She’d sat just so beside Henry on a few occasions. Maybe not just so. Henry had sat so close their shoulders brushed and whispered in her ear throughout the performance. Sir Samuel sat an appropriate distance from her and appeared content simply watching the play, rather than those around him. Though she was usually of the same mind, Diana had no interest in tonight’s comedy about a feuding married couple. She fiddled with her program, folding and unfolding the paper, until her mother reached back and snatched it out of her hands.
A commotion in the theater distracted her. Mr. Townley, obviously drunk as a wheelbarrow, leaned over the side of his box and shouted at the actors. A number of people in the pit and gallery began yelling back. His niece—Good heavens, what had possessed Miss Hill to wear such an indecent gown?—looked on in mortification. Nearby, sitting uncustomarily alone, Lord Brantley glowered in their direction before leaving his box.
Diana spared a smile for Eliza, who sat with her parents, Mr. Gabriel, and Lord Blathersby. As she moved on, the hairs on her nape rose. Her breath caught as a familiar blond head came into sight.
Her heart slammed against ribs. He shouldn’t be here.
Now that he had his stud—now that they were through—he ought to be drinking, wenching, and playing cards again. Or he ought to be in Surrey overseeing the renovations at Ravensfield. He shouldn’t be here, with his sisters sitting in front of him, their heads craned around as if Henry provided better amusement than the play.
He kept his opera glass fixed on her. Even with a theater full of people between them, she felt his hunger and determination. A matching desire rose within her, and she couldn’t look away. She heard the audience roar as the onstage couple launched into another silly spat. They were nothing but strutting actors reciting ridiculous words. They played out fiction, not fact.
But weren’t they all actors, each with their roles? She slipped effortlessly between daughter, sister, granddaughter, and wallflower. What was she to Henry? More than a friend, certainly. Less than a lover, regrettably. She was… his. The word rose up from deep within her.
She shoved it right back down. She’d performed in a tragedy once before. She wouldn’t chance it again.
HENRY PRESSED THE OPERA GLASS more firmly against his face, as if doing so would render Diana in closer detail. He’d spent the past week at Ravensfield, but he might as well have been in another country for all he’d accomplished. He’d thought of her constantly, yet he was no closer to figuring out what to do with his very stubborn, very lovely, very dear Miss Merriwether.
He drank in every freckle, every copper curl… and every disapproving frown. His lips twitched. Diana would frown during a comedy. Sir Stick-in-the-Mud should have thought before bringing her to a play about a marriage that proved disastrous in just three weeks’ time.
She hadn’t noticed him yet. She would, though, even if he had to make as big a nuisance of himself as Townley.
He knew the instant she spotted him. Her body tensed. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted, giving him the barest glimpse of white teeth.
He swallowed hard. He did it again when she bit down on her lower lip. The things he wanted to do with that mouth…
You can’t deny this, Di, he thought at her. You can’t deny me.
She proved she could as she looked away and spoke to Stickley.
Well, damn it, he couldn’t. He couldn’t play when this was no longer a game. He couldn’t look at her when she’d moved out of his reach. He couldn’t watch her turn away from him to another man. He stood, handed the opera glass to Olivia, and walked out.
James followed him into the passage.
“Leaving, Hal? Or dare I hope that you’re about to act like a barbarian and haul your woman off somewhere until the two of you come to rights?”
“Just let it alone.”
“So it’s the former.” James crossed his arms and lounged against the wall. “Pity. Shall we take this conversation to the saloon? Misery may love company, but it’s damned fond of drink.”
“There’s no conversation to be had. She refused me, damn it all. She’d rather have that blasted fool of a baronet.”
“A woman who doesn’t want you,” James mused. “So, one exists after all.”
“She wants me,” Henry growled. “She doesn’t want to marry me.”
James laid a hand on his shoulder. “Come along. I need the drink, even if you don’t.”
