Книга - A Most Unsuitable Bride

A Most Unsuitable Bride
Gail Whitiker


What has she to hide?The mysterious heavily-veiled woman Edward Thurlow, Lord Garthdale, meets on his early-morning rides in Hyde Park intrigues and then utterly charms him. What dark secret could possibly force her to hide away from society in such a fashion?An eligible catch, Edward has eluded the marital net until now. So why, just when he's resigned himself to finding a wife, should this most unsuitable woman keep invading his thoughts?









‘Will you not allow me to share your secrets, Jenny? Whatever they are, they will not change my feelings for you.’


‘But you must not have feelings for me,’ she said. ‘There are so many things you don’t know about me.’

‘What? Like this mysterious secret you keep referring to, but will not share?’

‘That and…others,’ she said, in a voice expressive of her regret.

‘Have you any idea how desperately I long to see your face? Will you not raise your veil just once, so that I might see the lady who has come to mean so much to me?’

She shook her head again. ‘It is better that I do not.’


Originally hailing from Pembrokeshire, Wales, Gail Whitiker now lives on beautiful Vancouver Island on the west coast of Canada. When she isn’t indulging her love of writing, you’ll find her enjoying brisk walks along the Island’s many fine beaches, or trying to catch up on her second love—reading. She wrote her first novel when she was in her teens, and still blesses her English teacher for not telling her how bad it really was.




A Most Unsuitable Bride

Gail Whitiker







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen




Chapter One


‘O h, Diana, are you not thrilled at the prospect of being back in London?’ asked Miss Phoebe Lowden, her green eyes bright with excitement as she gazed at the bustling streets visible through the carriage window. ‘I spent only two months at Narbeth Hall, but they were the longest two months of my life! However do you manage to live there and find any degree of contentment at all?’

Miss Diana Hepworth, the lady to whom the question was put, and aware of the fervour with which it was asked, tried not to smile as she likewise studied the passing scenery. ‘Which would you have me answer first, Phoebe? How I feel about returning to a city where social interaction is considered second only to breathing? Or how I have managed to survive in a place where good company must surely provide the only relief in an existence otherwise too boring to speak of?’

The younger girl had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Forgive me, Diana, I did not mean to suggest that life in Whitley was totally without amusement. But neither does it offer the variety of entertainments, nor the type of people and conversation, you enjoy so much.’

‘What? You did not find Squire Hapston’s musings on thirteenth-century farming methods enlightening? Or Mrs Dawson’s views on the perils of educating females too much for fear of hindering their abilities to be dutiful wives and mothers illuminating? You surprise me, Phoebe. I have spent many a dull winter evening being entertained by such lively discourse,’ Diana said, trying not to smile.

‘Now you are teasing me, and it is not deserved, for we both know that you are far too intelligent to be amused by such insipid dialogue,’ Phoebe retorted. ‘You have never been one for dull talk or stupid companions, admit it!’

A slow smile lifted the corners of Diana’s mouth. ‘True, but not all of the residents of Whitley are dull or stupid, Phoebe. And, in case you’ve forgotten, Narbeth Hall is my home.’

‘Yes, but even Aunt Isabel says you should be spending part of the year in London,’ Phoebe said, refusing to be put off. ‘After all, you have already had the advantage of one London Season, yet you choose to remain buried in the depths of the country where you are forced to suffer the attention of gentlemen who would not even approach you in London. Why? Do you truly find life in town so distasteful?’

Comfortably settled against the squabs of the carriage, Diana paused to consider her answer. In truth, she was not terribly pleased about the prospect of returning to London. She had tried to affect an appearance of being so for Phoebe’s sake, but as the city drew nearer and the memory of her reasons for having left it returned, Diana was finding it an increasingly difficult charade to maintain.

‘I do not find all aspects of life in London distasteful,’ she said, deciding to be as tactful, but as honest as possible. ‘I enjoy many of the wonderful things it has to offer. Certainly our local productions cannot compare to the performances put on at Drury Lane, and our selection of shops is humble to say the least. But in other ways, I am content with country life. I have never cared for the congestion of town, and as tired as rural discourse may be, it is not always so inferior to what is to be had in London. You will find that out after spending a few tedious evenings in society. However, we are not here to talk about my reasons for wishing to remain in the country,’ Diana said, abruptly changing the topic of the conversation. ‘We are here to watch you take London by storm, and hopefully to see you engaged or married by the end of the Season.’

‘Oh, I would like that, Diana,’ Phoebe cried, clasping her hands together. ‘And to the most handsome gentleman in all London! But, in truth, I do not think I shall be taking anything or anyone by storm. There are so many beautiful ladies at court. All so accomplished and witty, and all so very good at flirting. I am sure I should stumble hopelessly over my words if a handsome gentleman were to approach me and try to engage me in conversation.’

‘Nonsense. It is no more difficult than talking to me. Besides, I doubt any gentleman will worry about what you say when you look at him with those beautiful green eyes. It’s probably just as well you did not spend any more time at Narbeth Hall,’ Diana said. ‘Thomas Stanhope was looking rather smitten with you, and you would certainly have been wasted on him.’

‘But so are you, don’t you see that? Oh, you must come about with me, Diana!’ Phoebe cried in frustration. ‘I know you would enjoy yourself, and I would certainly have a much better time if you were with me.’

‘And I’m flattered you feel that way, dearest, but that is not what we agreed to when I said I would come to London. I made it quite clear that I was coming in the capacity of a companion.’

‘Tosh! Aunt Isabel won’t hear of you being used in such a way. If anything, she is more likely to suggest that we both go out looking for husbands. Oh, I know you profess a disinterest in such things,’ Phoebe said as the familiar expression settled on Diana’s face, ‘but Aunt Isabel is right. You are far too lovely to sit at home, and you are much more adept at socialising than I. Why should you not go out and enjoy what London has to offer? Did you not say you had friends in town you wished to see again?’

Diana sighed. She did indeed have friends, but how was she to know if any of them wished to see her? Worse, how was she to tell Phoebe why they did not without getting into a lengthy and somewhat embarrassing explanation as to what had happened four years earlier to make it so?

The arrival of the carriage at their aunt’s house on George Street prevented Diana from having to come up with an answer, and in the flurry of activity that followed, the question was mercifully forgotten. Jiggins, their aunt’s long-standing butler, greeted them at the door and saw to the removal of their trunks and travelling garments, and moments later, Diana heard the sound of her aunt’s voice drifting down the stairs towards them.

‘Diana, Phoebe, is that you? Gracious, girls! I thought you would never arrive.”

Diana turned to greet her aunt, and was delighted to see her looking so well. For all her having just celebrated her fifty-third birthday, Mrs Isabel Mitchell was still a remarkably handsome woman. Her hair, once a bright blazing red, had mellowed to a warm shade of auburn, and her eyes, a shade paler green than Phoebe’s, still reflected a passion and enthusiasm for life that was so much a part of her personality. Indeed, time seem to have inflicted few of the infirmities so often visited upon women approaching their later years, and though Diana knew that her aunt occasionally suffered with pains in her legs, she nevertheless managed to attend most of the events deemed to be of particular social consequence. A widow for six years, she seldom wore bright colours any more, preferring the dignity of dark blue, lavender and occasionally deep maroon if the occasion warranted it. She referred to it as her cultivated attempt at staidness; something she feared she had been lacking most of her life.

‘Well, my dears, did you have a good journey?’ Mrs Mitchell asked, drawing them both into an affectionate embrace. ‘It is such a pretty drive from Whitley.’

‘We had a lovely trip, Aunt,’ Phoebe exclaimed. ‘But I am ever so glad to be here.’

‘Good, and now that you are, we must make ourselves comfortable. Come, there is a nice fire in the parlour. The day has turned unusually chill for April, has it not?’

Diana, who was indeed anxious to warm her hands, fell in beside her aunt while Phoebe trailed a few steps behind. ‘How is Chaucer, Aunt Isabel?’ she asked. ‘Is he here, or did you leave him in the country?’

‘Oh, he is definitely here, and well enough, though the wretched creature is never anxious to leave his bed,’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘His old bones are no more immune to the cold than mine, But I dare say he will be happy to see you. In fact, I think I hear him scratching at the door. Stop it, Chaucer, or Jiggins will have your coat for a carriage rug!’

Diana bit back a smile. Chaucer was her aunt’s dog, and while he was a recognised member of the family above stairs, she doubted he was as warmly welcomed below. The younger maids were afraid of him, and the older ones complained about the amount of hair he shed. Jiggins simply ignored him, which was a considerable feat given that the hound more closely resembled a small pony than he did a diminutive lap dog.

‘Down, Chaucer!’ Mrs Mitchell scolded as she opened the door and the great beast lunged forward. ‘Have you no manners at all? Go and sit in your place and wait to be introduced.’

The chastised animal let go a muffled ‘whoof’, but wisely did as he was told.

‘That’s better. Now,’ Mrs Mitchell said to her nieces, ‘let me have a good look at you. My word, what elegant young ladies you have both become.’

Phoebe rolled her eyes. ‘I am the one who has become elegant, Aunt Isabel. Diana was already that way the last time you saw her.’

‘So she was, Phoebe, so she was. And you are, indeed, a good deal taller and prettier than I remember,’ Mrs Mitchell said, closing the door to the cosy, if somewhat overfurnished, room. ‘Well, let me see what you have learned. Walk the length of the room and back, there’s a good girl.’

