A Rogue for All Seasons (Weston Family) (26 page)

“As if you are much better,” her sister returned tartly.

But Diana was, or she should be. The duchess frowned upon displays of emotion, and Diana had learned to keep her feelings to herself. She’d had self-containment down to a fine art… until Henry. She’d been prim and proper Miss Merriwether for so many years that she’d forgotten the little hoyden she had been as a child.

With Henry, she
remembered
.

He reminded her how to feel. How to laugh and weep, want and need, and…

Love.

She loved Henry Weston.

Little by little, he’d burrowed into her heart, and now he was too deeply entrenched for her to force him out. Even if she could, she wouldn’t. The years spent under her grandmother’s roof had left Diana serious and quiet—the perfect young lady. She’d resigned herself to quietly watching from the shadows and even had found a measure of contentment there, but she hadn’t been happy. Not until Henry had coaxed, teased, and, on occasion, pushed her into his world of light and laughter.

With him, she remembered she’d once been brave and bold. She’d pushed away her painful past, but in doing so, she’d pushed away part of herself. She’d made herself forget the young Diana who always made too much noise and whose pinafore never stayed clean past midday. That Diana had been so courageous and confident, she’d tried balancing on one leg on her father’s black gelding. She had fallen off Troy and knocked her head, but after the doctor saw her and her parents scolded her, she’d declared it the best adventure of her life.

That little girl hadn’t known what it was to love a rogue.

Henry was, and always would be, the adventure of her life.

“I love him,” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around herself. Saying the words aloud was thrilling, but also terrifying. Though the words would never leave this room, they were real now. They existed outside of her, and she couldn’t take them back.

Isabella and Olivia looked at her, and then at each other, before their gazes settled back on her. Satisfaction lit both their faces, but Olivia appeared particularly smug. “You owe me ten quid, Izzie.”

Diana jerked her head toward Olivia. “You wagered on whether or not I love your brother?”

“No.” Isabella squeezed Diana’s shoulder. “We would never wager on that.”

“We know you love Hal.” Olivia moved to sit on Diana’s other side. “We wagered on whether or not
you
know you love him. As you do, we’re back to the complications standing between the two of you.”

“Isn’t it enough that he’s Henry Weston and I am, well,
me
?”

“Do you believe people will think less of you for marrying Hal?” Isabella asked.

“Of course not! Everyone would marvel at my luck. Don’t you remember the outcry when our courtship began? If we married, everyone would speculate about the reasons.”

“Then let them speculate.” Olivia waved an impatient hand. “I don’t think there’s any question that Hal values his own happiness above the public’s good opinion, and everyone who matters will know the truth. Now, what other complications stand between you?”

There was a knock at the door, and then Lord Dunston entered with his daughter in his arms. “I thought Aunt Livvy and Miss Merriwether might like to see our little darling before she takes her nap.” Olivia immediately claimed the baby from him and started fussing over her, while Isabella walked her husband to the door.

Diana gazed at the pretty child in wonder. She’d met the little one on previous visits to Dunston House, but she’d never before thought there was a possibility Bride might be her niece. If she married Henry, Lord Dunston would have said “Aunt Livvy and Aunt Diana.” Perhaps even “Aunt Di.” Isabella and Olivia would be her sisters. She could have her own baby with Henry’s blond hair and beautiful blue eyes.

But what if Henry decided he no longer wanted her? What would happen to that sweet child then? Good heavens, what was the matter with her?

“Kiss, Bride,” Lord Dunston called from the door.

The cherub smacked her hand to her mouth, then flung her arm toward her father. They both laughed as he pretended to catch the kiss she’d thrown him. As she watched them, Diana’s lungs constricted, and her heart began to pound. She blotted her sweaty forehead with the handkerchief still clutched in her hand.

