Paying the Virgin's Price

by Christine Merrill

  Was it only yesterday that she had been eagerly awaiting the appearance of Verity's first real suitor? She loved the girl, and wished her well as she struggled in the shadow of her older sister. If Verity finally made a choice, then Diana should be relieved, not annoyed. Unless it was this particular man.

  And while she was sure of Honoria's ability to captivate any man, she could not warm to the idea that the object of her affection was the enigmatic Mr Dale. No matter that she thought he was exactly the sort of man she could put forward as a steadying influence on either of them. To be forced to sit in the corner and watch as Nathan Dale grew increasingly besotted over either of the Carlow daughters would be the most difficult thing in the world.

  Perhaps Mr Dale thought the same, for he was squirming again. He stretched his long legs out before him, and they brushed against Diana's skirts.

  She gave a surprised jump as his calf touched hers.

  He straightened suddenly, mumbling apologies.

  Honoria nudged Verity with her toe from the opposite seat, and there were a few muffled giggles from the two girls until Diana gave a disapproving cough.

  Mr Dale seemed to fold in upon himself, trying to take as little space as possible and cause no further incidents.

  At last, the carriage arrived in front of the Carlow town house, and before it could come to a full stop, Nathan Dale had the door open and the step down. He offered a hand to Verity and then to Honoria. Once he had seen them both safely to the ground, he turned back for Diana. He wiped his palm upon his coat-tail and gave an embarrassed bob of his head, as though he did not wish to look into her eyes. But at the last moment, he looked up, his amazing green eyes catching hers and holding them. And then, his hand touched hers.

  Her feet were on the ground, and he was turning away. But she had the strangest sensation that an important moment had passed, though she had no recollection of it. And it was a shame, for if the time had been spent with her hand in his, she thought that she would very much have liked to have a clear memory of it.

  She came back to herself offering a silent prayer of relief that the trip was over, only to hear Verity insisting that Mr Dale simply must stay for tea, and her sister heartily agreeing. Honoria had reached out to catch the man by the arm again, before he could escape into the street. And now, she was reminding him that it was teatime, after all.

  After dragging him so far out of his way, it was only logical that the girls offer him refreshment. Diana should commend them for their hospitality. But the events so far had left Diana's nerves frayed to the point where she was sure her cup would be rattling on the saucer loud enough to block out the sound of conversation.

  And Mr Dale, damn him, could not seem to find voice enough to refuse the girls. If he did not wish to be with them, then why could he not say so--and end her torment? Instead, he allowed himself to be led as meek as a lamb into the sitting room for tea and cakes.

  They were barely seated, before Verity sprang to her feet. 'I wonder what is taking so long? Cook is normally much more prompt than this. Perhaps someone should go and check.'

  Diana was weighing in her mind the possibilities. It would not do to leave the girls alone in the room with a stranger, while she went to talk to the help. If that was what Verity was attempting to orchestrate, she underestimated her chaperone. She would tell the girl to ring for Wellow, the butler, and lecture them both later about the need to sit patiently when one had guests.

  But before she could take action, Honoria announced, 'I will just go and see after things.' And she was up, out of her chair and out the door. She turned back. 'And Verity, you must come with me.'

  Her sister rose. 'Can you not find your own way to the kitchen?'

  'Of course. But I suspect I shall eat all the sandwiches before they are even brought here, for I am famished. If you do not come to watch over me, I swear, I will not leave a thing for Mr Dale.'

  'Really, I...do not require anything,' he finished to the closed door.

  And Diana found herself alone again, with Nathan Dale.

  There was a moment of very awkward silence. And then, he spoke. 'Miss Verity did not talk nearly so much when last I saw her. Of course, she was an infant at the time.'

  'She did not talk so much when last I saw her either, and it has been barely an hour. I do not know what has got into her.' Diana hoped it did not sound like an indictment of her friend.

  Apparently, he feared the same. For he said, 'I mean no disrespect. For all her chatter, she is a pleasant girl, as is her sister. Have you known them long?'

  'I came into the household when Verity was almost fifteen. She is still nineteen and barely out.'

  'And Honoria twenty. The family must be very proud of them.' For a moment, his gaze grew distant, as if remembering the past. And then he focused on her again. 'And before coming here, did you have another position?'

  'As companion to an elderly lady in Kent.'

  He leaned forward as though he found her rather uninteresting life to be riveting. 'And did you prefer that job to this one?'

  She smiled, surprised at his questions. 'One position is much like another, I expect. But on the whole, I find it more enjoyable to watch the young. It was difficult to see the person in one's care wither and die, knowing there was nothing to be done. Much more pleasant to see them blossom, as young Verity has.' She gave a small sigh. 'Soon, they will have no need of a chaperone here. The girls shall be fine married ladies, with husbands and houses of their own.'

