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‘Praise the Lord for that mercy, anyway,’ Alastair spat out, a look of revulsion on his face. ‘It sickens me that you were forced to live under his hand for years afterward. Well, soon you’ll no longer need to fear the malice of a Duke of Graveston. With Will’s help, and the Earl’s if necessary, you will be free of their menace for ever.’
Reluctant as she’d been to reveal her tawdry circumstances, cautious as she knew she must remain about depending on help from anyone else, she couldn’t help feeling a wave of relief and gratitude.
‘Thank you for all you’ve done. Even now, it’s difficult for me to place reliance on others, though I know you have only my best interests at heart. How can I resist, though, when you are risking your own reputation to protect mine?’ she said, marvelling at the depth of his sense of honour and the strength of his resolve.
He gave her a wry smile. ‘In a way, I should feel grateful for Blankford’s nefarious scheme. If you hadn’t needed to marshal every possible resource to protect your son, you’d probably never had confided in me—would you?’
‘No,’ she admitted, knowing it was true. Only desperation had pushed her to reveal the humiliating truth about her marriage that she would otherwise have carefully hidden.
‘You would have pleasured me, held your innermost self aloof, and slipped away.’ He shook his head. ‘It scares me to think how close I came to losing you again without ever knowing you.’
‘If Blankford ends up arm-wrestling you in the mud of a public scandal, you may be less sanguine about my asking for your help,’ she retorted.
‘Never,’ he exclaimed, kissing her hands. ‘I’m glad to assist you. Glad that you are allowing me to act for you. I can well imagine, after being forced and coerced and bullied for so long, it’s hard to trust anyone but yourself.’
He gazed at her, an oddly expectant look on his face. Was he hoping she would deny it, assert that she was completely comfortable relying on him?
Much as she appreciated his efforts, she could not in honesty tell him that. Uncertain what to reply, she said, ‘So now, we wait?’
The hopeful look faded from his eyes—and she feared she’d disappointed him. Tacitly accepting her evasion, however, he confirmed, ‘Now, we wait. Will promised to come report as soon as possible. We may also have a visit from his wife, Elodie. The Frenchwoman who, you may remember, embroiled Max in the scandal that ruined his diplomatic career. Somewhere along the way from Vienna back to England, Will fell in love with her.’
‘She must be quite a lady to hold Will’s interest,’ Diana said, grateful that he’d moved the conversation to less personal matters. ‘As I recall, women always found him fascinating, and though he returned the favour, he was as fickle as the wind.’
‘Yes, it’s quite a love story, which I’ll let her tell you when she visits. She also has a son a bit younger than James. I thought he’d enjoy having a playmate.’
‘I know he would! It’s so kind of you to think of him.’
‘It’s high time someone was kind to you both.’
Diana shook her head ruefully. ‘Your mother seems to think so, too. Sometimes I feel I’m living in a dream! Paints and brushes at hand, an excellent pianoforte to play whenever I like, a library full of books to explore. Your mother shall be tossing me out of the house before long because I’m running through so many candles, staying up late to read. I keep thinking that one morning, I’ll wake up and all this will vanish.’
‘Be assured it will not.’ He lifted her chin so she had to meet his gaze. ‘The future is yours to determine, Diana. You’ll never be constrained again.’
Though she still found it difficult to express her feelings, she made herself say, ‘No matter how this turns out, I’ll never forget it was you who thought to bring me the first paints I’d touched in seven years. You who lured me back to the piano bench. You who escorted me to the library at Barton Abbey and invited me to sample it.’
He shook his head. ‘I still can’t believe you existed for years without books, paints, music. How dull it must have been, with nothing to do all day but manage that vast house.’
She laughed shortly as another flood of bitter memories engulfed her. ‘I didn’t even do that.’
He raised his eyebrows and, flushing, she waved a dismissive hand, not wanting to admit the painful truth.
