Lady Diana's Disguise (Seven Wishes Book 3)

by Bree Verity

  She ran back through the dining room, into the enormous entranceway, alongside the staircase and out through the front door. Hardly noticing the cold, she made for the gardens alongside the house which would afford her some protection.

  "Diana!" She heard the shout and knew that Simon had seen the reflection. Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps and she realized she would not be able to outrun him. So, between the sparse hedges and bushes of the pleasure garden she stopped, awaiting him and trying to figure out how she might explain.

  Simon, too, was quite winded by the time he caught up with Diana. Stopping beside her, he put a hand on her shoulder and wheezed through a few breaths of too cold air.

  "Breathe a little shorter, Simon, you shall give yourself a lung infection."

  He barked a laugh. "Thank you, doctor," he said wryly, "I am quite able to physic myself these days you know." Then he turned serious. "Did I see what I thought I did?"

  Wordlessly, Diana lifted the silver platter (which she had failed to put down in the dining room) and showed him the reflection of her true self.

  "How can it be?"

  "I hardly know where to begin," she said. "It seems I have a fairy godmother."

  She spilled out the entire tale to an incredulous Simon, happy to be able to tell someone, and even happier that she was confiding in her old childhood friend. When she reached the end, she looked shyly up at him. "Well? Is it not the strangest tale you have ever heard?"

  Simon was still for a moment, then swept her up into his arms. "Oh, Diana," he said, his voice muffled in her shoulder. "I knew something was wrong. You were behaving so strangely, so unlike yourself. I thought I was going mad, or something had happened to change you in the past years."

  "No, not going mad," she replied, a bubble of happiness lifting in her. "Just not quite myself."

  Simon laughed and put her down. "What are you going to do?" he said, taking her hands.

  She shook her head slowly. "I am quite trapped in this body until Fenella decides to end her little holiday and come back," she replied, allowing the frustration to show in her voice. "And when she does, I shall have a few choice words for her, I can tell you that."

  Simon's reply was drowned out by a voice shouting, "Annie!" and a furious Mrs. Fletcher bore down on the pair of them. Diana was certain she could see smoke coming out of the woman's ears. Right behind her scampered Captain Littleton, and Diana's stomach dropped. She could sense something dreadful was about to happen.

  She was right. Immediately, Mrs. Fletcher boxed her in the ear. Her head rang like a bell and she dropped the silver platter as stars formed in front of her eyes. Somewhere in the distance she heard Simon say in an outraged tone, "What on earth did you do that for?" and Mrs. Fletcher say to him, "If you don't mind, sir, how I choose to run my staff is no business of yours."

  As her head cleared, Diana realized Simon had pulled her toward himself and had encircled her in his arms. Grateful for his protection, she grasped his forearm.

  "You see?" Captain Littleton's voice was gleeful. "I told you they were having a tryst."

  "A tryst?" gasped Diana, and her head rang again. "We are doing no such thing."

  "Then please explain why you are in the garden with the gentleman's arms around you, instead of being inside taking care of your chores?" Mrs. Fletcher, knowing Annie would have no explanation, stood triumphant.

  However, Simon butted in. "If you must know, I asked the young woman to come out here to... test a theory I had regarding the cold in the air."

  "It's a lie," snarled Captain Littleton. "He and this harpy have been engaged in an affair the whole time. I've seen them, creeping around upstairs when they thought everyone else was asleep. Mr. Carling will confirm my version of events."

  "Mr. Carling?" Diana said, drawing herself up. "Why you and he are nothing more than a pair of..."

  "What?" Captain Littleton dared her to tell what she knew. With a sinking heart, Diana realized she could not. There was no proof, except her word against his. And right now, it was the word of a gentleman against that of a housemaid.

  "Nothing," she mumbled.

  "And what are you doing with this platter out here?" Mrs. Fletcher snatched it from her limp hand. "One of Lady Edenburgh's finest de Lamerie pieces."