  'And you will be out on the street.' He looked as though the prospect alarmed him.

  She gave a little laugh of reassurance to soften the blunt way he had described her pending unemployment. 'Hardly, I am sure. Lord and Lady Narborough have been most kind to me. They will see to it that I am properly placed somewhere. I trust them to help me, when I am no longer needed here.'

  'You might be surprised.' He muttered the words under his breath, and for a moment, she suspected that his fondness for the family was not as great as it had at first appeared.

  'Well, in any case, I am not too worried,' she lied. 'When this job is finished, I will find another family who needs me. There are always openings for sensible women of a certain age.' Although they might not be as enjoyable as her current place.

  'A sensible woman of a certain age. I see.' Perhaps he found her good sense to be a disappointment. Or perhaps it was her age that bothered him. He was frowning at her. 'But should you not find a place to your liking, do you have family to return to?' He was on the edge of his chair now, as though her answer were deeply important to him.

  She shook her head. 'It has been just me for almost five years. But my situation is hardly unique. And in some ways it was easier for me than it has been for others. My mother died when I was young. And I was well-settled in employment before my father died. There was no period of sudden turmoil, as I found myself homeless and alone with no plan for the future.' In fact, the turmoil was several years past, and her anger with her father had cooled by the time she'd lost him for good.

  'But you have no one else? I mean: no prospects, other than employment?'

  She looked at him sharply. Was he enquiring if there was a gentleman in her life? 'Certainly not.'

  And now he'd realized how that question had sounded, for he fell into pensive silence, before beginning again. 'I am sorry if my curiosity was inappropriate. But if you should find yourself in constrained circumstances and there is anything I can do to help...'

  And now it sounded as though he were about to offer a carte blanche. 'No, Mr Dale,' she said firmly, so there could be no question of her meaning. 'I can assure you, that whatever my circumstances might be, I will not be needing help with them.'

  A short time later, Verity and Honoria returned followed by a footman with tea things. Apparently, the time away had calmed Verity's nerves, although Honoria had the same enigmatic smile on her face as before. They set about arranging the table for Mr Dale, like consummate hostesses. They were solici
tous of his needs without clinging, and they conversed without the annoying chatter that had bothered her in the carriage.

  It gave Diana the chance to retreat to a corner with her cup and stay well out of the flow of talk, allowing the girls to get to know the gentleman better. If he could be called a gentleman, for his behaviour to her had been most forward and more than a little strange. She wondered if she had given him too much credit the first time they had met, swayed by his charm and his physical appearance.

  And if her silence now permitted time to observe the fine features of Mr Dale? Then she doubted he would notice, and she could hardly be blamed for it. She did find him to be a very handsome man. And she sincerely hoped she had misunderstood his intent toward her. He spoke easily enough with the girls, now that she was out of the way. There was nothing improper about his speech or manner. And he'd lost that curious sense of agitation he had brought to even the most mundane of his questions to her. When he rose to go, he thanked Verity and Honoria in turn, then paused as he looked in her direction, seeming to swallow his nerves before giving her the same polite words of thanks and a short stiff bow. And then, he was gone.

  There was a moment of silence, as though Verity wished to be sure that the man was totally out of earshot, before she spoke, as though he could hear their opinions of him through the brick walls and on the street. Then she turned and smiled at Honoria. 'Well?'

  Honoria smiled and nodded. 'Oh, yes. I think most definitely.'

  And then she turned to Diana. 'And what do you think of the gentleman, Miss Price?'

  Apparently, she was to render the final verdict, and she did not wish to, for her own opinion was most decidedly mixed. She took care to discount her own strong reactions, and did her best to view him as she would any other prospective suitor. 'I am glad that you are both so definite on the subject of Mr Dale. He seems a fine person, and was most courteous in his behaviour. Your inviting him into the house was not inappropriate, although it was somewhat unplanned. If there is a past history between your families it cannot be too terribly improper. But despite what you might think, we do not know him very well at all. I doubt your father or brothers would approve, should things progress to the point where he might make either of you an offer before they can be consulted.'

  'Us?' Verity sat down, laughing heartily. 'Oh, Diana. If you do not see the truth of what has been happening, you must be blind. However are we to trust you with advising us on our futures, if you cannot manage your own?'

  'What has my future to do with it?'

  Honoria grinned. 'We heard the way you spoke of him, after his visit here yesterday. The vividness of your physical description was enough for Verity to pick him out of the crowd on Bond Street. And apparently, you did not see the way he looked at you when we met him. His eyes followed you as though you were the only woman present. So we waylaid the poor fellow and made ourselves as tiresome as possible. Then we left you alone together, as soon as we were able. You did not expect us to play chaperone, did you? For that would be more than a little ironic.'

