London Ladies (The Complete Series)

by Eaton, Jillian

  At long last - but still too soon for Dianna’s liking - Miles pulled away, fingers trailing all the way from her shoulders down to her wrists before he let her go with obvious reluctance. “I should not have done that,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “I am glad you did,” Dianna said shyly. “I - I liked it.”

  A rueful grin tugged at one corner of Miles’ mouth. “I did as well.” Looking down at the ground he shook his head, as though confounded by something he did not quite understand. Glancing back up, green eyes somber and serious, he reached for her hand. “Dianna, there is something I need to-”

  “There you two are. We have been looking everywhere.” Lady Radnor’s shrill voice cut through the air like the sharpest of knives, popping the happy bubble that Dianna had been floating in from the first moment Miles’ mouth touched hers. Lord Radnor lumbered behind his wife, an older version of his son with silver streaks at his temple and a perpetually weary look about him. When he saw Dianna, however, he winked and she offered a small smile in return, grateful for the kindness.

  “Are you feeling better?” Lady Radnor demanded. Before Dianna could so much as open her mouth to answer, however, she turned to Miles. All around them people began to exit the theater in droves, forcing Lady Radnor to raise her voice to a dull shriek to be heard above the din. “Is she feeling better? Has the fever broken? Because if it hasn’t we will need to hire a hackney to take her home.”

  “Dianna is fine,” Miles replied. “There never was a fever.”

  Lady Radnor’s eyes narrowed. “Never a fever? Then why-”

  “You heard the boy. She’s fine.” To Dianna’s great relief, Lord Radnor took his wife by the arm and steered her briskly in the direction of their waiting carriage.

  She and Miles followed several steps behind. Waiting until they’d nearly reached the carriage, Dianna tugged on Miles’ coat sleeve. “You were going to tell me something,” she said when he stopped and glanced back at her questioningly. “Before your parents came out.”

  He cupped the back of his neck, fingers digging into the taut muscle. “It was nothing important,” he said, even though the flicker of emotion in his eyes said otherwise. “Forget it.”

  Unfortunately for Dianna, she did.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She should have known then that something was amiss, Dianna thought as she reflected on the past. Should have suspected not all was as it appeared with Miles. It had been there in the tone of his voice. In the expression on his face. But she’d chosen to pretend not to see, as if it were a bit of dirt that could be swept beneath the rug and once swept completely forgotten.

  She would not make the same mistake again.

  Waiting until the play was over, Dianna took Readington by the hand and led him to a quiet corner of the theater lobby while her mother chatted with two women who had been sitting three rows down from them. Richly adorned with velvet furnishings and ornate chandeliers, the lobby was a popular place for theater goers to gather after the production and during intermissions. One where they could share their opinion of the play, but more importantly share their opinion on who had attended and what they’d been wearing.

  “I wanted to speak with you alone,” Dianna began, only to hesitate as she struggled to think of the right words to say. She did not want to hurt Readington’s feelings, but she also did not want him to believe there could be anything between them past this night. It would not be fair to either one of them. She needed to be straightforward without being too blunt. Honest without being too forthcoming. For someone as accustomed to pleasing other people as Dianna it would surely be a challenge, but she felt herself up to the task.

  “It was an enjoyable play, was it not?” Readington said, seemingly taking her long pause as an invitation to speak. Dianna nodded.

  “Yes,” she agreed, although in truth she couldn’t recall a single line spoken. “It certainly was. Thank you once again for accompanying my mother and I tonight.”

  “My pleasure.” He executed a flawless bow before straightening and, expression painfully earnest, took both of her hands in his. “Dianna, I must admit I have never thought much of taking a wife...”

  Oh dear.

  “...but I find the idea has great merit now that you and I are becoming better acquainted.” Readington took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I’d like very much if we could continue our courtship with a carriage ride through Hyde Park tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That sounds lovely!” Sailing in this conversation much as she had done the first, Martha stepped smoothly between them, a brilliant smile plastered on her face. “Doesn’t it, darling?”

  “I…” Dianna’s gaze darted around lobby. There were still a handful of people inside, standing in small conversational clusters of twos and threes as they awaited their carriages. Catching more than one curious onlooker peering in her direction, she set her shoulders and deliberately looked away, doing her best to ignore the unpleasant fluttering in her stomach.

  She knew she should not care what others thought of her, nor what they whispered about her behind gloved hands. Unfortunately ‘should not’ didn’t always equal ‘could not’. For four years she’d gone out of her way to avoid public outings such as this one for fear of being the subject of too many a pitying stare. One would think such an expanse of time would be long enough to dissociate herself from the scandal in her past, but it seemed the ton had a very good memory and the more she was seen out in public the sharper it became.

  “I do not believe we should discuss this here,” she said tersely, not wanting to add more fuel to the gossipmonger’s fire.

  “What is there to discuss?” Martha asked airily. “After your carriage ride tomorrow we shall have dinner. Mr. Foxcroft would very much like to meet you,” she told Readington. “Do you enjoy hunting?”

  “I do.” Readington glanced at Dianna, a silent question lingering in the depths of his brown eyes as though he could sense the tension radiating through her but not the cause.

