Lord Kelton promised to relay the message and excused himself. Diana took her seat, unaccountably deflated by the turn of events. In all likelihood, she and Sir Samuel wouldn’t have been a good match, but she felt cheated at not getting the opportunity to meet him and ascertain their unsuitability.
“It seems fate is already conspiring against you and Sir Samuel,” her mother said with false cheer. “I’m certain this business that takes him away will soon be dealt with, and in the meantime, we must see about having a new dress or two made up for you.”
Diana bit back a sigh. Her mother believed Sir Samuel was a gallant knight sent to rescue her near-spinsterish damsel-self. “I’m not going to object to new gowns, but please don’t go planning the wedding quite yet. I do not even know the man’s last name.”
“New gowns? Weddings? I beg your pardon. I was quite shamelessly eavesdropping.”
Diana looked up to see Henry’s sisters, Lady Dunston and Lady Sheldon.
“If you are having new gowns done up, you simply must go to Madame Bessette,” Lady Dunston continued. “The woman is more than a modiste; she is an artist. She almost never takes on new clients, but she’s very fond of our brother. She says Hal flirts as well as a Frenchman. Once she learns you’ve caught his interest, she will insist on dressing you.”
Diana’s cheeks burned, and the heat spread over her face and neck. She probably matched Lady Sheldon’s cherry-colored sash. “I’m certain you are mistaken.”
“Please, may we join you?” asked Lady Sheldon, shooting a hard glance at her sister. “Our husbands have retreated to the card room in an effort to avoid dancing.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Her mother appeared as overwhelmed by the vivacious pair as Diana felt. She placed her hand on Diana’s shoulder. “My dear, there is Lady Downes. Now that Lady Dunston and Lady Sheldon are here, you will not mind if I leave you?”
Diana shook her head. “Please give her my regards.”
As the women seated themselves to either side of Diana, a flash of bright red caught Diana’s eye, then again. One after the other, the tips of Lady Sheldon’s red satin shoes emerged from beneath the skirts of her demure white silk gown.
“Bold, aren’t they?”
At the wryly spoken words, Diana jerked her gaze from the shoes up to the face of the woman sitting next to her. Lady Sheldon smiled warmly. “The shoes were a gift from my husband. I never would’ve bought them myself, but he knows me too well. These”—she wriggled her feet—“make me daring. They remind me to take chances and find joy in unexpected places.”
Such love, Diana thought, such devotion showed true daring. No one knew what the future held, and love didn’t always conquer all. But Lady Sheldon would not want to hear that. A polite smile in place, she retreated to safer ground.
“Please accept my belated felicitations on marriage and motherhood. Your ball was truly lovely, not that I would expect anything less from Lady Weston.”
Lady Sheldon studied Diana as though she were a particularly perplexing puzzle.
“Thank you, Miss Merriwether,” Lady Dunston responded when her sister did not. “My sister and I both had small weddings, much to our mother’s dismay, so we had to agree to let her plan something grand. My poor brother shall not get away with less than St. George’s. Speaking of the devil, where is—? Oh, dear. Lord Blathersby has trapped him into conversation again.”
Diana couldn’t suppress her sympathetic groan. “I sat next to him at dinner,” she explained, then added, “Baron Finkley was on my other side.”
“Whatever did you do to win the enmity of Lady Kelton?” Lady Dunston questioned.
Diana laughed and shook her head. “I wondered the same thing.” She worried at her lip a few moments before adding, “Your brother looks quite miserable.”
Lady Dunston nodded, though she did not seem overly perturbed by his distress. “Someone ought to rescue him.” She looked pointedly at her sister.
“Yes, someone ought.” Lady Sheldon’s reply made it clear that she would not be doing the rescuing.
“I will.”
Diana wasn’t sure where the words came from, but once she said them, she had the undivided attention of both women.
Lady Sheldon looked thoughtful; Lady Dunston appeared bemused.