Phoebe did as she was told, and duly earned her aunt’s nod of approval. ‘Excellent. I think your time at Mrs Harrison-Whyte’s Academy was exactly what you needed. Did you enjoy your studies there?’

‘I suppose, though I am very glad to be finished with schooling,” Phoebe said, sinking with an unladylike flounce into a deep rose armchair. ‘Most of the mistresses were exceedingly dour and we were kept to very strict schedules.’

‘Of course, dear, that is the nature of school. The question is, did you learn anything, since that was the reason for your being sent there in the first place.’

‘Mais, oui. Fait-il toujours aussi froid?’ the girl asked in perfectly accented French. ‘That means, is it usually this cold? As well, I am familiar with the teachings of the ancient Greek philosophers, and I can tell you without hesitation the location of Constantinople, the Cape of Good Hope, and many other equally exotic and intriguing places.’

‘Good Lord!’ Mrs Mitchell looked faintly shocked. ‘They’ve turned you into a bluestocking!’

‘Oh, no, never that, Aunt,’ Phoebe said, laughing. ‘Because I also learned how to paint and arrange flowers, how to manage a household, and how to engage in polite conversation with handsome young gentlemen, one of whom will hopefully wish to marry me.’

‘Well, I am relieved to hear that you do not intend to devote your life to bookish occupations,’ Mrs Mitchell said, sharing an amused glance with Diana. ‘But experiencing one’s first Season is always exciting, and you should plan on enjoying it to the fullest, since once you are married there will be all manner of other duties and obligations to which you will be forced to attend.’

‘And I shall enjoy every one of them because it means I shall also have a husband, and I am looking forward to that more than anything!’

Settled in her comfortable chair by the fire, Diana smiled, marvelling that only a few short years separated Phoebe’s age from hers. At times it seemed a great many more. She, too, had come to London in the hopes of finding the man of her dreams, and with a belief in her heart that life was going to be wonderful. But reality had painted a very different picture, and when Diana had returned to the country only three short months after she’d left it, it was with far more than her childhood dreams shattered.

She looked up to find her aunt’s watchful gaze upon her.

‘Phoebe, why don’t you run along to your room?’ Mrs Mitchell said quietly. ‘I’ve had it completely redone for you.’

Phoebe’s face brightened. ‘You have?’

‘Of course. You are a young woman now and must be treated like one. Grimshaw will take you up,’ Mrs Mitchell said as the housekeeper appeared at the door.

‘Thank you, Aunt Isabel,’ Phoebe cried, getting up and impulsively throwing her arms around the older woman’s neck. ‘Oh, I am so pleased to be back in London! I know we’re going to have the most marvellous time, in spite of Diana’s reluctance to be here!’

With that auspicious pronouncement, Phoebe turned and followed the housekeeper from the room. Mrs Mitchell watched her go, shaking her head as the sound of the girl’s chatter echoed all the way up the stairs. ‘Dear me, I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be so young. I vow the child has energy enough for two.’

‘Indeed she has, Aunt,’ Diana replied in a dry voice. ‘She has made me feel quite old and staid these last two months.’

Isabel Mitchell glanced at her favourite niece and her eyes softened. ‘There is nothing in the least staid about you, Diana, and at one and twenty, you are hardly old, but you do not look as cheery as I might have wished. Perhaps we can do something to put the sparkle back in your eyes, now that you are here again.’

‘Just spending time with you will do that,’ Diana said, smiling as she glanced around the room. ‘It seems such a long time since I was here.’

‘Four years is a long time when you’re young,’ her aunt agreed. ‘At my age, it is a mere blink of the eye. All right, Chaucer, you may go and make your greetings to Diana. But politely, mind.’

The wolfhound, which had been whimpering ever since being told to go to his bed, rose to his feet and slowly headed for Diana. He knew better than to jump on her, but he did rest his great head on her knee, his liquid brown eyes staring up at her with adoration.

Diana wondered how such a huge beast could be so daft.

‘Do you still spoil him outrageously?’ she said as she buried her fingers in the dog’s wiry hair.

‘Of course.’ Mrs Mitchell reached for the teapot. ‘We all deserve to be pampered in our twilight years. Tea?’

‘Yes, thank you, that would be lovely.’

Mrs Mitchell poured out two cups of tea and set one on the table before Diana. ‘But never mind that great brute, tell me how you really feel about being back in London. Phoebe seems to think you would rather not be here.’

Diana ran her hand thoughtfully over Chaucer’s head. ‘To tell the truth, I’m not sure how I feel. I had my fair share of doubts about coming, and there were times when I told myself I would not—’

‘But come you did.’

Diana grimaced. ‘Yes, due in large part to Phoebe plaguing the life out of me until I agreed.’

Mrs Mitchell laughed. ‘Well, if it is of any consolation, there are many in society who are anxious to see you again. I ran into Mrs Townley and her daughter last week, and you should have seen the look of delight on Amanda’s face when I told her you were coming to stay with me.’

At the mention of the young lady who had once been her closest friend, Diana’s expression brightened. ‘Did she look well?’

‘Very well. In fact, Amanda has changed considerably since you last saw her. I dare say you’ll be surprised when you see her again. But I was pleased to hear her express such enthusiasm at seeing you. Has there been any resumption of your correspondence?’

Diana shook her head as she reached for the china cup. She wasn’t surprised that her aunt had asked about it. Everyone knew that she and Amanda had once been the best of friends. Amanda was one of the few who hadn’t shunned Diana when news of her rift with Lord Durling had become public. She had even written to Diana for the first few months after her return to the country—until one day the letters had stopped coming and Diana had been forced to conclude that pressures had been brought to bear.

‘I read that Amanda is recently engaged,’ Diana said, keeping her voice light. ‘Has a date been set for the wedding?’

‘Yes, and Mrs Townley did tell me what it was, though for the life of me I can’t remember. One of the hazards of growing old, I’m afraid. Still, Amanda will be able to tell you herself when you see her.’

Diana looked up. ‘I am to see her?’

‘Indeed. Mrs Townley is holding a soirée this week, and when she learned that you and Phoebe were arriving today, she told me that I must be sure to bring you both. Speaking of engagements, did I mention that Sarah Harper married over the winter?’

Diana put down her cup. ‘Not as I recall.’

Mrs Mitchell tutted. ‘Of course not, you have only just arrived. Well, she is now the wife of Mr Anthony Jones-Davis. And Lady Margaret Bellows is to be married in the fall. She has much to recommend her, of course, but I did think her eldest sister would be settled first…’

Diana listened as her aunt told her which of her friends had married and which had not, and tried not to feel envious over the good fortune of the ones who had. After all, she had no reason to be jealous. She too had received a proposal of marriage during her first Season, and would have been a married lady now if all had gone according to plan. One in charge of a large house, and servants, and all the jewels and pretty gowns she could have wished for.

A married lady, Diana reflected sadly. But one blessed with questionable happiness, if any happiness at all…

‘Diana? Did you hear what I just said?’

Diana looked up to find her aunt’s sharp eyes on her, and felt the colour rise to her cheeks. ‘Forgive me, Aunt. I was lost in my thoughts.’

‘Yes, and I’m sure I know where those thoughts were taking you,’ Mrs Mitchell said kindly. ‘But do you still think so much about what happened, my dear? It has been over four years, after all.’

‘Yes, and I truly thought I had put it behind me, but now that I’m here…’ Diana stopped, and shook her head. ‘It’s funny, you know. In some ways, I feel as though what happened took place in another lifetime. And yet, in others, it’s as though it was yesterday.’ She looked at her aunt with troubled eyes. ‘Does that make any sense?’

‘Indeed. Adversity is a funny thing, Diana. It affects people in various ways, and it always changes them in one way or another.’

‘Did it change me?’

‘Most definitely. It made you stronger.’

‘I wonder.’ Diana took a sip of her tea, savouring the hot, fragrant brew. ‘Sometimes I think I should have just accepted matters and got on with my life. After all, there is no such thing as a perfect marriage. Perhaps I was naïve to think there was.’

‘Do you honestly believe that?’

Diana looked into her aunt’s eyes, and knew she couldn’t lie. ‘No.’

‘Good, because I would have been very disappointed if you had said yes. Marriage is about what two people bring to it, Diana,’ Mrs Mitchell told her. ‘And though no one is perfect, we usually strive to do the best we can. I know that’s what you would have done because you had your mother and father’s example to follow.’

Diana’s smile turned wistful. ‘I miss them so much, Aunt Isabel. At times, it feels like a physical pain. And yet, at other times I’m glad they’re not here. They would have been so hurt by what happened.’

‘Yes, but not for themselves. They would have suffered for you, and for all you were made to go through. But you conducted yourself with dignity and grace, and that is always the mark of a lady.’

Diana sighed. ‘Grace and dignity are all very well, Aunt, but what good do they do when one’s reputation is so hopelessly tarnished?’

‘What good? Why, they are priceless, child! Tarnished silver can always be made to shine again, but grace and dignity, once lost, are not so easily reclaimed.’

The analogy made Diana smile. ‘I fear there are many in society who will not expect me to shine again, no matter how thoroughly I am polished.’

