Lady Diana's Disguise (Seven Wishes Book 3)

by Bree Verity

  "Merry Christmas, Simon," she replied, gazing at the face of the only man she had ever truly loved, drinking in his changes and his sameness, his old beauties and his new.

  The room exploded in applause, and Diana was whisked back to reality. Simon stepped away from her, and Miss Crisp almost shoved her out of the way in her excitement to have her turn under the mistletoe.

  She sat down on the chaise she had recently vacated, certain that her knees were about to give out under her. Her pulse raced, and she took a sip of her wine, and then another to try to regain her equilibrium. The room was too hot and too loud. She needed to get away, to process these feelings that she thought long dead.

  When she had met Simon earlier, they had fleetingly crossed her thoughts. Her youthful love for Simon. The devastating rejection he had delivered her. And the discontinuation of a friendship that both had thought would last forever.

  She had been quite prepared for him to reject her outright under the mistletoe. He had certainly made his feelings clear the last time they had met. She wondered why he had not done so.

  As her pulse slowly quietened, she realized he had spared her the humiliation of a rejection. And had given her the most chaste of kisses. And, he had moved away at his earliest possible convenience.

  Simon, it seemed, had not felt the earth shatter when he kissed her.

  In the room full of merriment and cheer, Diana could not have felt more alone.

  Chapter Six.

  She sat, regal and beautiful, upon the velvet chaise, sipping her wine with apparent equanimity while Simon felt as if his heart would burst completely out of his chest. Her blonde coiffure was tinged russet by the firelight, the delicate color reflected in her cheeks.

  But the dismay in her expression when she turned to him, coupled with the embarrassingly stilted conversation they had engaged in prior to the kiss, left Simon's emotions in turmoil.

  In a moment of madness after Miss Crisp's shriek, Simon had decided to kiss Diana, instead of offering her an exit, which would have been the chivalrous thing to do. He could not resist the opportunity, knowing that he might never get another chance to press his lips to hers, to feel her tremble beneath him.

  Just thinking of it made his pulse race and his lips tingle. She had been so soft and yielding, and when she said "Merry Christmas," to him in that bemused tone, and glanced up at him from under her lashes, Simon was sorely tempted to grab her and kiss her again, and keep kissing her until...

  It had been a mistake. He had no right to her attention or affections, yet he had taken a foolish action that could only fan the flames of a misdirected passion.

  Simon accepted a drink from a servant and took a sip, unable to tear his eyes from Diana. He knew he must look foreboding, for he could feel that his brows were drawn, and his jaw clenched. With an effort, he rearranged his expression, trying for the easy composure that Diana displayed.

  She almost caught his eye; he looked away quickly, the blood pulsing in his veins anew. It would not do for her to find him staring at her.

  "Good lord, Doctor Moore, from the expression on your face anyone would think you had not just kissed a pretty girl under the mistletoe."

  He turned to find himself being addressed by one of Diana's suitors, Captain Littleton. The man's joviality grated on Simon; he was far too much at his ease. If Diana was his, Simon thought, and someone else had kissed her, he should certainly not be slapping the man's back in encouragement. He would be offering them chilly formality. Yet here the man stood, a grin on his face and the merry words hanging between them.

  Simon pursed his lips before forcing cordiality into his tone and answering, "I am regretting not staying there and having all the pretty girls kiss me, Captain Littleton. I do not believe we have been formally introduced."

  "In that case, it is a pleasure to meet you," Littleton replied, raising his glass as he did, and Simon realized the captain was a little bit tipsy. Perhaps even drunk enough for Simon to grill him about Diana.

  "So," started Simon, "how long have you been acquainted with Lady Diana?"

  "Since near the beginning of the season," replied the captain. "At some dull soiree or another. And I can tell you, she is a breath of fresh air."

  "How so?"

  "Well," said Littleton, coming in close as if he was about to share a confidence. "It gets a little tedious with a new batch of debutantes and their mothers fluttering about. Carling and I have had to make some quick getaways over the years, I can tell you to sidestep their little matrimonial traps. But Diana is... well, since she is not a giddy eighteen-year-old, you can hold a proper conversation with her, you know?"

