Anne Barbour (5 page)

Lord Burnleigh stood motionless, an expression of blank astonishment on his face. Diana felt a knot gather in her stomach, but she proceeded coolly.

“You will pay me, not three hundred, but five hundred guineas. You will provide me with a suitable wardrobe, and when I leave, I want the use of one of your carriages; I want an abigail, a footman, and a coachman to drive me to my meeting with Marcus.”

The earl stood staring at her and then he took a deep breath, evidently curbing his temper with some difficulty.

“You insolent jade!” he grated. “What makes you think you are in a position to dictate conditions?”

“Do but consider, sir,” returned Diana with venomous sweetness. “Your grandfather is expecting you momentarily, with a fiancée in tow. Do you not think you will find yourself in some difficulty if, at that point, the blushing bride-to-be is hauled away in chains to the roundhouse?”

The earl stood as though turned to stone. He bore the look of a man who has brought home a starving kitten, only to see it transformed before his eyes into a snarling tigress.

Good,
thought Diana.
You arrogant bully! You think me a hardened trollop? You may as well think of me as a self-possessed trollop, with intelligence to match your own; not one to be threatened and browbeaten by the likes of you.

For a moment, Jared glared at Diana.

“Supposing I agree to this ridiculous demand, how do I know that once you have the money in your greedy little fist you won’t hare off on me? I can’t very well lock you in your room.”

“Because,” Diana replied haughtily, “I give you my word that I shall abide by our bargain.” Catching the expression on the earl’s face, she added, “And if you utter one syllable about the word of a trollop being worthless, I—I shall strike you!”

For the first time, Jared’s face lit with genuine laughter, and Diana was astonished at the transformation. Why, he was not nearly as old as she had first supposed, and his features, though too roughly chiseled to be called handsome, were heart-catchingly attractive.

The laughter ceased as quickly as it had begun. As though ashamed of having unbent, even for a moment, Jared turned stiffly and crossed to the bell pull, giving it a vicious tug. This action apparently restored his control, for his face once again wore an expression of cold detachment. He moved to the fireplace and, picking up a poker, began stirring and rearranging the burning logs, apparently having forgotten Diana’s existence.

Diana strode to the window and gazed intently at a sweep of velvety lawn as though it held her complete attention.

In a few moments a tall figure dressed in footman’s livery entered the room, and the earl ordered the removal of the sum that Diana had specified from the estate safe. The man bowed as though he saw nothing untoward in this extremely odd direction, or in the fact that his master was closeted alone with a female guest in her boudoir, and exited sedately from the room.

“I will see that the money is brought to you. Will that be satisfactory, Miss St. Aubin?”

“Quite, my lord.”

“Very well, then, let us get on with it. My aunt awaits us in her chambers.” He rose and walked to the door.

Diana knew a sudden moment of panic.

“No!” she cried. “It is too soon. I—I must freshen my appearance. I cannot ...”

The earl paused in the doorway.

“You look charming. Come.”

* * * *

Upstairs Amabelle, Lady Teague, stood at the window of her sitting room, distractedly fingering the amber beads about her neck. She was short and plump, and her somewhat protuberant brown eyes gave her an appearance of youthful naiveté, belied by the sprinkling of gray in her brown hair.

What could I have been thinking of? And what was I thinking of to have agreed to this lunacy ? To allow a female of that sort here!

On the other hand, she had to admit the old gentleman was resting easier. He was very weak, but determined to see the young woman and give his blessing to their union.

But, good heavens, I never thought to see the day when I would welcome a—a lightskirt into this house.

How could Jared hope to pass off such a creature to his grandfather as a lady of quality? Papa might be on his deathbed, but he had not lost a whit of his considerable powers of observation.

At any rate, the die was cast, and one could only—  Her jumbled reverie was interrupted by a light tap at the door. A moment later, the tall figure of her nephew entered the room, accompanied by a young woman.

Lady Teague’s gaze swept from the crown of golden hair to the tips of borrowed kid shoes. She looked into wide gray eyes, and read there an odd mixture of determination, shame, anger, and bewilderment.

“But,” blurted Lady Teague, her glance flying to her nephew’s face, “she is a lady!”

