London Ladies (The Complete Series)

by Eaton, Jillian

  “Do not curse,” Miles said wearily. Running a hand through his hair, he pulled the ends taut before letting them slide through his fingertips as he walked across the library and fixed himself a drink. Under normal circumstances he never would have touched brandy before noon, but these were not normal circumstances and if there was ever a time to indulge in a bit of spirits it was most certainly now.

  He downed two shots of the amber liquid in quick succession before carrying a third over to a sitting area in the far corner of the library where the curtains were drawn and the shadows plentiful. On the other side of the thick velvet curtains rain pattered against the windows, the stormy skies a perfect complement to Miles’ dour mood. Sinking into a vacant chair he set the brandy aside and braced his forearms atop his thighs before letting his head sink down, exhaustion and guilt proving too heavy a burden for his neck to bear.

  After a long sleepless night filled with regret and self-doubt, he had at long last reached a decision. If he could not be with Dianna, then he could not remain in England.

  It was abundantly clear - more so now than ever before - that, no matter how much he wished otherwise, Dianna did not want him and he could not trust himself around her. Not anymore. Not after how he had acted last night in the carriage. Not after he had nearly taken her on a cold leather seat, his mind lost to any and all reason.

  The pain of unrequited love had turned him into someone he did not recognize. Someone he did not like. Someone wholly undeserving of Dianna’s trust and affections. She needed a man who was kind. A man who was gentle. A better man than he could ever hope to be.

  So he was leaving. Now. Today. For he feared if he lingered, his resolve would crumble… and he would continue to hurt her again. And again. And again.

  The truth of it was he never should have returned. Miles saw that now. He’d accomplished nothing by coming back to England but opening old wounds. Wounds that were now red and festering when before they’d been nearly healed. Wounds that would only be able to begin healing once more when he was gone.

  Harper’s skirts swished angrily as she stormed across the library. She was still wearing her ball gown, albeit a more wrinkled version, and half of her hair remained pinned up in a coiffure while the rest dangled down her back in a spill of messy curls. Going first to the large windows that overlooked the street she flung the curtains wide, letting in a slew of cringe worthy light dulled only by the stormy skies. “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do,” she snapped, green eyes flashing bright with temper as she whirled to face him. “And do not tell me you are leaving! What happened last night?”

  Miles massaged his pounding temple. A better question, he thought with a grimace, would be what hadn’t happened last night. Between shooting a man and ravishing Dianna, everything else was a blur of sound and color.

  “Nothing you need concern yourself with,” he muttered.

  “Nothing I need concern myself with? Nothing I need concern myself with? Miles, you left me!”

  Startled by the accusation, Miles lifted his head, a rebuttal already forming on his tongue before he realized that he had, in fact, left her. After departing Dianna’s residence he had ordered his driver to take him straight home, his mind completely consumed with what had occurred between them in the carriage. Nary had a spare thought been given to his sister, and for that unforgivable transgression he could think of no explanation to give nor excuse to make.

  “Harper, I am so terribly sorry. I…”

  “Forgot me?” she said icily.

  Unbidden, his gaze cut to the tumbler of brandy sitting beside him on the table. He’d drowned his miseries in alcohol once before and the temptation to do so again was stronger than it had ever been. He reached for the glass, but before he could close his hand around it Harper lunged forward and slapped the brandy away. Amber liquid spilled across the table as the glass rolled off the edge and bounced harmlessly onto the thick Aubusson carpet.

  “No.” Chest heaving, cheeks stained with twin slashes of red, Harper pinned her hands to her hips and stared him down. “I will not allow you to take the easy way out. Not again.”

  Feeling the first sharp jab of temper beginning to stir, Miles shoved out of his chair and went to a window, hands bracing against the painted ledge as he stared blindly out at the gloomy street beyond. If his sister thought leaving England was the easy way out, then she was a fool. There were would be nothing easy about never seeing Dianna’s face again. Nothing easy about never hearing her voice. Never easy about never touching her soft skin.