‘Then we are not interested in them! Life is too short to worry about the feelings of those unwilling to forgive or forget, my dear. I know. I have encountered many such people during my life, and I haven’t shed a tear at seeing them on their way. Now, why don’t you run along upstairs?’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘You’ve had a long day, and I’m sure you will feel better for a rest. Dinner is not for another two hours so you’ve plenty of time to shake off the effects of your journey. I want to see some colour back in your cheeks.’

Diana smiled crookedly. ‘I dare say a rest before dinner would be welcome. I love Phoebe dearly, but her chatter can be wearing after a time. All right, Chaucer, it’s time to move,’ she said, giving him a gentle push.

Lifting his head, the hound gave her a doleful look, then slowly got up and padded back to his place by the fire.

Diana was almost at the door when Mrs Mitchell stopped her with a question. ‘Have you told Phoebe what happened four years ago?’

Though half-expecting the question, Diana sighed. ‘I didn’t have the heart to. She’s always been so excited about the idea of falling in love and getting married, I didn’t want to sound as though I was warning her away from it. But I have thought about how she would feel if she were to hear anything of a distressing nature.’

‘Well, we can’t deny that the possibility exists,’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘Since you were not willing to tell anyone what really happened between you and Lord Durling, people were left to believe what he told them—that you jilted him. As such, the simple fact of your being in London now may be all that is required to start them talking again. That doesn’t mean Phoebe will be exposed to it, of course, and given that one of us will likely be with her when she does go out, we should be able to prevent her hearing anything untoward. But we cannot guarantee that something won’t slip through.’

‘Are you saying I should say something to her?’

‘I’m saying we should probably wait and see. Most people will assume that Phoebe already knows what happened, and since the true pleasure of gossip lies in the telling of it to someone who isn’t acquainted with it, they may not waste their breath. However, if it does come up, I have no doubt Phoebe will come to you for the truth. You can make up your mind then as to whether or not you wish to tell her.’

It seemed a logical solution, and Diana accepted it as such. But close on the heels of that came another question. ‘Do you think Lord Durling knows I’m back in London?’

‘Oh, Diana.’ It was her aunt’s turn to sigh. ‘I think it would be naïve of us to believe that he isn’t aware. He’s far too well connected for matters like that to escape his notice.’

Diana nodded. Of course Lord Durling would know she was back, it was foolish of her to have thought otherwise. But she’d had to ask. She had to know if the lies Lord Durling had told about her four years ago were still the stories society believed today. She had to know if she was still thought of as the heartless schemer who had jilted her fiancé for the worst of reasons, and on the very day before they were to have been wed!




Chapter Two


I n the overall scheme of things, Edward Thurlow, Earl of Garthdale, was not unhappy with his life. Born into a situation most would have envied, he had inherited not only the title upon his father’s death, but the extensive lands and wealth that went with it. He enjoyed good health and a wide circle of friends, and a family situation that was, for the most part, agreeable.

He had two sisters, the elder of whom, Barbara, was happily married and soon to bear her second child, and a younger one, Ellen, who had been keeping company with a titled gentleman, who was said to be on the verge of proposing marriage. The only blot on his otherwise happy life, Edward acknowledged, was his mother.

His father, God rest his soul, had died four and a half years ago, and while the rest of the family had come to terms with his passing, his mother quite simply had not. She had stubbornly refused to move on with her life, and had become more fretful and cynical as the months went on. She had taken to complaining bitterly about a variety of physical aches and pains that suddenly seemed to have afflicted her, and as a result, was often to be found in bed, bemoaning the fact that no one truly understood what she suffered.

Edward wasn’t surprised that many of her friends had stopped calling. Moreover, he suspected that the ailments from which she suffered were strictly a means of drawing attention her way, since it was clear that her need for her family had increased as dramatically as theirs for her had decreased.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about that. He was hardly in need of a mother’s care, nor was Barbara, who had a family of her own to look after. And given that the servants effectively saw to the running of the house, it fell to Ellen to bear the brunt of their mother’s persistent attentions. The fact that her younger daughter might soon be engaged did nothing to prevent Lady Garthdale from clucking over her like a mother hen over her chick, which, at times, Edward supposed to be an apt comparison since, at times, Ellen seemed to possess no more sense than one.

Still, she was a sweet-natured child, deserving of happiness and anxious for a home of her own, and Edward was happy to see her courted by a man of wealth and position. Besides, once they were married, his obligation to her came to an end and he would be free to turn his attention to his own future and marital plans.

Not that he had any plans, Edward admitted as he trotted Titan, his large bay hunter, through the early morning quiet of the park. He had managed to reach the age of six and thirty without having been caught in the parson’s mousetrap, but he knew it wasn’t a situation that could go on forever. It fell to him to ensure the continuation of the line, and until now, he hadn’t given that particular obligation much thought. However, with Ellen all but settled, and his mother unlikely to produce another heir, he no longer had a choice. He had to take a wife.

The question was, who? Certainly, there was a long enough list of eligible young ladies from which to choose. His mother frequently rhymed their names off to him, and of late even Barbara had begun introducing the subject of which innocent young miss might be best suited to the role of Countess of Garthdale.

The problem was, Edward didn’t want an innocent young miss for a wife. He wanted a woman of character; a woman with whom he had something in common, and with whom he could have stimulating conversations. One who possessed the intelligence and sharpness of mind to have informed thoughts and opinions of her own.

Was that so shocking?

His friends seemed to think so, particularly those who wanted to marry attractive, well-dowered girls who would present them with sons and then leave them to pursue their own interests. But Edward couldn’t imagine a more dismal prospect. He could not imagine spending the rest of his life with a woman who did not at least share some of his interests, particularly those that related to politics or commerce.

To him, the idea seemed more purgatory than pleasure.

It was true, he would never be called upon to make his living from the land, or to forge his way in business, but as a member of the House of Lords, surely it behoved him to learn all he could about the factors affecting the British economy.

Closer to home, he wanted to be able to talk to someone other than his land steward or secretary about the state of the home farm and the welfare of his tenants. He wanted to be able to discuss such things with his wife. Unfortunately, other than Barbara, Edward had met very few women who showed an interest in anything beyond the latest copy of La Belle Assemblée.

His father had understood his desire to marry a woman of sound mind, perhaps because his father had had the misfortune to be married to one who hadn’t. Oh, he’d loved her well enough, Edward supposed, but he doubted his parents had shared anything beyond the most basic of interests. He could not imagine his mother stimulating his father in any way, and he thought that a sad commentary on two people who had lived under the same roof for nearly forty years.

Perhaps such mismatches were the fault of society, Edward reflected as he eased Titan to a walk. The necessity of marrying well was often more important than marrying for love, and blushing young women were shot out into the social world for a flock of eager young men to look over, with all the objectivity of farmers selecting brood mares. Appearance was everything, followed closely by good bloodlines and careful upbringing. Those ladies fortunate enough to be blessed with all three would be chosen first, and those even more fortunate would make a marriage with a man who loved and respected them. The rest would settle for a pretence of love and make of it what they could.

Edward didn’t like settling and he didn’t like pretence. He didn’t like the idea of choosing a wife based solely on the strength of a few polite and rigidly supervised meetings. After all, what did a man really know about the woman he intended to marry? All ladies appeared poised and polished on first meeting. They all smiled and danced, and sang pretty songs and played the piano, but what did a man really know about the inner workings of such a woman? Was she a lady in public and a shrew in private? Did she evidence a sparkling wit, only to fall victim to vapours when no one was around?

And what about sex? Now there was a subject rife with the potential for disaster. What if his wife turned out to be one of those frigid creatures who did her duty in bed but derived no pleasure from it? How did a man go about pleasing a woman who shuddered at the very thought of intimacy?

Edward was so deep in thought that it was a few moments before he realised that someone was approaching on horseback. He looked up, and to his surprise, saw an elegant lady seated atop a fine dapple-grey mare. She was accompanied by a groom, but because it was so early in the day, Edward felt a mild stirring of interest. Most females of his acquaintance didn’t even leave their beds before noon, yet this one was dressed and riding in the park at barely half past seven. That in itself gave the suggestion of someone out of the ordinary.

His gaze sharpened as he noticed other things about her: the flattering cut of her mulberry-coloured habit, and the quality of the lace trim. Her bonnet was most dashing, but the unusually heavy veil descending from it made it all but impossible to discern her features, though her figure looked to be that of a young woman—and one who was obviously at ease in the saddle. She held the reins firmly between gloved fingers and gave no impression of being nervous or ill at ease, even though the mare had her ears pricked forward and looked to be skittish.

Edward knew she would have ridden by him had it not been for the cat, a scrawny creature only a few months old that chose that very moment to dart out from the foliage at the base of a tree and run right between the mare’s front feet.

Startled, the grey reared.

The lady, not expecting the movement, uttered a soft gasp, and Edward, fearing that she would fall, immediately pushed Titan forward.

The cat, having surely expended one of its nine lives, scampered unharmed into the bushes.

‘Are you all right?” Edward called, wondering if he should make a grab for the mare’s reins.

‘I am…fine, sir, thank you, but it would seem that…Juliet is not so easy of mind.’ The lady’s voice was unusually low and husky, but there was no trace of panic in it. ‘I hope she did not tread on the poor cat.’

‘Rest assured, it escaped with nary a hair flattened. And even had it not, it was more your welfare I was concerned with,’ Edward told her.

‘It is good of you to be concerned, but as you can see I am fine. I suspect the unexpected arrival of both cat and hunter momentarily proved too much for Juliet,’ the lady said, adroitly regaining control of the dancing mare.