They made their way to the nearest of the elegantly appointed saloons and found only a dozen or so people in the room. That would change come the intermission between the evening’s two plays. Henry found a pair of chairs in an empty corner while James procured the liquor. If they were going to do this—this being two grown men discussing feelings—then they definitely needed alcohol, and at least some semblance of privacy.
James brought over two glasses and handed one to Henry. He swallowed half the contents in a single gulp. “Brandy would’ve been better,” he grumbled as James seated himself.
“So,” James said. He sipped his port.
“So?”
“So you say Miss Merriwether prefers the baronet to you. I find this… surprising. I may be unfairly prejudiced, but you are the better catch.”
Henry raised his glass in acknowledgment, then drained it and set it on the floor. “Diana cares little about titles and wealth.”
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” James went on. “She cares about you.”
“I know she cares about me. She knows she cares about me, and that scares her.”
“I see.” James tapped his fingers on the arm on his chair. “Have you spoken with her about her fears?”
“I’ve tried. She won’t listen to reason.” He had tried, hadn’t he? He’d tried to make her see reason that day at the Park when everything had gone hellishly wrong. He’d told her he wouldn’t break her heart. But had they discussed what lay at the heart of her objections?
“Perhaps you should try harder to listen to her reasons. Or are you willing to let her go?”
“If I thought she’d be happier with him—” Henry reached out, took James’s glass, and finished what was left of the sweet wine. “Even then, I’m not certain I could. She sees something in me, believes in me, even when I doubt myself. And I see her, all of her. Everything she tries to hide. We…” He sought for the right word. “We balance each other.”
“Setting aside your present distress, you’re far more settled than at the start of the Season,” James agreed.
“She’s everything I never knew I wanted, never knew I needed. She’s the part of me I didn’t know was missing, but if I lose her now, I’ll forever have a Diana-shaped hole in my heart. There’s something comfortable, something enduring between us. I lust after her, God knows, but it’s different with her. Better. Christ, I sound like—”
“—like a man in love,” James finished. “Have you told her?”
“That I love her?” Henry sighed. “Even if I thought that would help, which I don’t, she won’t see me. Damn it all, how can I convince her of anything when she won’t let me get near her?” His voice rose as his temper flared, earning him a few quizzical glances. The saloon had quickly begun to fill, which signaled both the end of the first play and their privacy. He inclined his head in the direction of the door and lifted a brow.
James nodded, and they headed back toward the box. “Why not ask your sisters for help?” he asked. “They enjoy intrigues and making devious plans. I think Izzie gets nearly as much pleasure from meddling as she does from se—er, surprises.”
Henry glanced sideways at James. “I didn’t think Izzie liked surprises.”
“She likes nice surprises. I’m fairly certain our boyhood pranks can’t be characterized as such.”
“We never did anything worthy of the retribution she and Livvy extracted.”
James chuckled. “They certainly were inventive.”
Yes, they were. His sisters were inventive, devious, and meddlesome, and for the firs
t time, Henry found himself grateful. “I’ll listen to anything their scheming minds can dream up. Lord knows, it has to be better than what I have in mind.”
“Do you have anything in mind?”
Henry shrugged. “I’ve thought about kidnapping her.”
“Delightful in its own way, but abduction is a felony, isn’t it?”
“Not a hanging offense, but I’d rather only use that plan as a last resort, all the same.”
When they reached the box, they found only Sheldon. Henry surveyed the half-empty boxes, but he couldn’t spot his sisters. For all he knew, they’d come into the saloon and he’d missed them in the crowd. He glanced across the theater to Diana’s box, but she was gone. So was Stickley. Henry’s hands balled into fists. It was a good thing he knew the baronet wouldn’t attempt anything improper, or he might have taken James’s initial suggestion and played the barbarian.
“Did they say where they were going?” he asked Sheldon tersely.
His brother-in-law shook his head. “They left whispering to each other, thick as thieves. Those two are planning something. I only hope Livvy knows I’m serious about not wanting a birthday celebration. Turning thirty is frightening enough without a party.”