  Easy? No. It was the hardest bloody decision he’d ever made in his life.

  “What would you know of it?” he asked roughly. “You’re still a child.”

  “You may think me a child all you want, but I’ve eyes and ears that I use more than you!” Harper retorted. “So I know the reason you are leaving now is the same reason you left before. Except this time Dianna will not forgive you. And neither will I.”

  “How do you know she” - he couldn’t bring himself to speak Dianna’s name - “has forgiven me?”

  “Why would you be leaving if she hadn’t? I think she did. I think she did, and it terrifies you because for once you don’t know what to do.”

  You were just a boy. A boy who had his entire future planned out for him before his tenth birthday. A boy who wanted to see the world and all it had to offer. A boy who wanted to make his own decisions so badly he did the only thing he could think of. He left. So I forgive you…

  Unable to answer for the swell of emotion that was burning in his throat like a ball of fire, Miles shook his head from side to side, fingers biting into the window ledge with enough force to leave a scattering row of crescent moons pressed deep within the wood.

  “So you are leaving because you are afraid she will not love you,” Harper continued softly, “and she cannot love you because she is afraid you will leave.”

  A lone carriage pulled by a dark bay, its head bent against the rain, wandered slowly down the middle of the street. Tracking its progress, Miles waited until the horse and carriage had moved beyond his line of vision before he said, “She will be better off without me. As will you.” In time they will see, he thought painfully. In time they will come to understand. Eventually Dianna and Harper would realize their lives were easier without him in it. Eventually, when enough years had gone by, they would come to forget him… and be the happier for it.

  “Because we were so much better when you were gone?”

  His jaw clenched, teeth grinding to the point of pain. “I do not want to keep disappointing you and yet that is all I have done since I returned. I cannot be the brother you need, or the husband Dianna deserves.”

  “Perhaps not,” Harper acknowledged. “But you’re the only brother I have, and the only husband Dianna has ever wanted.”

  “How do you know she wants me?” he demanded as he whirled to face her. “How do you know?”

  “Oh Miles.” Harper’s laugh was soft, and impossibly sad. “How do you not?”

  Dianna had only attended the theater once before. Ironically enough, it had been with Miles and his family. She’d been a wide-eyed, impressionable young girl of fifteen. He a bored, restless young man of twenty.

  For the life of her she could not remember what the play had been about, but it remained notable for other reasons, none of which had anything to do with the actors.

  Finding herself back in the same theater some five years later, tightly wedged between her mother and Thomas Readington, Dianna struggled now, as she had then, to keep her mind on the stage.

  As promised the play was really quite amusing, or at least the parts that she managed to concentrate on enough to hear. Sitting upright in the uncomfortable theater chair that smelled vaguely of onions and sweat - a rather horrible combination - Dianna was careful to keep her eyes trained on the brightly lit stage although there was nothing she could do to prevent her thoughts from wandering.

  Her gloved fingers fidgeted anx
iously in her lap, the same as they had done five years past when it had been Miles sitting beside her instead of Readington. He’d been slouched low in his chair, she recalled, the brim of his hat pulled so low over his eyes she’d suspected he was sleeping, a suspicion that had been confirmed when she poked him in the ribs during the second act and he’d jumped awake.

  “What the devil did you do that for?” he hissed, the whites of his eyes flashing in the dimly lit theater box as he swiveled in his seat to glare at her.

  “You were snoring,” Dianna lied.

  “Was not.”

  “Were too.”

  “Will both of you be quiet!” Leaning across her husband, Lady Radnor fixed both of them with a stern glare that instantly had Dianna clamping her mouth shut and cowering in her seat.

  She wasn’t just frightened of Miles’ mother. She was terrified. It seemed no matter what she did nor how well she minded her manners, Lady Radnor was never satisfied. While Miles could do no wrong in her eyes, it seemed Dianna could do no right.

