Sandra Owens

by The Letter

  He swiveled to face the duke and the marquess, not at all surprised to see amusement in their eyes. “That was just too bloody easy to have been of any fun,” he said amicably and took a seat.

  The waiter appeared with a brandy for Michael and refills for the other gentlemen, giving Michael time to think. The wives of Aubrey and Derebourne were two of the kindest women he knew and just the type of ladies he would like to see take Diana under their wing for her reintroduction into the ton.

  Michael took a sip of his drink and then began his approach. “Are you and your wives in town for the Little Season?”

  “Only until I can convince my duchess to retire to Rosemont for her confinement,” Aubrey said, and then sighed. “Because she doesn’t listen to me, she almost had our twins at the theater and I never want another experience like that.” He shuddered, causing Michael and Derebourne to laugh.

  “I do recall hearing something about that,” Michael said.

  “I fear it was the talk of all London for weeks. We just learned she is with child again, so we plan to stay in town for only one more month before returning home. Derebourne’s wife is a little further along, and they plan to leave for Hillcrest Abbey at the same time.”

  A month was better than nothing. “Congratulations to both of you.”

  “Aubrey is an old hand at this, but I don’t mind telling you, I am scared out of my wits. As you know, my first time just about destroyed me,” Derebourne said.

  Derebourne’s first wife, Aubrey’s sister, had been with child when she died, and Michael was aware the marquess had mourned her deeply.

  “Claire is of a much stronger nature than my sister, and I have no doubt everything will be all right.”

  Derebourne gave Aubrey a grateful look. “I pray you are right.”

  Michael knew the two men were as close as brothers and that Derebourne took great comfort in the strength of Aubrey’s assurance. The conversation had detoured from what he wanted to discuss. He glanced around to make sure no one had settled in nearby.

  “I have a favor to ask of you—actually, I am asking it of your wives.”

  Both men straightened and gave him wary looks. He stifled a grin. They reminded him of tomcats with their hackles raised because another was threatening their territory.

  “Do either of you recall Lady Diana Cavanaugh?”

  Aubrey’s expression was blank, but Derebourne nodded. “You had left on your Grand Tour, Aubrey, so you wouldn’t remember. Daventry was set to marry the girl. Then something happened the night before the wedding and instead, she married his cousin, Baron Brantley.” He eyed Michael. “Never understood why she would choose him over you. Never much cared for the man myself.”

  “May my cousin rot in hell,” Michael said with great feeling.

  Derebourne gave Michael a considering look. “Always thought there was more to the story than what the gossips said.”

  Because he trusted the two men sitting across from him, Michael said, “There was. Brantley tricked all of us, but I hold myself to blame for allowing him to do so.”

  Aubrey stretched out his long legs and picked up his brandy, his demeanor deceptively relaxed. There was a lethal edge to the man, and Michael hoped if he were ever in a dark alley and attacked by footpads, the duke would be there by his side.

  “Tell me your story, Daventry,” His Grace commanded.

  Michael leaned forward and in a low voice told them how Leo had drugged Diana, and then how he had found her and her son half starved.

  “The bloody bastard,” Derebourne said when Michael finished.

  “Yes, he was that. The favor I want to ask is this. She has been out of polite society for eleven years and is understandably anxious about her return to it. Because of my cousin, she has lost her family and friends. I thought if your ladies might be kind enough to pay a call on her, it would ease her mind a little.”

  “Consider it done,” Aubrey said.

  “Are you hoping to see her married off?” Derebourne asked.

  Michael met the astute gaze of the marquess. “I have something of that sort in mind.”

  Derebourne’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Oh ho! Does she know?”

  “Not yet.”

  Aubrey raised his glass to his lips, finished off the remainder of his drink and then lifted his great body from the chair. “When would you like our ladies to call on her?”

  “Would Thursday suit?”

  The duke nodded. “Perfectly.”

  Derebourne also stood. “Look for me in the park in the morning, Daventry. Bring the boy and I will introduce him to Harry.” He left, trailing laughter behind him.

