Paying the Virgin's Price (10 page)

          The Gypsy considered. 'In exchange for my life today, you may have fourteen days.'

          'And in that time, you will avoid Diana Price?'

          Beshaley was still pale, and his brows drew together as though speaking was an effort. 'For two weeks only. But even if I lift the curse and leave you, you must tell her the truth. If you are innocent of blame and as worthy of love as you claim, it will not matter to her.

          'If you are guilty, then you will suffer as a guilty man should suffer, knowing the thing you desire most is forever out of reach. And I will have found satisfaction. But whatever you mean to do, Nathan, you must decide in this fortnight. Or at the end of it, I will make the decision for you.' And with that, he rose unsteadily from the chair and left a stunned Nathan alone before the fire.

          Diana returned to the house with a smile on her face, glad that neither of the girls was to spoil the joy of it. Just for a moment, what had happened was still her secret. And what a sweet thing it was. But once she saw the girls, it would be over. If they sent the note, then they must know what had happened and she would need to upbraid them for tricking her into committing an indiscretion, even if it was a pleasant one.

          She was sure she had guessed correctly. For the moment Verity looked up from her needlework, her face changed from a mildly inquisitive smile to a knowing grin. 'And how was Mr Dale today, Diana?'

          She did her best to look stern. 'What would make you think that I saw him, I wonder?'

          'The look on your face, of course.'

          'There is nothing singular about my expression, I am sure.' She gave a hurried glance into the mirror above the mantel, checking to see if the time spent behind the tree had disarranged her hair in some obvious way.

          Verity was almost bouncing in her chair with excitement. 'Why Miss Price, I do believe you are blushing.'

          'I am not. I would never...' But denying it would do no good. It was there in her reflection.

          Verity stifled a giggle. 'Turning crimson. Honoria, come see,' she called to her sister, who was passing in the hall. 'Diana is back from her walk in the park. And the air must be particularly fine today. She is positively glowing with good health and high spirits.'

          Honoria came into the room and glanced in her direction, and then looked again as though seeing her clearly for the first time. 'Who is he, Diana?'

          'There is no one...'

          Honoria let out a snort of disgust. 'An assignation. With Mr Dale, no doubt. And I do believe he kissed you. See the look in her eye, Verity? She has been kissed. I am sure of it.'

          'Honoria!' Diana's best warning tone fell on deaf ears, for she doubted it could be heard over the sound of Verity's giggles.

          Honoria was laughing as well. 'Really Diana. It is not so big a thing. We are happy for you, truly. For it pains us to think that we shall both be married and you will have no one for companionship. Now, tell us. What is it like?'

          She looked sternly at the Carlow sisters. 'I have no intention of telling you such things. You will discover all you need to know about them when you are properly affianced.'

          'But it was wonderful,' Honoria pressed. 'Was it not?'

          And she had to admit, it had been. It was hard not to smile when thinking of it. Although now was the worst time in the world to smile, for it would give the girls the idea that such behaviour was acceptable. So she put on an even more stern expression and changed the subject. 'Never mind that. I wish to know what you know about this.' And she removed the note from her reticule and laid it on the table in front of them.

          'It is the letter you received this morning, is it not? The one you would not show us.' Honoria examined it closely. 'And it was from Mr Dale, just as we suspected.'

          Diana gave Honoria the disappointed look that normally broke through the girl's defences when she was concealing something. 'When I arrived at the park, Mr Dale knew nothing of the note. And I suspect you might have had a hand in this, since you are so eager to see the two of us matched.'

          'He had nothing to do with it?' Honoria gave a rather unladylike snort. 'What utter rubbish. Perhaps he is too shy to admit it.'

          'He was most insistent about it.' She folded her arms across her chest and waited for the confession.

          But Honoria's face showed nothing but a thoughtful frown. 'You have no way of proving that he is not lying, do you? You have never seen his writing.'

          'Perhaps I have. When Mr Dale was first here, he left a note for your brother.' It was vexing to remember that now, when it was too late. She could have compared the handwriting before leaving. But she had blocked the note from her mind, not wanting to see what was right under her nose.

          'Let us see, then,' Verity said.

          'You may not see the contents of the note. It is not addressed to you.'

          'And yet you have read it,' Honoria challenged.

          The truth stung. For when had she become so nosey as to do such a low thing? 'Only to know if I should bother Marc with it, now that he and Nell are finally alone.'

