When he was certain they were alone, he pulled her closer, as close as he dared without her able to feel the press of his erection against her innocent flesh. "Miss Saintwood, there is something I must tell you. It is about Lord Hathaway."
"That he does not care for me and will not wed me." She gave a very unladylike snort of indifference. "I know this already. His sister, Lady Sophia, informed me of that fact just this evening. She and her mother both do not think the duke and I would be a good match, either. So while I appreciate the warning..."
"Everyone else knows as well, lass." He hadn't meant to cut Diana off in mid-sentence, but he did not think she understood the seriousness of the situation. "In fact, you were discussed at length this morning at White's."
That seemed to bring her up short. "I beg your pardon. You cannot be serious, my lord. I assure you, few people care about my marital prospects. It is not as if it has been a well kept secret that Hathaway is unlikely to marry me. It is not openly discussed, true, but it is rather assumed that had he wished to wed me, he would have done so by now. I realize you are new to town but..."
He interrupted her again. She needed to know and understand how serious of an issue this was. "Until two nights ago, Hathaway never made a public statement about his intentions toward you. It was always assumed that you might never marry the man, but he never spoke of it, either, and even as unaccustomed to London as I am, I know society. No man of good standing who wished to keep his reputation intact would poach upon another man's potential bride. Especially upon the potential bride of a duke. Now that Lord Hathaway has spoken on the subject, all bets on when you two are to marry are off, so to speak. To be frank, the bets on this topic in the book at White's have been wiped away and rewritten. There are now no mentions of you wedding Hathaway or when it will occur."
At that, Diana's mouth snapped closed. Lachlan knew he had shocked her. That had not been his intent, but he would not lie to her. Not about this. "Are you certain?"
"There is a code, Miss Saintwood, and one that even where I hail from in the Highlands is not crossed." He leaned back against the town home wall and closed his eyes for a moment. "While it was true that no one dared approach you because of your mother, Hathaway's refusal to put to rest the rumors that the two of you were secretly betrothed were the real reason that, over time anyway, men began to keep their distance from you." He had learned all that and more this morning at White's, but he didn't think she needed to know quite all of the "more" part.
"And now that the truth is known?" In her heart, however, Diana knew what this news meant. She would be courted now, most likely in earnest and not by the sort of men she wished to wed. Were she not careful, she could well be trapped into a union she did not want with a man who would use her for ill intent. Except that her mother still stood in the way of any potential suitors, and there were very few men of society who would brave her mother to pursue an aging debutante when there were plenty of other younger, more amenable young women available. Women who did not have dragons like Ursula Saintwood for a mother.
"You will be courted. Pursued. You know this. You are not a stupid woman." He said it as if the answer was apparent enough and, on the surface anyway, it was. Except that even with the short time she had known him, she was aware there was more Hallstone was not telling her.
"And?" she challenged. She did not play games. She did not like them. And Lachlan was very good at games. At least she suspected that he was.
"The men who dare to take on your mother will not be gentlemen." He sighed and Diana knew he had already come to the same conclusion she had. "They will be rakes and young bucks who want to get under your skirts for a bit of fun. That is the rumor, you know. That Hathaway sampled you and found you lacking. Few actually believe it, but the rumor is there." God, he had not meant to tell her, but she did need to know so that she could deal with whatever came next. "Worse, there will be fortune hunters who are so desperate for funds that they have decided that the allure of your enormous dowry outweighs any fear of your mother. If they believe you are ruined, and some of them do I assure you, they will not hesitate to try to trap you into marriage by compromising you."
At that, Diana bit her lip, uncertain for the first time in a very long while. She could not deal with the idea that she was viewed as a fallen woman, at least not at the moment. Her dowry, however? That was something she had been dealing with for years.
Her enormous - and some would even say vulgar - dowry had been a source of contention between her and her father for some time. Her beloved papa meant well. She knew he did, but much like her mother, he sometimes went too far. When the duke did not marry her at the end of her second season, her father increased her dowry, hoping to entice him to the altar, even though it was clear the Duke of Hathaway did not need the funds. After her third season, her father increased her dowry again. He repeated the same pattern at the end of every season when she still remained unwed. Until now, that dowry had been an albatross hanging about her neck, weighing her down. Now, it might very well be her downfall.
Over the last few years, so few gentlemen approached her that she had ceased to think about the issue at all. Now, however, the very thought of the sort of men who might attempt to court her made her knees tremble a bit with fear.
Diana could handle herself well enough around most gentlemen. Not perfectly, of course, as she was out of practice, but clearly she still retained some skill in that regard. After all, she was dealing with Lord Hallstone rather well, was she not? She liked him and was still able to converse with him, no matter that he made her pulse flutter and still inspired that odd, disturbing urge to see what he tasted like.
But what of the other men who were now certain to call upon her? Men who were not so noble as the marquess? How would she handle them? Diana was not certain that she could.
Then an idea came to her, one she was not certain Hallstone would approve of, certainly, but one that would give her a great deal of comfort.