  She gave a tiny shake of her head and a small smile, indicating nothing was the matter even as she resigned herself to another outing with a man she found agreeable but had absolutely no interest in marrying.

  Except… except she didn’t want to have to resign herself to anything.

  Not now.

  Not ever again.

  Waiting until they had all piled inside Readington’s practical - albeit slightly cramped - carriage, she interrupted her mother mid-sentence with the knowledge that if she did not speak her mind before they reached home she would find herself in precisely this same situation a week from now, then a month, and finally a year.

  Biting her tongue. Disguising what she truly felt behind a pretty smile. Agreeing with her mother not because she wanted to, but because it was what was expected of her.

  Young ladies do what their mothers tell them to do, a tiny voice reminded her sternly.

  Not, Dianna thought with steely determination, anymore.

  “I am sorry,” she said, cutting off Martha’s favorite re-telling of a story about her husband and a wayward fishing expedition, “but I have something to say.”

  “Dianna, I was right in the middle-”

  “I know, and I apologize.” She looked across the carriage and met Readington’s gaze. He looked a bit confused, although she was quickly coming to find it was more of a perpetual expression than a true reflection of emotion. “Mr. Readington - Thomas - I would like to finish our conversation we were having in the theater before my mother so rudely interrupted us.”

  “Dianna!” Martha gasped.

  “What?” Turning her head, she gazed calmly at her mother. The interior of the carriage was dimly lit with a single lantern, but it was enough to see the angry flush stealing up and over Martha’s cheeks. “You did. You always do.”

  “Mr. Readington I am so very sorry,” Martha began, adopting a smile that fell far short of her eyes. She spoke to him as though Dianna had ceased to exist; a ta
ctic that had been used on Dianna throughout her entire life. One moment she was part of the conversation and the next she was invisible, spoken about rather than to. “I do not know what has come over my daughter. She has not quite been herself as of late.”

  Readington nodded. “I understand. The last two days have been quite trying. Perhaps she has not yet fully recovered.” He gave Dianna an encouraging smile which she met with a frown.

  Miles never would have spoken for her. He’d ignored her. Teased her. Broken her heart. But he’d never put words in her mouth. Never spoken for her when she could have spoken for herself. If anything he’d encouraged her to always use her own voice, to always speak for herself, and she knew it had frustrated and confounded him when she hadn’t been able to.

  “I believe you are quite correct,” Martha agreed. “A bit of rest and she will be right as rain tomorrow.”

  “I am right here,” Dianna interceded sharply. “If you wish to ask me what is wrong you may do so because I am sitting right beside you. Except you do not want to know what is wrong, not really. Do you, Mother?”

  Martha drew a sharp breath and expelled it in a nervous laugh. “Honestly, Dianna. That is quite enough. Mr. Readington does not need to hear about your personal problems.”

  “He should, as they concern him.” Beneath the soft folds of her pelisse Dianna’s hands twisted anxiously together, fingers locking and unlocking as she struggled to retain an outward veneer of composure despite the rapid beating of her heart.

  “At the very least wait until tomorrow. This is neither the time nor the place. We are in a carriage, for heaven sakes.” Though she spoke brightly, there was an unmistakable ring of command in Martha’s voice Dianna recognized only too well. In the past, this was as far as she’d ever dared to push her mother and she knew when Martha turned her attentions to Readington that she considered the matter closed. “When shall we anticipate your arrival tomorrow? I do so hope it does not rain. I would rather enjoy taking one last turn about the park in an open curricle before winter sets in.”

  “Would eleven be too early?” he asked.

  “No, that would be-”

  “Yes,” Dianna cut in. “Yes, I am afraid it would, Thomas.”

  “Oh.” Brows drawing together in obvious puzzlement, he said, “What about two?”

  “Two will not work either. In fact, tomorrow will not work at all.” Beside her she felt her mother stiffen in silent outrage, but she continued on nevertheless, determined to speak her mind once and for all. She knew one consequence of her actions would be injuring Readington’s feelings. Another would be inciting her mother’s disapproval. But she also knew that even if things were to continue between her and Readington, neither one of them would ever find happiness. Readington wanted the sort of wife she appeared to be on the outside: perfect, poised, and always well mannered. Except that isn’t who she was. Not really.

  It’s who she’d wanted to be, who she’d tried to be, and who she’d been… around everyone but Miles.

  She used to think he brought out the worst in her, but now she finally realized he brought out the best.

  The best may have not always been perfect. The best may have not always been poised. But it was who she was deep down, and who she finally wanted to be. Not the perfect daughter, not the perfect wife, not the perfect lady, but the perfect fit for a man who saw her as she truly was, not as he wanted her to be.

  “I am sorry Thomas, but I cannot in good conscience see you beyond tonight in any capacity other than as friends.” She met his confused gaze, lips twisting into a small, regretful smile. “I know my actions may have been a bit misleading and for that I apologize. I - I hope you understand and do not think too poorly of me.”