  Simon nodded as if he did.

  "And you know she is not setting her cap at you."

  At this, Simon frowned. "But I thought you were interested in marrying her?"

  "Oh, I am," said Littleton quickly, taking a step back. "Capital girl. Well worth catching."

  Simon's frown deepened, enough even for the drunken Littleton to notice.

  "What I mean is, happy to marry her, if she would have me. I should be lucky."

  Littleton's slightly dazed, vacuous smile confirmed what Simon already suspected - Littleton was not in love with Diana at all. It was definitely to be a marriage of friends, if she married him.

  An audacious thought crossed Simon's mind. If he could resurrect his friendship with Diana, perhaps she would be amenable to marrying him, instead of Littleton or Carling. At the very least, he would be no worse a prospect than either of those two gentlemen.

  Ridiculous, thought Simon, but the idea took hold in his mind, curling its way into his memories of a girl with shining gold hair and an equally shining heart.

  Impossible, he scoffed, as he mentally trawled through his memories for something to use as an opening to commence his wooing.

  Unlikely, he admitted, recalling their last meeting, and Diana's reaction to his kiss.

  Worth a try, his treacherous heart chimed in, clamoring to be heard.

  And somehow, while he listened with half an ear to Captain Littleton proclaiming a long list of Diana's virtues, Simon decided for the first time in his life that he should listen to his heart.

  Chapter Seven.

  It had been an evening fraught with high emotion, and Diana could hardly keep her eyes open as she trudged up the stairs to her chambers. Her lady's maid, Lily, helped her to quickly undress and get into her nightgown, brushing out her hair and tying it into a long plait.

  "Will that be all, my lady?" Lily said.

  Diana nodded. "Thank you, Lily. I shall see you tomorrow morning."

  With a bobbed curtsy, Lily left Diana alone.

  She sighed, looking at her blue eyes in the mirror, with their dark circles around them. She needed to get some sleep, or tomorrow, she would look like death warmed over. That was, of course, if the images in her head would allow her any rest at all.

  But as soon as her head hit the pillow, Diana was asleep, only waking up later when she heard a strange noise in her room.

  "Lily?" she called drowsily. "Is it morning?"

  The fire burned low and the room was all but dark. When she did not hear anything else, with a shrug, Diana turned over to go back to sleep.

  "Diana."

  The voice was right beside her, and Diana scrambled out of her bed, backing up until her spine was against the wall. "Who said that?" she said, her eyes darting all about in the darkness.

  "It was me."

  To Diana's astonishment, the shadow of a woman appeared in the last glow of the fire embers. Her voice was deep with a northern accent of some kind.

  "Who are you?"

  "I am your fairy godmother."

  All the tension went out of Diana's limbs. Someone was playing a practical joke on her.

  "Is that so?" she replied crisply.

  "Yes. I'm here to help you to achieve your happily ever after."

  Diana moved over to the fireplace and stirred up the embers, so she could get a
better look at her supposed fairy companion.

  "Here," said the other woman, and suddenly the fire was crackling merrily, fingers of light dancing across the walls, and across the pale face of the tall, dark-haired woman.

  Diana expected her nighttime visitor to be one of the other guests, but the woman was a stranger to her, perhaps one of the servants hired for the party. She was glad of the weight of the fire poker in her hand.

  "Who are you?" she said, drawing on her most haughty tones. "What are you doing in my chambers?"

  "I already told you, I'm here to help you..."

  "Yes, yes, yes, find my happily ever after. Who are you really?"

  The woman blinked rapidly before answering. "I'm really your fairy godmother."

  "I will scream if you do not tell me exactly who you are. You will be cast off without a reference." Diana didn't know how effective a threat that would be to a servant, especially one who was only there temporarily, but she was unable to think of anything else.

  The woman smiled, and Diana almost screamed anyway.