  “Harry?” Michael asked.

  Michael wasn’t sure he liked the look of Aubrey’s smile. “His ward and I’ve yet to determine if he is an angel or the very Devil come back to life. He is twelve going on either three or thirty, not sure which, but he will make a good friend to the young baron.”

  The duke turned to leave, then hesitated and looked over his shoulder. “My duchess had a bad time of it, also, and if anyone can understand what your lady went through, it is she. I trust Lady Brantley will welcome a visit from Her Grace?”

  A warning there. “I assure you, Your Grace, it will be the highlight of her day.”

  Aubrey grunted his satisfaction and walked away with surprising grace for such a large man. Michael sat back in his chair, closed his eyes and let out a relieved breath. Part one of his plan was now in motion, but he needed more than one social call from the ladies. If the visit went well, he would nudge Diana toward a friendship with them.

  After finishing his drink, he left White’s. He had best go have a word with Mademoiselle Durand to make sure Diana had at least one gown delivered before Thursday.

  ****

  Despite her resistance, Diana was enjoying her visit to the modiste. She trailed her hand over the bolts of velvets, silks, and satins. The thing she had feared most, undressing in front of Mademoiselle Durand, had been put to rest by Fanny. Upon arrival, Fanny had handed the modiste Diana’s measurements and then her little brown wren of a maid had guarded her lady’s modesty, whispering to mademoiselle that Lady Brantley was shy.

  “This color would look splendid on you, my dear,” Lady Suzanne said.

  Diana studied the bronze satin with gold thread shimmering through it. “I like it very much.”

  “Then you shall have it.”

  The assistant moved it to the table with the other fabrics they had chosen. Diana was thankful Lady Suzanne had accompanied her. Once, she had been confident in choosing colors and styles, but it had been so long and she was now unsure of herself. Lady Suzanne proved to have a keen eye for both.

  “If you don’t mind spending a few more minutes here, I would like to order myself a gown or two,” Lady Suzanne said.

  “Please, take all the time you need. I have nowhere else to go.” Dear God, she sounded pathetic.

  Lady Suzanne chuckled. “I think that is soon to change, so enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

  Diana glanced at her maid. Once Mademoiselle Durand had finished with Diana, Fanny had found a seat in the corner, sitting quietly with her hands in her lap. Other than the two of them, there was no one else in the front salon. Diana went back to admiring the bolts of fabrics.

  “You should choose the blue silk. Daventry adores the color.”

  Diana turned to find the most beautiful lady she had ever seen standing next to her. The diminutive woman, displaying more of her charms than Diana wished to see, looked her up and down.

  “Well, he does so adore blue on me, but perhaps it isn’t a good color for you.”

  With her blond ringlets and rosy cheeks, the stranger reminded Diana of an exquisite doll, one too precious to take from the shelf and play with. The pale blue eyes didn’t look back at her in kindness, however. The lady implied she was on intimate terms with Michael. Diana was experienced at recognizing malice and knew trouble when she found it. That this woman m
ight have a relationship with Michael was something she would consider later. For now, her years of being the daughter of a marquess kicked in.

  “Are you certain you didn’t mistake him, my lady? I am sure I’m wrong, but it just seems that this darker blue would overwhelm the paler shade of your eyes.” She looked straight into those eyes. “Make them look ghostly, I fear.”

  They blinked at her. Once. Twice.

  Diana waved a hand in the air. “La, pay me no mind, it was only an observation. As there is no one to introduce us, it appears we shall have to do the honors ourselves. I am Lady Brantley and you are?”

  Pouty pink lips thinned. “The Countess of Hartwell. It has been a pleasure.” Without another word, she walked out.

  “I don’t think you mean it,” Diana muttered to Lady Hartwell’s retreating back. She heard soft clapping and turned to see Fanny grinning at her. “Do you think she was sincere, Fanny?”

  “No, my lady.”