“There’s no stopping either of them when they put their minds to something,” James said, clapping a hand on Henry’s shoulder and urging him to sit. “The girls will return soon enough. Now, tell me how you’re getting on with the stud…”
The curtain had already risen and the actors were just coming onstage when his sisters returned to the box. As they settled into their chairs, Henry tapped each of them on the shoulder. They looked at each other, and then back at him.
“I need your help. Diana is refusing to see me, and if I can’t speak to her, she’s going to marry that dull sod sitting beside her.”
A little sigh escaped from Olivia. Such a romantic, she was. She would help him, and he suspected that, of the two, she was behind their most outrageous plots. He needed Isabella, too. She provided the daring and determination to follow through with Olivia’s mad plans.
Isabella shot Olivia a quick frown before turning back to him. “Are you simply against Diana marrying the dull sod, or do you hope to take his place?”
“The latter.” He would set aside his pride to ask his sisters for help. He didn’t need to trample it by telling them he’d proposed to Diana and been refused. They’d know soon enough. Isabella would insist on knowing everything he’d told James tonight, and she’d tell Olivia.
“Very well,” Isabella agreed. “We’ll help you. Come to the house tomorrow, and we’ll decide what your next step should be. Three o’clock?”
“I can come in the morning,” he offered.
“No,” Olivia said quickly. “Not in the morning. Mama is coming to Izzie’s to, ah, help with… with something, and she will only ask you questions. Don’t come before three.”
He nodded. Sheldon had the right of it; those two were definitely up to “something,” as Olivia had so eloquently described it. He glanced back at his brother-in-law. Poor bastard. Henry knew his sisters too well to imagine Sheldon had a chance of dissuading them. When Isabella and Olivia put their minds to something, there was no stopping them. He was counting on it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jason believes I am planning an elaborate fête as a surprise for his birthday. The poor man is terrified, and I suppose the last list I left on his desk—by accident, of course—might have been excessive. I shall reproduce some of the items here for your amusement:
—Decorations still needed for Egyptian theme room—sarcophagus ice sculpture?
—See Mme. Bessette about harem girl costume…
—Fireworks, fireworks, and more fireworks!
—Ask Lord Blathersby about loan of sheep for the evening…
Can you guess which one I actually mean to do? This will be a memorable birthday indeed!
—FROM THE MARCHIONESS OF SHELDON TO HER AUNT THE DOWAGER MARCHIONESS OF SHELDON
AT PROMPTLY TWO O’CLOCK THE following day, Diana grasped hold of the ring on the door of Dunston House. The brass lion head above it regarded her with solemn, inquisitive eyes. She questioned her presence there, too.
During last night’s intermission, she’d sent Sir Samuel to fetch a glass of lemonade for her, and then she’d stood in the corridor outside their box. She’d hoped for a few minutes alone, but only moments after Sir Samuel headed off, someone called her name. When she looked up, she found Isabella and Olivia (as Lady Dunston and Lady Sheldon insisted she call them) descending on her like hounds on a fox.
“Diana!” they chorused, smiling brightly as they flanked her, each taking an arm.
Though she topped both of them by several inches, she suspected resistance would be futile. She couldn’t imagine what they wanted with her… unless they didn’t know she’d ended her arrangement with Henry. Her stomach dropped as she imagined telling them—women who had quickly become her friends—and seeing hurt and anger fill their eyes.
“We’ve seen neither hide nor hair of you of late,” Isabella complained.
“I took ill at Lady Langley’s.”
Not precisely true, but what should she say? Your brother gave me such extreme pleasure I thought I should die of it, and then he proposed marriage. I refused. My refusal won’t break his heart, but my acceptance would eventually break mine. My future is with Sir Samuel, but until it’s secure, I don’t dare risk seeing Henry. I don’t know if I have the strength to turn him away a second time…
“Oh, dear!” Isabella clucked. “You were among those unfortunate souls? You poor dear! How curious that Hal didn’t say anything.”