  "Obviously she was going to steal it so she and Doctor Moore could pawn it to elope," declared Captain Littleton, at which proclamation Mrs. Fletcher's beady eyes gleamed. Diana noted that Simon caught the Captain's eyes with a look of disdain.

  "Getting rid of the competition are we, Littleton?" said Simon smoothly, and Diana was pleased to see a slight flush cross Captain Littleton's face before he replied pompously, "We could not expect the lovely Lady Diana to consider such a profligate as yourself, Doctor."

  Diana was fuming at the injustice of it all. Both she and Simon had been placed as the villains of the piece.

  "This means instant dismissal for you, my girl," said Mrs. Fletcher. "I always knew there was something fishy about you. Collect your things, I shall have your wages calculated for you."

  "No, you cannot," said Simon. "She is the Lady Diana."

  "I beg your pardon, sir? Perhaps the cold is tinkering a little with my brain. I thought you said this girl was the Lady Diana."

  "That is what I said." Simon reached to grab the silver platter back from Mrs. Fletcher, but she pulled it out of the way. "I shall return this to the house," she said grandly. "Annie, if you are not downstairs to receive your wages in ten minutes, I shall not pay them." She turned on her heel and stumped away.

  Captain Littleton looked at Simon as if he was insane. "Of all the idiotic, grasping things you could have said. Why on earth would you hit on the one thing the woman would never believe? Moore, I do believe I could give you some lessons in subterfuge." And with one last smirk at the pair of them he, too, returned to the house.

  Diana stared up at Simon, her eyes wide. "What am I to do?" she whispered.

  "Well, whatever it is, I shall come with you."

  Diana's heart stopped, then slammed against the walls of her chest. "Oh, Simon, I should like nothing better, but I will not be party to the besmirching of your good name."

  He gave a short laugh. "My good name seems to already be well and truly besmirched," he said, but Diana reached up to place one cold hand against his cheek.

  "No, my dear, this is merely a trifle. Stay, will you not? I shall ride the mail carriage to the outskirts of London and seek lodgings there. And when Fenella finds me, she will restore me, and this will all be just a terrible memory."

  His brows deepened. "I cannot like the thought of you out there alone," he said sternly. "The stories that have been carried to me of girls like you who have done nothing to deserve their lot in life except having been in the wrong place at the wrong time..." He shuddered. "If anything were to happen to you, I would never forgive myself."

  Diana smiled. "You hardly need bother yourself," she said. "It is not as though we are anything but casual acquaintances."

  At this, Simon gave a tired smile that Diana could not decipher. With a frown, she continued, "I shall be extremely careful, and stay in lighted areas and close to other women and I shall survive, Simon. You shall see. It will be an adventure."

  Simon snorted. "Adventure, indeed. It will be a miracle if you come away unscathed." Yet, he loosened his grip on her and planted a kiss in her hair. "You need to run along if you are to meet the housekeeper's time limit. Without your wages, you might find yourself walking to London."

  Throwing him a smile, Diana turned and fled to the house, and upstairs to her room. Under her bed, she found a small leather portmanteau, with some clothes stuffed in it. Assuming they belonged to 'Annie' she quickly changed out of her uniform and into the other clothes, which were old and a little threadbare, and smelled musty. A short, thin overcoat and a scarf finished her preparations and just as she was about to leave, Maisie raced into the room and flung herself into Diana's arms.

  "O
h, my Lady, what will you do? The house is all up in arms. Mrs. Fletcher says she caught you in Doctor Moore's embrace."

  Putting her friend aside, Diana smiled, though her heart was quailing. "It will all work out, Maisie," she said. "Once Fenella returns, she will restore me, and everything will go back to normal."

  "But where will you be? And what will you do? And what if Fenella never returns?"

  It was the question Diana was trying very hard not to think of. "Well," she said slowly. "If that were to happen, I suppose I might call on my very good friend Maisie for succor?"

  "And I would help you, my Lady, in a heartbeat."

  Diana gave Maisie an impetuous hug. "Thank you so much for everything you've done for me over the past days, Maisie. You do not know how much I have depended on your stoicism."

