A Rogue for All Seasons (Weston Family) (14 page)

“…I am fortunate to receive a letter every six months letting me know he is still alive. As David seems ill-inclined to do his duty,” the duchess continued, “Alexander is as good as the heir to all of this.” She waved her hands in an encompassing gesture.

“I am aware,” Linnet said tightly. Her parents had cut her off after her marriage. They had only tried to reconcile after Alex’s birth. Linnet had known what they were after and, to some extent, she even understood. Her son might someday wear the Duke of Lansdowne’s coronet and mantle; in order to wear them at all comfortably, he needed to grow up with certain privileges.

She’d tried to explain as much to Thomas, when her parents had arrived at their house shortly after Alex’s birth. They’d come with a retinue of servants and carriages full of extravagant gifts. Thomas had wanted to close the door in their faces, but she’d swayed him, hoping to mend the rift between them and finally earn their approval.

“Don’t try to make this into some outpouring of familial love, Linnet. Your parents are only here because they chased off your brother, and Alex looks like a welcome replacement.”

She wrapped her arms around him, trying to ease some of the tension pouring off him. He resisted, standing stiff and unyielding as one of the tall elm trees lining the drive. Lord, how she loved this strong, stubborn man.

“I know,” she agreed, “but once they begin to know the children they can’t help but love them, and Diana and Alex should be allowed the chance to know their grandparents. My parents haven’t always behaved well, but they
are
family. You have no kin to take the children if, heaven forbid, anything should happen to us. And you can’t deny that my parents’ acceptance will give the children certain advantages. One day, when Diana is grown and ready to be married, she will be able to make a better match as the beloved granddaughter of the Duke and Duchess of Lansdowne. Alex—”

“Alex doesn’t need five nursemaids to powder his bottom, or velvet nappies, or a damned ducal cradle. I see your mother’s face when she looks around our home. We might as well live in squalor. She couldn’t decide which was the worse, Swallowsdale or the village inn.”

“The cradle was a bit much, but they did bring it here. I half expected them to demand to raise Alex at The Hall.” Her laugh came out forced and shrill.

He gave no answering smile. If anything, his face grew stonier.

“I know this is difficult for you,” she said. “But it’s difficult for them—”

“I don’t give a damn about their feelings!” He raged around their bedroom. “Your parents lost my respect forever when they forced you to choose between us. Now they want to sweep back in and take what’s mine. Alex is my son, Linnet,
my
son, and I’ll be damned before I let those unfeeling monsters you call parents have the raising of him.”

Linnet stepped in front of him and took his face in her hands. “Thomas, please, I wasn’t seriously suggesting the possibility. Alex is staying here with us, where he belongs.”

Rather than calming him, her words seemed to ignite some wild terror in him. He gripped her wrists, his big hands closing around her flesh like shackles. “It isn’t only Alex they want.” His voice was little more than a ragged whisper. “They want you, too. They want to take you from me. They never meant to let me have you.”

“Hush, my love. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I won’t let you go, Linny.”

As always, her knees felt a bit weak at the use of his pet name for her.

“You are mine—my wife. You chose me over them. Damned if I know why, but—”

She stopped him with a kiss. When they finally came up for air, she placed her hand over his heart. “I chose you because I love you. My place is, and always will be, with you and our children. If I were forced to choose again right now, I would still choose you.”

He nodded, not meeting her gaze. His uncertainty, even after so many years of marriage, fractured her. “I know—” His voice wavered and cracked. He wet his lips, drew in a shaky breath and tried again. “I know you love me and the children, but you gave up so much when you chose me. You lost more than your family; you lost your entire way of life.”

“I made a new family, a new life—”

“I used to hear you crying in the night, and I’d lie there, saying nothing, just hating myself for being too selfish to let you alone…”

If only Thomas knew how often she cried in the night now, Linnet thought. She pressed the heel of her hand against her chest trying to drive away the ache that surfaced every time she thought of her husband.

“Are you unwell?” her mother asked.

“A bit of indigestion is all. I’m certain I shall feel better in the morning.” That was what she told herself. Perhaps one of these days it would be true.

D
IANA STARED INTO THE DARKNESS
and listened to the clatter of horse hooves on paving. Most of the rooms in Lansdowne House boasted views of the large garden out front, or of Berkeley Square, or of the sweeping landscape of Devonshire House. Her bedchamber, though spacious enough, sat at the back of the house’s west wing and faced Lambeth Mews. Should she ever question her position in this household, she need only open her window and breathe deeply.

With her thoughts scattered from her argument with her mother, she’d made the mistake of doing just that. There was nothing like the fetid odor of equine droppings to jolt a person awake. Not that she could have slept in any case. There were too many questions racing about in her head.

Had Henry been similarly distracted tonight? Had he just been going through the motions he always went through? Had he smelled some horse dung and come to his senses since then? Did he regret proposing that mad scheme or… kissing her? But regret implied he cared at all, which she knew he didn’t. He’d kissed so many women. A kiss that had meant so much to her was commonplace to him. A wave of guilt washed over her as she acknowledged her mother had every cause for concern.

She tensed as she heard her door open. She stayed on her side, her back to the door, undecided if she should feign sleep or admit she was awake. She knew she ought to talk to her mother and apologize, but she couldn’t handle any more emotional upset tonight.

