by Laura Landon
“That would be nice,” Diana murmured as she picked up her coffee cup and took a long sip. She was still furious with Lord Thorne for lying to her, but was she any better? Hers was a lie of omission, but to her dear family and friends. If Diana didn’t believe they would try to prevent her from going to India, she’d have told them in an instant.
“Will Thorne be back in time for the shooting party?” Andrew asked his brother.
Diana lowered her cup and looked at Bertie.
“Yes, he promised he would be.” Bertie buttered a piece of bread. “Lord Thorne has business to attend to this morning and left about an hour ago,” he explained to Diana. “I have no idea what keeps him so busy, but he’s always up to something.”
“Is his home near here?” Diana asked, curious about the man.
“No, his ancestral home is in Kent. Quite a place too, even bigger than our house.” Bertie smiled. “During one visit, I got lost on my way to the game room and wandered around for nearly an hour trying to get my bearings.”
Andrew laughed. “That is nothing new. You have no sense of direction.”
“Too true,” Bertie admitted, with a wistful smile. “But I managed to find my way to Fanny, so I don’t mind a little wandering.”
That led to talk about the wedding and then Diana asked, “Will anyone from Lord Thorne’s family be attending the ceremony?”
“No, he doesn’t have much family. His parents passed away a few years ago and he has no siblings. There is a raft of cousins, though, and some aunts and uncles whose company he enjoys.”
Hearing the voices of Haverly and Barrett coming from the staircase, Diana pushed her chair back and stood up. “That was a lovely breakfast. If you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I’ll take a walk by that beautiful lake.”
. . .
An hour later, Diana returned to the house and made her way up to the second floor where she and her family were installed in the guestrooms.
She planned to pen a quick reply to Mrs. Smithers Watson’s latest letter, thanking her for sending the travel instructions. They were somewhat complicated, and included making several stops along the way on Mrs. Smithers Watson’s behalf to make purchases. It also identified the name of the couple that was to accompany her on the voyage.
Perhaps Fanny and Louisa would be up and about by the time she was finished with her letter. She wanted to spend as much time with them as possible before she left for India.
Aunt Sterling always took a very long time with her morning toilette and would not want to see anyone but her lady’s maid for at least another hour or two.
Diana found herself humming as she made her way down the long hallway to her room. But the moment she stepped inside, she stopped humming.
Her bedchamber was a shambles.
No housemaid had done this, she was certain. The dresser drawers stood half open and so did the closet. Even her trunk had been opened and the contents strewn about the floor.
Her cheeks flushed when she saw her lacy unmentionables amidst the disarray.
“Who could have done this?” she muttered, still in disbelief.
Then her gaze fell on the vase of wildflowers on her dressing table. Nestled among the lovely yellow blooms and lavender was a crumpled purple flower. And it was identical to the flower she’d pushed under Lord Thorne’s nose last night.
“So he left a calling card,” she said aloud, walking over to the vase and plucking the purple flower from the bunch. She tossed it away, but the petals left a sticky residue on her fingers. She stepped across to the wash basin, dipped her hands into the tepid water and then toweled them dry.
She had no doubt Lord Thorne had been looking for his wrapped packet and had made no secret of his intrusion into her room.
And he’d found it, judging by the scraps of paper wrapping and string that were abandoned on the floor. Despite her anger, she found herself smiling. How frustrated he must have been when he didn’t find the key in the snuff box.
But she’d simply been keeping her promise to always carry it with her. She reached into the top of her corset, where a few years ago she had come up with the idea to fashion a thin linen corset pouch to act as a sort of pocket. It had come in quite handy at times, and this was certainly one of them.
She pulled out the key, which she tied with a small piece of string, and examined it once more. It looked too small to be a room key, so she supposed it was for a smaller locking mechanism, like a desk drawer or a box.
And it was important enough to Lord Thorne to invade her room and search for it, risking expulsion from the manor if anyone had caught him.
She mused on the possibilities as she began to tidy up her room. When she was about halfway done refolding her clothes and straightening her closet, she noticed something missing.
Her letter from Mrs. Smithers Watson, with all the travel instructions and passage information, was gone.
It held information she hadn’t made note of anywhere else and certainly didn’t remember.
Panic seized her. What if Lord Thorne had destroyed it in anger after realizing the key was gone? There was not enough time to contact Mrs. Smithers Watson before the ship was due to sail.
Diana took a deep breath, trying to calm the maelstrom inside of her. Then she methodically searched the rest of the bedchamber, just in case the letter had somehow been misplaced.
But she knew deep down he’d taken it.
When at last she had to admit it was gone, Diana sat down on the bed and determined what to do about it.
Because Lord Thorne, Viscount Thorne, had finally gone too far.
. . .
Later that afternoon, Diana took tea in Lady Marwick’s private sitting room with the rest of the ladies. The yellow walls, floral upholstered furnishings, and long window seat lent a sunny charm to the room.
And the second floor windows offered a stunning view of the lake. From her seat on the divan, Diana could see a few ducks waddling along the shore, as well as a pair of elegant swans gliding over the sparkling water.
