The Willful Widow
by Evelyn Richardson
find a willing substitute who had soon assuaged his need. But this time it was different. He longed for Diana in so many ways—physical, emotional, spiritual, intellectual—that no one but she could possibly satisfy them. And seeking the satisfaction of his physical desires would have only exacerbated the others.
Justin stared moodily into the fire for what seemed like hours until, after cracking open the third bottle of port he was at last able to blot out the disturbing image of a goddess in white draperies from his mind and lapse into blessed unconsciousness.
Justin and Diana were not the only ones to quit Lady Topham's masquerade victims of a thousand disturbing thoughts. By the time the Duchess of Wrayburn returned Lady Blanche Howard to her residence in the wee hours of the morning, the beauty was so seething with frustration that she barely heard Lord Livermore begging her to drive out with him the next day as he escorted her to the door. Almost snatching her hand from his reverent kisses, she hurried inside, so eager was she to be alone someplace where she could at last give vent to some of the fury consuming her. That woman! Why she had no more claim to Justin St. Clair than some trollop in the street. And she had practically made Blanche a laughingstock. The entire
ton
knew that Lady Blanche Howard was sure to capture Justin's notoriously fickle attention, and woe betide anyone who had the effrontery to thwart the wishes of one of society's incomparables. Blanche ground her teeth as she revisited the scenes from the evening. Justin St. Clair would discover that he had ignored 288
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Lady Blanche Howard at his peril. As for Lady Diana Hatherill!
The beauty hurled a Sevres figurine into the fireplace in her bedchamber. Diana would rue the day she had set her cap at Blanche's particular quarry.
There was a gentle scratch at the door. "What do you want?" Blanche snapped as her maid peeked in cautiously.
"If you'll be excusin' me, miss, I only came to help you to bed, miss," the girl pleaded hesitantly. Her ladyship was in a rarer taking than the girl had seen her in many a day, and her ladyship was one who had a temper and then some.
"Well, be quick about it then" was the curt reply. The maid's soothing ministrations brought some degree of equanimity to her infuriated mistress—enough so that at least Blanche was able to think sufficiently clearly to devise a strategy for dealing with the meddlesome Lady Diana. She schemed for some time, and then smiling slyly to herself, Blanche climbed into bed secure in the likely success of her nefarious plotting.
So confident was she of her own cleverness that surprisingly enough Lady Blanche awoke early the next morning, thoroughly invigorated and burning to put it to the test. She astonished the entire household by arising at a most uncharacteristically early hour and calling for a carriage to take her to Brook Street.
Ushered into Diana's presence, the beauty was delighted to see the young widow looking quite hagged. Indeed, in the harsh morning light, Diana didn't look at all the sort to win even a passing glance from such a noted connoisseur of feminine charms as Justin St. Clair. There were dark circles 289
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under the deep blue eyes, and her cheeks were quite pale, as though she had not slept a wink.
Good, the visitor remarked to herself with satisfaction. Then, pinning a look of sympathetic concern on her face, she crossed the room to where Diana sat listlessly in a chair by the fire, too abstracted even to read the newspaper that lay in her lap, declaring gently, "Pray do not get up. I am only here for the briefest of moments. In fact, I rather suspect you wonder at my calling on you at all, as we are hardly acquainted."
Taken entirely by surprise and thinking none too clearly as it was this morning, Diana remained seated in puzzled silence.
"I wonder at it myself, but I felt I must come," the beauty cooed, disposing herself in a chair on the opposite side of the fire. "I realize that though you are a good deal
older
than I," Blanche laid a delicate but unmistakable emphasis on the word, "you are far less accustomed to the ways of the
ton
and in particular those of St. Clair."
At the mention of Justin's name, some of the listlessness disappeared, and Diana unconsciously straightened up into a more attentive position.
"Justin and I have been friends this age and, fond as I am of such a naughty scapegrace, I do admit that I occasionally think he goes too far." Blanche took note with intense satisfaction of the delicate flush that was creeping into her unwilling hostess's pale cheeks.
