A Lady's Past

by A. S. Fenichel

  “I’m just a retired soldier who managed to get himself a title. My only power is my very large family, and really, Her Grace holds all the strings.” Charm and modesty oozed from this duke.

  With a laugh, Jacques said, “Your lady has to be formidable with all those children to keep in line. What brings you here, Michael?”

  “I couldn’t resist the chance to see George Cayley’s flying machine. I’m always curious about what great minds come up with.” Someone called his name, and he excused himself.

  Diana and Jacques entered the assembly room. Her thoughts lingered on the Duke of Kerburghe. “Is your friend the duke very well connected in Parliament?”

  “He is a war hero. He receives a lot of respect and has some friends that come in handy from time to time, though not so high as Parliament.” He guided her through the crowd of men, who looked at her as if she had grown another head.

  They joined Doris and Francis and sat. “How many children does he have?”

  “What is your curiosity with Michael Rollins? Should I be jealous?”

  Heart beating out of her chest, she looked at him. “Why on earth would you be jealous? We are not courting, nor shall we ever. You mentioned his children several times, so I wondered how many he has.”

  A darkness drifted over him. His gaze bore into hers. “At last count, I believe there were seven little Rollinses.”

  She would have said more, but he spoke to Francis, giving Diana his back. It was unclear whether she had offended him by saying they would never court or with her curiosity about his friend. Whatever caused his displeasure, she wished she could take it back. Having Jacques unhappy with her made her chest ache in a way she’d never experienced before.

  The most extraordinary machine occupied half the stage. The glider’s white wings, similar to the shape of a kite, were attached to thin pieces of wood. It had an adjustable tail with a vertical fin. Diana longed for a closer look.

  A man of perhaps forty with thinning gray hair and long sideburns took the stage. He stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat.

  Some of the very large crowd quieted, but most continued their chatter.

  He cleared his throat again.

  Another man, taller, with blond hair and an air of authority, stood off to the side. “Quiet, please.”

  The crowd hushed.

  Sir George Cayley fussed with his papers and cleared his throat again. “As you may already know, I have achieved a successful flight. I have much to tell you in a short time. My experiments are without comparison in this field.”

  “He thinks very highly of himself,” Doris whispered.

  Diana had to agree, but his work was fascinating. He’d set forth to develop a fixed-wing flying machine. The machine had separate systems for lift, propulsion, and control. He discussed the four forces that acted on the heavier-than-air flying vehicle as weight, lift, drag, and thrust. The wings were developed with large chambers on top and flat, smaller ones underneath. He claimed the chambered design helped with lift. He predicted that sustained flight would not occur until a lightweight engine was developed to provide adequate thrust and lift.

  Riveted by his innovation, Diana sighed when he finished.

  The hall erupted in applause.

  Sir George folded his notes and tucked them in his pocket before moving off to pose in front of his creation.

  People began to move about and leave the hall. Francis and Doris stood and walked toward the aisle.

  Jacques didn’t move.

  Sitting next to him had been half thrill, half agony. He’d not said a word to her since telling her that Michael Rollins had seven children. “You are angry with me.”

  A low sigh, then he turned toward her. “I have no right to be, but yes. I am angry that you dismiss any notion of our courting.”

  “You don’t want to court me.” It came out far more forcefully than she intended.

  His voice was low and for her ears only. “I do not know what I want where you are concerned.”

  Shaking her head, she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Her life was so strange and terrible, the idea that anyone would find her attractive was farcical. “Let us speak of something else, Jacques.”

  With a nod, he stood and offered his arm. “What did you think of Sir George and his flying machine?”

  “Quite amazing.”

  They wound their way through the crowd and out to the street where Francis waited outside the carriage. “What do you think, Diana?”

  “I would love to take a flight on his machine. I’d also like to talk to him about how he manages lift. I’m curious about drag. The entire model is fascinating.”