“Swans have always fascinated me,” Mrs. Burns said, following her gaze. Mrs. Burns and Mrs. Glover were the wives of Bertie’s cousins, and Diana found them to be delightful. They seemed to adore Fanny too, and lived close by, so she’d be able to visit with them often.
“Apparently they’re highly intelligent,” Mrs. Burns continued, “and can live for up to twenty years or more. And they mate for life.”
“As do we,” Mrs. Glover added with a smile, “whether we like it or not.”
Her comment provoked laughter among the group, and Lady Marwick was still chuckling when she began pouring the tea. “You two can’t fool me. You two wouldn’t trade your husbands for anyone else.” She handed a teacup to Aunt Sterling. “And neither would I.”
For the next hour, Diana sipped her tea and enjoyed the little frosted cakes as the married ladies told stories about their husbands and children. Aunt Sterling had many witty anecdotes, given that she’d been married three times.
Diana didn’t have anything to add of course, although both Fanny and Louisa paid rapt attention. She often found her mind wandering and her fingers brushing against her gown near where the key was hidden. She’d formed a plan to get her letter back. Now she just had to work up the nerve to execute it.
She took another sip of tea and realized her long silence might be interpreted as rudeness. So she focused on the conversation once more.
“Bertie and I had made an agreement that we wouldn’t tell each other what we were planning to wear for Lord Varney’s masquerade party,” Fanny said, telling an anecdote of her own. “He claims he recognized me right away, but he had me completely fooled until he finally removed his mask.”
Diana loved her sister but had heard the story at least five times.
“Yes, my husband told me all about it,” Lady Marwick said with a smile. “We must plan a masquerade party of our own when you and Bertie return from your wedding trip.”
; Fanny clapped her hands together. “Oh, that sounds wonderful! And we shall invite all of you,” she told the ladies assembled in the room.
A titter of excitement washed over the group and Louisa flashed her lovely smile at Diana. A pang of regret filled her, knowing she wouldn’t be in attendance. But it was the regret of knowing how much she would miss her sisters—and she had to admit a masquerade party did sound fun.
But first she needed to figure out the masquerade Lord Thorne was playing.
“Now that I’m feeling so much better, I must have some new gowns made,” Lady Marwick said. “The ones I have are too ample now, I’m afraid. But I’ll need to find a new dressmaker. The one I had for years went off and married a vicar.”
That led the other ladies to talk about their experiences with various dressmakers and the gowns they’d admired during the Season. The conversation veered to the quality of lace available in London and the most popular colors in silks and satins.
Diana glanced down at her simple tea dress. It was the color of fresh cream with a light blue sash and no lace at all. She’d never been one for frills, but noticed the other ladies in the room, including her sisters and aunt, all wore more stylish, intricate gowns in a lovely array of colors.
As Mrs. Owens began to talk about taffeta, Diana’s gaze went to the window once more. She hadn’t seen Lord Thorne all day, but had heard after luncheon that he had returned in time to go out shooting with the other gentlemen.
Louisa, who sat next to her, leaned close and whispered, “Your hair looks exceptionally fine today, Diana. Why has Rose never done it up like that before?”
Rose was the lady’s maid they shared and she’d traveled with them to Marwick Manor.
“I did it myself,” Diana told her “I was up earlier than usual and Rose was busy with Aunt Sterling.” She grimaced. “You know I don’t like to fuss with it.”
Louisa smiled. “Well, it’s very becoming.”
Diana swallowed a sigh, not taking Louisa’s compliment to heart. Her sister meant well, but she’d been giving Diana small compliments ever since that incident with Mr. Haverly.
“Oh, how I wish we could speak of something other than gowns and hair and husbands,” she said in a low voice.
But perhaps not low enough, she realized, when she saw Aunt Sterling turn and give her a disapproving frown.
Diana folded her hands in her lap, feeling like a chastened schoolgirl again. This was the future that awaited her if she didn’t get her travel papers back from Lord Thorne. There would be an endless stream of afternoons filled with endless conversations on subjects she cared nothing about.
That thought made her rise to her feet. The sudden movement made all eyes in the room turn to her.
“Please forgive me,” Diana said, looking at Lady Marwick, “I’m suddenly not feeling well and….”
“Oh, dear girl,” Lady Marwick interjected, waving her hand toward the door. “Please, go and rest yourself. I will send a maid to your room to attend to you.”
“Oh, no please don’t bother,” Diana told her. “I’m sure I’ll be fine once I rest a bit.”
Diana could feel Aunt Sterling’s gaze upon her but did not dare to look at her as she left the sitting room. Once she was out the door, she resisted the urge to skip down the hallway.
Now she was free to put her plan into action.
CHAPTER SIX
It hadn’t been easy locating Lord Thorne’s bedchamber.
After her walk by the lake earlier that morning, she’d decided to follow Bertie’s lead by ‘getting lost’ in the manor. Then she could ask questions of the servants to get her bearings and narrow down the possibilities.
Most of the servants had been rather tight-lipped while politely offering to escort Diana to wherever she needed to go. But there was one chambermaid named Charity who had been happy to show her where all the guests were staying, including Lord Thorne, and kept dropping hints that she would make an excellent lady’s maid for Fanny.
