The more time he spent with Diana, the less he could envisage letting her go. Perhaps, once she was safe, he’d feel differently. Perhaps, with her able to pursue a normal life again, like Napoleon on St Helena setting the world at peace, the momentous chapter of his life labelled ‘Diana’ would close, letting him finally move forward.
And perhaps Diana would go her own way.
The mere thought of her leaving made his heart squeeze in protest. Stilling it, he set his jaw. Winning her again—or not winning her—would have to wait. First, he had to protect her.
Chapter Fifteen
That night, as soon as the household retired to bed, Diana slipped along the darkened hallway to her hostess’s room.
Mrs Ransleigh had been surprisingly cordial at dinner. Still, Diana knew it must chafe her extremely to be forced to house the woman who had so wronged her son.
Hopefully, that distress would be relieved after this interview.
Arriving at her destination, she tapped on the door. ‘Mrs Ransleigh!’ she called out softly. ‘It’s Diana...Northcot. May I talk with you for a moment?’
Her enquiry was met by a silence that lasted so long, she was debating how to proceed if her hostess refused her admittance, when suddenly the door opened. In gown and robe, with a frilly cap tied over her curls, Mrs Ransleigh stood on the threshold.
She looked Diana up and down, her expression wary, like someone approaching an unfamiliar dog, not sure if it would wag or bite. ‘I suppose I shall have to hear you out sometime, so you might as well come in now.’
‘Thank you.’ Diana followed her hostess through the bedchamber into the blue-and-rose sitting room beyond.
‘Take the wing chair by the hearth,’ Mrs Ransleigh directed as she reposed herself on the sofa. ‘The fire’s been banked, but there’s still some warmth.’
As Diana hoped there would be, from this woman she’d once thought to embrace as her mother-in-law, for the child that might have been her grandson. Surely, regardless of her feelings for Diana, she would have pity on James!
‘I wanted to thank you first for admitting us to your home. I’m sure Alastair pressed you, but, quite frankly, I wasn’t at all sure you wouldn’t refuse to take us in.’
As her hostess made no reply, merely nodding, Diana continued. ‘I imagine you feel nothing but loathing for me and scorn for the dilemma in which I find myself. Let me assure you, I do not intend to impose upon your forbearance for very long.’
‘Indeed?’ Mrs Ransleigh responded, raising her eyebrows. ‘Has my son exaggerated the menace Graveston poses to your son?’
‘No! Not exaggerated. Or rather, as long as he sees my son as a means to make me suffer, James is in danger. But it’s me upon whom he truly wants revenge. I believe that if he can obtain that, and James is protected by friends powerful enough to make proceeding against him difficult, he will content himself with me and leave James alone.’
Mrs Ransleigh frowned. ‘What do you intend?’
‘I once caused Alastair, and indeed your entire family, great suffering and embarrassment—quite enough for one lifetime, I think! I shall do whatever I can now to ensure that none of you is harmed by Graveston’s anger towards me. I wouldn’t have agreed to come here at all, except I knew Alastair would never bring James without me. But I plan to leave tonight, return to Graveston Court, and confront Blankford.’
‘Return to Graveston Court!’ her hostess echoed, obviously surprised. ‘Are you sure you should do that? Would you not be placing yourself at Blankford’s mercy?’
Diana shook her head. ‘That doesn’t matter. If Blankford wishes to order up an inquiry, or have me bound over to the assizes, let him do so. So long as James is safe, and Alastair’s reputation protected. Before I go, though, may I beg of you one final, but most important favour?’
Mrs Ransleigh paused, opening her lips as if to speak, then closing them. ‘What is that?’ she said at last.
‘I know it’s a great deal to ask, but would you watch over my son? I’ve...not been much of a mother to him, but despite all he has been deprived of, he is a warm-hearted little boy, so anxious for and deserving of love. I couldn’t imagine anyone more capable than you of guiding him to becoming a strong, intelligent, honourable man. A man like Alastair. Can you pity James, an innocent in all this, and forgive me enough to care for him?’
As Mrs Ransleigh stared at her, probably astounded by her audacity in demanding such an enormous boon, Diana held her gaze and prayed that compassion would triumph over dislike. Alastair would do whatever was necessary to protect James—but to become the man she’d want him to be he would need the kindness, wisdom and guidance of a mother. If she could assure that for him, she could return to face Blankford with an easy heart.
To her relief and joy, Mrs Ransleigh’s eyes welled up with tears. ‘Yes, I will watch over him.’
Overwhelmed, Diana went over to kneel at her hostess’s feet. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, humbled. ‘I don’t deserve such a favour, but he does.’
Now to put the rest of her plan in action. Rising once more, she curtsied to her hostess. ‘I shall be gone by morning, so I’ll bid you farewell. Would you convey my...goodbyes and my thanks to Alastair?’
‘Shouldn’t you do that yourself?’
Diana stifled the pang of longing before it could escape. ‘No, it’s best if I don’t see him. Excuse me again for disturbing your rest, and may the Lord bless you for your mercy.’
This might even be a better solution, she thought, her anxiety lessening as she walked from the room. She might never become the mother James needed—but now she was turning him over to a woman who already was. With James safe, what difference did it make what happened to her?