“He’s been away this past week,” Olivia countered.
Diana’s chest contracted at her words. Foolish, as she’d just wished him away, but she wondered where he’d been… and whom he’d been with.
“He wasn’t gone for a week,” Isabella argued. “He must have returned to London by Sunday evening because James went with him to the sale at Tattersall’s on Monday.” She groaned. “I didn’t see Hal, but I was forced to listen to a long recitation about the horses he purchased.”
“No one cares about that, Izzie,” her sister responded.
Actually, Diana did care. She cared both about Henry’s whereabouts and the stock he’d selected, but she knew better than to say so.
“Did you enjoy the play?” Olivia asked her.
“Not particularly,” Diana admitted. “I find little humor in a husband and wife fighting, especially over something insignificant.”
“It’s too ridiculous,” Isabella agreed. “To think of ending a marriage over a card game! At least if he’d thought she was having an affair, there would have been cause.”
“Izzie!” Olivia hissed.
“Oh!” A pained expression crossed Isabella’s face, and Diana imagined she was remembering that Diana’s parents had separated for just that reason. “I meant no offense—”
“As I’ve taken none, all is well,” Diana reassured her.
Sir Samuel came back then with her lemonade, and Diana disentangled herself from Isabella and Olivia on the pretext of taking the drink. Before Diana could excuse herself and Sir Samuel and return to the box, Olivia asked Sir Samuel how he found London.
Isabella tugged Diana a little ways away. “As dreadful as the couple in the play are, three weeks into my marriage I would have traded places with them in a heartbeat.”
Diana shook her head in disbelief.
“I couldn’t fight with James because he wasn’t there,” Isabella explained with a thin-lipped smile. “I battled an old mattress instead, but I imagined it was James when I vented my spleen with some choice words and a fire poker.”
“Good heavens,” Diana gasped. She must remember not to anger Isabella.
“Livvy and Jason were smarter,” Isabella continued. “They got their fighting out of the way before the wedding.”
“I see,” Diana said, though
she didn’t really. “Is it family tradition for newlywed couples to argue?”
Isabella laughed. “All couples, newlywed or otherwise, have their disagreements.” She gestured to Diana. “The night of Lady Langley’s, I believe you quarreled with more than the crab. Hal left for Ravensfield the following morning.”
“He has work he must see to.” The knowledge that he’d been at his stud eased the tightness in her chest.
“True, but his estate isn’t so far as to preclude spending a night in town. Tonight is the first I’ve seen of him since before he left and he… He’s not himself. Hal’s a relatively simple man.”
“No, he’s smart—”
Isabella held up a hand. “Calm yourself, Diana. I don’t mean he is simpleminded, though he is unbelievably thickheaded at times. Hal is simple in that he doesn’t lose sleep over the complexities of the universe or parliamentary reforms. If he’s unhappy, the cause isn’t difficult to discern. Hal’s world centers on two things right now: the stud and you. As he claims the stud is progressing steadily, logic points to you.”
Diana took a deep breath. “You’re aware that Henry and I had an arrangement. Our courtship wasn’t real.”
“Stuff! I know you care for my brother, and he cares for you. Your relationship may have begun as an act, but as you spent time together, true feelings grew between you. That is a real courtship.”
Diana flushed. “I— It’s complicated.”
“Life is complicated,” Isabella said bluntly.
Diana’s mother came into the corridor then to inform them that the curtain was rising for the second play.
“I apologize. I never intended to have this conversation here.” Isabella spoke softly as Olivia and Sir Samuel joined them. “Oh, dear,” she exclaimed, pitching her voice to include everyone. “We’ve been here the whole of the interval without accomplishing our purpose.”
“My sister and I are having an intimate gathering of like-minded ladies tomorrow afternoon,” Olivia explained. “Do say you’ll join us, Miss Merriwether. Unless you have a previous engagement?”
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