"He is vastly amusing and a man who can never resist a challenge, as you undoubtedly know. I realize that I am far 290
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too inclined to be indulgent with him—he is so charming is he not—but when it involves the reputation of another woman, well, indeed, I think he goes too far." At last Diana marshaled her wits about her. She knew the type of person Lady Blanche was, vain, greedy of admiration, and jealous of any attention that was not paid to her. The only thing that amazed Diana was that she, unpretentious Lady Diana Hatherill, had done anything to bring herself to the notice of such a person. Certainly she offered no competition to a diamond of such renown as Lady Blanche. Much as she hated to admit it, Diana could not at all like the possessive and self-congratulatory tone in the lady's voice when she spoke of Justin. No one as independent as Justin deserved to be referred to in such a way. "You are all sensibility, Lady Blanche," she responded coolly, "but I quite fail to see what all this had to do with me."
"What?" Blanche feigned a start of surprise. "I was quite sure you knew of the wager. I only wished to warn you that people are beginning to talk, but if you..." the beauty paused dramatically.
"Wager? I have no concern with such things, and as far as talk goes, why, people will say whatever they will. I care very little for such mindlessness as the gossip of the
ton."
It was Blanche's turn to redden. "You may think yourself above such things. Lady Diana," she sneered, "but no one is that powerful. Very well, if you wish to figure as a laughingstock, I do not care, and Justin may go ahead and win his wager for all it matters to me. Though why he should 291
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consider the seduction of someone like you such a challenge, I have not the slightest notion."
Diana drew a quick painful breath. "Oh,
that
wager. Of course, I paid no heed to such a thing. As to
your
concern for
me,
why, that is far too kind of you. I assure you that neither the Bucklands, nor the Hatherills ever stoop to paying the least consideration to such vulgar things as
on-dits,
though I quite understand why
you
might. I thank you for your concern, but it is really quite unnecessary. Now, if you'll forgive me, I have an appointment I must keep." Rising to her full height, Diana gave the bellpull a sharp tug before sweeping regally from the room, leaving her visitor to gape in helpless fury after her.
How dare she, Blanche fumed. Here Blanche had only come to warn her off, and Lady Diana, not the least grateful at being saved from social ignominy, had stared down her patrician nose, delicately hinting that the daughter of a jumped-up peer had insulted her by proffering advice to a descendant of such illustrious lineage. It was too much!
Without even waiting for the butler to appear, Blanche flounced out of the drawing room, down the stairs, and out the front door, letting it slam behind her. "Home, Hendricks," she snapped, climbing into the carriage without deigning to glance at the footman who helped her into it. Meanwhile, an equally unwelcome visitor was descending on a bachelor apartment in Mount Street. Puffing slightly, Alfred once again ascended the stairs to his brother's chamber, only to recoil in disgust at the sight that met his eyes.
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Unshaven, cravat askew, hair tousled from a night spent in the armchair before the fire, Justin groaned at the sight of his visitor. "Not again, Alfred! More than twice in one Season and in the morning? It is really too much. After all, I ask so little of you."
With extreme difficulty, the Earl of Winterbourne held his temper in check. For all that he was a useless libertine, a hedonist, and a rake, Justin had, for once in his life, done his avuncular duty and tried his best to intervene in Reginald's affairs. Now, having gone to uncomfortable lengths to enlist his brother's aid, Alfred was going to have to tell him to stop.
"Well?" Sighing, Justin put a hand to his aching head.
"What is it this time?"
Alfred settled gingerly on the only chair in the room not covered with reading material. "Er," he coughed uncomfortably. "I have come to thank you for your, er, work on Reginald's behalf."
"Think nothing of it." Justin waved a weary hand.