  Accustomed to dealing with a parent who was similarly dissatisfied Dianna knew the best thing to do… was nothing at all. At least Lord Radnor seemed to find her quite agreeable, and since both families had arrived in London two weeks past in preparation of another Season she’d had more conversations with Miles’ father than her own.

  Determined to behave throughout the rest of the play and not give Lady Radnor another excuse to reprimand them, Dianna straightened her spine to the point of pain and stared straight at the middle of the stage where a sword fight was currently ongoing between two characters dressed all in black. The sound of clashing metal echoed all the way up to the Radnor’s box seat and within moments Dianna found herself enthralled in the action, holding her breath along with the rest of the audience as the actors lunged and retreated in a feigned dance of death.

  Unfortunately, Miles did not seem find the play quite as entertaining.

  Dianna released a startled yelp when she felt her arm pinched and twisted to face him as she rubbed the offended area. “Why did you do that?” she whispered in annoyance, unconsciously repeating word for word the same question he’d asked her when she nudged him awake.

  Green eyes glittering with amusement Miles cocked an eyebrow and said, “The same reason you did.”

  “That was entirely different!” she protested.

  “Yeah?” he said skeptically. “How so?”

  “I was helping you. If your mother caught you sleeping she would have been very angry.” And would have no doubt found some way to blame me for it, Dianna thought sullenly.

  Miles snorted. “You worry too much.”

  “I thought I told you to be quiet!” Jaw rigid with anger, Lady Radnor glared first at her son before setting her disapproving gaze on Dianna. “You are embarrassing us.”

  Cheeks suffusing with color, Dianna hung her head. “Lady Radnor, I am so very-”

  “Dianna is not feeling well,” Miles interrupted. “I am going to escort her outside for some fresh air.”

  Startled, Dianna glanced at Miles and caught the nearly imperceptible shake of his head as he warned her to remain silent.

  “What is wrong with her?” Lady Radnor asked, her voice tinged with suspicion. “She seemed fine when we arrived.”

  Keep her head lowered, Dianna bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from saying something untoward. She despised it when adults talked as though she weren’t sitting right in front of them. As though she did not have a voice. As though she were invisible.

  “A touch of fever,” Miles said. “Nothing serious.”

  “Fever?” Lady Radnor recoiled from Dianna as though she had leprosy. “Heavens, and to think we all came in the same carriage. Take her away at once, Miles. You know your sister has not been feeling well. The last thing I need is for her to catch a fever. Your father and I will find you once the play has commenced.”

  “Why would you say that?” Dianna demanded the moment they were outside the theater.

  “It got us out of there, didn’t it?” Miles shoulder jerked in a careless shrug before he leaned up against a lamppost. Muted light illuminated one side of his face, showcasing the handsome slant of his jaw and half of a crooked grin. Over the past six months Miles had finally begun to grow into his lanky frame and now towered a good six inches above Dianna, forcing her to tilt her head nearly all the way back if she wanted to look him in the eye. “You can thank me later,” he said with a wink.

  “Or not at all!” Dianna exclaimed. Kicking an errant pebble into the street with the toe of her delicate - and wholly impractical - walking slipper she huffed out a breath and turned away from him, gazing instead at the tidy line of shops across the way, each one closed up tight for the night. “As if your mother needs another reason to dislike me,” she muttered woefully.

  “What does it matter if my mother does not like you?”

  As if he didn’t know. “Because in one year I will be her daughter-in-law, and she will be as much my mother as she is yours.”

  There was a hint of derision in Miles’ voice as he said, “And her opinion matters that much to you?”

  “Of course it does.” Dianna frowned, not liking the way Miles was acting. He’d been behaving differently as of late. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly how or when he had started to change, but the shift in his demeanor was unmistakable. He was… harder, she decided as she glanced back at him over her shoulder. At least around the edges. Harder and considerably more moody, although she supposed that could be attributed to growing older.