As for the tantalising possibility of a future with Alastair—that was an illusion so cruel she should have crushed it the moment it whispered in her brain. Her emotions crippled and her heart stunted by years of living under Graveston’s tyranny, she was as unsuitable a partner for a man like Alastair as she was unfit to be James’s mother.
She hurried into her pelisse. The small portmanteau was already packed; a nearly full moon would illuminate the track to the village, several hours’ walk away. Next morning, she could find a ride with some market-bound farmer to the posting inn on the main road and by midday, obtain a seat on a mail coach that would take her towards Graveston Court.
She couldn’t bear to see Alastair—who would, in any event, try to dissuade her from a course of action of which he was certain to disapprove—but before she left, she would visit her son one last time.
Silently, she ascended the stairs and entered the nursery, setting the portmanteau by the door. Though unused for some years, she’d noted when she’d escorted James there earlier this evening that it was a cheerful place, its large windows overlooking the garden and bathing the room in light for lessons or play. Ranks of toy soldiers, tops, balls and a few precious books were arranged on shelves and a well-used rocking horse stood in the corner. Warm and inviting, it was as different as one could imagine from the formal, artefact-filled room her son had occupied at Graveston Court.
She hoped before long, Mrs Ransleigh would develop a fondness for James. He was a handsome boy with charming manners, who had already reanimated her deadened heart enough that she felt a real sorrow at having to leave him, just as she was finally beginning to know and appreciate him.
Tiptoeing past the sleeping Minnie, she eased herself on to the edge of his bed, careful not to disturb him. For a long moment, she gazed down on his face, cherubic in the moonlight.
‘Be safe, my son,’ she whispered. ‘I know you will wonder why I left you, but some day, when you are old enough to compare Alastair’s character to the Duke’s, you will understand.’
She rose to leave before, driven by a compulsion beyond reason, she hesitated. Cautiously
, as though attempting the forbidden, she leaned down to kiss James’s forehead. From deep within, love long repressed and denied seeped up, bringing tears to her eyes.
He murmured and stirred, and she drew back. ‘Goodbye, my dear son,’ she mouthed silently, then picked up the portmanteau, and slipped out of the room.
* * *
Down in the darkened kitchen, Alastair paced, hoping his mother’s warning had not brought him here too late. He’d checked Diana’s bedchamber immediately and found it empty; he’d wait here by the hearth a few more minutes, but if Diana did not appear, he would set out after her. On foot, in the dark, she couldn’t proceed with much speed, but though the home woods should not pose too many dangers for someone who kept to the road, he couldn’t be easy about her being out there alone, undefended, in the middle of the night.
He exhaled an impatient breath, aggravated at her headstrong decision to confront Graveston without him. Not that he’d been truly shocked when his mother rushed to tell him what Diana intended. After years of being forced to rely on no one but herself, he had suspected that once her son was safe, she might set off independently.
Determined to confront her enemy alone, to spare him and his family.
Damn Graveston! He spat out a few well-chosen oaths. And foolish girl! When would he convince her that she no longer had to fight her battles unaided?
A few minutes later, he heard the soft shuffle of slippers on the stairway. Drawing back into the shadows, he watched as, carrying a small trunk, Diana appeared in the moonlit room.
‘Just where do you think you are going?’ he demanded, unable to keep a note of exasperation from his voice.
‘Alastair!’ she gasped, whirling to face him.
‘Not the headless horseman. Though you deserve to confront a bogeyman, sneaking out like an ill-chosen guest absconding with the hostess’s jewels.’ His tone softening, he said, ‘How could you think I would let you go off to face Graveston alone?’
In the stillness, he heard a little sigh that twisted his heart. ‘I thought after I was gone, when you thought carefully about it, you would realise that was the best course. But how did you know I was leaving?’
‘Mama told me. Quite in a rush she was, urging me to hurry so I could intercept you before you escaped.’
‘Your mother?’ she echoed, clearly astounded.
‘Yes, though her warning didn’t take me completely by surprise. I remember an account of a girl, freed of her obligations, sneaking out through the kitchens in the dead of night. I just hadn’t anticipated it happening this soon.’
‘I can’t imagine why she would warn you,’ Diana murmured.
‘Here, give me that,’ he said, taking the portmanteau from her slackened grip. ‘Come up to the library and we’ll discuss it.’
Realising how peremptory he sounded, and remembering how often she’d been coerced, he added in a softer tone, ‘Please, Diana? I promise I will not force you to take any action with which you disagree. But let’s discuss this again before you throw yourself headlong into danger.’
‘Very well,’ she said in a little voice, sounding tired and discouraged.
Heartened, he took her elbow and guided her from the room. Not that his assistance was really needed, but after envisaging Graveston dragging her before a magistrate, Graveston hurling accusations against her at the assizes...Graveston striking her, he needed the reassuring feel of her warm flesh under his fingers.
Once in the library, he rummaged up some wine and waved her into a chair.
‘I still don’t understand why your mother didn’t just let me go. I would have thought she’d be relieved to be shed of me.’
