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Admitted within, he found Diana ready. The nursemaid had her sleepy son bundled up, and the small staff was busy closing up the house. A short time later, he ushered them to the coach.
‘I still can’t believe you talked me into going to Barton Abbey,’ Diana murmured to Alastair, steadying the maid as Minnie carried her sleeping son up the step.
‘You trust me to keep you safe, don’t you?’ he asked as he handed her in.
‘If I didn’t trust you to keep my son safe, I wouldn’t have agreed to go.’
Tacitly accepting, for the moment, her slight change of emphasis, he followed her into the vehicle.
Soon, the coachman negotiated his way through Bath’s busy streets and on to the road south towards Devon. Despite the jolting of the carriage, after a late night and an early rising, both the maid and Diana drifted off to sleep. Alastair sat watching them, savouring the feel of Diana’s head nestled on his shoulder.
Finally, an end to shadow-boxing the family that had so drastically altered his life eight years ago. He couldn’t wait to confront the Duke in open combat, drive home a victory, and free the two of them to explore their future.
Would Diana, compelled by extreme circumstance to rely upon him, continue to reveal herself after this episode was successfully concluded? Or would she close back in upon herself, refusing to admit him any further? So manipulated and constrained had she been, he knew he couldn’t force or even cajole her to warm towards him.
Ah, but how he ached to help her further along the road to recapturing the joy, optimism and confidence she’d once possessed in such abundance.
Even if it meant, in the end, she took her revitalised spirit into a new life without him.
* * *
Initially too shy to speak, James soon overcame his reserve and proved an amazingly resilient traveller, eagerly watching the countryside and peppering Alastair and his mother with questions about the towns and vehicles they passed, the fields and workers observed out the windows. He’d also been delighted with the novelty of dining at public houses and spending the night at a busy coaching inn.
Forced to concede the necessity for it, Alastair had ordered two rooms, one for himself and a second for Diana, Minnie and James—and lain awake for hours each night, acutely conscious that Diana slept close by. Knowing that a period of enforced abstinence lay before them at Barton Abbey, its duration impossible to predict, he was sorely tempted to urge Diana to slip into his room after the others fell asleep.
But it wouldn’t be wise. James’s maid Minnie, Diana told him, had been informed they were travelling to visit an old family friend, who had sent her son to escort them. Alastair didn’t know whether Diana’s staff knew where—or with whom—she had spent her evening ‘entertainments’. If the boy’s nurse was aware that he was a more intimate acquaintance, she’d given no indication of it, and Alastair wished it to stay that way.
Who knew whether Graveston might summon the maid to testify against her mistress? Alastair meant to ensure the girl would have as little to say as possible.
* * *
After several long days on the road, even the curious six-year-old was tired of being cooped up in a coach, begging Alastair, who hired a horse to ride each day, to take him up in the saddle. Denied that treat, he and the rest of the party were increasingly impatient to reach their destination.
* * *
Finally, the longed-for moment arrived. Eschewing a mount for this last phase of the journey, familiar with every hill and turning from the last posting inn to his front door, Alastair joined the company in the coach. Eagerness, anticipation—and a touch of unease over the reaction of his mother to the guests he was about to foist on her—kept him on the edge of his seat.
‘The entry gate’s just ahead,’ Alastair told James, who immediately thrust his small shoulders out of the window, impatient to get a look.
‘It’s not so big as the gatehouse at Graveston Court,’ he pronounced as the carriage bowled through.
‘Probably just as old, though, and full of nooks for boys to explore, as my cousins and I did when we were your age.’
The boy’s eyes brightened. ‘Could you take me exploring, too?’
Alastair smiled at the boy’s artless assumption that he would still consider that a treat. ‘When we have a chance.’
Diana, however, did not lean towards the window to get a glimpse of the estate of which she’d once expected to become mistress. Displaying none of James’s excitement, she remained quietly in her seat, her impassive expression impossible to read.