  “Well it shouldn’t. You care too much about what others think of you. You need to grow up,” he said, proving her suspicions to be true. The boy Miles had been would have never spoken so thoughtlessly, while the man he was becoming seemed to be making a habit out of it.

  Not wanting to incite an argument Dianna bit her tongue, consoling herself with the fact that Miles’ poor mood likely had little to do with her. After all, this was the first time they’d seen each other in over a week and before tonight their visits had been painfully brief as their parents shuffled them from social event to social event with nary a break in between.

  A slight chill permeated the air, complete with the faintest of breezes that brought with it the scent of chimney smoke. Wandering to the end of the pavement where brick gave way to cobblestone, Dianna balanced on the edge as she carefully drew the hood of her cloak up and over her head, mindful of the elaborate chignon that had taken her maid over two hours to fashion.

  “The play was boring,” Miles said at last, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

  “I thought it was quite exciting.”

  “The swords were fake,” he scoffed.

  Expertly transferring her weight from her toes to her heels, Dianna pivoted to face him, arms extending out to the side in order to maintain her balance. “Don’t you have an imagination?”

  “Only children have imaginations.”

  Dianna knew he’d meant it as an insult, but she chose to take it as a compliment. Lifting her chin, she stared boldly at him, blue eyes unblinking. “If that is true than I wish to remain a child for the rest of my life.”

  “Do you?” He pushed away from the lamppost and advanced stealthily, moving with a panther’s steely grace. “There are many things children cannot do.”

  “Like what?” she asked with a frown.

  “Like kiss their betrothed on the mouth,” he replied huskily.

  Seeing the dark determination in Miles’ gaze as he came ever closer Dianna’s eyes widened in alarm and her balance wavered. “Oh,” she gasped as she started to fall towards the street, arms wind milling in a desperate attempt to save herself from crashing headfirst into the cobblestones.

  Just as she felt her ankle twist beneath her, Miles grabbed her by the waist and spun her away from the edge. She came up hard against his chest, fingers clutching at the lapels of his tailored waistcoat. “T-thank you for s-saving me,” she stuttered breathlessly
.

  The hands at her hips tightened. “You should be more careful.”

  “I s-shall attempt to be in the f-future.” Finding her throat too dry to speak coherently, Dianna was forced to clear it twice before she managed to say, “You can let me go now. I - I am quite all right.”

  But instead of releasing her, Miles drew her closer until she felt the full hard length of his body. Startled she looked up to see the mocking glint had faded from his eyes, replaced with a burning intensity she would not come to recognize until quite a few years later: complete and unadulterated passion.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said softly, releasing her hip so he could gently grasp her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilt back her face.

  Dianna blushed. “No,” she protested. “I am far too pudgy and my skin is too pale and-”

  “Shhh,” he whispered. “Do not talk about my betrothed that way.”

  And then he bent his head… and kissed her.

  It was the sort of kiss Dianna had always dreamed about.

  Soft. Patient. Kind.

  His mouth molded perfectly over hers, rubbing gently from side to side. One of them moaned. Dianna thought it was her, but overwhelmed with sensation and her first true taste of desire she couldn’t be certain. Miles cradled her face as though it were made of porcelain, tracing the contours of her cheekbones as he deepened the kiss and slid his tongue slowly between her lips.

  Not anticipating the intrusion she froze, but with a few whispered words of encouragement and a gentle sweep of his hand down the middle of her back he enabled her to relax.

  “Sunshine,” he murmured as he drew her bottom lip between her teeth and suckled. “You taste like sunshine on a cold winter’s day.”

  Despite the raw bite of autumn in the air Dianna felt a fire building inside of her, the flames burning hotter as the kiss lingered longer than she ever imagined possible. She met his tongue with her own, hesitantly at first, a bit clumsily, but he welcomed her inside his mouth with a low groan of need that made her toes curl in secret delight.