  "Well and now I don't rightly know what that is, but I suppose it is a good thing, so I thank you, my Lady," Maisie replied.

  "I had best get going before Mrs. Fletcher withholds my wages."

  "That you had better, my Lady."

  With one last look around the tiny room, Diana sighed, smiled sadly at Maisie, and, lifting her mostly empty bag, made her way down the stairs and out of the house.

  Chapter Twenty-One.

  Simon watched from his bedroom window as Diana trudged down the long, frost covered driveway, her head held high. Despite inhabiting the wrong body, she was still every inch the feisty, brave girl he had fallen in love with as a teenager. It took all his resolve not to throw caution to the wind, fold up a pair of stockings and a clean shirt into a bundle and follow her down the road. He would catch up to her, pledge himself to her, and she would be alone no more.

  When he could no longer see her, Simon wiped the errant tear that had formed in the corner of his eye. Something played in the back of his mind. Something was wrong about all of this. He poured two fingers of whiskey and took a sip before realizing what was bothering him and clicking his fingers. He would have to return to the party.

  If Diana had been the housemaid Annie, just who was it that had been playing the role of Diana?

  He found the fake Diana and, once again, took her by the arm, this time a little less gently.

  'Ouch, you're hurting me," she complained and a few of the gentlemen made a move as if they would come to Diana's aid, but Simon's scowl made them reconsider and sit back down.

  Once again Simon dragged Diana to the space beside the stairs. He put his hands on his hips.

  "Who are you?"

  Lady Diana tittered - once again proving to Simon that she was a fraud. "Whatever do you mean? I am Lady Diana."

  "No, you are not. Lady Diana does not giggle like that. And I saw the real Lady Diana just a few moments ago..."

  The Lady grabbed his forearm excitedly. "Do you mean that Fenella has returned?"

  "No, I do not. And now the real Diana has been sent away."

  "Sent away?"

  "Yes. And I wish to know what you are going to do about it."

  Lady Diana looked at him shrewdly then said, "Follow me."

  The two of them went into the dining room, and Lady Diana asked the two footmen who were setting up for luncheon to leave. They looked at each other hesitantly.

  "It shall only be for a few moments," said Lady Diana. "Please. We need some privacy."

  With a shrug, the two left the room, and Simon closed the door behind them.

  A strange white light filled the room and Simon's view of Lady Diana seemed to blur into a shimmer before a man stepped out of the glare.

  Simon stepped back sharply. The man - no, not a man - had a pair of transparent, featherlight wings that wafted gently behind him. Even as Simon gaped, the wings disappeared.

  "What are you?"

  The creature ignored his question.

  "Just how much do you know, Doctor Moore?" the creature asked, his voice like ringing silver.

  "Diana told me everything," he said, "except your true identity."

  "Well in that case, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Lachlan. Fenella's mentor."

  "You've certainly done a bang-up job, haven't you?" The sarcasm in Simon's words was lost on Lachlan whose fine brows had drawn together.

  "This is quite a mess," he fretted. "Too many people know far too much about us."

  "I have no concern over that," replied Simon. "My only concern is Diana's safety."

  Lachlan shrugged. "As to that, there is little we can do until Fenella returns."

  "And just who is this Fenella?"

  "She is a fairy godmother in training, and I have to tell you, I have had my doubts about her from the beginning." Lachlan seemed troubled. "There's something about her though, a wild side that's both alluring and dangerous. You can't help but fall for her energy. She exudes a kind of... brightness that I've never seen before."

  Simon was disdainful of Lachlan's enthusiasm. "So, you let this woman get under your skin and did nothing about her wild behavior, and now Diana is out there somewhere, lost and cold and alone and probably in danger?"

  "Not woman," Lachlan corrected. "We are not men. Fenella is a she-fae."

  "It makes no difference," snapped Simon.

  "And I resent the implication that I did not do my job. Fenella has been subject to a disciplinary review, and I do believe this little escapade will mean the end of her career."

