this on me. I followed you because I was stupid enough to believe I was a part of your investigation. A partner, you said. I would have come into the room and never hidden, except I heard my name. And then his. And all those ugly words you said about him.”
He shut his eyes briefly and all the air exited his lungs in a long exhalation. For a flash of a moment, he looked exhausted. Overwhelmed. Devastated in a way she never would hav
e expected.
Then he opened those same dark eyes and held her steady with them. “I would not have had you hear those things,” he whispered.
She barked out a humorless laugh. “I assume not, Your Grace. After all, they revealed me to be a fool for believing in you, in us. I’m certain you would not want me to know that you seduced all my secrets from me, things I would never have told another person, and then cavalierly handed them over to Stalwood. Will they be included in the report, as well? Passed around to the other agents?”
He moved to her now in three long steps and caught her arms, drawing her up against his chest. She caught her breath at being so close to him, at the passion that flashed in his eyes.
“That is not what this is about!” he all but shouted. “I struggled with giving Stalwood even the skeletal information I did.”
“It didn’t seem like a struggle,” she whispered as she carefully extracted herself from his arms and backed away once more. “You seemed to hand him my life on a platter like it was nothing more than another piece in a puzzle. Like my heart didn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters,” he said softly. “Diana, when I began to suspect your father, I didn’t tell you because I knew it would break your heart.”
“You knew I wouldn’t believe it,” she corrected, anger bubbling up in her chest and making her clench her fists at her sides. “And I don’t.”
“You don’t have to,” he said quickly. “He’s your father, and if you can hold him innocent, keep your memories as only positive, I would want nothing less for you.”
She stared at him. “But you will continue to investigate him.”
He hesitated, and she knew the answer even before he slowly nodded. “Yes.”
She spun away. “I heard what you told Stalwood.” She thought of each piece of evidence he’d laid out. And she violently pushed away the sliver of doubt that entered her mind when she considered them all put together.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I would not have wanted you to find out that way.”
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