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indeed she is of all animals," he remarked diffidently as they proceeded at a leisurely pace through the park. They had not gone far before Reginald broke out eagerly,
"There she is. I told you she would be here." Justin was impressed once again at the hold the lady exercised over his nephew, for only someone whose entire being was attuned to his beloved one's presence would have picked out Lady Diana, obscured as she was by the throng around her. She was chatting with a group of young bucks whose eyes for fine horseflesh were only equal to their discrimination in their tailors.
Ferdie's friends, Justin catalogued them mentally; for whatever Ferdie and his coterie had lacked in intelligence, they had more than made up for in their devotion to appearance. How someone of Lady Diana's obvious spirit could have married Ferdie Hatherill was a mystery, for she must have been bored with his inanities within a fortnight. Ferdie had been the best of good fellows—always up for a lark, whether it was a good mill or racing two pigs around Berkeley Square—but one could quickly tire of his constant and mindless pursuit of amusement. Though vastly different from the pompous Reginald, he could be equally as boring in his own way. But at one time he had been wealthy, offering all that Reginald could be expected to offer. Justin's eyes narrowed. It wasn't the first time a clever woman had chosen a simpleton because he was manageable. He urged Brutus forward, eager to listen in on the discussion.
"Why, Reginald, this is a surprise. I had not thought to discover in you a penchant for fresh air and exercise." Lady 79
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Diana's smile was warm and welcoming, and she seemed genuinely pleased to discover his nephew engaging in a sporting activity, however mild it was.
Reginald blushed and stammered, "Well, I thought it might be ... that is to say, you speak so often of the beneficial and stimulating effects of such things on one's intellectual capacities that I determined to start a regular program of healthful pursuits in the hopes that I might overcome the deleterious effects of too much study and..." his voice trailed off as he observed the stunned expressions of her companions.
"And I highly approve." The lady came to his rescue. "Not that any of these fellows has ever known the effects of any study at all, much less serious intellectual activity. Why, for Henry here, the perusal of the racing form is totally exhausting, and the idea of reading something as demanding as a newspaper is quite beyond his comprehension," she continued, adroitly deflecting attention from Reginald's painful unease to a cheerful giant who reddened and laughed goodnaturedly, remarking as he did so that it was a wonder someone as clever as Lady Diana tolerated such fellows as himself.
"Because, illiterate though you may be, you are a keen judge of horseflesh, which talent you are so very kind as to share with those of us unable to frequent Tattersall's. I am most impressed with Ajax here, and am forever indebted to you for discovering him for me. He is a true gentleman, despite his size and strength, and is always most considerate 80
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of a rider who offers him less in the way of horsemanship than he deserves."
This last remark raised a howl of protest from the rest of the group. And it, indeed, was quite obvious to even the most casual observer that the rider was more than a match for the superb animal that she sat with such grace and assurance.
"But come," Diana continued, "I am forgetting my manners. Let me make you known to Viscount Chalford and his uncle." A silent witness to the entire exchange, Justin could not help admiring the lady's skill. Without seeming to expend the slightest effort, she had smoothed over an uncomfortable moment and blended two vastly different groups of people together. In the ordinary course of things, Ferdie's friends would have scorned the viscount for his uninspiring mount, his ponderous speech, and his general appearance as that of a rustic lacking in town bronze, while Reginald would have been equally as scathing in his condemnation of a bunch of useless fribbles who obviously divided their existences between their mounts and their tailors.
Having recently spent a good deal of time in the company of such masters of diplomacy as Talleyrand and Metternich, Justin could appreciate the dexterity with which Lady Diana contrived to make everyone feel reasonably comfortable, and he applauded both the delicacy with which she accomplished her task and the motives behind it all. Another woman might have played one set off against the other into vying for her approval, thus making her the center of attention. Instead, she had done her best to focus everyone's interest somewhere else.
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Justin was forced to the conclusion that Lady Diana had acted only out of kindness in doing this—a conclusion that was not in the least congruent with his previous opinion of her.
Sensing herself the object of scrutiny, the lady turned and looked him full in the face, fixing him with those astonishing sapphire eyes that were blue-black in the intensity of their gaze. For the briefest of moments, she stared curiously at him, then raised her chin and returned her attention to her admirers.
The gesture was barely perceptible, but it exuded all the disdain she had expressed for him in their first encounter. St. Clair's jaw tightened, and he gripped the reins so fiercely that Brutus took instant exception and snorted, tossing his head angrily.
Diana shot a quick glance again in his direction, and her lips quivered with amusement. So, she had gotten to him. Good! She had meant to. By what right did Lord Justin St. Clair claim himself judge of her conduct, sitting there raking her with those scornful eyes? What did he know of being at the mercy of creditors, scrimping constantly to stave them off from month to month? If she had been a man, she would have bought a cornetcy or gone to India to make her fortune; and if his high-and-mightiness thought that this entailed snapping up his nephew and his nephew's inheritance, well then let him.