She stretched her hand to Diana and drew her into the room, her natural goodness of heart touched. “A lady— and yet so troubled. My dear, are you sure you want to do as my nephew has asked? We do not wish to force you.”

At these words, the first kindness she had been shown since leaving her home in what seemed like years ago, Diana’s eyes brimmed with unexpected tears, and she fought the urge to sink to her knees before this comfortable little woman, and beg for help.

“Not, I fear, a lady, Aunt Amabelle, but a reasonable imitation of one.”

The words, spoken in that familiar hateful voice, served to bring an abrupt end to Diana’s moment of weakness.

“Thank you, ma’am,” she said huskily, “but I have given my promise to carry out Lord Burnleigh’s project. Though,” she continued, glaring at the earl, “I cannot help but express the opinion that this is an absolutely outrageous scheme, and I already regret becoming a part of it.”

Lady Amabelle clicked her tongue in distress. “I must say that I agree with you, my dear, but Jared has apparently taken the matter out of our hands. I am sorry to hear that he has plunged you pell-mell into such a situation. Perhaps before you leave us . . .”        Jared observed this exchange in some astonishment. “My dear Aunt, I believe you must have taken leave of your senses! Did you perhaps not understand me when I told you how I met Miss St. Aubin? I will regale you later with the tale she spun for me of how she came to find herself—all through no fault of her own, you understand—in the company of a pair of ruthless sharpers.”

Jared stopped abruptly, and continued in a quieter tone.

“However, there is no time for further discussion. With your permission, I will now escort my affianced bride to Grandfather’s rooms.”

Lady Teague nodded, albeit unwillingly, and stood aside.

“I wish you well,” she said as she saw them out of the room. Her words were directed at Diana rather than her nephew.

The marquess’s rooms were in another wing of the Court, and in the time it took Jared and Diana to make their way through the seemingly endless network of corridors, the earl maintained a steady stream of instruction, relating the life history of his supposed fiancée. He drew a deep breath.

“Do you thoroughly understand the situation?” He did not wait for an answer. “All you have to do is curtsey when you are introduced to him. Say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ as required. Otherwise, keep quiet. Do you think you can remember that? Just don’t speak any more than you have to.”

“My lord.” The cool voice at his side effectively stemmed the flow. “I may be a trollop and a thief, but I am not stupid, and I have given my word. I will do nothing to disabuse your grandfather of the notion that you are about to provide the House of Talent with a bride.”

At this, the earl seemed bereft of speech. He remained silent until they reached a heavily paneled doorway on an upper floor. Here he paused, and turned to grip Diana’s shoulders.

“You have chosen wisely, which is not surprising in one of so practical a nature. Should your resolve fail, keep before you the thought of the handsome reward you are earning by your efforts. I have only one more request. Since we are supposed to be betrothed, I would like you to address me as Jared rather than ‘my lord.’ “

Giving her no chance to deliver herself of a reply, he tapped lightly on the oak paneling. The door was opened immediately by a small, elderly man, dressed in the conservative garb of a gentleman’s gentleman. He bestowed upon Diana a glance of surprised approval, then usher her into a cavernous bedchamber. Lord Burnleigh followed close behind.

The focal point of the room was an enormous canopied bed, surmounted by griffins and flying dragons, and hung with curtains of crimson damask. It was bolstered with a welter of pillows and quilts, and surrounded by candelabra. The only sound came from the painful breathing of the man who lay there. Diana was drawn to the bed’s occupant, and without urging she approached him.

Lord Chamford was obviously not the strapping figure of a man he once had been, but evidence of his former strength could be seen in the size of the frame that lay wasted beneath the covers. Piercing eyes, set over an imposing nose, surveyed Diana sharply as she drew near.

“Hah!” This to Jared, in a voice that was weak, but authoritative nonetheless. “You’ve brought her to me, then. Splendid! Come here, my dear, and let me look at you. No. Closer. Sit here, by my hand.”

Lord Chamford rested his gaze on Diana’s face, surveying her keenly. His eyes, as dark and deep-set as those of his grandson, bored into hers, but Diana found she was able to return his gaze unflinchingly.

The old gentleman sighed and sank back into his pillows, as though satisfied by what he had seen.

“Jared tells me you have resided in some godforsaken corner of—Wales, is it?—for many years.”