"Why are you informing me of this?" she asked, attempting to keep the suspicion out of her voice. If he thought she was plotting against him, it would not gain her the outcome she desired.
He seemed to consider that for a moment. "Because you deserve better," he finally said.
"You don't know me," she countered but even as she said the words, she knew they were a lie. He might not know all of her, but with only a few encounters, he knew enough. At their first meeting, he had remarked upon her wit and intelligence, something no other man ever had. He had seen what no other had, so perhaps he did know her after all.
"I know enough," he said, his voice rough and thick. "I know that you deserve a man who loves you. It is what you seek. You practically told me so the night we met. It is what I would wish for my own sisters, as well. I can ask no less for another lady." His eyes were dark now and Diana struggled to read the emotions that flashed in their midnight depths. "You also deserve to know the truth. I realize that I do not know you as well as your friends, but from that first moment we met in Lord Radcliffe's library a scant few days ago, I realized there was a unique quality to you. One that is not found in many other society misses, though I would like to think that my sisters possess a similar spark."
"I will take that as a compliment," Diana said finally as she struggled to find her own voice again. Just as they had been the day before, her emotions were all awhirl, crashing inside of her, making her tingle from head to toe. All because of this man, a man she should not want. One who could not possibly want someone as innocent as her.
"I meant it as one, for I love my sisters dearly." Lachlan leaned forward now, his body so close to hers that she could feel the heat and power he radiated. She ached to touch him, just once, but she kept her hands fisted at her sides. "As a rule, my lady, I do not offer opinions when I do not know all of the facts. It is a foolish practice that many of our set indulge in. That first night, I knew nothing of you, so when Hathaway made his statement that he would not wed you, it was n
ot my place to offer comment. Not even when Lord Radcliffe made his views on the poor form Hathaway was showing rather clear. It was not my place."
He was so close that Diana could see the deep midnight blue at the very center of his eyes. Even in the near darkness it shone like a beacon, allowing her to see into the depths of his soul. He might not be aware of it, but that window was there and she could peer in, whether he wanted her to do so or not. What she saw was a good man, a moral man, one who was very different from the others of her acquaintance. She did not need to know every detail of his life to know that much.
"And now?" She had meant for her voice to come out strong, but instead she found that she could barely manage a breathless whisper. All of her thoughts and unexpressed desires from the previous few days came rushing back to her. About accompanying gentlemen on carriage rides in the park if they asked. About dancing and ices, and all sorts of activities young ladies indulged in. About having fun. About falling in love.
If the men who courted her were after nothing more than her fortune and her body, she would do none of those things. Those same men would either promise her the moon to bed her and then leave her, or they would rush her to the altar. She quickly began to see that Lord Hathaway's silence had been a protection of sorts. It had kept away all of the riff-raff that tended to sneak around the skirts of unwed women of advancing age. With that protection gone, she was on her own with only her mother between her and a fate she did not want to contemplate.
Then Diana looked up at the man before her. Lord Hallstone, or Lachlan as she had begun to think of him when she was alone, was not riff-raff. And he had intimated that he enjoyed her company, had remarked that he hoped her mythical betrothed knew what a treasure he had in her. Those could have been the words of a consummate flirt. A rake of the worst sort. Or not.
"Now, I believe as Lady Sophia does. You are too good for someone like Lord Hathaway. He would crush your spirit." God. Lachlan knew he was getting himself in too deep. He had only meant to warn the chit, not wed and then bed her. Yes, he wanted her. He was a man after all, and she was a beautiful, desirable woman. That did not mean he wanted to marry her.
Except that he did need a wife. Eventually. Of course, he had already debated this with himself the other evening and he knew that he could not in good conscience tie Diana to him and his unwieldy family. On that basis alone, he was no better than Hathaway. And she truly did deserve better. Better than either of them.
However he was also well aware that given his family history, most society mamas were not likely to view him as potential husband material either. A half-English, half-Scottish nobleman, no matter that he was a marquess, was not usually the first choice of a husband for a cosseted, delicate young woman. Being seen courting Lady Diana, however, might make him more acceptable in the eyes of the ton. He might be able to repair some of the damage his father had inflicted on both the Hallstone and Gladston titles over the years.
It would also allow Lachlan the means and opportunity to protect Diana if necessary, to keep those who might seek to compromise her at bay. For he had no idea where her father was, though he knew Lord Westfield did exist. He also knew that her mother could not hold out forever, especially since given the way she had eyed him earlier, she already knew the gossip as well as he. The dream of wedding Diana to the duke was over, or very nearly so. Therefore, another suitor needed to be located and quickly before the season ended, for at the ripe old age of seven and twenty - which she would turn in the fall - Diana would most likely be off the marriage mart next season. Radcliffe had said as much.
Lachlan knew it was foolish to feel so strongly about a woman he just met, but she reminded him so very much of his sisters, full of life and spirit. On the other hand, Diana also inspired a great deal of non-brotherly thoughts in him as well. And he did so long to feel her body against his, so much so that it pained him. A taste of her. That was all he desired. Surely, in time, she would not refuse him that much at least. He could only hope.