  Diana went to the front window and looked out. Michael’s carriage was parked behind hers and he lingered next to it, his head bent close to Lady Hartwell’s. The woman stood near him, her hand frequently touching his arm as she spoke. The urge to march out and snatch those delicate little fingers away was almost overwhelming. She turned from the window before she did something stupid. His private life was of no concern to her.

  A few minutes later, Michael entered and came to her side, surprising her with a kiss on her cheek.

  She swatted him away. “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do this?” he said and kissed her other cheek. Blast, she was irritated with him, and he was making her want to laugh.

  How would he react if she mentioned Lady Hartwell? She stepped back and resumed her study of fabrics. “I just had a lovely chat with a friend of yours.” She peeked at him from under her lashes.

  His eyes shuttered, and he suddenly found great interest in a bolt of cloth. He fingered the blue silk, and she wanted to slap his hand away. Was he thinking of Lady Hartwell draped in it?

  “She seemed such a delightful lady. Who is she?”

  A muscle twitched in his cheek. “No one.”

  Just by the way he said it and the ridged set of his jaws left no doubt in her mind that the lady was definitely someone. “I see.”

  He put his finger under her chin and lifted her face. Looking into her eyes, he said, “She is no one of any importance to me.”

  Her silly heart jumped for joy. Her distrustful mind wanted to know more. “But she used to be?” Dear God, why did these things come out of her mouth? She was in a dress shop. Surely they could spare a needle and some thread.

  He glanced at Fanny, and then to the back of the shop. “Where is Mother?”

  “She is being fitted for a few gowns.” Was he going to avoid answering? She shouldn’t have asked the question at all, but now that it was out, she wanted to know.

  “Ha! She doesn’t understand the word few when it comes to gowns. You will be here until Mademoiselle throws her to the street.” He went to the fitting room entrance. “Mother, I am taking Diana with me. Fanny will come as chaperone.”

  Diana heard a mumbled reply, and then Michael called to Mademoiselle Durand. Mademoiselle appeared, made a grand fuss over the earl, and the two lapsed into rapid French, disappearing into the back. What was he about? When he returned, he placed his hand on her elbow and escorted her out of the shop.

  She should refuse to go with him. She really, really should.

  ****

  Michael steered Diana to his carriage, handing her and Fanny up. “Hyde Park, Jaspers.” He jumped inside and pulled the door closed. The few minutes it took to reach the park were spent in silence.

  What the devil was Serena about? He doubted her appearance at Mademoiselle’s was coincidence, but how had she known Diana would be at the dressmakers?

  He had managed to avoid answering Diana’s question, but if Serena was up to mischief, then it would be best to lay a few cards on the table. An afternoon walk in the park wouldn’t be amiss either. It was time to subtly lay claim to his future countess.

  As they came to a stop, Diana kept her gaze focused on the view out the window, studiously ignoring him. His lips curved in an amused smile. He loved watching her face when inappropriate questions popped out of her mouth. Her eyes would widen and her cheeks would turn adorably pink as if the things she said surprised her as much as they did him.

  “Take my arm, Diana.” The stubborn woman grumbled something under her breath and with obvious reluctance placed her fingers lightly over his coat sleeve. He took her hand, twined it around his arm and pressed his palm down over her gloved fingertips, leaving it there.

  She darted him an irritated glance. “Must you keep your hand on mine?”

  “Yes, I fear I must.”

  “People are staring at us, wondering who I am. I imagine I’m not who they are used to seeing on your arm.”

  Ah, there it was. He chuckled. “Did you know your cheeks turn a charming pink color when you say things you shouldn’t?” She tried to pull her hand away, but he held tight. “Now, dearest, what would you like to know?”

  Silence.

  “Come, Diana, you were full of questions at Mademoiselle’s.” He glanced over his shoulder to see that Fanny was keeping her distance, allowing them privacy. “Listen. The reason I didn’t answer then was because we had an audience. Are you no longer interested?”

  More silence.