She closed her eyes and fought for control. She had been so much better these past months. Just breathe, she told herself. Breathe. Don’t think about anything but breathing in and out. After a couple of minutes, the tightness in her chest eased and her heartbeat slowed. She opened her eyes cautiously, expecting stares, but Olivia’s attention remained on her niece and Isabella stood in the doorframe talking with her husband.

“Oh!” Olivia exclaimed. “I just remembered I need to speak with James. Will you excuse me for a moment?”

“Yes, of course.” No sooner had the words left Diana’s mouth than Olivia shifted the child into Diana’s arms. Diana began to protest that she didn’t know how to hold a child, but Olivia was already halfway across the room. Diana’s arms seemed to know what to do. They fitted themselves just so around the soft, warm body, cradling the little one to her chest. Bride laid her head against Diana’s shoulder and yawned. The last of Diana’s tension eased as she rubbed her cheek against Bride’s wispy blond curls.

“You look very natural,” Isabella remarked as she returned to sit beside Diana. There were only the two of them now, and the baby, as Olivia had left with her brother-in-law.

“She’s an easy-mannered child,” Diana countered. “She didn’t fuss when Olivia gave her to me.”

Isabella laughed. “Yes, so long as someone’s holding her and paying her mind, Bride is content, but let her alone too long…” She shook her head. “I fear she’s becoming quite spoiled. She has only to call for her papa, and James races to pick her up.”

“She is lucky to have a father who loves her so much.”

“He adores her, and yet there was a time not long ago when my husband refused to consider fatherhood. Every child is a gift, but Bride is something of a miracle for us.” Her voice wavered, and she reached for her daughter.

“Why was he opposed to children?” Diana asked, reluctantly handing Bride to Isabella.

Isabella pressed a kiss to her daughter’s head, drawing a deep breath as she settled Bride against her. “There’s no scent more soothing to a mother than that of her child,” she murmured. “As for James’s reasoning… My husband had an unhappy childhood. His grandfather raised him, but the old man made it clear that James’s only value lay in being his heir. James felt that ending the family line would be proper revenge.

“He’d convinced himself that was his reason for not wanting children. That was the reason he gave me, and I’m sure there was some truth in it, but buried beneath the desire for revenge lurked a very real fear. James believed that because his mother died in childbirth, the same fate awaited the next woman he dared to love.”

“Oh!” Diana gasped. “That’s dreadful!”

“Yes,” Isabella agreed. “Our pasts, especially our past hurts, can’t help but affect how we live in the present. For some, the past determines the future. My husband loved me enough to face his demons, but we came very close to losing everything. Perhaps you should think on whether you want to allow the past to determine your future.” She sniffed and grimaced. “Oh, dear, our little miracle needs changing. Will you forgive me if I abandon you for a minute while I take her to the nursery?”

“Please, go ahead. My thoughts have been in such a jumble since I arrived, a few minutes alone wouldn’t come amiss.”

Isabella stopped and glanced at the clock. “I’ll do my best, but I suggest you think quickly.” With those cryptic words, she left the room and closed the door. Somehow, though, Diana didn’t feel alone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I daresay you are much prettier than I am and will take at once next year, but as you have so patiently endured my troubles, you must also share in this triumph. Oh, Lucy, my heart is so full of happiness I believe I shall burst!

—FROM ELIZABETH FOTHERGILL TO HER SISTER LUCINDA

“Y
OU LOOK TERRIBLE, SIR,” THE
butler said as he took Henry’s hat and gloves. “Shall I prepare my usual remedy? ”

“Hal,” James strode into the entry hall. “Good. You’re on time. MacGowan, you may try to poison him some other day.”

“I suppose I must be grateful for small mercies,” Henry mused as the butler walked off.

James looked him over. “MacGowan was being kind,” he stated bluntly. “You look like you’ve been to hell and back since last night.”

“I slept poorly,” Henry muttered.