‘Thankfully, it did not prove too much for you,’ Edward observed, backing Titan away. ‘Is your mare always so high spirited?’

‘I have no idea.’ The lady patted the grey’s neck with affection. ‘This is my first time riding her, but knowing to whom she belongs, I suspect she was merely in need of exercise. I thought a few times around the park would be a good start.’

Edward couldn’t remember having heard a voice as husky as hers before, but finding it excessively attractive, decided he wanted to hear more. He also wondered if there was a polite way of asking her to lift her veil. He was suddenly very curious to see her face. ‘Do you ride often in the morning? I don’t believe I’ve seen you in the park before.’

‘I am newly arrived in London, but ride when I can, and prefer the morning when there are fewer people about.’

‘My sentiments exactly. There is nothing more tedious than trying to enjoy the air when one is squeezed cheek to jowl with others intent on doing the same. Perhaps we might ride together and thereby help to relieve the congestion?’

It was a casual remark, lightly offered, perhaps even spoken in jest. Nevertheless, it came as something of a surprise to Edward, who wasn’t in the habit of extending invitations to women with whom he was not acquainted. Nor, it seemed, was the lady used to accepting them. ‘Thank you, sir, but I do not think that would be wise.’

‘Of course.’ Edward already regretted having asked. ‘I spoke out of turn. You obviously have a husband or brother at home who would object to such an arrangement.’

‘On the contrary, I have neither husband nor brother, but my stay in town is of short duration and after that I shall be returning to the country.’

It was not the answer Edward had been expecting. ‘Still, that shouldn’t preclude us from riding together while you are here,’ he said, wondering at his need to persist. ‘You did say you intended to ride, and, since we both prefer the morning, why should we not ride together?’

‘Because it would be difficult to plan such outings when I cannot commit to riding at the same time each day. I prefer the mornings, but go out when my aunt or cousin do not require my services.’

Her services? Edward frowned. Was she a companion then? A poor relation dependant upon a rich family member to ease her way?

He glanced at her outfit again and thought it unlikely. A poor relation would not be permitted such elegant clothes, nor be given so fine a horse to ride. ‘Forgive me, but in the absence of someone to perform the niceties, may I ask your name?’

‘You may ask, sir, but at the risk of sounding rude, I think I shall decline.’

‘You would deny me so simple a request?’

‘Yes, because you would not have asked had our circumstances been different.’

‘What circumstances?’

‘Those imposed by an impulsive feline who dashed out and startled my horse, thereby forcing you to offer assistance.’

‘I was not forced to offer it,’ Edward said, stung that she would think him so cavalier. ‘I was happy to do so.’

‘And it was very good of you, and I do hope I have expressed my thanks in a way that leaves you in no doubt as to my sincerity. But given the circumstances, I think it would be best if we were to leave it at that. Good morning.’

And with that, she pressed her heels into the mare’s side and rode on.

Edward watched her go, aware of having been slighted, albeit politely, by a lady who obviously wished to have nothing to do with him—equally aware that he couldn’t remember the last time a lady had done that to him…especially one who claimed to be single. She hadn’t offered her name, nor had she enquired after his. In fact, nothing in the way she had behaved had led him to believe that she knew him, or wished to. And as a man used to being the object of intense feminine scrutiny, Edward found it a new and intriguing experience.

True, his impulsive invitation to have her ride with him had come as a surprise, even to him, but in hindsight, Edward realised it had more to do with finding out who she was than anything else. Anonymity always intrigued him, and, as a man who liked to have answers, her continued resistance had sparked more than a passing interest.

Not to mention that she had the most seductive voice he’d heard in a very long time.

The lady’s groom tipped his hat to Edward as he rode by, and, not thinking, Edward acknowledged the salute. Regrettably, it wasn’t until the servant was too far past that he realised he should have asked the fellow his mistress’s name. It might not be the accepted method of gaining an introduction, but when it was the only one available, why should he not make use of it?

Still, if the lady had ridden this morning, chances were good she would ride again. If not today or tomorrow, certainly before the end of the week. And since he rode every day, and more than once if he could, it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again.

And in matters like this, patience was something Edward had in abundance.



Diana returned to George Street and changed into a round gown of sprigged muslin. After smoothing a few errant curls back into place, she draped a warm shawl over her shoulders and headed downstairs for breakfast.

She was still feeling chilled from the onset of a cold, and though the wretched soreness in her throat had eased somewhat, her voice was still much deeper than usual. But she was glad she had gone ahead with her ride. She had woken to her first morning in London feeling heavy in body and anxious in mind, and because she had put both down to the uncertainty of what lay ahead, she had decided to venture out on horseback. She rode every morning at home, and getting out into the fresh air always seemed to help improve her spirits.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t until she had entered Hyde Park that Diana realised the lethargy she had been feeling was more physical than mental, and that while an invigorating ride might help improve her mood, it probably wouldn’t do much for her health. Her throat had felt as though it was on fire, so that every time she swallowed, she’d winced in pain. Nor had it made for easy conversation. Diana had hardly recognised the deep, husky voice as her own. She couldn’t help but wonder what Lord Garthdale had thought of it.

Oh, yes, she knew who he was. Thanks to her aunt’s groom, she knew not only who he was, but where he lived and who his family were. The strange part was, Diana couldn’t recall having met the Earl of Garthdale before, nor could she remember her aunt having spoken about him. That in itself was curious, since her aunt had taken great pains to point out every eligible gentleman the last time Diana had been in London, particularly those who were handsome, titled or in possession of a large fortune.

Lord Garthdale was all three. Part of the reason Diana had been paying so little attention to her mare was as a result of admiring the dashing looks of the gentleman riding towards her. Even his voice had been pleasing; neither the affected drawl of the dandy, nor the clipped tones of the aristocrat. It had been a rich, resonant sound that had fallen most pleasantly on her ear.

Yes, all in all, it had been an interesting encounter, Diana reflected as she made her way to the breakfast parlour. If only he hadn’t asked for her name, and whether or not she was married—

‘Ah, good morning, my dear,’ Mrs Mitchell said, looking up as Diana entered. ‘I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. Did you enjoy your ride?’

‘Very much, Aunt,’ Diana said, happy to be diverted from her thoughts. ‘Juliet suits me very well.’

‘I thought she might. I feared her being a bit rambunctious to start, as she’s not had much exercise of late, but I knew that wouldn’t be a problem for you. You have your mother’s skill when it comes to riding. But, my poor girl, whatever has happened to your voice?’

Diana grimaced. ‘I wish I knew. I woke up feeling rather muzzy this morning.’

‘Yet you still went riding?’

‘I thought it might help.’

‘Obviously it did not.’

Diana picked up a plate. ‘It did clear my head a little, but I fear it has done nothing for my throat.’

‘Probably this vile London air,’ Mrs Mitchell said as Diana perused the array of dishes set out on the sideboard. ‘I always notice it when I return from the country. But I do hope it clears up soon. You have such a lovely clear voice, and it is all but unrecognisable now.’

‘I’m sure I shall be fine in a day or two.’ Not feeling particularly hungry and wanting something easy on her throat, Diana helped herself to a small portion of eggs. ‘So, what have you planned for Phoebe’s first day in London?’

‘Oh, there are several things we have to do. The child will certainly need clothes, and I suspect you will, too. I doubt you’ve had anything new made up during the last four years.’

Diana lifted her shoulders. ‘I had no need of new gowns. Those I had were sufficient for my purposes.’

‘Sufficient for the country, perhaps, but not for going about in London now,’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘Fashions change by the month, Diana, never mind by the year, and I won’t have you looking like a country mouse when you set foot in society again. You are far too lovely for that. So, we shall call on Madame Claremont and make her a happy woman, then we shall go to the stationers for cards. After that, we shall visit the jewellers. I am having my old pearl necklace reset for Phoebe. She’s always admired it, and pearls are eminently suitable for a young girl entering society.’

‘Speaking of society, I met an interesting gentleman in the park this morning,’ Diana said, having decided, after much thought, to share news of the encounter with her aunt.

‘Really? Did he tell you his name?’

‘No, but your groom did.’

Mrs Mitchell laughed. ‘Of course. Tupper knows everyone, and everything about them. Well, who was he?’

‘Lord Garthdale.’

‘Lord Garthdale!’ Mrs Mitchell nearly dropped her fork. ‘Good heavens!’

Diana glanced up in amusement. ‘Why so surprised, Aunt? Do not most gentlemen ride in Hyde Park in the morning?’

‘Well, yes, but Lord Garthdale is hardly like most men! Apart from being one of the most eligible gentlemen in London, he is also one of the most elusive. He rarely attends society events, and, when he does, he seldom offers encouragement to any of the young ladies present. Still, he is a handsome gentleman, is he not?’

‘I thought him very handsome indeed, and extremely gallant,’ Diana admitted, explaining how the mare had shied and how Lord Garthdale had come to her aid.

‘Obviously he didn’t realise how little you were in need of it,’ Mrs Mitchell said, chuckling. ‘But I’m surprised he did not ride off immediately after seeing Juliet settled, for that would certainly have been more his style. Did he enquire after your name?’

‘He did, but I did not make it known to him. I feared he might recognise it.’

‘And what if he did?’ Mrs Mitchell said. ‘Your life isn’t over because you refused to marry Lord Durling.’

