The Willful Widow (19 page)

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Authors: Evelyn Richardson

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General

"Has she now," Justin replied.

Despite years of sizing up callers at a glance, Finchley was not at all certain what to make of the glint in this particular caller's eyes or the arrested expression on his face, and he could not for the life of him decide whether he had done his 174

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mistress a good turn or a bad one by divulging her whereabouts.

Thanking the butler, Justin hurried back to Mount Street to collect his curricle and the few things he would need for a journey. Previous inquiries had revealed that the Marquess of Buckland's estate was little more than an hour's drive from the metropolis, but one never knew what he would find. It was best to be prepared for anything, though St. Clair, usually so far ahead of his fellow creatures that he had little trouble predicting their vagaries, was hard put to hazard a guess as to what he might discover when he arrived. Either Diana was a devilish deep 'un or she was entirely innocent. Bold and independent as she was, he could not quite believe that she would have the brass to convince Reginald to run off to her family estate in order to trap him into marriage. But neither did he believe that she, clever businesswoman that she was, would not have appointed as her agent at Buckland someone perfectly capable of handling any emergency. Perhaps Buckland was merely a ruse, and even now they were on their way to Gretna Green. Shaking his head with frustration, Justin climbed into his curricle. Whatever the situation, time would reveal all. In truth, both of these possibilities were entirely off the mark. Diana had less idea of and less interest in the Viscount Chalford's whereabouts than his uncle did, and her estates were quite adequately looked after by the Tottingtons, who had to all intents and purposes been running the place during her father's time.

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No, it was purely and simply a need for escape that had sent her fleeing to Buckland like a rabbit to its hole. The events of the recent weeks had upset her equilibrium more than she cared to admit, even to herself, and the idea of being in the country with nothing more complicated than dogs, horses, and sheep for her companions was a most soothing prospect.

So, having put about the story that she needed to oversee repairs, she packed a few belongings and Boney, and made good her escape, leaving Lady Walden and Finchley, neither of whom believed her excuse for a moment, to make of her actions what they would.

She had taken Ajax with her, and a few long rides in the blossoming countryside had gone a long way to making her feel very much more the thing. It felt good to chat with the villagers and see how Fanner Onslow's new crops were greening Buckland's long idle fields that he was renting and making it look prosperous again.

The little money she had been able to reap from her investments had been put to good use mending fences and repairing some of the crumbling brickwork on the house itself. All in all, Diana derived a good deal of satisfaction from making the place look better than it ever had and knowing that it was her energy and intelligence that had made it possible.

The Tottingtons had greeted her with gratifying enthusiasm, happy to have her back where she belonged after such a long time, and eager to discuss the improvements that had been made. "Why you could live here 176

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right comfortably now, my lady. Thanks to the work that's been done, not a single chimney smokes nor are there nearly as many drafts," the housekeeper volunteered proudly. "It would be good to have the family back." The older woman sounded wistful, and Diana thought back to the many hours she had spent with both of the Tottingtons learning about the house and estate and its neighboring village. Everything she knew of a practical nature she owed to them, and it did her heart good to sit once again in the enormous kitchen discussing the simple daily chores that made up their existence. After the rarified atmosphere of the
ton
where reputations were made or broken by a look here, a comment there, it was most reassuring to be in an atmosphere where one's work and energy showed immediate and concrete results.

Concerning herself with the question of new curtains for the morning room or conversing with Fanner Onslow about the weather and the crops, Diana was soon able to put Reginald and his uncle clean out of her mind, and it wasn't until one day in the library when her eye chanced to fall on a volume of Suetonius that, recalling her verbal battle at the Argyll Rooms with Justin, she realized how much he had cut up her peace.

Their acquaintance had forced her through a gamut of emotions she had never known herself to possess, from rage at his misreading of her character, to admiration of his quick wit and his knowledge of affairs, to curiosity at the many and contradictory facets of his personality. And now, having successfully avoided it for some time, she was thinking about 177

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him again. Diana shook her head briskly and sought to put him back out of her mind where he belonged. Returning the volume she had pulled down from the shelf, she quickly gathered up her skirts and hurried out into the welcoming sunshine of the garden where the sounds of yapping and scuffling informed her that the recently born puppies of the Tottingtons' terrier were romping merrily, offering just the distraction she needed. There were four of them—balls of white fluff and limitless energy with bright eyes and black noses. She stepped out into the garden where a minute's search unearthed a stick just the right size. Diana tossed it a few feet from where two of them were wrestling. Little white ears pricked up eagerly, and in a moment they all converged on the stick growling and pushing each other in their eagerness to be the first to grab it.

Diana laughed and strolled over to pick it up, whereupon they all sat down abruptly, eyes fixed expectantly on her, pink tongues panting in anticipation. She hurled the stick as far as she could to the end of the garden and tore along with them as they tumbled over one another in their haste. Delighted to have a real human entering in their games, they raced alongside her, barking happily. At last, discovering that they were more interested in playing with her than in chasing the stick, Diana left off throwing it and began to run around the garden laughing heartily when she changed direction and caused them all to pile up at her feet before they could recover themselves.

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Breathless with excitement they ran. Diana couldn't remember when she had felt so free and happy—certainly not when she had been a child. She had never truly romped when she was young because she had never had anyone to romp with. To be sure, she had had her fair share of torn dresses and skinned knees from climbing trees and falling off her pony, but these had all been solitary activities, and they never had been as exuberant as this.

Nor had she had any pets before Boney. Of course she had had a series of ponies, but she had longed for a dog. However, her father, certain that any dog would head straight for the library and the piles of books and papers scattered around, had expressly forbidden it. Ferdie, exquisite that he was, had been equally convinced of the destructive characteristics of canines, though he envisioned his gleaming Hessians and biscuit-colored pantaloons as the primary targets rather than the library.