He’d dreamed of Diana as a child, a wide-eyed imp with bright copper hair. They stood together at the entrance to a maze. As he knelt to see her better, she smiled and she danced away, scampering off to hide in the hedges. He followed her into the maze, the sound of her laughter serving as his guide, but she always stayed ahead of him, out of his sight.

Without warning, her laughter turned to sobs. He ran, frantically yelling her name, but he only ever seemed to go in circles. Finally, when sheer exhaustion slowed his steps, he saw that there was a gap in the bottom half of the hedge, just large enough for a child. Had he gone more slowly or stopped to think from the child’s perspective, he would have noticed long before now.

He dropped to his hands and knees and wedged himself as far into the opening as he could. She sat on the other side, no longer a child, but a grown woman. Relief poured through him at finding her, and then alarm; the hedges enclosed her on all sides, and as she was no longer a small child, they trapped her there. She regarded him with sad, reproachful eyes that cut him to the core.

“I’ll get you out, Di,” he promised her. He began snapping branches and ripping at the leaves around him, tearing at the hedgerow like a man possessed. After a time, he realized he no longer heard crying. He glanced toward Diana only to find she had vanished, and he knew with awful certainty that she’d moved beyond his reach forever. He’d woken gasping for air, his body covered in a fine sheen of perspiration, and a chill in the region of his heart that had lingered for hours.

“
You
slept badly?” James shook his head indignantly. “Just wait until you’re a father. Bride has a tooth coming in, and she cried all night. These walls are no match for my daughter’s lungs.”

“You expect me to believe Bride cried in another room while you listened?”

James scowled. “You would go to her too, if she called for you. The night nursemaid swears she’s better when I hold her.”

Henry imagined the night nursemaid would say anything to hand off her squalling charge, but he only said, “I hope Izzie isn’t too tired today. I need that devious mind working at full capacity.”

James laughed. “Fear not. She and Livvy both seem very confident. You’ll have to give them a few minutes. Izzie just took Bride up to the nursery, and Livvy has cornered me in the library to discuss some secret project. We’ll be along to the drawing room shortly.”

Henry headed upstairs. As he knew everyone else was busy elsewhere, he didn’t bother knocking. He was halfway across the room before he noticed the woman sitting with her back to him. He didn’t need to see her face to know her. He didn’t even need so much as a glimpse of autumn sunset hair. He knew the exact curve of those tiny ears, the precise shape of the wine-colored birthmark at the base of her neck, and the unique patterns of her freckles.

He rubbed at his eyes. He hadn’t thought he was tired enough to hallucinate. Christ, what if he was still dreaming? Perhaps he should drink one of MacGowan’s vile concoctions after all. He took another step toward the sofa.

The dream, hallucination—whatever she was—suddenly came to attention. She took one look at him, shrieked, and then leaped off the sofa. “Henry! W-what are you doing here?”

Before he could answer, two sets of throats cleared themselves behind him. Isabella and Olivia stood in the doorway.

“His presence is our doing,” Olivia explained. “He didn’t know you would be here.”

“Diana, I sent your carriage home, along with a message that you are to stay to dine with us,” Isabella said.

“You presume too much,” Diana bit out. “I will take my leave now.”

“Not just yet. You two must talk.” Isabella held up a key. “Let us know when you reach an acceptable agreement.” With that, she stepped back and Olivia pulled the door shut. He heard the unmistakable metallic scrape of a key in a lock.

“They’re mad!” Diana exclaimed.

“I’ll not argue with you on that count.”

Diana hurried to the door and yanked on the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, the door didn’t budge.

“You should count yourself fortunate that my sisters took it upon themselves to interfere,” Henry said as he approached her. “This is far nicer than the kidnapping I had planned for you.”

Diana glared at him as she pounded her fist against the door. “That isn’t funny. Make them unlock the door.”

“I have never been able to make my sisters do anything. They will open the door when they are ready. Until then…” He placed his hand over her fist and lowered it to her side. “Until then, will you listen to me? Will you at least give me that much? ”