"That is why I have a proposition for you, lass," he finally managed, breaking the silence that had hung between them. "One that I hope and pray you will be amenable to at least consider." He saw the spark of interest flare in her eyes and prayed he was not making another grave mistake by becoming involved with yet another woman who might very well be his ultimate downfall. "I braved your mother this evening. I have waltzed with you, something no gentleman has managed in years. In the eyes of society, I have an interest in you, one that no amount of danger - either real or imagined - is going to dissuade."
"Go on." Diana could hear the blood rushing in her ears. She had not been this close to a man in years and the sensations coursing through her body were heady indeed. So thoroughly delightful that she craved more and if that made her a wanton, then so be it. She had thought that she was in control, that she could guide Lachlan to the conclusion that she wanted him to make. To her surprise, it seemed as if he was already there.
"I want to court you, my lady. Or at least make it appear so. That way, you will be safe from those who would seek to use you. You would gain the time to decide what you wish to do next, for given your intelligence, I know you will have a plan for your future in short order, be it as a bride or an unwed woman." Lachlan refused to use the word spinster to describe her. "But most of all, I will make certain that you are able to gain the future you deserve."
There was more he wanted to say, such as that the desire to taste her lips was almost overwhelming him this evening. That his reaction to her the other night had hit him like a physical blow, something he had never known before. That he ached to see if there could be something more between them, even knowing that he was not good for her in the end. Still, he said none of those things, not wanting to frighten her and unwilling to lie with a watered down version of the truth.
He was also in London to right his father's wrongs. Some of the transgressions his father had committed could not be undone. The parties involved were dead and gone. The women he had harmed during his various visits to London had already felt the brunt of his father's poor decisions. And while his father had not touched the Saintwood family, he easily could have. And Lachlan was determined not to be anything like his father. Duncan McKenna would have taken Lady Diana's situation and used it against her. He would have forced her to wed him. Lachlan would not. He would protect her instead, give her a choice. And in the end, he would let her go. He would be stronger than his father could have ever hoped to be. Even if it killed him in the process.
Diana studied Lachlan now in silence, those marvelous light blue eyes of hers wide and open, allowing him to see the true beauty hidden inside of her. He would have to be careful, he knew. She would be like the sun to his Icarus and those mythical wings of wax. She would burn him, destroy him, if he flew too close to her scorching heat. He could not allow that to happen.
"And what do you receive from this arrangement, my lord?" Diana finally asked, the words so soft he almost missed them completely. Her breathing was shallow, as if she could not draw enough air into her lungs. Yet her lips were parted, as if she was anticipating something rather than fearing it. Dare he hope that it was his kiss? "For surely there is more to your offer than easing my way and ensuring that I am happy. I am not so green a woman as to believe otherwise. A man like you would expect something in return for such a kindness. I merely wish to know what it is."
Her hand was resting on his chest now. How and when it had come to be there, Lachlan did not know. He had been too interested in gazing into her eyes, getting lost in those china blue depths that promised so much and hinted at an intelligence that, had she been male, would have been greatly feared. Thank God she was female. For many reasons.
In that moment, Diana was all Lachlan could think of. He wanted her beyond thought for no rational reason. His body fairly ached with a need so powerful that it nearly brought him to his knees. He should not want her. He could not want her. He would not allow himself. But so help him God, he
did anyway.
Lachlan could feel the pressure she exerted where her hand rested, light and steady, but there just the same. He could imagine the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingertips, the way her hands would feel elsewhere on his body with no infernal layers of fabric between them. Heat on heat. Skin on skin. Everywhere. All at once. All consuming.
Heat. Fire. Desire. Passion. Need. It was all there, written plainly on her face, and he was certain she did not know it. She did not know what passion was, not truly, but she could feel it. It was contained in her eyes and written on her face. It was in the way her other hand clutched at the lapel of his jacket, her fingers opening and closing, seeking something she did not know how to ask for. She needed him with this same intensity he felt burning deep in his gut.
She wanted him. She might not know how to say those words, but she did want him. He had not been alone in his feelings the other night in Radcliffe's library, the feeling that he had been engulfed by a storm he might not ever steer his way clear of. He wasn't even certain that he wanted to. Diana had felt it too and that same answering need was written all over her lovely, delicate features.
Slowly Lachlan cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, worshiping her in a way he was certain no man had ever done before, for despite the rumors, he knew in his heart that she was yet an innocent, still untouched. She was also as soft as he had suspected, the scent of her intoxicating him as if he'd drunk an entire bottle of brandy. This, however, was so much better. She was so much better. Gently, he slipped one hand to the back of her neck and pulled her closer, just a bit, so that their lips were only an angel's breath apart. So close that he could also taste the sweetness of her. Her breath tickled his lips and invited him closer. Just one taste, her body all but begged, and he could feel his resolve weakening. Just one. What would be the harm in it?
A Marquess Is Forever Page 10