‘It would be if Lord Durling had his way.’

‘Nonsense. The man went on with his life. Why should you not go on with yours?’

‘Because I am the one who jilted him, Aunt Isabel, and I doubt he has forgiven me for it,’ Diana said. ‘Remember how angry he was at the time? Remember all the hateful things he said? He did everything he could to ruin my reputation and to make me look guilty.’

‘Well of course he would try to make you look guilty. The man has an enormous ego, and since you were the one who refused to go through with the marriage, he had to make it sound as though your reasons for rejecting him were entirely self-serving.

We know they were not, of course, but no one else did. And by not saying anything, you allowed society to draw their own conclusions.’

‘You know why I refused to say anything,’ Diana mumbled.

‘Yes, I do, though I still think you were wrong. I’m sure that if you had spoken to someone in authority—’

‘Lord Durling is a member of the House of Lords!’

‘Be that as it may, he is not above the law.’

‘He is beyond reproach in the eyes of society,’ Diana said. ‘And because we must concern ourselves with Phoebe making a good impression on society, we cannot afford to be careless.’

‘But Diana, it has been four years.’

‘I know. But I do not trust Lord Durling any more now than I did then,’ Diana said quietly. ‘He is a man who holds a grudge and I would not put it past him to try to make trouble for Phoebe if he thought it might be a way of striking back at me.’

‘Which is why I wish you would tell people the truth of the matter,’ Mrs Mitchell said in exasperation. ‘The man struck you, Diana. He raised his hand without thought or provocation, and dealt you a blow hard enough to knock you to the ground. As far as I am concerned, such behaviour is unpardonable. Any man who would treat a lady like that deserves to be exposed for the wicked creature he is!’

‘And I don’t disagree with you, Aunt, but who would believe me if I were to tell them?’ Diana said. ‘It would always be my word against his, and society is hardly like to rally behind me. Lord Durling is a respected member of the aristocracy and an extremely charming man.’

On the outside, Diana reminded herself. On the inside, it was a very different matter.

‘Well, I shall respect your wishes, just as I did four years ago, but that doesn’t mean I agree with them,’ Mrs Mitchell said tersely. ‘Lord knows, I would take issue with the man myself, but, like you, I cannot suppose to trust him, and I should hate to see his vindictiveness turned against Phoebe.’

Diana returned her attention to her breakfast. ‘Exactly. Lord Durling effectively destroyed my reputation when I refused to marry him, and I must do everything I can to guard Phoebe’s against him. But now we must say no more about it for I hear her coming.’

Nothing more was said over breakfast, and the rest of the meal passed in amiable chatter about new gowns, current fashions and upcoming events. But as the three ladies set off for the shops, Diana couldn’t help but wonder if she should have stayed in Whitley and let Phoebe come on her own. After all, she had no reason to be here, other than to keep her aunt and cousin company, and, in truth, both of them had friends enough to do that.

Had her returning to London with Phoebe now been a terrible mistake?




Chapter Three


D iana did not think it folly to ride in the park the next morning. Why would she, when she had absolutely no expectation of seeing Lord Garthdale again? Her aunt had already told her that he wasn’t given to encouraging single ladies, so for him to turn up strictly for the purposes of an assignation would have been entirely out of character for him. Diana was also sure that her declaration not to see him again had been firm enough to convince him of her earnestness. As such, it was with little concern that she set off for the leafy lanes of Hyde Park just before half past seven the next morning.

Regrettably, her sore throat hadn’t improved. She had gargled with salt water before leaving the house, but it had done nothing to help, and her voice was once again the husky croak it had been yesterday. She also wore the heavy veil in front of her face to conceal her features from those who might recognise her. Though it wasn’t her intent to go looking for trouble, Diana knew it was quite possible she might encounter Lord Durling in the park. He used to like riding in the early hours of the day, and the last thing she wanted was to meet him here, with only the company of her groom for protection.

It was just one more of the fears she had harboured about returning to London.

Still, Diana had to admit that her first day in London had been a delightful surprise. Their visit to Madame Claremont had resulted not only in the ordering of new gowns and fripperies for Mrs Mitchell and Phoebe, but of several new ensembles for herself. Diana had been astonished at the wondrous array of fabrics presented to her, and startled by the degree to which fashion had changed. The cut of a sleeve, the fullness of a skirt, even the height of the waistline had rendered her existing wardrobe démodé.

Her aunt had been right in saying that she would indeed have looked a poor country cousin had she ventured forth so attired!

After that, they had seen to the ordering of new cards, paid the promised visit to the jewellers, and then returned home to spend a quiet afternoon occupied with individual pursuits. As a result, it wasn’t until after Phoebe had gone to bed that Diana had learned anything more about the intriguing Lord Garthdale—and why her aunt had not spoken of him the last time she had been in London.

‘Well, yes, dear, of course I would have introduced him to you, but as a result of his father’s death, Lord Garthdale was absent from society almost the entire time. In fact, he didn’t return to it until early the following year, by which time your relationship with Lord Durling had long since come to an end.’

Her aunt’s explanation had certainly helped to explain why there had been no discussion of the Earl of Garthdale that year, Diana reflected now, though she couldn’t say with equal certainty that he was unaware of what had happened to her. He might well have heard something from his friends upon his return to society. Her aunt had told her there had been much talk of it at the time, and for some months afterwards.

‘So, the lady decided to risk another encounter with me after all,’ a familiar voice said from the path ahead. ‘I am honoured.’

Roused from her thoughts, Diana looked up—and was astonished to see Lord Garthdale riding towards her. Surely he hadn’t come specifically to see her?

‘It is a beautiful morning,’ Diana said, determined to remain as cool as the circumstances would allow. ‘And I did not think the risk of an encounter was reason enough to stay home. After all, the park is large enough for us both to be here and not see each other, is it not?’

His smile flashed, his teeth appearing very white against the warm brown of his skin. ‘I agree that the chances of running into one another were slight, but I also admit I came in the hopes of doing just that.’

Glad for the veil that hid her blushes, Diana said, ‘You should be careful, Lord Garthdale. I’ve been told it is not your habit to offer words of encouragement to single ladies.’

His look of surprise quickly changed to one of amusement. ‘So, the lady also took the time to become acquainted with my name? I must profess myself flattered on top of everything else.’

Diana’s lips twitched. ‘Pray do not be too flattered. Upon returning home yesterday, my groom assured me that he would have come to my aid, had not Lord Garthdale already done so.’

‘Ah, so that was the way of it. Well, since you now have the advantage of knowing my name, I think it only fair that you tell me yours.’

Diana had wondered how she would answer this, if she saw Lord Garthdale again and he should ask. Not only because she felt it would be rude to continue to deny him, but also because there was a good chance that they would meet in the social world to which they both belonged. But if she told him her name was Diana, it might be enough for him to make the association when she was eventually introduced to him, even though her veil prevented him from seeing her face, and the huskiness of her voice from recognising the sound of her real one. For that reason, she had decided to narrow the risk as much as possible. ‘You may call me Jenny,’ she told him.

‘Jenny?’ He looked at her. ‘Nothing more?’

‘Nothing more. Just Jenny.’

‘I assume there is a reason you don’t wish me to know your full name?’

‘There is, but it is nothing of import.’

‘I wonder,’ Lord Garthdale said. ‘I could think you a famous courtesan looking for a new protector, but I doubt you would trouble yourself with a groom if that were the case.’

Diana’s cheeks warmed at the inference, but she didn’t look away. ‘A logical assumption, my lord, and correct since I am most certainly not a courtesan.’

‘Perhaps a widow, then, living away from London. One who, upon returning to it, wishes to take a lover and arranges it through discreet meetings with gentlemen in the park.’

Diana felt her colour deepen. ‘You seem to think my motives for being in the park are all quite immoral.’

‘On the contrary, I am merely trying to ascertain why a young woman would ride in the park so heavily veiled that it makes it all but impossible to see her face, and be unwilling to reveal anything more than her first name.’

‘Perhaps I lead such a boring life that keeping gentlemen guessing as to my identity is my only source of entertainment.’

He smiled, but shook his head. ‘I don’t presume to know you…Jenny, but I doubt you are easily bored. I suspect you are a woman of breeding and intelligence, and one who finds pleasure in whatever she does. But I do think you are hiding something.’

For Diana, the pleasure abruptly went out of the game. ‘You may be right, Lord Garthdale. In which case, you will understand why I am reluctant to disclose my identity to you.’

He glanced down at his hands, seemingly in thought. ‘If I gave you my word that I would not disclose your secret to anyone, would you answer me differently?’

‘No, because I would be a foolish woman indeed to trust a stranger with so important a matter.’

‘I do not go back on my promises.’

Strangely enough, Diana believed him, but it made no difference. ‘You are able to say that now when you have no knowledge of who I am, but that is not to say that you wouldn’t be compelled to do so in order to honour a promise made to another. Now, if you will excuse me—’

‘Jenny!’

The sound of her name on his lips made her stop. The way he said it made her tremble. ‘My lord?’

‘I really don’t care what you’re hiding. As strange as it sounds, I don’t even care who you really are. But I would like to see you again, even if it is only in the anonymity of the park like this.’

‘But why? As you say, you know nothing of me. And I am sure your time could be better spent.’

‘Perhaps, but I have time enough to do the things I must. This I do for myself, and I have already agreed that it makes no sense. Unfortunately, there is something about you that intrigues me, and makes me curious to know more.’

