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“As well as I’m paying this staff, even if they do see something, they will say nothing,” he replied coolly. “Believe me, my dear, there are other men in London in situations similar to mine, and they’ve all managed to keep their secrets for many years.”
“And what am I to do about this?” she asked, holding up the crumpled invitation.
“You will attend, of course.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “And I’ll be at your side. No doubt Blackthorn expects it and is well prepared to answer the scandal of having such a neighbor. We must likewise ready ourselves.”
Anger surged through her, lending her strength. “How I wish I’d never laid eyes on that—that scoundrel!”
Her outburst elicited a gentle smile. “I fear there is little we can do about it now, save to play the hand we’ve been dealt.”
Though his manner was calm and no doubt intended to be reassuring, her heart still raced. “And what will we do if he discovers us?”
A hard glint entered his eyes, and a chill crept into her bones, turning her upset to dread as he answered quietly, “One way or another, I’ll ensure he keeps his silence.” The dangerous look melted away, and he was once again her dear friend and not the deadly duelist. “In truth, I doubt it will come to violence. He seems a reasonable man, if a bit impulsive, but not the sort to be truly foolish. Regardless, I don’t want you worrying yourself over it until there is reason. For now, there is naught but a cordial invitation to be answered.”
She crushed the paper in her hand into a ball.
Laughing, Harrow took up her hand and removed the unlucky page. “Between my winning ways and your not-inconsiderable charms, we’ll persuade him to be our friend.”
She drew back in renewed alarm. “Our friend?”
Harrow’s smile broadened an increment. “A wise man once said ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’—and he was right. A strong public association will undermine the desire to reveal any discoveries he might make. He won’t want others to paint him with the same brush.”
Especially considering that particular brushstroke typically preceded a hangman’s noose. It made sense, yet she still had misgivings. The idea of bringing Blackthorn into their circle both excited and terrified her—for reasons having nothing to do with her friends’ continued longevity.
“Diana, I know you worry for me—”
“And René,” she injected. “Have you forgotten yours is not the only life at risk?” Regret instantly set in as a wounded look entered his gentle eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you think of him before yourself. I’m just so afraid of what might happen if this goes ill.”
“It won’t,” he whispered. “Trust me?”
There was no one on earth she trusted more. “Always.”
“Then trust that I’ll keep our safety—including yours—foremost in mind.”
She nodded.
“And Diana?”
“Yes?”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but it must be said again that part of the reason you’re so afraid of Blackthorn is that you’re attracted to him.”
Her throat closed, and her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, refusing to deny it or form another excuse.
Harrow’s eyes narrowed, and she could almost see the thoughts turning over in his mind as he observed her lack of response. “Ignoring it won’t work,” he eventually murmured with a soft smile. “I tried not to want René, you know. Impossible, of course, though I did everything in my power not to act on my desire. Even so, there was no hiding it from him. When he informed me the attraction was mutual, I was done. There was simply no denying what is between us. Just as there will be no denying it for you and Blackthorn.”
An indignant huff broke from her lips. “I admit I find him pleasant enough to look at, and charming, to be sure—but not so much as to tempt me into endangering you and René.” She’d never betray her friends over a handsome face. Never. “I’d sooner swim across the Thames in midwinter. Naked.”
He chuckled and shot her an enigmatic little smile. “We shall see. The ball is not for another month, which gives us plenty of time to sort out matters. All will be as it should.”
It was an answer which left her feeling no better at all.
The days stretched as Diana busied herself with settling in, adjusting to unfamiliar surroundings and becoming acquainted with newly hired staff.
Some feathers were ruffled when René joined her household and was given accommodation a mere two doors down from her own chamber. Teachers were normally considered above servants in the household hierarchy, but only just, and were typically quartered in the same fashion as the housekeeper, cook, and head footman. Diana made it clear at the outset, however, that she viewed him as more of a guest. She also bade Francine, her lady’s maid who’d come with her from her old house, to warn any disgruntled staff against provoking her ire by showing any disrespect toward the man.
Diana was relieved to learn Harrow had elected to postpone further assignations with his lover until it was deemed safe. His prudence told her he’d paid more heed to her warning than he’d given her to believe.
She was determined not to let her unwanted neighbor’s presence rattle her. Seeing nothing of its master, it was easy to pretend no one lived in the house behind hers. Within a week, Diana began to relax and enjoy herself. René availed himself of the drawing room’s pianoforte daily, often for several hours at a time, gracing her home with the sweet strains of Pachelbel, Vivaldi, Rameau, and Handel.
