“That’s the one!”the second man agreed.
“She’s rich, but she’s not rich enough.”
His friend chuckled.“Not rich enough?She has thirty-five thousand bloody pounds.”Diana’s heart started to race because that happened to be Lucy’s exact dowry.Her father, Lord Cheltenham, was a wealthy earl, and there were vanishingly few young ladies in possession of a comparable fortune.
And if even Lucy wasnot rich enough, there was only one heiress in London capable of meeting this cretin’s requirements.
Her.
“I told you,” the first man growled, “I had a bad day at Boodle’s.”
His friend laughed incredulously.“I didn’t realize it wasthatbad of a day.”
Boodle’s was the club where men went when they wanted to play deep.Something niggled in the back of Diana’s mind.There had been a rumor about someone losing a terrific sum at the tables last week.
“I had a few bad days, all right?”
Hearing his voice, the man’s name came to her in a flash—Joseph Cumberworth, fourth son of Baron Cumberworth.That would make his oafish friend Berkeley Blachford.
“I still say you should set your sights on Lady Lucy.I mean, what about…?You know.Herarm?”Blachford asked in a tone of voice that suggested he was wrinkling his nose.
Now, Diana knew without a shred of doubt that she and Lucy were the heiresses in question.She had been born without a right hand, and her right forearm was about half the length of its companion on her left.
“I don’t give a damn about her arm,” Cumberworth replied.“The real problem is that she’s such a bitch.”
It was fortunate that Diana had so much practice in hiding, which included staying perfectly still and silent, no matter how shocking the things she overheard might be.It was the one thing she could thank her father for.Because of him, she had spent countless hours standing behind a curtain or huddled on a shelf in a wardrobe during his drunken rages.
And so, she managed to hold her breath and not flinch when Cumberworth uttered the worst insult that could be used against a woman.
Cumberworth was still speaking.“At least things will be different once we’re married.A man has the right to discipline his wife, after all.”
Blachford didn’t sound convinced.“But what about that brother of hers?He’s a damned good fencer.And he seems like the type who wouldn’t hesitate to run you through.”
This might be the most intelligent thing Berkeley Blachford had ever said.Diana didn’t have a shred of doubt that Marcus would kill any man who raised a hand against her.
Of course, Blachford was overlooking a few pertinent facts.Diana was every bit as talented at fencing as her brother; she could skewer Cumberworth like a dish ofVeal à la Dauphinéherself.To say nothing of the fact that Marcus would never allow a blackguard such as Joseph Cumberworth to marry her in the first place.
Cumberworth sounded unconcerned.“You have to be careful in how you do it.The trick is to avoid the arms, face, and any other place where someone might see a bruise.”
“But won’t she just tell him?”Blachford asked, sounding even more confused than usual.
“Not if she’s sufficiently frightened,” Cumberworth said confidently.“It’s crucial that you terrorize your wife completely.”
“Oh.”Blachford paused, as if giving this great thought.“I’ll have to remember that.”
There was a creak of leather as if Cumberworth were lounging back in one of the wing chairs before the fire.“It will be tiresome keeping her in line.But for a hundred thousand pounds, it’ll be worth it.”
Blachford warmed to this theme, and he and Cumberworth continued discussing how offensively opinionated she was.Diana listened with only half an ear.She was busy plotting her revenge.Eventually, she would tell Marcus, who wielded his social influence every bit as deftly as he wielded his sword.Overnight, Cumberworth would find himself cast out from all good society.Invitations would cease to be issued, and his former friends would cut him in the street.
But first, Diana wanted to toy with him.Perhaps she would grant him a dance in order to give him false hope.She would then proceed to forget his name.He would be Mr.Cumberland, then Mr.Cumberbatch, and then Mr.Cummerbund.
She would not stammer out an awkward apology when he pointed out her error.She was going to look him dead in the eye as she addressed him asMr.Cumbersome, to better emphasize that his name was simply not worth remembering.
She was wondering if she could get away with calling himMr.Cucumberwhen Cumberworth and Blachford’s guffaws were interrupted by a new voice.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe you’re speaking of Lady Diana Latimer, are you not?”
Every hair on the back of her neck stood up.Because she knew that voice.