‘She hasn’t quite forgiven you yet for what happened; the tale is a bit much to swallow all at once. But she believed enough of it to warn me—which is enough for now.’
He handed her a glass, noting how her fingers trembled as she sipped from it. He stemmed an overwhelming urge to gather her in his arms, to let his warmth and proximity reinforce the message she seemed so reluctant to believe—that he would stand by her, no matter the outcome. But she still radiated a brittle fragility, seeming half-glad he’d intervened, half-angry that he’d circumvented her will. He wouldn’t risk pushing her too hard.
‘I thought we’d agreed to face Graveston together,’ he said instead. ‘I thought you were going to trust me.’
‘And I thought you understood I would rather die than destroy your happiness and reputation a second time.’
‘Ah, Diana, do you truly think I could be happy, knowing you were going to sacrifice yourself for me? Perhaps if I tell you in more detail what I plan, I can convince you that proceeding together is the better way. You remember my cousin Will?’
A wisp of a smile touched her lips. ‘Wagering Will? He went into the army too, didn’t he? I suppose he tricked his way to general?’
‘Not quite,’ he said, momentarily diverted by the image of his reprobate cousin in a staff officer’s uniform. ‘Though I’ve no doubt he could have contrived it, had he wanted to. The army did use his skills in several clandestine ways on the Peninsula—who better to creep around and turn things up than Will? He also managed to find himself a wife while setting to rights the debacle with Max.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Debacle with Max?’
‘You didn’t hear? It was quite the scandal.’
‘I was exiled in the country the last few years,’ she reminded him drily.
‘While accompanying Wellington to the Congress of Vienna, he befriended a widow, hostess to a member of the French delegation who later plotted an assassination attempt against Wellington. Max’s innocent association with the widow dragged him into it, ruining his political prospects. You remember how Will credits Max with saving him from the streets. He was so incensed by the affair—during which our uncle, the Earl of Swynford, made no attempt to assist his son—he set off to Vienna to find the woman and bring her back to clear Max’s name. Succeeded so well, he ended up marrying her—and getting himself a post as a trader in Paris, while also representing the Crown on economic matters.’
‘How can an economic envoy in Paris help us?’
‘Will’s back in England—and still possessed of those, uh, particular skills for gaming and subterfuge Max never succeeded in beating out of him. I intend to send him, in whatever guise he thinks most useful, to the village near Graveston Court and let him investigate the circumstances of your husband’s death. We’ll see whether he can turn up some counter-testimony to persuade the Duke it would be better not to make public his accusations. Given the enmity between father and son, I’m nearly certain we could find witnesses to support some counter-accusations.’
She sat silent for a moment, obviously considering the possibilities. ‘Like his father, Blankford is supremely confident of forcing whatever outcome he wills. Anything Will “turned up” would have to be pretty convincing.’
‘Will’s a skilful rogue. Trust him. As I hope you’ll trust me.’
He came over to take her hand and gazed into her eyes, willing her to believe him. ‘I’m no longer an impetuous boy, ready to give up without a fight and slink off to nurse my wounded sensibilities. If I’d listened to the instincts that said you’d never willingly abandon me, pushed past the servant who said you wouldn’t receive me and insisted on speaking with you eight years ago, how much misery and anguish would I have saved us both? You gave up your life to save mine then. Now I intend to fight to save yours.’
‘But if you cannot convince Graveston to cry off, only think of the scandal! It is not just you who would suffer, Alastair. What of your mama, your sisters? How embarrassing it could be for them!’
He shrugged. ‘I have thought about it. No one would believe ill of Mama, who made her choice to support us when she alerted me to stop you. Jane and Lissa are both married into important f
amilies with husbands who can protect them. Try as he might, Blankford would never find enough evidence to convict you in a court of law, so creating a scandal is all he could ultimately achieve. We can face it down together. Besides, neither of us cares a fig about whether we’re received in Society or not.’
‘You might become “Infamous Alastair” in truth,’ she said with a flicker of a smile.
‘And never look back. But I really don’t think it will come to that. Won’t you try this my way?’
He hesitated, wanting to say so much more. That neither honour nor affection would permit him to let her sacrifice herself a second time. That logic and reason demanded she choose his alternative. That he intended to keep her here and implement his plan whether she agreed or not.
But after all she had suffered, any attempt to coerce would probably trigger an instinctive resistance that would make her deaf to logic or reason. Holding her by force would only result in her trying to slip through his grasp again at the first opportunity.
So he waited, every nerve tensed for her answer.
At last, she gave a heavy sigh. ‘Perhaps you are right. Maybe Will can find something.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I can always give myself up in the end.’
She turned to look up into his face. ‘Maybe I should have trusted you more, eight years ago. Maybe Graveston would not have carried out his threats. All he needed, however, was for me to believe he would. A man of his rank, one who had imposed his will on others practically from birth...’ She shook her head. ‘What match was a girl of eighteen, with no experience of the world, against a man like that?’
‘So this time, you’ll trust me to keep James safe, to keep you safe. Trust us, working together?’
She squeezed his hand and nodded. ‘I’ll trust us.’
Overwhelming relief swept through him like a storm wind over the moors. Seizing both her hands, he kissed them.
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