Light footsteps whispered across the rug as her mother approached the bed, her movements perfuming the air with the calming scent of lavender. Her mother always kept bunches of dried lavender in her clothes press. In the past, the two of them had spent happy, sunny days gathering the fragrant flowers in the garden at The Hall. Now they spent those days in London, husband hunting.

Diana flopped over on her back with a sigh. She much preferred the flowers.

Her mother perched on the edge of her bed and made shushing sounds as she drew the disheveled coverlet up over Diana. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was awake,” Diana admitted. “I couldn’t get to sleep. I apologize for what I said. I didn’t mean—”

“I know. Our minds often lose control of our mouths when we are hurting. Your unhappiness is what truly hurt me. You are my child, and I want to protect you. Mr. Weston has a reputation with women. You would do better to spend your time with a man like Sir Samuel.”

At that, Diana sat up and took her mother’s hand. “Sir Samuel isn’t here, Mama, and for all we know he may never return. Even if he does, there’s a possibility that he could take one look at me and run screaming for the hills.”

“He would not!”

Diana couldn’t help but laugh at her mother’s outrage. There was something truly lovely in knowing at least one person believed her the catch of the Season. Her thoughts turned to Henry’s offer. Again. She couldn’t think of much else. Well, perhaps the actual offer featured less prominently in her thoughts than Henry’s persuasive tactics.

Could he possibly do what he claimed? Only her mother would ever consider her the catch of the Season, but might Henry’s attentions convince a few gentlemen that she was, indeed, a catch… or at least a fish worthy of closer inspection? Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so dismissive.

In all likelihood, Henry would change his mind. When he awoke, he would probably think the night’s events but a strange dream. They would never speak of their private interlude, and everything would be as usual. That was for the best. Although, as she had mentioned earlier to Henry, she’d gone on the same way every Season and had nothing to show for it. Maybe she did need a bit of change.

“Mama, what you said earlier about Mr. Weston… You’re right. He’s not truly interested in me.”

“Dearest, I never meant to suggest the man wouldn’t be attracted to you, only that you should be wary.”

“Yes, well, I spoke with him tonight. He—” She took a steadying breath. “He suggested we enter into a mutually beneficial arrangement of sorts. Nothing improper,” she added quickly at her mother’s startled gasp. “He wants to court me, or pretend to court me at any rate, which he believes will have the result of attracting the interest of other gentlemen.”

She shrugged through the tension weighing down her shoulders. “I can’t say if it would work, but I can’t imagine what I have to lose. His reputation is wild, I know, but no woman in the
ton
would refuse him as a suitor. I feel certain he’ll take very good care with my reputation. He doesn’t wish to marry me any more than I wish to be bound to him.”

Her mother looked unconvinced. “Aside from the pleasure of your company, how is courting you beneficial to Mr. Weston?”

“He believes that if he’s courting me, his mother won’t spend the Season pressuring him about getting married. He means to involve himself in a business, and I won’t make too many demands on his time since we won’t truly be courting.”

Her mother looked far from convinced.

“He also wishes to improve his reputation,” Diana continued. “He likes that I’m proper.” She was glad of the darkness in the room, for it hid the color staining her cheeks. She hadn’t been at all proper earlier that night.

Those kisses. That heat. The hard strength of his body pressed against hers. The sighs, groans, and rasp of harsh, heavy breathing. The taste of him…

Enough
. Diana fisted her hands in the coverlet and fought to bring her rapid heartbeat back under control.

“In what business does Mr. Weston mean to involve himself? Something respectable, I presume, or he wouldn’t be concerned about his reputation.”

“Yes, of course,” Diana assured her. She hesitated a moment before admitting, “He wants to purchase a stud.”

“Like your father,” her mother mused.

“He is nothing like my father!”

Jagged shards of anger and hurt had embedded deep in her heart when her perfect world shattered. Time had worn them down, like pieces of glass in the sea, but it hadn’t removed them. The slightest pressure brought painful memories and left her aching. Sometimes, not often, she could go an entire day without thinking about her father or of how her life might have been… But she wouldn’t let herself think of that right now.

“He wrote to me again about your dowry,” her mother offered.

“I don’t want his money,” Diana snapped. “He can’t buy forgiveness.”

Her mother sighed as she reached out and laid a hand on Diana’s shoulder. “True forgiveness must be freely given,” she agreed, “but perhaps it’s time you consider doing so. You aren’t only punishing him with your continued refusal to see him. You’re punishing yourself as well.” She gently squeezed Diana’s shoulder, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and got off the bed.

Diana sat unmoving as her mother left the room. Her mother’s suggestion shocked her too much to do anything else. She didn’t think she would ever be ready to forgive her father.

As for Henry…

He wasn’t like her father. He couldn’t be. She’d worshipped her father, loved him with her whole being, and his rejection had broken her heart. Henry could never be like her father because she would never give him that power.

CHAPTER NINE

For once, Rosie does not keep me awake, but my own nerves. What amused me but days ago now ties my stomach in knots. I fear what is between Hal and Miss Merriwether will end badly. I glimpsed a deep sorrow in her. Hal could heal her, or he could break her, and I have not my mother’s certainty they will make a match of it. I have made a list of everything that could go wrong, beginning with the possibility that Miss Merriwether is not truly a Miss, but secretly married. Her husband, exiled to the Continent for some scandalous reason, will hear of Hal, return to England and they will duel, just like in T
HE
M
YSTERIOUS
C
OURTSHIP
…

—FROM THE MARCHIONESS OF SHELDON TO HER AUNT THE DOWAGER MARCHIONESS OF SHELDON