‘Won’t you explain, Diana? I want to understand. And I think, to move beyond the past, you must face it. I want to help. Won’t you let me?’
Eight years of instinct pressed her to retreat, fall silent. But after a brief internal struggle, the sympathy in his gaze—and the memory of the sweet peace she’d found after confessing her dilemma about James—overcame her reserve.
Slowly she began. ‘The Duke’s first wife retained the sympathy of the staff, the housekeeper in particular. I admit, I made no attempt to take over the reins, but it probably would have been very difficult to pry them away, even had I wanted to.’
‘Having spoken to Blankford, I can well imagine the hostility of anyone loyal to his mother. How did you occupy your time, then?’
‘I was permitted needlework, since I expressed no fondness for it, and making garments for the poor was an approved occupation for the Duchess. I walked around the rooms, the Long Gallery, the garden. I looked—at the garden, the woods, the buildings, the tapestries, evaluating their textures and colours, imagining what paints I would blend to reproduce their images, were I ever to paint again. I examined such grounds as I was permitted to stroll, noting plants I’d found with my father, ones he’d illustrated for his books and lectures.’
Once begun, she couldn’t seem to halt the flood of words. ‘I could sit or stand for hours, no doubt to the puzzlement of whichever menial had been assigned to trail me, listening in my head to Papa’s analysis. Or in the house, I’d stare at some object, evaluating its shape in geometric terms, figuring how I would position it for sketching, where to place the lines of shading. Observed it as the light playing over it changed with the advancing hour, watching how it changed those patterns. Sometimes, if I passed by a book I’d enjoyed, I’d try to recall as much of its prose or verse as I could. And I spent a great deal of time training myself not to feel, or to at least be able to mask my emotions enough that he could not read my countenance and use my reactions against me. Quite an interesting and useful life,’ she concluded bitterly.
In the next instant, anxiety seized her. Whatever had induced her to blather on so? Alastair must think her shallow, cowardly, despicable for allowing herself to exist in such a mocking echo of a life.
Wary, she looked up to see him studying her, but rather than disgust and condemnation, she read compassion in his gaze. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, lifting her hand to his lips for a kiss. ‘Though I hesitate even to give such facile advice, you must try to leave all that behind you.’
For a moment, the relief that she had not alienated him held her speechless. ‘I am trying,’ she managed at length. ‘After all those years at Graveston Court, Barton Abbey seems a wonderland. Like a starving man invited to a banquet, I hardly know what delight to taste first.’
He smiled. ‘I’m so glad you are finding it so. But are you allowing yourself to feel delight?’
She nodded. ‘I am, a little. It’s still hard to believe that the things that bring me pleasure won’t suddenly disappear again. But...I’m trying to believe it. Or I will, once all this is over.’
‘Believe it, and believe also that it will soon be over. And then...’
Diana tensed. Would Alastair tell her what he envisaged for their future? Would he gently let her go—or ask her to remain his mistress? If he wanted that and more, could she possibly give him an answer now?
A knock sounded at the door, followed by the entrance of Mrs Ransleigh. ‘I’m not disturbing you, I hope? Wendell just let me know you’d returned.’
‘Not at all,’ Diana told her, not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed by the interruption. She didn’t want to think of a future without Alastair—but she wasn’t sure, damaged as she still was, what she could offer him, beyond a temporary passion.
Would that be enough?
Alastair rose to give his mother a hug. ‘Diana tells me you’ve been taking good care of her and James.’
‘Indeed she is,’ Diana confirmed.
‘I’m so much enjoying her stay! James is delightful, and I’ve been grateful for her companionship. I even compelled her to play for me in the evening. I’ve missed hearing the pianoforte, with both your sisters now gone.’ Mrs Ransleigh gave her a fond look. ‘It’s almost like having a daughter at home again. I must inform you, I’ve given her and James the run of house and invited them to stay as long as they like. And once this matter is resolved and it’s safe for Diana to establish her own residence, I hope they will return to visit often.’