“Miss Merriwether, my brother doesn’t truly need to be rescued,” Lady Dunston said.
Diana took a deep breath. “I know,” she said softly, “but he has rescued me often enough over the years. This is the least I can do.”
Before she could change her mind, Diana quickly got up, excusing herself as she did so, and made her way over to the two men. She waited for Lord Blathersby to draw breath, which was the closest she would come to a break in the conversation.
“I do apologize, Lord Blathersby, but Lady Dunston requests that her brother attend her directly. She has a most pressing need to speak with him.”
Henry groaned and mumbled his excuses. “What have I done this time?” he asked as he escorted her across the room.
“Nothing.” She shrugged. “You seemed in need of rescuing, and one good turn deserves another, don’t you think?”
“Miss Merriwether, you have my sincerest gratitude. After five minutes of conversing with Lord Blathersby about his sheep, I begin—”
Her lips twitched. “—woolgathering?”
“Exactly.” He gave her an assessing look. “Why do you never show this side of yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve a quick wit, and I can sense there’s mischief within you, but you’ve buried it. There’s laughter in your eyes right now and a real smile pulling at your mouth; it’s far more appealing than your usual unapproachable mask of propriety.”
She stiffened. “It’s not a mask, and proper behavior does not make me unapproachable.”
“No.” He chuckled. “What scares everyone off is that tight-lipped smile you’ve perfected. Ah, there it is. Yes, yes, quite intimidating.”
“It doesn’t seem to have affected you,” Diana muttered.
“Ah, but I am fearless,” Henry boasted, gesticulating broadly with his free arm.
She shook her head. “Everyone is scared of something.”
“And what are you afraid of?” His voice was a silky purr in her ear.
She turned her head and looked into his blue eyes, clear as a summer sky. She ran her tongue over her dry lips and watched, fascinated, as his eyes darkened a shade. “You,” she whispered.
“Me?” A frown creased his brow.
“Well, not you, but men like you.”
Looking at him, no one would know her words had affected him, but Diana felt his muscles contract beneath her hand and heard the slight hitch in his breathing. He had himself under control an instant later. She wished she could say the same. His words had unsettled her, frightened her… touched her.
“Men like me,” he repeated softly. “And what kind of man would that be?”
“You are a rogue.”
His loud bark of laughter set heads whipping around in their direction. Diana grimaced as the weight of their gazes settled over her like a suffocating shroud. She waited for the whispers and the pointed fingers.
…her mother ran off with the stable master—bad blood, if you ask me…
…she’ll never be a beauty, that one…
…If she were my daughter, I would never have taken her back. Did you hear Lansdowne took the girl as well? That is taking Christian charity too far…
What had possessed her to think Henry wanted her rescue? No one wanted her. Not her grandparents. Certainly not her father… An insidious gray fog hazed over her mind, trapping her in a past she didn’t want to remember but couldn’t seem to forget.
She ran and ran, endlessly onward, and not just because she’d lost her way. She always ran. She had no choice. She couldn’t turn back and go home. She didn’t have a home.
Beads of sweat chased each other over goose-pimpled flesh as she pushed
herself to go faster, farther. The only sound she could hear was the heavy beat of her own heart. The woods were vast and filled with shadows that snatched at her hair and clothes. Her lungs were tight, burning from exertion and fear.
She’d been lost here before, but she’d known someone would look for her if she waited long enough. She had no one to depend on now save herself. No one was coming to find her.
Without any warning, a wall loomed up in front of her. Before she could turn in another direction, the wall reached out and held her in place. Then it began to rumble.
“Why are you running from me? Miss Merriwether? Miss Merriwether!”
The urgency in Henry’s voice managed to break through to her, and the past retreated. She lifted her head and found his concerned face looming over her; his hands gripped her shoulders as if he feared she might collapse at any moment. Diana drew in a deep, shuddering breath as she drank in the sight of him. The warmth of his presence drove away the lingering chill about her heart.