Diana gripped the reins a little harder. ‘Curiosity is not always a good thing.’

‘No, but the lack of it makes for a decidedly boring existence,’ he said, nudging the bay closer. ‘It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable, Jenny, but if I agree not to press you for details, will you agree to ride with me in the mornings for as long as you are in London?’

Diana hardly knew what to say. She certainly hadn’t planned on anything like this happening, hadn’t thought she would be called upon to further what had started out as a harmless deceit. And while she had been able to support it for two mornings, to continue it now, when she knew it was a lie, would remove all pretence of innocence. Could she do that?

Did she want to?

‘I do not understand what you hope to gain by this, Lord Garthdale,’ Diana said, stalling.

‘Perhaps your eventual agreement to tell me more about yourself.’

‘And if I choose to say nothing?’

His smile was sardonic. ‘Though disappointed, I shall no doubt find the strength to go on. If you wish to tell me nothing, I shall have to be content to ride with you and to enjoy whatever conversations we have. There is, however, one request I would make of you.’

Diana caught her breath. Would he ask her to lift her veil? ‘And that is?’

‘That you even the stakes. For all I know, you are a titled lady, and I can hardly be Lord Garthdale to you when you are Jenny to me. My name is Edward.’

It was the strangest conversation Diana had ever had. She gazed up at the man sitting calmly in the saddle beside her, a man who had asked for nothing beyond the pleasure of her company without the slightest knowledge of who she was, and realised that she rather liked the idea. ‘It is a peculiar request, Lord Garthdale, and one society would most certainly frown upon.’

‘True, but if neither of us is to tell them, how are they to find out?’

Truth be told, it was unlikely anyone would find out, Diana admitted, if neither of them was inclined to mention it. And whatever his true motives for wishing to spend time with her were, they could not be furthered without her complete agreement to the plan, which effectively put her in control of the situation.

Diana looked up at him again, studying the lines and angles of his face, and wondered if any man had ever looked at her so intently. She knew that he was curious to see who she was; curious to discover the details of her physical appearance. What man alive did not wish to see the face of a veiled woman? But she didn’t think curiosity accounted for all of his interest. It didn’t invoke the kind of yearning she saw in the depths of his eyes.

But what could a man like this possibly yearn for? He had no need of clandestine meetings in the park. If he wished to speak to a lady, he simply went up to her and engaged her in conversation. So what was it about her that inspired him to agree to such strange terms? Her aunt had portrayed him as a gentleman of breeding and manners, and certainly his conduct to her yesterday had been proof of that. And yet, he must suspect her of being slightly improper. She had already admitted to having a secret; the kind that would cause a lady to ride heavily veiled, and to resist all attempts at a proper introduction. Why would he not suspect her of being an unhappily married lady looking for a lover?

Did it really matter what he thought?

The question surprised Diana, but the answer surprised her even more. No, it didn’t. She had come to London to spend time with her aunt, and to see Phoebe presented to society. She had no intention of partaking in the social whirl herself, except where it was necessary to accompany Phoebe, and as soon as the Season was over, she would return to Whitley and resume her life there. For now, Lord Garthdale wished to ride with her and to continue their association on the terms he had put forward.

For once in her life, Diana decided it was reason enough.



They rode for over an hour, staying by mutual consent to the less well-travelled areas of the park, content to let the horses set their own pace. And while they walked, they talked.

Lord, how they talked! Diana couldn’t remember ever having spoken so freely to a man before. Certainly, she had never spoken to Lord Durling like this. She hadn’t been at liberty to express her beliefs in such an open and honest way, because Lord Durling hadn’t been interested in her opinions.

His opinion, frequently voiced, was that women only had one role to play: that of the subservient, well-mannered wife. It was their duty to raise the children and to tend the house, and if a woman chanced to have opinions of her own, she was free to express them to her female friends and relatives, but not to him.

Lord Durling had expressed absolutely no desire to see a more intellectually stimulating side of her.

Fortunately, Edward wasn’t like that. He invited her to offer opinions on a variety of subjects, and listened to them all with interest and respect. When he brought up a subject—and he brought up many—he genuinely wanted to know what she thought about it. He even challenged her to think more intensely about a matter if he felt she was missing a certain aspect of it, or if her answers were lacking in depth. And when they exhausted one topic, they went on to another, including those that were of interest to her.

All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience, and when Diana glanced at the watch pinned to her bodice, she was dismayed to see how quickly time had passed.

‘Oh, dear, I really must be returning home. My aunt will be wondering where I am.’

‘She won’t worry, I hope.’ Edward drew the hunter to a halt. ‘She knows you ride with a groom?’

‘Yes, but she would not expect me to be away so long.’

‘Why not? She must already know what an accomplished rider you are.’ He slid her a sardonic glance. ‘You really didn’t need my help yesterday, did you.’

It wasn’t phrased as a question, so Diana didn’t answer it as one. ‘Nevertheless, it did demonstrate what a gallant gentleman you are, and what a helpful nature you possess.’

He gave a short bark of laughter. ‘I doubt there are many in society who would credit me with such noble qualities.’

‘Why? Do you go out of your way to be discourteous in society?’ Diana couldn’t resist asking.

‘Not as a rule, but no doubt my inclination to remain separate is a constant source of aggravation to mothers who would have me dance attendance upon their lovely daughters.’ He smiled, sarcasm vanishing. ‘Still, that need not enter into the conversation this morning. It would only serve to spoil what has been a most enjoyable interlude.’ He turned to look at her, and his gaze held hers. ‘I shall be here again tomorrow morning, Jenny. I hope you will join me.’

Diana felt her pulse beat in her throat. ‘It is probably best that I make no promises, Edward, but…I will try.’

‘That is all I can ask.’ He swept her a dashing bow. ‘Until tomorrow, fair lady.’ Then he pressed his heels to the bay’s sides and set off at a slow canter.

Bemused by it all, Diana turned Juliet’s head around, and thought about the meeting that had just taken place. Was she right to say that she was happy? Surely she had nothing to be happy about. She had just agreed to meet with a man she barely knew, and to keep her identity secret from him.

What was there to look forward to in that but the certainty of failure? She knew there was no chance of a relationship developing between them. At least, not the kind of relationship she, or any other gently bred lady, would entertain. And yet, on the strength of her two brief meetings with him, Diana was already more aware of Edward as a man than she had any right to be. She grew a little breathless every time he was around, and on several occasions, she had experienced a curious sense of renewal, as though her heart was suddenly awakening from the depths of a long, deep sleep.

Still, there was no point in reading more into it than was warranted. Once he found out who she was—the woman who had jilted Lord Durling—it would surely be over. Edward was sure to know what had taken place between Diana Hepworth and Lord Durling. Perhaps he was even a friend of Lord Durling’s and had heard first hand the lies he’d told about her.

Lies, Diana reflected bitterly, told to camouflage the depth of his own wickedness.

Unfortunately, Edward wouldn’t know that. He would only know that Diana Hepworth was a callous, deceitful woman who had pretended to love a man, only to cast him aside when she decided to look for someone better. A woman with no scruples, and who would do whatever it took to marry the richest man she could—even if it meant jilting a man who had been prepared to swear a lifetime of love and devotion to her.

Diana sighed. Those were the stories Edward would have heard, because those were the lies Lord Durling had circulated. They were also the reasons she couldn’t tell him the truth. She didn’t want to see the expression on his face change, or the softness in his eyes harden into disgust when he looked at her. As foolish as it might be, Diana wanted Edward to think well of her, and for a few days, perhaps even a few weeks, she might be able to do that. They could ride together in the mornings and enjoy their conversations. They would talk to one another as equals, free to voice their respective opinions, and to suffer no consequences as a result, because in that regard Phoebe was right.

There was a decided lack of stimulating conversation to be had in Whitley. Try as she might, Diana often found the topics of discussion reverting back to the same old subjects, namely how the rain—or lack thereof—was going to affect the crops, and whether or not old Mrs Fenton would make it through the winter. However, it was where she had grown up, and where circumstances four years ago had compelled her to return. And though Diana was determined to make the best of it, that didn’t mean she would willingly give up the opportunity of enjoying intelligent conversation with a man like Lord Garthdale, now that it had been presented to her.

And so, she decided to allow herself these precious moments in time. She knew they would be fleeting, but she would give herself the pleasure of speaking to a man who valued her opinions and to whom she could speak without fear of censure or contempt. Her aunt had said it best. Time did pass quickly. And in the scheme of things, Diana had no doubt that four weeks, like four years, would pass in little more than the blink of an eye!



‘Come, Phoebe, we shall be late!’ Diana called, stopping by the door of her cousin’s room. ‘The carriage is waiting.’

‘I’m coming, Diana. Just a few more minutes! Marie is finishing my hair!’

Diana silently turned and continued on towards the stairs. They were to attend the Townleys’ soirée this evening, and it seemed as though the entire house was at sixes and sevens. Not only because it would mark Phoebe’s unofficial entrance into society, but because it was also Diana’s first foray into society in over four years.

It was understandable that both ladies were suffering considerable nerves.

It hadn’t helped that Mrs Mitchell had forgotten that it was tonight the reception was to be held. Indeed, it was only thanks to her having run into Mrs Townley and Amanda at Layton and Shears that morning that she had discovered her oversight. Then there had been a positive flurry of last-minute preparations as gowns, gloves and other necessities had been pulled out and made ready.