  "Your teeth!"

  The other woman stopped smiling immediately. "There's nothing wrong with my teeth," she said, covering her mouth.

  "But... they're pointed!"

  "Yes, and yours are square."

  "But... I..."

  "All fae have pointed teeth, the same as all humans have square teeth."

  "All fae?"

  The woman sighed. "All fairies, then."

  "You're a fairy?" Diana's eyes felt as if they would pop out of her head, they were so round.

  "That's what I just told you. I'm your fairy godmother. Fenella." The fairy held out a hand and took a step toward Diana, but she brandished the poker and commanded, "Stop right there."

  Fenella smiled (but without baring her teeth this time) and made a movement in the air with her hand. To Diana's surprise, a thread of red light left the end of Fenella's fingers and approached the end of the poker. When it reached the poker, Diana could see that it started to heat the metal to red hot, then even hotter as the poker melted before her eyes, dripping into a sizzling puddle on the floor. Diana let it clang to the ground long before the burning heat reached her fingers.

  "Now," said Fenella, "perhaps we can be civilized about this?" She stepped over the puddle that used to be the poker and held out her hand. "I am Fenella, your fairy godmother."

  Dazed, Diana did the same. "Lady Diana Dartmore." She knew her hand was wrung, but it felt as if it happened to someone else.

  "You have yourself a bit of a problem," said Fenella cordially.

  "Yes."

  "A suitor problem."

  "Yes."

  "Oh, come now, Diana." Fenella snapped her fingers under Diana's nose. "Wake up, child. We have work to do."

  Diana blinked and then laughed, and it sounded a little maniacal even to her own ears. "I am going insane. Or this is a very vivid dream."

  "It is neither. You are perfectly sane, and this is not a dream."

  "But fairies do not exist."

  "Since I am standing directly in front of you, that is a little bit hurtful. And we prefer fae to fairy."

  "Why?"

  Fenella sighed in evident irritation. "Because fairies are fluttery and mischievous and annoying. Fae are good people, and fairy godmothers are just fae with a particular job."

  Diana moved over to her bed on shaky legs and sat down, not taking her eyes off her nocturnal visitor for a second. "What do you want with me?"

  "Really?" Fenella said flatly. "How many times do I have to tell you?"

  "My happily ever after," Diana said. "But how do you do that?"

  "It depends on the person. In your case, you need to come to a conclusion over which gentleman is the right one."

  Diana smiled sadly, thinking of the one gentleman she only actually ever wanted before turning her attention back to her two suitors. "I cannot," replied Diana. "I have tried. And neither of them stands out over the other."

  "Very well, what do you think you need to be able to clarify?"

  Diana shook her head for a moment, but an idea was forming. "I need to know the real men underneath," she said slowly. "What they are like when they are not putting on their best behaviors. But there is no means for me to do so. I am not given the opportunity."

  Fenella's eyes sparkled, and for a moment, Diana was astonished to see red coals glowing at the depths of them. Then, her astonishment fled. Really, red eyes were hardly the most startling thing she had seen this evening.

  "I have an idea," said Fenella.

  "Really? What is it?" Diana leaned forward eagerly, but Fenella reached out and placed a hand on her forehead.

  "Oh, no, nothing you need to know. You should go back to sleep now."

  Diana's eyelids drooped, and weariness the like of which she had never known draped itself over her. Her shoulders sagged, and her head dropped down to her chest. The fairy and her plans seemed unimportant compared to the need to sleep.

  "Maybe you can tell me in the morning," Diana said, slipping under the covers.

  "Oh, you will know in the morning," Fenella said with a chuckle.

  But Diana didn't hear her. She was already asleep.

  In a wink, Lachlan appeared beside Fenella and looked down at the sleeping figure of Diana.

  "I know what you're planning," he said, a warning note in his voice.

  "Oh?" Fenella looked over at him, her eyes still sparkling.

  "Yes, and you've forgotten one critical thing."

  "No, I haven't."