“Why did you run from me?” he demanded.
Run from him?
Her attraction to him terrified her, but she wasn’t smart enough to run from him. No, she sought him out like a moth drawn to a flame, unable to keep away despite the risk of getting singed. He was so close she could smell him—a heady mixture of soap on skin mingled with port and some earthy, masculine scent that was simply Henry.
His scent swirled around her, clean and crisp as a country breeze, yet crackling with the leashed energy of a coming storm. The muscles in her stomach tightened and released in shivery delight. Heat built inside her and spread through her body until she burned.
Run, run, run, her mind urged, but her body wanted to burn.
Burn, burn, burn.
Perhaps she was a little afraid of him. He was dangerous to her health. If she stood there long enough—just stood there with his hands on her—he would burn her alive. She would go up in flames, right here in… She glanced around in confusion as she realized they stood in the courtyard. “What are we doing outside?”
“I hoped you would tell me. You called me a rogue, and then ran off. Are you unwell? Shall I fetch your mother?”
For a moment, she could not answer. Her feminine senses were overwhelmed, paralyzed at having somehow captured the interest of such a giant force of pure masculine energy.
“Forgive me. I just…” Heavens, he had the bluest eyes. In the light of the lanterns, they sparkled like brilliant sapphires. “I just became a trifle overheated, and I needed some air. There is no cause to upset my mother. We can return inside.” She took a small step back, trying to shrug out of his grasp, but his hands tightened about her shoulders, preventing her retreat.
“Hold a moment.” For all they were a command, the words were gentle. “You’re trembling,” he noted with concern.
She would continue to do so as long as he held her close. Diana turned her head, darting a glance at the other couples who had ventured outside. “Did I cause a scene when I ran out?” she asked worriedly.
He gave a short laugh. “No, but I’m certain everyone is wondering what I said to set up your bristles.” Keeping one hand on her shoulder, he guided her to a bench a few feet away. “Sit,” he told her. “You look as though you’re about to faint.”
She was still a little unsteady, so she did as he asked. The position put her eyes level with the hands that braced on his hips as he asked, “What happened in there?”
Perhaps because he’d rescued her once again, she felt as though she owed him at least a partial explanation. She had to look up, way up, to deliver it. “Sometimes I… I don’t know how to describe it, exactly. All of a sudden, my heart races, and I can’t catch my breath. It’s almost as if I’m in a dream or a trance. Most people run from their ugly memories in a less literal sense, but when I’m in that state, I have no control. I don’t… I don’t even remember running out here.” She ducked her head and hunched in on herself. “You must think me mad.”
“If you are mad, Miss Merriwether, there is very little hope for the rest of us. Does this happen often?”
She sighed and forced her gaze back up. “When my past catches up with me.”
Henry’s brow wrinkled.
“I wasn’t running from you,” she explained. “When you laughed and everyone turned in our direction… I couldn’t wait and risk seeing all those disapproving stares, overhearing the whispers…”
“I apologize. I never meant to distress you.”
“I know, and it wasn’t you that made me uncomfortable.”
“Even though I am a rogue?” he teased.
Diana blushed. “Well, you are!” she insisted.
“I assure you, at least half of what is reported in the gossip columns is entirely made up, and the other half is greatly exaggerated.”
“Yes,” she said bitterly. “I know just how much liberty newspapers take with the truth. All they care about is selling papers—making a profit—no matter how many lives and reputations are ruined in the process.”
His blue eyes were gentle, his expression thoughtful as he seated himself beside her. “You haven’t had an easy time of it, have you?”
She shrugged, disconcerted by this tender side of him. “I never lacked food to eat or a roof over my head.”
“I think I would rather face the elements than most of the spiteful old biddies at Almack’s. Going hungry, however? I’d have to think harder on that.”
A chuckle escaped her.