Now it was simply a matter of gaining entrance without any noticing. Fortunately, his room was at the end of the wing on the third floor, close to the back stairs used by the servants.
After making sure the stairs were clear, she hurried from the second floor to the third, her long legs allowing her to easily take the steps two at a time.
She peered through the open door at the top of the stair. The hallway was empty, which was what she’d expected since the men were all out shooting.
Fortunately, the door to his room was unlocked, as were all the guest chambers so the chambermaids could change the linens and turn down the beds.
Diana quickly slipped inside his room and closed the door behind her. Even though her heart raced, a thrill of exhilaration shot through her at making it this far without detection.
But she had no time to waste.
Diana took a moment to look around the room. The bed was neatly made and every surface clear of the type of debris gentlemen usually left in their wake—or so she had heard during this afternoon’s tea.
But Lord Thorne obviously wasn’t one of them, which meant she’d need to take care not to leave anything out of place after she conducted her search.
Diana decided to start at the writing desk, the most likely place to locate her papers. Then she’d move methodically around the room counterclockwise until she found them.
She opened the single drawer of the writing desk and saw only blank paper inside, along with an assortment of writing instruments and ink.
Closing the drawer, she took care not to make any noise. Then she moved to the dresser and opened the top drawer. A neat row of folded cravats lay inside, along with several handkerchiefs, stockings, and some unmentionables. After a quick search, Diana closed the drawer, her cheeks hot.
The second drawer contained shirts and vests. As she began to sort through them, a faint musky scent drifted up from the clothing and she was instantly transported to the night of the ball and that kiss under the moonlight. She closed her eyes for a moment, not willing to be diverted from her task.
It was clear to her now that Lord Thorne’s purpose that night had been to distract her from asking too many questions. And to her shame, his methods had worked.
After searching through every drawer and the armoire, frustration and disappointment were starting to set in.
“Where are they?” she muttered, carefully closing the noisy armoire door and looking around the rest of the room in dismay.
She took a deep breath to calm herself and whispered a simple question. “Where would I hide something in this room?”
Diana let her gaze slowly move over the walls and furnishings, then finally the bed. She walked over to it, lifting the pillows and looking underneath. As she searched, she tried not to think of Lord Thorne sleeping there. Tried not to imagine what he wore to bed—if anything.
She slid her hands over the bedcovers, then under the feather mattress.
“Nothing,” she breathed. “How is that possible?”
She’d barely voiced the thought when her gaze landed on the hat that sat neatly on a small table near the dresser. It was a topper and looked brand new, so she assumed Lord Thorne planned to wear it for the wedding. She had lifted it earlier and found nothing underneath.
But she hadn’t actually looked inside. Diana walked over to the table and picked up the hat. She ran her fingers inside the lining and found a small crease near the top of the hat. It had a small piece of ribbon attached.
Diana carried it over to the window for a better look inside the dark hat. She pulled on the ribbon and a flap opened, big enough for her to see paper inside of it. She turned the hat right side up and the paper fell out of the hat and onto the floor.
Her heart beating fast, Diana placed the topper back on the table and began thumbing through the papers. But it wasn’t her letter from Mrs. Smithers Watson.
It was scribbled notes of some kind, with a short series of words or phrases that often made no sense, a
long with some abbreviations and initials.
Apparently, Lord Thorne had developed a system of communication that was only clear to him.
As she looked through the papers, she noticed that a couple of them were smeared with something that looked like dried blood. Then she saw the words Pembury and Bertie, followed by three words that made her blood turn cold.
“This is an unexpected surprise, Miss Harwood,” said a low, masculine voice.
She whirled around to see Lord Thorne standing in the open doorway. He wore a black greatcoat that hugged his broad shoulders, and his black leather boots and riding attire made him appear larger than before.
He strode into the room and closed the door behind him, his eyes never leaving her face. “It appears that we both share a desire to know each other…intimately.”
. . .
Lord Thorne watched Diana march toward him, one hand raised as if to slap him. He reached out and caught her wrist just in time, so her fingertips only brushed against his cheek.
They stood locked together, not moving for a long moment, his hand curled around her wrist. Then he suddenly pivoted and pinned her against the wall, the movement as smooth as a dance.
Her eyes opened in surprise and he saw fire in those brown depths and the heat of a blush suffusing her cheeks. Her hair began falling around her face, as if struggling to be freed from the pins restraining it.
His body was taut and it took every ounce of restraint not to press even closer against her and kiss those full, pink lips that had curved in an angry scowl.
“Perhaps I misunderstood your intentions, Miss Harwood,” he whispered. “But what else am I to think when I find a lady such as yourself in my bedchamber?”
His words seemed to enrage her even more.
“Let me go,” she said, as she pushed against him.
Thorne had to grab her other hand to retain control, surprised at her strength. Then he leaned close to her ear. “Lower your voice, Miss Harwood, if you wish to save your reputation. You were fortunate in your choice of doors. Another man might not show my restraint.”