  “Perhaps we can attempt a small model just for the fun of it.” Francis’s eyes lit with excitement.

  The old thrill she used to get when her father had a new idea rumbled inside her. “That would be fun.”

  Laughing, Jacques shook Francis’s hand. “I see you two have a lot to talk about. Mrs. Whimple, make sure they take time to eat and sleep.”

  “I’ll take care of them, Mr. Laurent,” Doris called from inside the carriage.

  Lady Chervil sashayed over with two older gentlemen. “I think this idea of flight is quite wild and dangerous. However, I did manage to learn that we are not the first women to attend. Pinky here tells me several ladies have graced this hall over the years. Even the Duchess of Stilton made an appearance on one occasion.”

  “Lord Pinkney, good to see you.” Jacques shook his hand.

  “Laurent, what news of France? Will you ever get your land back, or is that a lost cause?” Lord Pinkney slapped Jacques on the back.

  “It is likely a lost cause. Besides, I am very happy here in your country, and your king is happy to gain my tax money.”

  The men laughed, but Diana thought Jacques’s amusement was forced. She’d not known about all his troubles in France, and what she’d learned today was only bits and pieces of a story. His eyes held pain despite him making light of the subject. All the more reason to keep her troubles from him, lest she lose his friendship.

  Chapter 5

  As expected, the Roman temple was a ridiculous sight in the center of an English garden. Jacques walked the perimeter, which had been lit with torches. Despite its garish quality, it was rather a magnificent mistake. White pillars stood ten feet high and statues of several Greek and Roman gods and goddesses were standing watch. In the center, Apollo stood nearly seven feet tall, holding a lyre and looking off into the distance.

  Jacques supposed it would be impolite to tell his hostess that, traditionally, Apollo was depicted with a kithara, not a simple lyre. He laughed to himself and continued his walk around the temple.

  Preston and Millie were dancing, and he’d not seen Diana. He stopped in front of the statue of the goddess Diana or Artemis. He wasn’t actually sure if the temple was meant to be Roman or Greek, nor was he sure Lady Hampton knew the difference. She drew her bow back on some distant beast and her short tunic revealed far more shapely legs than any depiction he’d seen in the museums. Whoever the artist was, he’d taken some liberties and made the goddess of the hunt far more voluptuous than was traditional.

  “She looks quite determined.” Diana’s voice was soft but clear in the crisp night.

  Taking a breath, he turned. Her hair was coiled high, but with sweet curls left loose to surround her face. Her dark eyelashes drew attention to those bright eyes, ever watchful. The emerald gown she wore was darker than was traditional for an unmarried lady, but since nothing about Diana was traditional, it suited her. “You look lovely.”

  The gift of her pink cheeks was more than he could have hoped for. “Thank you.”

  “Were you looking for me, or did you have plans to make a donation to this temple?” He was teasing, but hoped it was the former.

  She ran her hand alon
g the pillar. “Do you think praying to this mismatched set of gods and goddesses would help me?”

  Like a moth to her flame, she drew him closer. “I would help you if you’d let me, Diana.”

  A sad smile tugged at her lips. “You shouldn’t offer when you don’t know the extent of my troubles, and I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I allowed you to be pulled down my path.”

  “I can take care of myself. If we are friends, then I should assist you in some way.” He ran his knuckles along her jaw to her neck. Her soft hair tickled his hand.

  Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “I cannot allow it, Jacques. I wish I could make you understand, but even that is denied me.”

  The number of unanswered questions with regard to this woman were mounting to the point of madness. “In that case, I wonder if some normalcy is the best I can offer.”

  Dabbing away her tears, she said, “What do you suggest?”

  Leaning forward until his lips were an inch from her ear, he took in her scent, roses and fresh linens along with the warmth that was distinctly Diana. “Dance with me.”

  When she turned her head, it brought her lips within a breath of his. Only the sounds of laughter from guests coming out to see the temple kept him from indulging.