  The carriage gave a subtle lurch as it drew to a halt in front of the Foxcroft’s townhome. Glancing first out the window and then at Dianna, Readington studied her intently for a moment, the warmth in his brown eyes unfading. Finally he bowed his head in silent acknowledgement of her wishes and Dianna released a tiny sigh of relief. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you,” she said sincerely. “I do hope we may still see each other from time to time. You are a true gentleman, Thomas, and you will make someone a wonderful husband someday.”

  He accompanied her out of the carriage and along a short, brick lined walkway to the front door. Tight lipped, Martha bit out a quick farewell before she swept inside, leaving Dianna and Readington alone.

  “I hope you find whatever it is you are searching for,” he said quietly.

  Tilting her head to the side, Dianna regarded him in mild surprise. “How do you know I am searching for something?”

  A weary grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Aren’t we all? You are a lovely woman but not, I think, who I thought you were.”

  “No,” she agreed, “I don’t suppose I am.”

  An awkward silence fell between them. Their gazes met, then skittered away. Seemingly at a loss of what else to say, Readington shuffled his feet and turned to face his waiting carriage. “If you ever change your mind…”

  “I will call upon you at once. But I don’t believe that will happen.”

  “No.” He studied her for a moment. “I don’t believe it will.” Descending to the bottom step, he looked back at her over his shoulder one final time. “Good luck with your mother, Miss Dianna.”

  “Thank you.” I am going to need it. She watched as Readington walked to his carriage, his steps steady and sure. He said something to the driver before he climbed in, pulling the door closed behind him. Waiting until the carriage had rounded a bend and disappeared from sight, Dianna braced herself for what awaited her and walked through the front door.

  Martha was in the front parlor. Face flushed with mortification, she glared at her daughter and said, “I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life! Dianna, your behavior in that carriage was reprehensible! What has gotten into you?”

  “I-” Dianna began, but she only got the one word out before her mother interrupted, apparently more interested in venting her own frustrations than listening to an explanation.

  “It’s that Charlotte Graystone, isn’t it? You spent far too much time with her at Ashburn.” Martha gripped the back of a wooden chair to steady herself, knuckles turning white. “I forbid you to see her again.”

  “I have not spoken to Charlotte since we came to London.”

  “Then what is it?” Martha demanded in a shrill voice Dianna had never heard her use before. “What is it that has you acting this way? Because Mr. Readington was an exemplary gentleman. He would have made a fine husband.”

  “And he will,” Dianna said quietly, “for someone else. Please, Mother. Sit down. I do not like seeing you so upset.”

  “I just… I just don’t understand what has come over you.” Hands fluttering in distress, Martha collapsed onto a chaise lounge patterned with pink roses. “You have always been such an obedient child.”

  “I know.” Sitting beside her mother, Dianna reached across Martha’s lap and gently squeezed her hands. “And I know how upsetting this must be for you, but I can no longer be that obedient child.”

  “Why ever not?” Martha demanded.

  Biting back a smile at the petulant tone in her mother’s voice - one that made her sound far more like a child than Dianna - she said, “Because I have changed. I am different now.” She hesitated, uncertain how to explain herself in a way that her mother could understand. “I still want to make you happy, but I want to make myself happy as well.”

  Martha grew very still. “You are not happy?”

  “I think I can be. I want to be. But not with Mr. Readington.”

  “Well,” Martha said, her brow furrowing, “if not him then who?”

  Dianna did not hesitate. Looking her mother square in the eye she said, “Miles Radnor.”

  “Miles Radnor!” Martha exclaimed. “But that’s… He… You…” Looking visibly perplexed by Dianna’s revelation she slumped bac
k, letting her head fall against the chaise lounge with a quiet thud. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Dianna assured her. “I know what I am risking but this time… this time I think it will work between us.” At least I hope. By picking Miles over Readington she was putting herself in a precarious situation, especially given how they’d left things between them. She could only pray Miles’ feeling towards her had not changed, and when next they met she would have the courage to speak her mind.

  Martha shook her head dazedly from side to side, jostling the frilly lace cap she’d not yet taken off. “I must admit, this is the last thing I expected to hear you say. What makes you think a second courtship will end any differently than the first?”

  “Because this time it will be our decision, not yours and Father’s. Not Lord and Lady Radnor’s. Ours,” she said firmly.

  Martha considered the idea for nearly a full minute. “I suppose he is an earl of considerable wealth and holdings,” she said at last.

  Dianna’s lips twitched. “He is indeed.”

  “Very well. If this is what you want-”

  “It is.”

  “-then your father and I shall give you our support.” With a heavy sigh, Martha surged to her feet and absently smoothed a hand across her skirts. “I only hope you know what you are doing, Dianna. A second scandal will ruin you and I fear there will be no more Mr. Readington’s to fall back on should the need arise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When Dianna woke the next morning, feeling relieved if not completely refreshed, she knew she needed a scheme if she wanted to attempt a reconciliation with Miles, and for that she needed Charlotte. If there was one thing her friend excelled at, it was scheming.

  For she feared if she simply went to Miles with nothing more than her true feelings he might turn her away, especially given the last thing she’d said to him; words she now regretted but could not take back.