          'Or perhaps you wanted to know the contents,' Honoria waved a hand. 'But never mind. We will not look, if it makes you feel better. But get the thing and look for yourself. Then tell us if both are written by the same person.'

          She went to her room to get the letter, realizing as she did so, that it should never have been there. Why had she thought it acceptable to put the thing anywhere other than on the desk in Marc's study? But she had taken the paper out of Nathan's hand and walked directly to her bedroom to read it, as though it were a personal missive to herself and not business for Lord Stanegate. She was overstepping herself in so many ways lately that it would take all her self-discipline to return to the straight-and-narrow path.

          After examination of the purloined note, she had to admit that the two hands were nothing alike, and she felt even more foolish for jumping to conclusions. She placed the thing in Marc's study where it belonged and returned to the girls.

          They were believing none of it, even with the evidence of the note. 'Mr Dale was there when you arrived,' said Verity. 'So the person who sent the letter knew his schedule. And since we have no idea how he keeps himself--'

          'When he is not dangling after you,' added Honoria.

          'Then it should be proof of our innocence. And this note appears to have been written by a man.'

          'Although it would have been a marvellous trick, had we have thought of it.' Honoria grinned. 'It is a great relief to me that you are affected by the same romantic notions as the rest of the world, Diana. While you are an excellent example to us, sometimes I wonder whether I am as weak as my mother claims or if you are the one who is unusual. But never mind that. Let us examine this letter and see if we can guess the sender.' She snatched the letter away from Verity and held it up to the light, but there was nothing extraordinary about the paper. Then she examined the writing. 'Did you save the paper that the bank notes came in?'

          It was an interesting thought, and Diana tried not to rush as, this time, the girls followed her to her room. She went to her wardrobe and withdrew the pile of money. But she had discarded the note around it as worthless, for it had had only her own address upon it.

          'That must be it,' Verity said. 'If you had kept the thing and could compare it to this, you would see that the hands are the same. It appears that you have a secret benefactor, Diana. If it is not Mr Dale, then it must be someone else who cares enough to see you both provided for and well settled in a home of your own. You are most fortunate indeed.'

          And while it was a wonderful thought, that after all this time, there was someone who cared for her well-being, Diana had no idea who that person might be.

Chapter Ten

         
D
iana waited in trepidation on the pathway, the following Tuesday. Nathan Dale had sent her a note, reminding her of the meeting, just as he had promised he would. But it had contained none of the romantic foolishness she had been hoping for. Just a few words requesting an interview at ten o'clock. The brevity of it made the tone seem almost curt. Perhaps the walks were not as important to him as they were to her. Suppose he forgot? Or changed his mind and remained at home? If that was the case, she could console herself that there were no witnesses to her disappointment. She recognized no one in the park this early.

          But promptly at ten, she saw him striding down the path towards her, with a slightly nervous smile upon his face. If he had been coming to meet one of the Carlow sisters, she would turn her practiced chaperone's eye to him, and decide that he wished to gain the favour of a lady. But he was acting as though he did not expect to succeed.

          She tried to hide her eagerness. For it was good to imagine, if only for a moment, that she could afford to be capricious in her affections. Or that his winning her favour could ever be in doubt.

          'Miss Price?'

          She curtsyed to him, and he reached out and took her hand again, as he had the previous week. The gesture was both warm and familiar, as though he found nothing unusual about her hand in his.

          But for her, it was strange and wonderful. Other than a few stray moments on the dance floor when she was seventeen, she could not remember a man bothering to get this close. And then he slipped her hand protectively into the crook of his arm, as though it were nothing, and not everything in the world. He walked with her, down a quiet footpath, to a bench where they could sit close, side by side. 'I was afraid you would forget me.'

          How strange to hear her own thoughts, coming from his mouth. 'And I feared you would not come,' she said in response, and with a bit of a smile.

          'I promised I would.' He smiled a little as well, but with sadness. 'I should not have, I think. There are difficulties.'

          'You had another engagement?' He looked so serious that for a moment she was convinced that there must be another woman who commanded his attention. But she could not have read him so wrong.

          'No,' he confirmed. 'My time is my own. It is just that you should spend yours in the company of one more worthy.'

          'You? Unworthy?' She laughed. 'Certainly not, sir. I am humble enough, am I not? I know better than to set my sights higher than my chances of success.' And now it did sound like she was trying to ensnare him. She blushed. 'That must sound like a slight to your character, or that I assume anything will come of our meeting. I assure you, neither is true.'