  Jacques straightened and offered his arm. “Dance with me?”

  Through her glove and his clothes, he still felt her heat. The late November chill suddenly disappeared, and he longed to be warmed entirely by her touch. With her nod, he led them into the ballroom.

  Just as with the garden temple, the rest of the Hampton town house was equally overdone and ornate. Sir Miles Hampton had been knighted for his service to the crown, which was a nice way of saying he’d bought his knighthood. They threw elaborate balls and made horrendous decorating choices, but the wine was good, as was the food. In truth, though, had it not been for the notion of seeing Diana, Jacques would never have attended such a crush.

  The waltz began.

  Holding her in his arms could have been enough to keep him happy for many years. How had he gone from confirmed bachelor and rake to blithering idiot in such a short time? “Diana, I must confess, I’m more taken with you than is comfortable.”

  She cocked her head. “Is that a French way of saying you like me?”

  “No. The French way would be far more charming and decidedly less appropriate.”

  Letting out a slow breath, she forced her expressionless mask into place. “It would be better for both of us if you would forget all about me.”

  “Impossible. Once I held you in my arms, I was lost.”

  Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and he longed to kiss his way along that sleek column. “That was a mistake on my part, and I apologize again. I should not have asked that of you. It was stupid and dangerous. I don’t even know you, and what a wanton you must think me. I was lured by the idea of feeling safe for a few short hours. I should have been stronger.”

  “I’m glad you trusted me. It was an honor.”

  “Yet now you think you want more from me,” she whispered, so that none of the other dancers would hear.

  The room was awhirl with music and colorful gowns. No one cared about the two of them. He hated that they were in public having this conversation. “I would prefer if you did not presume to know my mind. It was my honor to hold you. I do not know you, Diana, but I do know you are in trouble. That was obvious from our first meeting. I would not take advantage of your need for safety, and you must have known that, or at least have been willing to take the risk. I hardly know what I want from you or what I can offer you in return. I only know that you are on my mind when I wake in the morning and you are the last image in my mind when I take to my bed each night. Perhaps I am a fool, but I cannot ignore my feelings.”

  A single tear slipped down her cheek as the music ended. “In another time, those words would have been everything to me. I’m sorry they can mean nothing now.” With a curtsy, she left him standing alone on the dance floor.

  Preston and Millie were beside him a moment later.

  “The lady herself, I presume.” Preston stared across the ballroom to where Diana had joined Lady Chervil.

  “That woman is going to be the death of me.”

  “I certainly hope you’re not being literal.” Preston slapped his back. “Introduce me to your friend, Jacques.”

  If he refused, they would badger him for the rest of the night. They crossed to the ladies and Jacques bowed. “It is good to see you again, Lady Chervil. Of course, you know my friends the Duke and Duchess of Middleton.”

  Bows and curtsies all around. Honoria smiled. “Of course. Good to see you, Millie. Your Grace.”

  Millie kissed Honoria’s cheek. “I’ve missed you. I must come and visit more often. It seems every time I come you are off somewhere.”

  “I’m kept quite busy for an old woman. Millie, you have met Diana. Your Grace, may I introduce Miss Diana St. Cloud. She is the newest Everton lady.” Honoria fiddled with the rubies around her wrist.

  Preston bowed. “I have heard a lot about you, Miss St. Cloud. I hope we shall become better acquainted.”

  “I’m happy to see you again, Miss St. Cloud. Are you and my uncle getting on with those experiments?” Millie smiled and her blue eyes lit up.

  It wasn’t easy, but Jacques was starting to see small variations in Diana’s expression even when she was trying to be unreadable. Now her eyes narrowed just slightly, and he thought she was annoyed or worried.

  “Mr. Edgebrook has a great many interesting projects in the works. I was thinking after our visit the other day, would His Grace have disapproved of you continuing as an Everton lady?”