For his part. Justin found himself prey to a curious mixture of emotions. First and foremost was rage, rage at her stubbornness, rage at his powerlessness, rage at being drawn 82
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into a situation that was none of his business in the first place. But beyond that was a begrudging admiration for her spirit and something else—call it an odd sort of companionship if you would. Here they were in the midst of a crowd of people, yet it somehow felt as if they were alone, isolated as they were by perceptions to which the rest of them were completely oblivious. There was a certain intimacy in the awareness they both shared of the dynamics at play in the situation—an entire realm of activity that the others were too insensitive, too self-absorbed, or too stupid to recognize. Lady Diana had been deliberate in her management of the scene. It was a unique experience for both of them—for Diana to have this management recognized and for Justin to discover someone else as clever as handling such things as he was. The lady's quickly suppressed smile was an acknowledgment of all this. Neither one of them had ever encountered a worthy opponent and, even though they were adversaries, this similarity drew them together in an odd sort of way, leaving each one with the feeling that in some indefinable way each had met a kindred spirit. It was the interchange of a moment. The sense of communication disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, as Diana, leaning toward Reginald and smiling down at him, continued, "I am looking forward to the concert at the Argyll Rooms to which you have invited Aunt Seraphina and me. Pray tell me, what do you know of the performers?" Justin nearly choked with disgust as Reginald, a beatific expression on his face at being singled out by his goddess, launched into a tangled description of the artists, the music, 83
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the composer, and the history of the Royal Philharmonic. The elusive sense of camaraderie was instantly banished as he watched her. She was a coquette of the worst sort, taking advantage of an innocent for her own selfish gain. Justin averted his eyes from the sickening spectacle. However, in doing so he caught a fleeting glimpse of two things that gave him pause. The first was an impression so slight that it was more a sensation than an observation, but he had the distinct feeling that the jade was again looking to gauge his reaction. She only betrayed herself by the merest flicker of an eyelash, but he had caught the movement out of the corner of his eye as he turned to gaze off over the park. The other was the fatuous expressions of admiration in the faces of Ferdie's friends. To a man they would have declared their horror at being leg-shackled. Marriage was anathema to their free and easy spirits thus a single female could strike as much, if not more, terror in their hearts as a badly cut coat or a spavined horse, but there was not a soul among them who didn't look as besotted as the Viscount Chalford. If that were the case, then why choose Reginald?
Demonstrably less dashing than any of them, less well breeched than Grinstead or Throckmorton, and with fewer expectations than Reginald's friend Denby, who was heir to a dukedom, his nephew was far less a catch than any of them who could have been firmly caught in the parson's mousetrap with only the gentlest of pushes. Egad, by the look on the countenances of the eager group around her, any one of them would have walked into it willingly.
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Then why did the harpy not concentrate her efforts where they were likely to be more amply rewarded? Nor did she appear to keep them dangling merely from a coquettish love of conquest. With the exception of her last remark, Diana's conduct had not been in the least flirtatious. Justin cast his mind back. In fact, both here and at the opera her attitude toward them all, excluding Lord Justin St. Clair of course, had been that of a tolerant older sister rather than someone desirous of admiration.
If Lady Diana Hatherill didn't desire marriage—and his nephew was the first to point this out—then what did she want from Reginald? And why was she so determined to convince his family that she did wish it? Was she acting this way purely out of dislike for being told what to do? Surely no one could be as proud as all that?
Justin was intrigued in spite of himself. Initially committed to seeking her out in order to lure the lady away from his nephew, he now found himself wishing to pursue the acquaintance for his own gratification. He wanted to learn more about her. Lady Diana Hatherill was both a beautiful and a highly unusual woman, and she piqued his interest despite her antagonism. Justin determined to seek her out when no one else was around. And this lime he vowed not to emerge second best as he had done from every encounter thus far.
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A few casual questions posed to the oblivious Reginald elicited the information that he had invited the two ladies to a concert of the Royal Philharmonic Society the very next evening. Having received so much unaccustomed encouragement from his adored, Reginald, with uncharacteristic boldness, had seized the opportunity of offering his escort before Diana had the chance to resume the reclusive ways of her early widowhood. Much to his surprise and delight, she had accepted.
Unable to believe his good fortune, the viscount kept exclaiming over it all the way home until his uncle, heartily sick of it all, had suggested that a gentleman who was truly in love did not constantly bandy the name of his beloved about in public.
"Oh, but I ... that is ... of course you are correct. Uncle Justin. It's just that until now she has so rarely been seen in society, even after the period of mourning was over. And she would never let me accompany her anywhere. Now it seems like a miracle not only to see her, but to be allowed to escort her anywhere."
The miracle of perversity, more like, Justin thought sourly to himself, but he didn't have the heart to point out to his besotted nephew that the lady's change in attitude dated from the very moment that Justin St. Clair had called upon her to dissuade her from pursuing the viscount. 86
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Bored though he claimed himself to be by the subject of Lady Diana Hatherill, Justin could not stop himself from thinking about her after he had left his nephew off. Though he kept telling himself that his thoughts naturally tended to concentrate on something that presented both a mystery and a problem, he could not help picturing her so erect on the huge gray stallion, the curves of her figure enhanced by the tightly fitting habit, her beautifully sculpted face emphasized by the severity of her attire.
Thoroughly disgusted at himself, Justin realized that he too was going to attend the concert at the Argyll Rooms, though it would mean having to postpone Suzette's invitation to an intimate dinner party until much later in the evening. He had hoped to arrive unobserved after Reginald's party had settled themselves, but fortune was not with him. As luck would have it. Lady Diana—appreciatively examining the renowned decorations from Telemachus's search for his father, the ancient bronze fasces supporting the tiers of boxes, and the unusual chandeliers—caught sight of him the moment he entered the room. His commanding height and broad shoulders would have made him instantly recognizable anywhere, but he was especially noticeable in the brilliantly lit theater.
Her eyes widened in surprise. Devotion to serious music was not a trait she would have ascribed to the Lord Justin St. Clair, if the picture Reginald had painted of his dashing uncle were to be believed. Then he must have come expressly to spy upon her. Diana gritted her teeth. The man's effrontery was outside of enough!
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