          He gave her a strange glance. 'I certainly expected you might think something would result in our meeting. If you remember, when we last saw each other, I kissed you.'

          She felt her cheeks burning to show just how well she had remembered it. She had been able to think of little else for most of the week.

          'I would not have done it, had my intentions not grown serious. And so very quickly.' He frowned. 'It was not what I planned to do, certainly.'

          This must be the set-down she had expected from the first. She readied herself for the inevitable disappointment.

          He was staring at the ground in front of them, refusing to meet her gaze. 'I meant to tell you this earlier, to make a clean breast at our last meeting. To explain my interest in you, and to make it clear why there can be no further meetings.'

         
No further meetings?
It felt like she were falling from a great height. A rush of air and a frisson of nerves before the inevitable crash. She gave a shaky laugh. 'If that is to be the result, then I would prefer you not explain at all, thank you very much.'

          He went silent on the bench beside her, as though he would be only too happy to stop talking. And now, she was the one afraid to look in his eyes, unsure of what she would see there. At last, he said, 'I am more than a little tempted to give in to your request, Miss Price.'

          'It was to be Diana,' she reminded him. 'Last week I was Diana. And I wished to call you Nathan.'

          She heard him give a little sigh at the sound of his own name. But he responded, 'I am not fit company for you, Miss Price. There are incidents in my past that are--' he struggled with his words again '--dark. They are dark deeds. I hesitated to tell you, for I knew how you would react. And I did not wish to spoil what was happening between us.'

          She tried to keep her tone light. 'Best not tell me all, then. If it means that I will not see you again, just as I wish to. You have changed for the better, haven't you, since the dark time? The events are well behind you?'

          'I have tried, God help me. My worst mistakes are years in the past. And for you? For you I would cast off what vices remain. I would be yours to command, truly completely and forever, just as I wish you to be mine. But I cannot hide the truth from you any longer. For should you discover it later...'

          And she reached out and put her hand over his mouth before he could speak.

          He was still for only a moment, and she thought that he would push her away and blurt the truth. Instead, he reached up and took her gloved hand in his, holding it to his lips, and kissing it with such fervour that she could feel the strength of his emotions through the leather, and through her other clothing as well. She could imagine his lips pressing against her bare skin, and her body tingled with answering desire. And she knew, no matter what he might think she deserved, that she deserved this. To have a man, who she loved and respected, who loved her with such passion in return.

          She thought of her own secret. Would she be able to tell the man who loved her about the bet her father had made? She had thought it no business of another, and intended to keep the secret to her grave. Though she'd told herself that it was no fault of hers, she felt stained by it. It was as though she had been married against her will. Whether she liked it or not, a bond existed, and she was not free to give herself elsewhere. Deep down, she still worried that someday Nathan Wardale would appear on her doorstep and demand a reckoning. But Nell had said he could well be dead. She need have nothing to fear.

          'I have a secret as well,' she finally admitted. 'One that I do not wish anyone to know. Not even you. At one time, I walked away from my past as surely as you wish to turn from yours. And if each party wishes to keep a secret from the other, and knows that there is ground that they must not tread, for fear that it would break the heart of the other? But that we swear to each other, with our whole hearts, that what is behind us does not matter? Then perhaps it is almost the same as telling the whole truth when we do not speak of it.'

          His eyes were still averted as he clutched her hand tightly in his. 'It would not matter? It would be as though you were promising yourself to half a man.'

          She smiled. 'If it is to be the good half of you? Then yes, I would be more than willing.'

          He looked at her, then. And she could see the emotion in the green depths of his eyes, like a storm at sea. 'My darling, Diana, I want to believe you. If we were the last two people in the world...or if I could take you far away, so that we might never see another soul that knew us. But it is not as easy as that. There is someone who wishes to expose me for what I am. I swear I have done him no harm. But he thinks that I deserve punishment for a matter that did not involve me. I fear he will try to discredit me with you. I am trying to find a way to prevent it,' he said hurriedly. 'But if you do not wish to hear the truth from another, then there is something I must do, soon, that will keep you safe from this man. You may think my actions now are just as distasteful as my past. But I swear to you, what I will do may seem terrible, but I am convinced it is just.'

          'If there is anything you need, I will help you.'

          He smiled so very softly then, and shook his head. 'You do not know what you are saying.'

          'That is for me to decide.' She wanted to be a part of his life, in any way that she could. 'How can I help you?'

          He looked at her, speculatively. 'It will concern the Earl of Narborough.'

          'And what does that have to do with you or me?'

