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And now he’d taken her virginity, robbing her of yet another possible future, one where she wouldn’t have to lie to the man she one day married.
She could have refused. But she’d chosen not to. Why had she really done it? And why had she continued seeing him?
Can it possibly be that she loves me?
Something huge and scary swelled in his chest until it throbbed with an almost physical pain. He’d vowed never to become emotionally attached to any woman, but that pain forced him to acknowledge that it had happened. It had happened without him even knowing it. He stared out through his carriage window with unseeing eyes.
She’s in love with me. And oh, God, I’m in love with her.
Trepidation transformed into sheer terror. Even if she was in love with him, it was unlikely to last, at least on her part. He could never tell her the truth. To do so would be to abandon all pride and open himself up for every indignity a man could suffer. She’d only use it against him, just as his mother had against his father. His poor, miserable father, who to this day still mourned the loss of his heart to the unworthy woman who’d deceived him.
A wise man would cut bait and run as fast and as far away from this disaster as possible. But he wasn’t feeling wise. Though it be the height of foolishness, he wanted Diana—more than anything he’d ever desired in his entire life. And he meant to have her. He’d just have to be careful to hide the true depth of his folly and find a way to make her his without exposing himself for a fool and her for a fraud.
Chapter Seventeen
Something had changed. Diana didn’t know why, but in spite of successfully evading discovery and despite them having found a happy compromise that allowed them to see each other on an almost daily basis, Lucas had renewed his attempts to persuade her to leave Harrow.
She’d asked him why he was suddenly so keen to alter what they’d put in place, but he’d avoided answering her, instead leading her off topic or misdirecting her attentions elsewhere. There was something he wasn’t telling her, and no matter how she tried to get it out of him, he kept it securely behind his teeth.
A fortnight after she noticed this shift in his behavior, the gates of Hell opened and unleashed its demons in the form of a damning article in The Tattler. Five lines. Five lines was all it took to expose her ‘ongoing affair’ with Lucas, firing off London’s gossip grapevine, tearing apart the careful facade she and Harrow had built.
&n
bsp; “I’m going to stop seeing him,” she told Harrow, who’d come over within an hour of receiving her frantic note.
“I won’t let you do that.”
“You cannot make me do otherwise,” she said crisply, sticking out her chin.
He passed a hand over his face, which was pale and drawn. “It won’t matter. The damage is done. What I want to know is how. How did this happen?”
“One of the servants must have seen him,” she reasoned. “Ours know to keep quiet about anything that happens here, but it could have been one of them. There is no way to know who is responsible. But that’s not what troubles me most. What worries me more than anything is what else they might discover—or worse, already know, concerning you and René.”
“No. If they knew about us, it would be here,” said Harrow, tossing the mangled paper he’d been holding onto the table.
“We cannot risk them finding out. What are we going to do?” She watched as he paced the room, afraid to speak lest she disturb his thoughts. Harrow was brilliant. He would think of something.
“We are going to have a row.”
She felt the blood leave her face. “You’re going to call him out?”
He looked at her with incredulity. “He’s my friend and your lover—of course I’m not going to call him out. No, you and I are going to pretend to have a fight. Then you are going to play at contrition, and I, anger at your betrayal. Give it a fortnight, and we’ll put on the appearance that we’ve ‘patched things up’ until I can think of a more permanent solution to the problem.”
But there was no permanent solution that would allow her to keep her friends safe and continue seeing Lucas, and she knew it. This is it. This is the end of it. She’d known it was inevitable, but for some reason it was still a shock to realize it was actually happening. We had so little time… “What of Lucas?” she forced herself to ask.
“I’ve asked him to call at my residence later this evening where we will discuss the matter in guaranteed privacy. None of my contemporaries will dare inquire of me concerning this matter, but his friends might ask him, and he must know how to answer.”
“And that answer is?”
“That he made the mistake of thinking you meant more to him than he should have.”
It sounded so cold. “I assume that means your friendship must appear to be at an end, as well?”
“Yes.”
At least that will put him back in his family’s good graces. “You know what they’ll say about you when you don’t call him out. Better to call him out and simply make certain your aim is poor—”
“I cannot call him out, Diana,” he said, his face finally betraying his upset. “We are both too skilled with pistols and blades to make it believable without grievously wounding each other. Ending our public association will have the same result. It’s the easiest way.”