But equally important were Mrs Mitchell’s repeated assurances that Amanda was longing to see her dear friend again.

Diana wished she could say the same. That is, she wished she could say that the prospect of attending a society event at which Amanda would be present was not overshadowed by the thought that so many other people would be there as well. Still, it was a special night for Amanda, and Diana had no intention of missing it.

‘Ah, there you are, my dear,’ Mrs Mitchell said, standing at the foot of the stairs. ‘And looking exceptionally lovely, I must say. Madame Claremont knew what she was talking about when she suggested that gown for you. The simplicity of the design makes it appear very elegant, and I knew the shade would look well on you. You are going to attract a great deal of attention this evening, my dear, and not for the reasons you fear.’

Diana smiled, comfortable in the knowledge that she did at least look well for the evening’s festivities. The soft apricot gown with demi-train was one of the many Mrs Mitchell had ordered for her. The style was highly flattering to the slender lines of her figure, and the colour was a perfect compliment to the fairness of her skin. Her aunt’s petite French maid, Marie, had arranged her dark hair in a cluster of curls atop her head, and had set a dainty gold clip in the back. The rest of her jewellery was simple. Her mother’s pearl earrings, and a necklace of gold and pearls that nestled in the shadowy cleft between her breasts.

Phoebe came down not long after, looking radiant in a gown of white satin trimmed with deep rose. Her blonde hair was arranged in a soft tumble of curls to one side of her face, making her appear very young and appealing. Mrs Mitchell, who was herself gowned in deep blue silk, gave her a brief nod of approval, and then led the way out to the waiting carriage.

‘Courage, my dears,’ she said as they settled in for the short ride to the Townleys’ house. ‘Keep your chins up, your smiles bright, and, like the inimitable Sarah Siddons, you shall have all of London falling at your feet!’

Diana smiled and sat back against the cushions. Encouraging words, she reflected, though only time would tell how helpful they would be. Nevertheless, she took a deep breath, whispered a silent prayer, and waited for the proverbial curtain to rise.




Chapter Four


I t was an evening of surprises for Diana: the first, that Mrs Townley had not invited half of London to her fashionable soirée, and the second, that the Amanda she remembered no longer existed.

Diana could hardly believe that the elegant young lady standing in the receiving line had once truly been her best friend. Where was the awkward girl she remembered? The one who had constantly bemoaned the fact that her hair was frizzy and unmanageable, and that she wasn’t as tall or as graceful as her friends. The elegant young woman in the exquisite white gown bore absolutely no resemblance to that painfully shy, stammering girl. No wonder her aunt had said she would be surprised, Diana reflected.

‘Diana!’ Amanda cried as Diana drew to a halt in front of her. ‘Oh, Diana, I am so very pleased to see you again!’

‘And I am delighted to see you!’ Diana said, returning the girl’s enthusiastic greeting. ‘But I can scarce believe the change in you. You look beautiful!’

Amanda laughed, and the sound was bell-like and enchanting. ‘Yes, is it not astonishing? I stayed with Aunt Hester over the winter and she took my transformation to heart. Mama could not believe how much I had changed by the time I returned home.’

Diana shook her head. ‘In truth, I can scarce believe it myself. But I am happy for you, Amanda, and thrilled with your news. You will be the most beautiful of brides.’

‘And the happiest, for I am marrying the very kindest of men. Diana, allow me to present to you my fiancé, Lord Eastcliffe,’ Amanda said, turning to smile at the handsome gentleman standing next to her.

Diana duly acknowledged the introduction, pleased that Lord Eastcliffe showed no signs of reluctance at meeting her. She knew little about him, other than that he was a pleasant, studious gentleman who enjoyed collecting Greek antiquities. Indeed, some people joked that he was unlikely to notice a woman from his own time when he was so busy studying those of another.

Diana had originally been concerned that he might not give Amanda the attention she deserved, but, when she saw the warmth in his eyes as he smiled at her, she knew her fears were unfounded.

‘We have much to talk about,’ Amanda whispered as Diana and Phoebe went to move on. ‘Promise we shall have some time together this evening.’

‘Of course, but if we do not, I shall be sure to come and visit you again.’

Amanda’s eyes brightened. ‘Oh, yes, I should like that very much!’

The girls exchanged a few more words, and then Diana and Phoebe moved on to join their aunt, who was already talking to a couple neither of the girls knew. They were soon introduced, however, and the first half-hour or so passed in pleasant conversation. Phoebe eventually went off with a cluster of younger girls, and Diana herself made the acquaintance of several amiable people, none of whom looked at her with the censure she had been expecting.

‘Oh, look, there is Lady Aldsworth,’ Mrs Mitchell said, spying a tall, black-haired woman who had just come in. ‘I must have a word with her. Do you mind if I leave you for a moment, Diana?’

‘Of course not. I shall be fine on my own.’

As it turned out, however, she wasn’t alone long. Only moments after her aunt stepped away, Diana turned to find Amanda at her side. ‘Now, we shall have our few minutes alone,’ the girl said with evident satisfaction.

Surprised that she had time so early in the evening, Diana said, ‘Are you sure you dare? There are many people anxious to wish you well on your betrothal.’

‘Yes, but they can hold their good tidings for a few minutes. Right now, I want to spend time with you.’ Amanda reached for Diana’s hands and held them tightly in her own. ‘I truly am so pleased to see you back in town, Diana. When your aunt told me you were coming, I could scarce contain my excitement. But it must seem strange being back after spending so much time away.’

Diana knew what Amanda was referring to, but she only smiled. ‘It is better than I expected. This is only my first outing, of course, but I’m feeling more at ease than I’d thought to, and Phoebe is having a wonderful time, which is my main reason for being here.’

Amanda looked at her quizzically. ‘What do you mean? Are you not here looking for a husband?’

‘Certainly not. I am here to act as Phoebe’s companion, and to make sure she has a wonderful time. And, of course, to help her find a husband.’

‘But what about your future?’

Diana laughed softly. ‘I am mistress of Narbeth Hall, and actively engaged in caring for my garden and my flowers, along with my two cats, three rabbits, and a very rambunctious puppy. But never mind my life, tell me all that has been happening in yours!’ Diana said, purposely switching the subject. ‘I leave behind a fragile duckling, and come back to find a beautiful swan, engaged to marry the Earl of Eastcliffe, no less.’

Amanda giggled, and in doing so, became the ingenuous girl Diana remembered. ‘Astonishing, is it not? Especially given the way I used to look.’

‘Nonsense. You make it sound as though you were a dowd, and we both know that was never the case.’

‘No, but I was not, as Aunt Hester said, “a lady whom the gentlemen were lining up to meet.” Fortunately, she taught me how to improve in so many areas, and I will always be grateful to her for that. I don’t think Mama ever dreamed I would attract the attention of someone like John.’

‘So you are happy about your upcoming marriage?’ Diana asked.

‘I am more than happy, Diana. I have been fortunate enough to find a man who loves me, and whom I love so very much in return.’

‘Then you are truly blessed.’

‘Yes, I believe I am,’ Amanda said, her happiness shining through. ‘John is always bringing me little gifts, or sending me posies. He even wrote a poem to me once, though he made me promise not to show it to anyone.’

‘Really.’ Diana had difficulty imagining the pedantic Earl of Eastcliffe sitting down to pen romantic prose. ‘And have you?’

‘I confess, I was tempted to when I heard people constantly remarking on how serious he seems, but I have abided by his wishes and I suppose it is for the best. It was a rather sentimental piece.’

The delicate blush on her friend’s cheeks convinced Diana there must be hidden depths to Lord Eastcliffe, and that it was probably best not to delve any further into the content of the letter. ‘Well, I am very happy that you have found someone who makes you so happy, Amanda. You deserve the best of husbands. And as the Countess of Eastcliffe, you will certainly have access to all the best houses.’

‘Yes, though I confess, the thought of moving in the uppermost levels of society is somewhat daunting.’

‘I don’t know why. Looking the way you do, you can hold your head up in any crowd.’

‘Dearest Diana, you always did say the kindest things,’ Amanda said sincerely. ‘And that is only one of the reasons I have missed you so much.’ Her smile faltered. ‘I have missed you. You know that, don’t you?’

Diana sighed. ‘I wanted to think you did, but I didn’t know when your letters stopped coming. I thought perhaps your mother had discouraged you from writing because of what happened.’

‘Oh, no, it wasn’t like that at all! In fact, I wanted to write because there was something I desperately wanted to tell you. But I didn’t know how to say it and, then, as time went by—yes, Parker?’ Amanda said as the butler arrived in front of her.

‘Pardon the interruption, miss, but Lord and Lady Jenkins have arrived.’

‘Oh, yes, of course, and I must go and welcome them.’ Amanda smiled an apology at Diana. ‘They are relations of John’s, come all the way from Yorkshire to meet me. You will forgive me for leaving you?’

‘Of course.’ Diana gave the girl her most reassuring smile. ‘I told you, you shouldn’t be neglecting your guests this evening.’

Amanda’s face reflected her relief. ‘I knew you would understand. But I shall come back, and we will pick up where we left off. There is much I would tell you, Diana!’

She swept away in a rustle of skirts, and, watching her go, Diana felt a momentary pang of disappointment. She was sure that Amanda had been about to tell her something of importance, but she could hardly expect her to ignore her guests so that she might share confidences with an old girlfriend.

