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Nodding, she agreed. Her pulse was racing, her skin felt too hot, and her head light. Just get through this. It will all be over soon, and then you can go home. Home. I should not be thinking of it in such terms anymore.
Her home was now a tiny village far to the north, almost in Scotland. Soon, she would leave everything behind. Again. Only it felt far worse this time. There would be no Harrow or René there to talk to and ease her loneliness. There would be no Lucas to share her innermost thoughts with and set her aflame with his touch.
These thoughts made her want to cry, but she couldn’t afford that luxury quite yet. Stiffening her spine, she nodded. Nerves on edge, she waited.
When Lucas finally found his way to her, she gasped at the fading purple and yellow bruises on his face.
“It’s not as awful as it looks,” he said in greeting. “I believe the other fellow looks much worse.”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, staring at him. “Why torture us both when you know there is no other way?”
His brows pinched, but he offered her a faint, lopsided smile. “Torture? Why would I consider this torture? You’re nothing to me.”
She jerked as if he’d slapped her across the face, and tears sprang into her eyes. She had no words to counter the pain he’d just inflicted. None at all. She just stood there, feeling like a giant hole had been punched through her chest where her heart had once been.
Fortunately, Harrow was as good as his word and came to her rescue before it could become any more awkward. “I thought we made a gentlemen’s agreement,” he said to Lucas in the chilliest of tones. “You vowed to stay away from her.”
“So I did,” said Lucas in the same flinty manner. “I cannot help it if we are both in attendance at the same ball. We’re bound to cross paths. Or perhaps you’d like to meet in private to compare our schedules so we can ensure this does not happen again?” he added sarcastically.
Diana heard his words as though from far, far away, drowned out by the blood whooshing in her ears. Dizziness swept over her in a great wave, the room tilted, and all went dark.
When she opened her eyes, it was to see Harrow bent over her, his face lined with worry.
“Here,” he said, helping her sit up a little and pressing the rim of a glass to her mouth.
Cool water bathed her tongue and slid down her throat. Her head was pounding. She closed her eyes again, but her lids shot open only a moment later. “Lucas?” Her voice sounded cracked, as though she’d not used it in a week.
“Gone,” he answered, again helping her drink. “He left a few minutes ago after helping me bring you in here.”
Confusion made her scowl at her surroundings. They were in an unfamiliar parlor. “He helped you?”
“Indeed. Damned stupid thing to do, too, but I could not dissuade him. I think I was lucky he allowed me to carry you.” At her askance look, he continued. “You fainted. I’ve sent for a doctor to examine you.”
“A doctor?” She tried to sit up and suffered a wave of nausea. Gasping, she braced herself on the edge of the couch and bowed her head, willing the room to stop moving. “Why? I only fainted. I suppose I should have eaten something before coming here, but I was too nervous.”
“No doubt, but the lump on the back of your head bears looking at,” he said drily. “It probably hurts like the devil, but at least it’s on the outside. I was quite worried for a while when you failed to awaken.”
She muttered something like an agreement, but her thoughts, hazy as they were, were elsewhere. If she truly meant nothing to Lucas, then why had he stayed?
…
He’d regretted his ill-chosen words the instant they’d left his foolish mouth. Yes, he’d wanted to hurt her, but he’d thought it an impossible task after her lack of reaction that day at Harrow’s house. Not so, apparently.
She loved him. He’d seen it in her eyes. And he’d probably just killed that love.
London’s streets passed by his carriage window, but he saw nothing of them. All he could see was her face and the pain etched upon it. That had been right before Harrow had stepped in like a wrathful avenging angel to fend him off. Right before her lashes had fluttered against her white cheeks and she’d gone down.
The resounding crack as her head had hit the marble floor had all but stopped his heart and would haunt him forever. He’d only left once she started to show signs of coming ’round.
What a damnable mess he’d made of things. He’d probably ruined whatever plan they’d been enacting tonight. Even so, he couldn’t help the tiny spark of joy that flared to life from knowing she loved him.
You’re a damned fool. He knew it and didn’t care. Everything he’d ever considered an absolute where women were concerned had been set on its ear. She’d sacrificed her own happiness to spare him being caught up in what would undoubtedly be the most damaging scandal in a decade. It didn’t matter that she’d done it to save her friends, as well. Love—for them and for him—had been at the root of her actions. She’d put them all before herself when she could’ve simply cut and run. Her loyalty shamed him, and though it hurt to be on the wrong end of it, he couldn’t help admirin
g her all the more.
Hot prickles stung his neck at the thought of his family’s reaction when it became clear he intended to continue their relationship. Father may never forgive me. Mother certainly won’t. But he couldn’t bear the thought of being without Diana. Tomorrow, he’d write Harrow and ask after her health, social consequences be damned.
On arriving home, he found his housekeeper all in a dither, requesting a private moment with him in his office. Perplexed, he ushered the woman in and bade her sit and be at ease as he closed the door.