“Ah, now that’s better,” he said with satisfaction. “You have a beautiful smile, Miss Merriwether.”
His words flooded her heart with pleasure and her cheeks with heat. It didn’t matter whether he truly meant them, or if he’d said them to all the women in London. When he said them to her, she felt like the prettiest woman alive… which just brought her back to the fact that Henry Weston was a very dangerous man.
“And you have a way with women, Mr. Weston.”
“Although I’m certain it was not meant as such, I will take that as a compliment.”
“In truth, I envy you,” she admitted. “I am ill at ease with strangers, and I am no good at making polite conversation. You could charm an entire village without being uncomfortable. That is a gift.”
He shifted uneasily beside her, and Diana suddenly understood that this master of compliments had difficulty accepting them. She glanced away to hide her amusement.
“Of course, I must point out that you have taken no little advantage of this gift with regards to the female gender. I daresay that, despite your protestations otherwise, you have charmed every woman you’ve ever met and put far too many of them at ease.”
He relaxed and leaned in, giving her that roguish half-grin that made her heart skip a beat. “Do I charm you, Diana?”
“Not at the moment.” She lied without hesitation. “Nor have I given you permission to use my given name.”
“No, you have not,” he agreed. “Not yet. You will, though. But, I must point out, Diana”—the sound of her name on his lips sent chills tingling up her spine—“daring is part of a rogue’s attraction.”
“Attraction doesn’t last,” she replied, stiffening her spine—and her mind—against his potent allure. “And, though you may find this difficult to believe, not all women are attracted to rogues.”
“You, for one?”
She nodded. “When I was in my first Season I made a list of desirable attributes, and—”
“You have a list?” His expression hovered between horror and interest.
“It has grown shorter over the years, but no roguish qualities were ever included.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised. I can imagine precisely the man you would seek. You want a quiet, studious country gentleman. Someone totally dependable, utterly predictable, and unbearably dull. Well, have I got it right thus far?”
She refused to take his bait. “As I am quiet, studious, and prefer the simplicity of country life to the pleasures of town, you have i
ndeed described my perfect match. He must also be of a steady disposition and an even temper, guided by logic rather than emotion.”
“You haven’t made any mention of your heart. Is this to be a love-match?”
And risk the jealousies that could tear a marriage apart? Her parents’ separation hadn’t only devastated her mother. The man Diana had loved and trusted most in the world had betrayed her, and she would never open herself to that pain again.
“No,” she whispered. “I know love is a game to you, but it isn’t to me. People get hurt—” Her voice broke.
He gently lifted her chin until she met his gaze. “You are safe with me, Diana,” he promised.
His fingers spread shivers across her skin, and she jerked her head away. “I know.” She smiled wryly. “I’m not a woman to stir a man’s passions.”
“That’s not what I—”
“But you needn’t worry that I will fall in love with you, either.” She reached over to pat his hand in reassurance. “You are safe with me, too, Mr. Weston.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I cannot ask this over the breakfast table, since we both know Izzie will make a fuss. She will tell my mother and Livvy, and then I may as well forget the idea. You are my oldest friend, so I hope I may trust you to be honest with me. Am I insane to consider courting Miss Merriwether? I realize this may be a question from one madman to another. You married my sister, after all, which surely makes you a candidate for Bedlam.
—FROM HENRY WESTON TO HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW THE EARL OF DUNSTON
HENRY FROWNED AT DIANA. HE didn’t expect every woman he met to fall for him, but… Well, perhaps he did. Not that he wanted this woman to fall in love with him, but it intrigued him that she seemed so sure she wouldn’t.
“Because I’m a rogue,” he clarified. “That’s why you won’t fall in love with me.”
“One of many reasons, Mr. Weston.”
“Please, call me Henry.”
She shook her head. The movement sent the curls around her face dancing like little flames. In the moonlight, her hair shimmered with all the colors of a summer sunset, from russet to gold and every shade in between.
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