  "All of that matters not to me."

  Lachlan shrugged. "From my standpoint, there is little I can do. I'm stuck here until the real Diana returns and reclaims her body. Can you imagine the uproar if the Lady were to completely disappear?"

  "Meanwhile, the real Diana is out there in a world that she is dreadfully unprepared for."

  Lachlan's eyes were troubled. "I only wish I knew where she had gotten to," he fretted. "I am certain it has something to do with her brother."

  "Lady Diana does not have a brother."

  "Not her, you fool. I'm talking about Fenella's brother."

  "What about her brother?"

  "He has been hanging about for a few days, filling her head with nonsense and asking her to leave and go with him. She refused, of course. She would not be so irresponsible."

  "Is that so?" questioned Simon. "Yet she is not here."

  "I fear he may have taken her by force," Lachlan explained, "and the problem is that I have no idea whatsoever where he might have taken her, or whether he plans to bring her back."

  Simon goggled. "So, what you are trying to tell me is that this situation might never be resolved?"

  "No, I can't imagine that," replied Lachlan soothingly, although the expression in his eyes belied his tone.

  "Now you listen here," said Simon, his even temper starting to fray. "Your apprentice fairy godmother has put the Lady Diana in mortal danger, and I will never forgive her for that."

  "Now, that's a little short-sighted of you don't you think..."

  "Furthermore, since Fenella was under your charge, I hold you responsible for Diana's safe return."

  "How on earth can I be responsible for that?" Lachlan spluttered.

  "You have allowed your charge to be absent long enough that the woman I love has been sent out there," Simon replied, pointing to the cold and winter beyond the window. "She had been coddled and cloistered her entire life. It is like throwing a chick amongst a skulk of foxes. So, if she dies or is hurt in any way, I will be holding you personally responsible."

  With that he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, past the two servants who straightened up at his presence. His steps took him back to his chambers, where he paced feverishly, not knowing how to direct his mind away from the possible fates Diana was facing. He had seen firsthand the evil and depravities of London's lowest society. It sickened him to think that Diana might be in the midst of that.

  And it hurt his heart that he was so powerless to help her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two.

  Diana had trudged to the mail coach stop, her threadbare garments providing little protection against the col
d, and she was shivering by the time the coach stopped, but it was warm inside, packed as it was with bodies, and Diana managed to squeeze in between two other women. The coach smelled of unwashed bodies and old leather, but Diana was surprised at how comfortable she became in a very short period of time. Granted, her toes remained numb and her fingers refused to warm up, but Diana pragmatically thought she had landed in a well-enough situation, despite everything.

  "How far is it to London?" she asked the woman beside her, a thin, plain lady dressed in a heavy cotton print dress with a dark cloak and pelisse, and a bonnet that would have been lovely at one stage, but that had been disastrously remodeled to try to ape the current fashions.

  "Five or six hours yet, Miss," the woman said. "Best settle in and make yourself comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you can."

  The woman seemed happy to talk, informing Diana that her name was Agnes Chilcott and that she was traveling to care for an uncle who was suffering through the final stages of consumption.

  "I'm the one the family shuffles off all over the place at will," she said in a cheerfully resigned tone. "Need a nurse or a stand-in governess? Call on Agnes. Somebody ill? Agnes will look after 'em. Dying? Agnes is wonderful at caring for the dying."

  "Must be nice to feel needed," said Diana wistfully, but the woman on the other side of her burst out in a scornful laugh. She was dressed far differently to Agnes, wearing a lovely bright blue dress which, Diana thought, was perhaps a little too small for her, because her breasts were pushing up out of the bodice.

  "No, miss, that's what it feels like to be unwanted. Shuffled from pillar to post by relatives who don't care if you live or die? That's no life. Better to be unfettered by family and looking after your own interests."

  Diana turned back to Agnes, but she only smiled sadly. "It is the lot of the spinster daughter, miss. I don't complain. God willing, there's always a roof over my head and food on the table."