          'He is your employer,' he said. 'And you count the girls as friends, do you not?'

          'Of course.'

          'Suppose it were possible for me to bury my past, but it resulted in the downfall of the Carlows. What might you say then?'

          This did not sound at all like the actions of a man she could love. 'You would ruin the family for your own gain?'

          He shook his head. 'If what I suspect is true, Narborough dishonoured himself years ago. I would only be uncovering
his
secret to keep my own secrets safe.'

          'After all that we have agreed about not looking back for unpleasantness, you would do to another, what you do not wish for yourself?' It was both mysterious and disappointing.

          'This is quite different, I assure you. While I will admit that my past is shameful, I have not caused the death of any person, directly or indirectly, as a result of my actions. But George Carlow is responsible for at least two deaths, one by his own hand and one through the betrayal of a friendship.'

          'Lord Narborough?' She almost laughed. 'He is a feeble old man.'

          'And likely to go to his grave with the truth, if I do not act soon.'

          She shook her head. 'He has never been anything but kind to me, nor have I seen him mistreat another.'

          'Not recently, perhaps. But people can change for the better, with time. Twenty years ago, he might have been quite different, and you would not have known.'

          'Twenty years is a long time,' she agreed. 'But surely, something so long ago could have no importance.'

          'For some, it is as fresh as the day it happened,' he said. 'You would do well not to belittle another's pain.'

          She gasped, surprised by the vehemence of his reaction. 'Perhaps it would help me to know just what it is that you are talking about.'

          'The murder of Christopher Hebden, Lord Framlingham, and the hanging of William Wardale, Earl of Leybourne.'

          'You think that Lord Narborough was in some way involved?'

          'I am sure of it. Hebden died at his house. And it was he who made the accusation against Leybourne.'

          'But the earl was guilty.'

          'How can you be sure?'

          'If he was innocent, then why was he found with the dying man? Could he have done nothing to stop the crime? Knowing the Wardales as I do, I would believe them capable of anything.' The words flowed easily out of her. It surprised her, for she had not meant to come so close to revealing her own past.

          He stared at her in disapproval. 'You can know nothing of that family. They were turned out of their home in disgrace and no doubt underwent hardships that were not in proportion to the crime. Think of it, Diana. A mother and three children. Two of them girls. Lord knows what happened to them. And if the father was innocent, all along...'

          And for a moment, she put aside her own story, and thought of Marc's bride, Nell,
Helena Wardale
, and the past that she was so careful not to speak of. 'Perhaps you are right. Some members of the family have suffered unjustly.'

          'How gracious of you to admit it.' Again, she was surprised by his passion on the subject, and his harsh tone stung her. Then he seemed to realize how he sounded, for he calmed. 'Please forgive my outburst. It was uncalled for. Even if the matter was important, you are right that it is the distant past. It hardly concerns us.' And for a moment, his face took on a funny cast. 'But the events of twenty years ago are about to return to haunt the families involved. I came to speak to Marc Carlow to offer a word of warning that the truth was likely to come out in the near future, and to be on his guard. But it would be better for all concerned, if Narborough had any part in what happened, that he admits the fact so that his family might prepare themselves for it.'

          'But what makes you think this is the case, and what does it have to do with you?'

          'I can explain very little, I am afraid. Other than that I am sure of my facts. And I mean to gather the evidence necessary to prove them.' He squeezed her hand, as though wanting to assure himself that she was still his. 'Is that so very wrong?'

          'If Lord Narborough is truly a murderer? Then I suppose it is not. But Nathan?' She squeezed his hand in return. 'He is not guilty. I am as sure of that fact, as you are of his guilt.'

          And suddenly, there was a strange light in his eyes. 'Then you would have to prove it to me. If he is as innocent as Leybourne was, I would be making a horrible mistake in accusing him. If there is some way that I can be sure... You are an intimate of the family. If you have a way to assure me, other than conjecture...'

          She pulled her hand away. 'Are you asking me to spy on my friends?'

          He looked alarmed. 'Certainly not. And I never intended to suggest such a thing. It was an idle thought, nothing more. I meant what I said at first, when I refused your help. It would be too difficult for you. And possibly dangerous, should it turn out that I was right. I would be asking you to face a murderer in my stead. It makes me uncomfortable enough to know that you live with them. For all your confidence, I am not sure of their intentions.'

          'You think they are a threat to me? Surely not. Lord and Lady Narborough have been nothing but good to me, as has the rest of the family.'