“Yes, sir. My mother and I have lived for some time in Dhu-Rydd.”

“Dhu-Rydd.” He repeated the name in a hoarse whisper. “I believe I visited there many years ago. Old Fensborough had a place nearby. Nothing but rocks and mountains.”

Diana replied in a prim voice, “Yes, indeed, my lord. Dhu-Rydd is, of course, situated at the foot of Mount Snowdon, the highest elevation in Britain.” Behind her, she heard the sound of an indrawn breath. That last bit had come from her fund of schoolmistress’s knowledge, not from Jared’s hurried biography.

“Shooting wasn’t much good that year, either,” rumbled the marquess, apparently still lost in memory. But then . . . “Ah, never mind all that. Tell me about yourself, my dear.”

Diana breathed a prayer.

“There is little to tell, my lord. My father died—many years ago. My mother’s health was never strong, and we have lived in virtual seclusion. I have seen little of the world.”

His lordship gave a tremulous bark of laughter.

“No Season for you, eh?” He added with a shrewd twinkle, “The dibs not in tune? Well, so much the better. We Talents, don’tcher know, can choose beauty and breeding above wealth in our brides.”

Diana’s cheeks flamed, and the old man laughed again.

“You’re even more charming with your flags flying. Hah! I always did have a weakness for a yaller head, and yours is true gold. Odd shade, too.” He frowned. “I’ve seen it somewhere before—can’t remember—but, by God—” he gave a rasping laugh—”if I were fifty years younger, demmed if I wouldn’t cut out that grandson of mine.”

Diana chuckled, strongly attracted to this fierce old man.

“And I’ll wager you were just the handsome rogue who could do it.’’

“Aye.” His laugh was a coarse bark. “You have the right of it there, m’dear.” Visions of long ago smiled in his eyes. “But I shan’t sully your young ears with my wicked past. Tell me, how do you like your new home? Has Jared shown you about yet?”

The earl spoke.

“There has not been time for the Grand Tour, Grandfather. That will come later. In the meantime, you have tired yourself. We will leave you to rest now.”

“Rest now, is it?” gasped the marquess. “I haven’t cocked up my toes yet, y’young jackanapes. Right now I’ve a mind for some conversation with your bride-to-be. Tell me, then.” He turned once more to Diana. His breathing was becoming more labored, and the lines on his face were deep. “It’s been many years since I met your father. Only saw him once, I think. How did he die? How long has your mother been a widow?

Diana knew a moment of panic. She had exhausted her fund of false information, and she sensed that Jared had all but stopped breathing. She opened her mouth and cast her hopes in Providence.

Chapter 5

“My father died some years ago, sir.” Diana engaged in some rapid arithmetic. “He was in the Army, as you know. He, um, served in America during the Colonial war. His—his horse was shot out from under him in battle, and he took a bayonet in the lungs. His health was always weak after that, and he died when I was only, ah, seven years old.”

From behind her came a faint, ragged sigh of relief. Lord Chamford smiled at her once again, but then gestured weakly.

“Ah, well, then—mayhap it’s up with me this time.” He gazed into Diana’s face once more, then turned his eyes to Jared.

“I know you’ve come to me for a blessing, lad—but it’s you who’ve given me one. It’s fretted me for so long— you clinging to your bachelorhood, and Simon over there in the thick of the fighting. Who knows what will happen, now that Bonaparte has escaped his cage? Aye,’’ he grated, in response to Jared’s gesture of protest. “I know you think I’ve a maggot in my head, but it can happen, you know. Look at the troubles at Silverwell!

“She’s a right one, sure enough, lad. You’ve made a wise choice.” And then, to Diana, “He’s a good man, m’dear—a trifle headstrong, but he will make you a good husband and a good father to your children, and Stonefield will be safe in Talent hands.”

The earl stood close behind Diana. He ran his fingers lightly along the side of her cheek, and Diana had the sensation of a trail of effervescent heat tingling in her nerve endings. He bent his head, and as she turned to search his face, she was caught unaware by a look of such warmth and tenderness that somewhere deep inside her a response stirred. The thought flashed through her mind:
This is how he will look at the woman he loves.
Then:
You fool, this man is your enemy. His eyes lie for his grandfather’s benefit.