But now there was no one to stop her, and she gave herself up to the glories of playing with them, giggling helplessly as she tripped over her skirts and fell while they climbed all over her, licking her face and wagging their tails furiously. Catching her breath at last, she pushed a few strands of hair from her eyes, dumped them out of her lap, rose and dashed to the other end of the garden, the puppies in hot pursuit.

It was at this precise moment that Justin, tired of waiting for Mrs. Tottington to locate the mistress of the house and intrigued by the sounds of unusual commotion, strolled into the garden.

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Diana rounded the corner at the lower end and, with a burst of speed, sprinted toward the house, oblivious to the presence of a visitor. Meanwhile, Justin stood looking around in an effort to locate the source of all the commotion. He identified it just as Diana and the puppies turned another corner and raced full tilt toward him.

In the split second before they mowed him down, Diana happened to glance up. She came to a screeching halt, her hand flew up to her mouth in dismay, and the puppies tumbled wiggling and yelping at her feet. Diana was the first to recover. "Oh dear!" A blush suffused her already flushed cheeks, and a rueful twinkle sparkled in the dark blue eyes.

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Chapter 19

For his part, Justin stood rooted to the ground, too nonplussed to speak and overwhelmed by a confusing variety of emotions. First and foremost was surprise. Cynic that he was, he truly had not expected to find her at Buckland and alone. And if she were alone, where on earth was Reginald, he couldn't help wondering, though his nephew's whereabouts appeared to be quite the furthest thing from Diana's mind at the moment. Surprise was quickly succeeded by an unwelcome feeling of guilt that he had so badly misjudged and mistrusted her when she had apparently been honest and straightforward with him all along. And last, but certainly not least, was shock at discovering an entirely different person from the harpy of his brother's imagination and the woman of the world of his own.

He could see clearly now that in truth. Lady Diana Hatherill, for all her cleverness and sophistication, was not much more than a schoolgirl. With her hair tumbled down her back and her blue eyes wide with astonishment, she looked to be barely fifteen. This sudden and radically changed perception of her was throwing Justin completely. Instead of forestalling the wily machinations of a temptress, he was here spying on an innocent girl enjoying her home in the country. Justin felt like the worst sort of cad.

At the same time he was overcome by the strangest rush of tenderness as he looked down at her standing there in her simple morning dress of faded blue muslin. She was far too 181

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young to be burdened with running an estate, maintaining an establishment in town, and making her own way in the world. For a brief moment, he had the maddest desire to lift all these burdens from her shoulders so she could continue to laugh and play as she was now.

From the little information Lady Walden had shared with him, Justin imagined that Diana had had very little chance in her life for the sort of frolicking she had so obviously been indulging in, and he was enchanted by what he had seen of it. No other woman he could think of would have taken such delight in something as simple and ingenuous as frisking with a litter of puppies. And yet, she was as sophisticated as the most worldly female of his acquaintance. Her tastes were as elegant as that of the most fashionable ladies of the
ton,
and her mind far more cultivated and refined than most—a truly unique and intriguing mixture of many facets that Justin was rapidly finding irresistible.

These were the sensations of an instant, and then he, too, was flushing with embarrassment as he sought frantically for a plausible and acceptable excuse for his abrupt intrusion into what was obviously a very private world. "I beg your pardon, but I was on my way to visit a friend and found myself in the vicinity."

The blue eyes regarded him solemnly, a hint of wariness replacing the sparkle that had been there.

"I thought I might stop by, as Lady Walden asked me to share any news I might glean on the exchange that could be of use to you, and, not knowing when you might be returning to town, I thought I might drop in and impart it to you." 182

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Damnation! He sounded as awkward and pompous as the Earl of Winterbourne at his most prolix. And she wasn't helping him in the least, standing there observing him silently while he struggled for an explanation and not making the least push to make it easy for him. Why, if he weren't mistaken, Justin thought he could detect just a hint of amusement in her eyes, as though she were enjoying his discomfiture. In fact, Diana was. Now that she had rallied from the initial shock at being discovered in such an undignified situation by the last person in the world she expected or wished to see, she had been overpowered with curiosity. What possible motive could Justin St. Clair have for calling on her, especially when she was nowhere near his precious nephew? That he seemed to be almost as taken aback as she by their encounter was indeed perplexing. What had he expected?

Despite his previous apology, Diana suspected that he still mistrusted her, and she was not at all certain as to how to interpret his sudden appearance at Buckland. But then her sense of humor had gotten the best of her. Really, the expression on his face had been too funny when she and the puppies had just barely avoided running him down. And now to hear the coolly superior Justin St. Clair stumbling over his words like some schoolboy caught in a compromising situation was indeed most satisfying. Twitching her now-bedraggled skirt from the sharp teeth of one of the puppies and ignoring the curls twining around her face and cascading down her back, Diana broke the uncomfortable silence. "How kind of you to call. Won't you come in and partake of some refreshment?" She inclined her 183

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head graciously, gathered up her skins, and picked her way elegantly toward the house, acting for all the world as though she were wearing her most fashionable London attire and did not have a large smudge of dirt on her nose. In no more than a twinkling of the eye, she had metamorphosed from a playful young girl to a self-possessed woman. Justin could not help admiring the instant and unembarrassed transition, but he was quite sorry to see the girl disappear. There had been an innocent charm about her exuberance and delight in life that was irresistible and all too rarely encountered in the exalted circles of the
ton
where boredom was the only emotion one confessed to. He sighed and followed his hostess down the flagged path leading to the French doors of the drawing room.

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