Suppressing a sigh, Diana rose and glanced around the room for her aunt. She didn’t find her, but she did find—or was found by—Phoebe, who was looking decidedly flushed and not a little breathless.

‘Phoebe, whatever is the matter? You look quite disconcerted.’

‘That is because I am disconcerted,’ Phoebe said, pressing a hand to her heart. ‘A gentleman has been smiling at me and I am quite at a loss to know what to do about it.’

‘You could smile back at him.’

‘Oh, no! I couldn’t, because he is truly the most handsome gentleman I have ever seen! And I know that if he comes to speak with me, I shall make a complete fool of myself!’

Suddenly feeling very much older and wiser, Diana said, ‘He won’t speak to you without an introduction, Phoebe. And if he does speak to you, you shall certainly not make a fool of yourself.’ She glanced around the room, looking for the source of Phoebe’s agitation. ‘To which gentleman do you refer?’

‘The tall one in the scarlet uniform,’ Phoebe said, not looking at him. ‘There, by the wall.’

Diana glanced across the floor and finally located the source of Phoebe’s consternation, a handsome young officer, who nevertheless had a most friendly and engaging air. ‘I don’t know who he is, but I’m sure Aunt Isabel will,’ Diana said, looking around for the older woman.

Fortunately, Mrs Mitchell chose that moment to return, seemingly intent on having a tête-à-tête with Diana. ‘My dear, I really must have a word with you.’

‘Of course, Aunt, but first, who is that nice looking gentleman standing by the étagère?’

‘Hmm?’ Mrs Mitchell turned in that direction. ‘Why, bless my soul, it’s Nicolas Wetherby. Lord Mowbrey’s son. A younger son, I’m afraid, but blessed with the same charm and good looks as his father and older brother. I nearly didn’t recognise him now that he’s grown into a man.’

‘Apparently, he has been smiling at Phoebe,’ Diana whispered.

‘Has he indeed?’ Mrs Mitchell glanced at her still-blushing niece, and raised one eyebrow. ‘Perhaps I should see to an introduction. Then I must come back and speak to you.’

‘Why? Is something wrong?’ Diana said, hearing the concern in her aunt’s voice.

‘Not exactly wrong, but it’s something you won’t be pleased about. Come along, Phoebe,’ Mrs Mitchell said in a brisk voice. ‘Let us make you acquainted with this handsome gentleman and see what comes of it.’

In the wake of their departure, Diana nibbled on her bottom lip. What was her aunt so anxious to tell her? If it wasn’t something bad, why would she be disturbed at hearing it?

The sound of new arrivals had Diana glancing towards the door. But when she saw who it was, apprehension welled in her throat, making it difficult for her to breathe.

Edward! He’d entered the room in the company of two ladies—one of whom looked to be around Phoebe’s age, while the other looked a few years older than Diana—and a gentleman Diana assumed to be the older lady’s husband. As they moved through the receiving line, it was obvious that they were well known. Laughter flowed easily, and both Amanda and her fiancé looked relaxed and at ease in their company.

Diana wished she could say the same.

‘Diana, what are you doing?’ Mrs Mitchell said, suddenly reappearing at her side. ‘If I didn’t know better, I would swear you were trying to disappear behind that Chinese screen.’

‘That is exactly what I am trying to do,’ Diana whispered. ‘Look there. Lord Garthdale has arrived.’

‘He has, indeed?’ Mrs Mitchell turned in time to see the family move into the room. ‘Well, so he has, and in the company of his family.’

‘All of them?’

‘Yes, the younger girl is his sister, Lady Ellen. The older one is Barbara, now Lady Black. And that is her husband, Sir Lionel. The Dowager Lady Garthdale is, of course, absent.’

The note of impatience in her aunt’s voice caught Diana by surprise. ‘You sound as though you do not care for Lady Garthdale, Aunt.’

‘In truth, I do not. The woman has become something of a pariah since her husband’s death, and has managed to alienate most of her family and nearly all of her friends. But that, my dear, is what I wished to speak to you about.’

Diana’s dark brows drew together. ‘Lady Garthdale?’

‘No, her daughter, Lady Ellen.’ Mrs Mitchell stepped around Diana so that she, too, was partially hidden behind the screen. ‘Mrs Townley told me there was something you should know. She told me because she thought it would be easier if I told you, rather than letting you hear it from someone else.’

‘Why? What did she tell you?’

‘That it seems news of another engagement is soon to be made public.’

‘What? Tonight?’

‘I doubt it will be tonight, but it will be soon.’

‘But an engagement is good news. Isn’t it?’

Mrs Mitchell looked around to make sure that no one was listening, and then leaned in to whisper, ‘That depends on the parties involved. It seems that Lady Ellen has just accepted an offer of marriage.’

‘How delightful. I’m sure her family must be pleased. But why did Mrs Townley feel that you needed to—’ Diana broke off, gasping. ‘Oh, no, Aunt. Please don’t tell me what I think you’re about to—’

‘I’m afraid I must, my dear,’ Mrs Mitchell said in the most regretful of tones. ‘As lamentable as it is, it seems the gentleman Lady Ellen has agreed to marry is none other than Lord Durling!’

It was the last thing Diana expected—or wanted—to hear. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I have no reason to doubt it. Mrs Townley has several reliable sources upon which to draw. Apparently, Lord Durling has been courting Lady Ellen for some time.’

Diana glanced with shock and dismay at the girl standing next to Edward, trying to imagine her married to a man like Lord Durling. She was lovely, to be sure, but she was like a china doll, all porcelain skin and flaxen ringlets. And young. So terribly, terribly young.

‘She can scarce know what she is about,’ Diana murmured. ‘Or what he is.’

‘If she loves him, she won’t care what he’s about,’ Mrs Mitchell said drily. ‘Only that he is handsome, charming, and anxious to marry her!’

‘As I was once,’ Diana admitted. ‘But then, Lord Durling can be a very charming and persuasive man.’

‘So could Henry VIII, but look where it got most of his wives,’ Mrs Mitchell muttered. Brows furrowed, she watched the family move around the room. ‘You don’t think it’s possible that Lord Durling has changed, do you, Diana? Perhaps he has mended his ways. After all, if he was in any way affected by what happened four years ago—’

‘I don’t know that a man whose nature tends to violence can change, Aunt, no matter how much time he is given,’ Diana said. ‘But I am curious to know why he hasn’t married before now. Surely there was no reason for him to have remained single all this time.’

‘I really can’t say. He did withdraw from society for some months after you left London,’ her aunt said, ‘but I am sure that was more as a result of his feeling compelled to do so, rather than out of any deep-rooted feelings of guilt. He was the jilted suitor, after all, and it behoved him to show some signs of remorse, whether he felt any or not.’

Diana had no doubt that any remorse Lord Durling had shown was entirely for the benefit of others. ‘Has he been seen keeping company with anyone else?’

‘There were a few ladies,’ Mrs Mitchell said, ‘but none with whom he seemed serious. Until now.’

In a decidedly subdued mood, Diana watched Edward and his family move around the room. She couldn’t deny that she was deeply troubled by the thought of Lady Ellen Thurlow marrying Lord Durling, but what could be done about it? She certainly couldn’t say anything to Edward. She hardly knew him well enough to comment on his family’s activities, even in the guise of Jenny. And he wouldn’t welcome remarks from Diana Hepworth—a woman who was known to carry a grudge against Lord Durling. On the other hand, how could she just leave the child to her fate, allowing her to be swept into a marriage that could prove not only unhappy, but potentially destructive?

As for herself, she was facing a dilemma of her own. What was she to do about Edward? Diana knew it was quite likely she would be introduced to him. He was obviously a good friend of the Townleys, and Diana had a feeling that Amanda would try to effect an introduction, seeing him as an eligible man, and her as a single lady. Did she want that to happen?

‘Aunt Isabel, there is something I must tell you,’ Diana whispered, aware that her head was starting to spin. ‘Remember I told you that I met Lord Garthdale in the park?’

‘Of course, dear. I am not likely to forget something like that.’

‘Well, as it happens, I have seen him on…two more occasions since.’

‘You have? And you did not tell me? Where? And when?’

‘I would rather not go into detail, but it is imperative that he not recognise me as that lady.’

‘But you just said the two of you met in the park.’

‘Yes, but I was heavily veiled, and my voice was unrecognisable as a result of the cold,’ Diana explained quickly. ‘Nor did I give him my full name. I told him he could address me as Jenny.’

‘Jenny?’ Mrs Mitchell’s look of surprise changed to one of confusion. ‘You gave him your middle name? Diana, what on earth is all this about?’

‘I promise I shall explain as soon as we are alone, Aunt, but please understand why, if an introduction is made between Lord Garthdale and myself tonight, I must behave as though I am meeting him for the first time!’

Her aunt’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t like this, Diana. I’ve never known you to indulge in subterfuge before.’

‘I know, and it’s too late to undo what I’ve already done. I can only say that I did what I did without stopping to fully consider the consequences.’

‘So it would appear. I know you too well to doubt your integrity, but I can’t help but feel that you have set yourself a very difficult task by pretending to be two people.’ Mrs Mitchell cast a furtive glance in the direction of the gentleman. ‘Well, do you wish me to effect an introduction for you to Lord Garthdale as Diana Hepworth?’





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