  Preston opened his mouth, but Millie stayed his response with a gentle hand on his arm. “No. He would allow me to do whatever I wished. I wished to travel, and so we did for the first year of our marriage. As I told you, I think we shall go again in the spring. The Everton Domestic Society is a place where women can find employment when the realities of the world would leave them unpleasant choices. I would not keep my place there when my need no longer existed.”

  “I see,” Diana said. She fidgeted with the bottom edge of her bodice. Perhaps a nervous habit.

  Honoria sang out, “We have decided a bit of fun was in order tonight. One must get away from the day-to-day and attend a ball whenever possible.”

  Laughing, Millie asked, “Is this a rule you just made up?”

  “I make them all up, my dear. Besides the Everton Companion Rules of Conduct, there are Lady Chervil’s rules for living. One day I shall publish.”

  Even Preston laughed. “That would be a book I would enjoy reading.”

  As the talk continued, Diana scanned the room. Her watchful eye must have spotted something. Shrinking back, she didn’t exactly hide, but she made herself less. She shifted so that she was hidden from the crowd behind their cluster of friends.

  Jacques tried to follow her gaze, but couldn’t make out who or what had made her hide away.

  After a few minutes, she excused herself, saying she was going to rest in the lady’s retiring room for a few minutes.

  Thirty minutes later, she had not returned. Jacques whispered, “Millie, would you mind checking on Miss St. Cloud?”

  No questions asked, Millie left the ballroom. She returned not five minutes later. “She is not in there.”

  “Thank you. I will just have a look around. Perhaps you can entertain Lady Chervil. We wouldn’t want her to send out the alarm for her missing ward and cause a scandal.” When he could not see her in the ballroom, Jacques went to the garden.

  A crisp bite to the night air warned of snow in the near future. France had its share of harsh winters, but when winter came to the English island, it chilled to the bone.

  “I saw her. I know I did,” a man with a thick French accent said in a loud
whisper.

  Jacques backed into a corner where the Roman temple would shield him from their sight. He didn’t recognize the voice, but the hair on the back of his neck still stood on end.

  “So many people. How can you be sure it was her? Besides, she could not have made it all the way to London. I’m sure she’s hiding in France and will turn up there in time. When she does, they will call us back to finish what we started.” The other Frenchman’s voice was familiar. Victor Caron had been a sergeant of the guard for Napoleon when Jacques had been captured, but had spent a lot of time in England over the past few years. He had a reputation with the ladies that was not at all favorable. Jacques had never liked him, even when Jacques had still been loved by his own government.

  Could they have been speaking of Diana? Why would they look for her? Good Lord, the mystery just grew deeper, and he became more the fool with each press of the shovel.

  Staying concealed was easy while Victor and his friend searched the gardens. Several couples had found niches and benches in the dense plantings where they stole kisses. As the men disturbed these assignations, angry words filled the garden.

  They rounded the temple, and Jacques shifted to remain in the shadows. A soft gasp behind him alerted him that she was there, hiding. Backing into the dark corner, it was electric to be so close to her. He turned.

  Despite the dark, her eyes shone with terror.

  Even with whatever danger lurked, his need for her grew. His good sense told him to leave her to her fate. As she had said, she was nothing to him, and the fact that she was hiding from French agents could only mean trouble. His life had been saved by having good friends in England; perhaps this was his penance. “Trust me?”

  The slightest nod told him she did trust him.

  Nothing he’d suffered in the past few years had prepared him for his attraction to Diana. Not even Monique’s betrayal had taught him to steer clear of a lady with a past. Jacques lowered his head and drew her into his arms. Pressing her against the stone wall, he kissed her. Diana sighed against his mouth, and he dove inside. Their bodies fit like the edges of a fissure come together after millennia apart. Only by horrific disaster could they come back to each other. She was some part of him he hadn’t known was missing, and now he was complete. In that moment, he knew he would never let her go. “Mine.”