Once, he’d anticipated bringing her here as his bride, envisaging her delight at seeing her new home for the first time. A sharp pain pierced his chest at the contrast between that old dream and the prosaic present.
They could never go back, he reminded himself. For now, it was enough that he’d persuaded her to come here, where he could keep her and her son safe. He’d content himself with that—and despite finally sheltering her under his roof, resist the deceptive illusion that the dreams he’d once cherished might still come true.
Despite that sober reminder, he couldn’t seem to make himself stop watching her. Though her serene exterior gave no hint that she harboured any anxiety about what awaited them, he could read the small signs—the hands tightly gripping the seat, the rigid set of her shoulders—that said she was not as calm as she appeared.
He’d carefully refrained from any gesture of affection during their enforced closeness in the coach, with her son and his nursemaid always watching, but now, he leaned over to squeeze her hand. ‘It will be all right. Trust me,’ he murmured.
A short time later, the driver pulled the team up before the front entrance. As always, Alastair felt a surge of gladness at returning to the manor that had been his home since birth. Not even the uncertainty of his mother’s reaction could dim that delight.
Then a footman was trotting over to let down the stairs. ‘Mr Ransleigh!’ he exclaimed, stopping short in the act of handing Diana from the coach. ‘Welcome home, sir! But we weren’t expecting you.’
‘Nor any company,’ he agreed with a smile. ‘My mother shall certainly take me to task for that. Would you see that the baggage is carried upstairs?’
‘Certainly, sir.’
Firmly taking Diana’s elbow, he escorted the party up the stairs and into the hall, where the butler was hurrying to meet them. ‘Wendell, you’re looking well.’
Like the footman, the butler stopped short for a moment before giving him a bow. ‘Master Alastair! What a pleasure to have you home, and your guests.’
‘Would you have refreshment sent to the blue parlour, and let my mother know we’re here?’
‘Certainly.’
Once within the cosy blue chamber, Diana was invited to have a seat, while Minnie took James to the window to inspect the vista of the distant hills.
‘Better not have the footman carry our bags too far,’ Diana murmured when the maid was out of earshot.
‘Nonsense. Mother would never be so discourteous as to ask someone I invited to my home to leave.’
Diana raised an eyebrow and made no reply. But her fingers twisted together even tighter, Alastair noted.
He truly did not worry that his mother would turn her away. To be sure, she would cloak her initial reaction to Diana’s presence in politeness, and probably give him a furious earful once the guests were sent off to settle into their rooms. But he was convinced, once apprised of the truth of Diana’s past actions and present circumstances, she would never turn away a woman and child in need.
If he were wrong, and she remained as opposed to his championship of Diana as Jane, she would simply have to take herself off to visit his sister. Barton Abbey belonged to him, and he would house there whomever he chose.
He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He would soon find out.
A few moments later, he heard his mother’s quick step outside, and went to intercept her at the door.
In a graceful sway of skirts and a hint of rose perfume, she walked in, a delighted smile on her face. ‘My darling Alastair! How wonderful to have you home again—even if unannounced, you naughty boy! And you’ve brought guests. How lovely!’
After hugging him, as she turned to greet those guests, her eyes widened and the smile fled from her face. ‘Miss Northcot?’
‘The Dowager Duchess of Graveston now, just recently widowed,’ Alastair interposed smoothly. ‘This is her son, Lord James Mannington, and his nurse, Minnie.’
The ladies curtsied. ‘An unexpected honour, Duchess,’ his mother said, an edge of irony in her voice. ‘You and your son must be fatigued after your journey. I’ll have Wendell show you to your rooms at once, so you may rest yourselves before dinner.’
At that moment, the butler returned, bearing a tray. ‘Wendell, our guests are worn out from their travels. We should allow them to retire to their rooms at once. Escort them upstairs, please, and have John carry some refreshments to their chambers. I’m sure they will enjoy it much more after they are able to wash off the dust of the road.’