"No, no. I must give credit where credit is due. And you have succeeded in detaching Reginald from the har ... er ... Lady Diana. Why, would you believe it, he was even down at Winterbourne not long ago? He's a good lad, really, but young." Alfred chuckled with forced jocularity. "He'll come
'round. He's studying very seriously you know. Perhaps I have wronged him. It would only be natural—a parent's concern you know. I'm just not accustomed to thinking of him as an adult, I suppose. However, it is time he was considering marriage, and however well-off one is, it is no bad thing to bring a fortune into the family. They say that Sir Thomas 293
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Walden was as rich as Croesus, and after all, though the Bucklands are not a very powerful family now, they once were. Certainly the line is a very ancient and illustrious one." Justin was fast becoming aware of the drift of his elder brother's ruminations. "How quickly we change our tune when a fortune is involved," he observed nastily. "But if its Reginald's marrying Lady Diana you're thinking of, Alfred, you can forget it."
"Now, now, Justin. I admit I have been rather too hasty about this, but I am willing to own up to my mistakes. I am sure the girl can be brought around," Alfred temporized.
"She can't and she won't," Justin snapped.
"Oh, come now, why not?" Alfred chuckled with false bonhomie.
"She can't because I'm going to marry her."
"You?" Alfred's jaw dropped.
"Yes, I."
"But you don't
need a
fortune," Justin's brother wailed.
"You're already as rich as the Golden Ball!"
"And so are you, Alfred, except for your cheeseparing ways," Justin reminded him. "Incomprehensible as it may seem to you, I am not marrying Diana for her pecuniary expectations."
"But then what are you marrying her for?" the earl moaned in utter confusion.
"Because I love her, you dolt. Now if you know what's good for you, you'll leave me alone. I passed quite a night last night, and I've the devil of a head this morning." Not giving his brother a moment to recover, Justin rang for 294
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Preston, who appeared as if by magic bearing a steaming pot of coffee. "Thank you Preston," his master sighed with relief.
"The earl was just going. Would you see him out?" Closing his eyes gratefully, Justin sank back in his chair to consider all the possible implications of his own surprising announcement.
And it was surprising, coming as much of a shock to him as it had to his brother, but there it was. The cause of the vague feeling of nagging distaste for life, disgust even, that Justin had been suffering for some time had magically disappeared. That was it. He was in love with Lady Diana Hatherill. It was all abundantly clear. He didn't want her as his mistress. He didn't want her as a friend. He wanted her as his wife. He wanted to share his life with her, to have children with her, to grow old with her.
All of a sudden Justin's headache was gone. "What a fool I've been," he muttered to no one in particular. "What an arrogant impossible fool. I've been in love with her for ages, and I'm only just now realizing it." His ennui disappeared. Life seemed rosy and full of promise once more. "I must see her," he mumbled to himself, "before she writes last evening off as a mere flirtation. Preston!" he shouted.
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Though enlightenment had struck in Mount Street, it was by no means in evidence in a slim house in Brook Street. There, with Boney perched on her shoulder and Wellington hard on her heels, Diana paced back and forth in her bedchamber alternating between fury and despair. How could he? Even such a heartless libertine as Justin St. Clair could not stoop so low? How could she? She, Diana, was not such a green girl as to fall for a handsome face and charm of manner. But Diana had, and she didn't know whether to be more furious with Justin St. Clair or Lady Diana Hatherill. At the moment, she hated both of them.
No. She did not. Diana collapsed on a hassock overcome with uncharacteristic tears. Very well, perhaps the kiss in the garden had been false, but surely their friendship, their camaraderie was not? Surely his present of Wellington and his kindness over Boney was not? But that is what makes him so irresistible, she thought to herself. He knows precisely what to do to please each and every one of us, from Mademoiselle de Charenton to Lady Blanche Howard to me. And he is so very clever, she admonished herself, more than a match for you, my girl. Overcome with misery, she wept while Boney clucked consolingly in her ear and Wellington licked her hand. Finally, having cried herself to exhaustion, she pulled herself together and returned to the drawing room to continue her perusal of the morning's post, thankful that her 296
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