  Fenella watched Lachlan's eyes narrow, and he quickly turned his head toward her. "No."

  "Oh, come on, Lachlan," she said in a wheedling tone. "It will only be for a day."

  "Absolutely not."

  "But I need you to do it." She ran a hand up and down his sleeve. "Please?" she said. "Pretty please?"

  Fenella was not certain that her begging would work this time. She couldn't be sure that she hadn't used up all her chances.

  Still, she opened her dark blue eyes wide, and pouted a smile. She knew she had him when she saw the answering peep of a smile from him, which he sternly repressed.

  "Fine. But only for one day."

  "One day. I promise." Fenella kissed him quickly on the cheek. "This is going to be fun," she said gleefully, clapping her hands.

  "For you perhaps," replied Lachlan glumly.

  "Oh, don't be an old grump."

  And with that, the pair of them winked out of sight.

  Chapter Eight.

  Diana woke up to her lady's maid shaking her shoulder. She groaned, and turned over, hoping that Lily would stop. But the insistent shaking continued.

  "Leave me alone, Lily," she said, her words muffled by her pillow. "Wake me up later."

  "Later will be too late," said a cheerful, unfamiliar voice, "and you don't want to be late on your first day."

  With a gasp, Diana sat up. She was not in her own chambers. Instead, she was in a tiny room with two tiny beds, in one of which she was sleeping. The sheets were cotton, and the blankets rough. Diana felt the cold of the room against her face. There was no fireplace.

  She looked over to the person who had been shaking her, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. That person was dressed as a housemaid and was grinning at her in far too familiar a manner for a servant.

  "What are you doing in my..." She trailed off, remembering that she was not actually in her own chambers.

  "I'm Maisie," the cheerful girl said, "and we met last night, though you were pretty tired from the carriage ride, you must not remember. You need to get up - you don't want to get on the wrong side of Mrs. Fletcher on the first day."

  "Mrs. Fletcher?" Diana replied, still befuddled with sleep.

  "Yes."

  "The housekeeper?"

  "Ah, now you're remembering." Maisie beamed in Diana's face. "Your uniform's at the end of the bed. Hurry now. We need to get breakfast before we start." Maisie turned and left the room, leaving Diana
gaping behind her.

  She recognized Maisie, vaguely. The girl had worked at her godmother's country house for years. But that did not explain why she spoke to Diana with such familiarity, or, indeed, what Diana was doing in the tiny room.

  Bewildered, she pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The instant her feet touched the ground, she pulled them back up. There were no rugs on the floors here, and her feet had landed on cold, hard flooring. Resolutely she put them back down, gritting her teeth against the icy cold that seemed to seep up her legs. Walking over to a small dresser, Diana splashed some freezing water on her face and groped for a nearby towel to pat it dry. Then she looked up into the mirror and shrieked.

  She wasn't looking at her own face.

  A quick step backward and she bumped the back of her knees which buckled against the bed frame and she sat down hurriedly. Her heart was thumping as though it might jump out of her chest and her hair prickled against her scalp. She felt as if she could not get enough air.

  It cannot have been.

  She took a moment to try to slow her racing heart, and to find the courage to look again. With a deep breath, she stood, ensuring that her shaky knees would hold her, and tottered forward to the mirror.

  And the other girl was still there. A face a little wider than Diana's, with hazel eyes and brown hair, currently pulled back into a plait but that was tousled as if it had been slept on. A black ribbon in the end.

  With one shaking hand, Diana touched her face, watching the reflection do the same. She traced over the pale brow, then down over the cheek, resting her fingers on the neck. All the while, the reflection stared back at her with wide, frightened eyes and a mouth slightly dropped open. She closed her mouth, the mouth in the reflection snapped shut.

  It must be a dream.

  "It's not a dream."

  Diana found Fenella standing right beside her and with another shriek, threw herself across the room.

  "Who are you?"

  Fenella exhaled, closing her eyes. Then in a singsong voice, she said, "I'm Fenella, your fairy godmother and I'm here to help you with..."