  “So, you have nothing to say?”

  She nodded her head.

  “I take that as a yes, you wish to speak. By all means, please do.”

  “I can’t.”

  Was this a game? If nothing else, she certainly made their conversations interesting. “Why is that?”

  “I’ve sewn my mouth shut.”

  He tipped his head and peered at her lips. “It doesn’t appear to be sewn up to me.”

  “Mentally! I’ve done it mentally, you daft man.”

  The devil, but she would bash him over the head if he dared laugh. “There is no need to yell, my dear, my hearing is perfectly fine.”

  “Humph.”

  God, but she was fun to aggravate. “Is that a new word? I do not believe I have heard it before. Humph. What does it mean? I’m asking so that I don’t err by using it inappropriately.” He lifted his chin, indicating the women walking toward them. “For example, if I mentioned their hats look mighty humph, would they be pleased, or would I get a slap on the face?”

  Diana turned her head away, but he caught her smile. He would very much like to kiss her right now. He nodded to the ladies in the humph hats as they passed, sisters Lady Arabella and Lady Caroline, receiving flirtatious smiles from each.

  “Is there a woman in England immune to your charms?”

  “Do I hear a hint of jealousy?” He wanted to believe she was.

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “I shall try not to be. Ask your question, Diana. This is your last chance. It is doubtful I will be in the mood tomorrow to speak of such things.”

  “All right. Lady Hartwell said you adore her in blue, implying you have an intimate relationship with her. Do you?”

  Damn Serena. She was up to mischief for a certainty. He detested having to speak of his affair to Diana, but he would not lie to her, and as Serena was obviously up to no good, it was best she knew the truth.

  “I did.”

  “‘I did’ as in past tense?”

  She might very well hear gossip that he had been seen escorting Serena to various events only a week ago, and he had no desire to be caught deceiving her. “Yes, although a recent past tense. I ended it when I returned to London last week.”

  “So Lady Hartwell was the urgent business you had to return for?”

  No, he had been running from her, from the guilt of taking advantage of her when he intended to marry another. It had been spending a week with a woman he could never love that had brought him to his senses. He stopped and turned to fa
ce her. The woman who held his heart looked everywhere but at him.

  “Look at me.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say. If he told her the second part of his plan, would it make her happy, or would he be stating his intentions too soon? He feared if she knew she would find a thousand reasons to refuse. Yet, he thought there was only one true motive for her belief that he couldn’t possibly want her, that being her ruined body. He needed time to prove her wrong. Her lashes lifted, her gaze meeting his. How had he survived eleven years without those eyes looking into his?

  “Forget about Lady Hartwell,” he said and kissed her, whoever watched be damned. Sweet Jesus, what was he doing? She’d had more scandal than she deserved and here he was about to create another. He forced himself to let go of her. If her bedazzled expression matched his, then neither of them knew what he was about.

  He bowed. “My apology, my lady, shall we return home?”

  Her head moved up and down, and then without a word she set off for his carriage walking so fast that he was hard pressed to keep up without drawing attention. Up ahead he saw Lord and Lady Marcus-Holmes. He tipped his hat as they strolled by, noting the furtive look the countess gave Diana. The Marcus-Holmeses had once been friends of Diana’s parents before the scandal. Did the countess recognize their daughter? Michael made a mental note to call on Lady Marcus-Holmes to test the waters. She would make a powerful ally.

  Pleased with how smoothly his plan was progressing, he followed his lady into the carriage.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The words took a moment to penetrate. “What?” Diana put down her teacup. “What did you just say?”

  Upon arriving home, Michael had ordered tea, and then ushered her into the drawing room. He was becoming rather managing lately, as if he had the right to organize her life. The past few days had been a whirlwind of fittings, not to mention the hours spent with the dance master and music teacher Michael had brought in to refresh her skills. She’d had little time to herself to think, and when she did have a few minutes alone she was too tired to even think of thinking. And now, he dropped this on her as if he were commenting on today’s lovely weather.