  'Me?' Her voice cracked on the word.

  'Yes, you, you goose,' said Verity. 'I wondered what would become of you, once I was wed. It would be so much better for me, were you to be a proper married lady as well, and not a companion to another. For then we could all remain friends and see each other as often as we liked.'

  'Me? Married?'

  'To Mr Dale,' Honoria completed the thought. 'You are right, Verity. It is the most perfect idea in the world.'

  'Me.' And now that they had placed it there, the thought was stuck in her head and would not be dislodged. 'Married.' It had been so long since she had even thought of the word as it pertained to herself, that she could not manage to form a sentence around it. 'To Mr Dale.' If it had been one of the girls displaying an interest in the man, she would have given a lecture at this point about the importance of knowing a gentleman better before using such a word in connection with him. Horses should be put before carts. There should be frequent meetings between the interested parties. Affection and love were things that should be nurtured before a more permanent arrangement could be considered.

  But suddenly, she felt as foolish as either young girl. Her head was flooded with visions of a home of her own, a husband of her own, and her own children, all with the sparkling green eyes of Nathan Dale.

  If she were thinking clearly, then she would have told the girls that, if a gentlemen were as rushed into making an offer as they wished for Mr Dale to be, the offer he might make would be one that no proper woman could accept. What must he think of her? He must suspect that she had arranged their private conversation by manipulating the girls, all in an attempt to court him for herself. How would she be able to speak to the man, when next they met, if her head was full of romantic nonsense and his ideas were much more worldly?

  She forced her fears into the background and looked at the girls with her most prim and sensible gaze. 'No. I am sorry. The idea does not appeal to me in the least. If this visit with him was arranged for my benefit, then while I thank you for the concern, I can assure you that no further such plans are necessary.' She swallowed hard, and lied. 'I am quite content to remain as I am.'

  Chapter Five

  Nate went back to his house in Hans Place, with the Carlows' tea sitting uneasily in his stomach. The feelings of disquiet grew with each step towards his home. By the time he had stepped through the front door, it felt as though ants crawled upon his skin.

  That was a near one. It had been a misfortune to meet the girl once. But to find her again so soon, after years of avoidance? It was another part of the Gypsy's damn curse, he was sure. As little Verity had been quick to point out to him, now that he had found Diana Price, he was unlikely to get free of her.

  The thought flitted across his mind that he had no desire to be free of her. Under better circumstances, he'd have been enjoying the association immensely. And she seemed to enjoy it as well, if there was any meaning to the pretty blush upon her cheek when they'd been left alone.

  But then, he had proceeded to make an ass of himself by prying into her personal life and asking questions that no stranger should care about. He had left her with the impression that he was the sort who would make advances towards a vulnerable woman within moments of being alone with her. Damn it to hell, he had only wanted to make up for what he had already done to her. Instead it had sounded like he wished to set her up in an apartment as his ladybird.

  Although, once the idea had entered his head, he had to admit that there were advantages to it. If she were so inclined, it would be pure pleasure to watch those eyes widen in pretended shock at his suggestions, only to be lulled into catlike satisfaction when he acted on them. She must realize that the way she pursed those full lips in disapproval at him only made them more tempting. He suspected that, should she fold her arms beneath her high breasts, or place her hands upon those softly rounded hips in a gesture of disapproval, she could easily bring a strong man to his knees.

  It was all quite hopeless. Even if she was less than the proper lady he suspected, she was Edgar Price's daughter and therefore the last woman in London he should be wishing to bed. He might pretend to be Nate Dale for a while with her, he supposed. But knowing his luck when away from the gaming tables, it was only a matter of time before Hal or Marc arrived and recognized the man who was courting their sisters' chaperone. Or perhaps he would be the one to let some word slip that would make it clear to Diana Price his true identity.

  Until a few days ago, it had been easy enough to think of himself as well and truly Nate Dale, and to think of Nathan Wardale as a distant memory. But now, he could not help but see his current life as a thinly drawn fraud. When the truth came out, he doubted that there were enough words in his vocabulary to talk himself out of the situation.

  He looked around, at the entry hall to his house. Although the place had been home to him for almost four years, and he had long ago come to think of it as truly his, suddenly, h
e felt like an interloper in the home of Diana Price. As he glanced around, he was qualifying everything in his life into two enormous piles: things that he had bought and things that had been in the house when he had won it. Even the servants were Price's, although it had been many years since he had felt any disloyalty. Those who had not wished him as master had quit on the day he'd accepted the deed. But most were content enough, when they realized that the new master could easily meet the back payments on their salaries and manage a raise as well.

  He had followed his sudden arrival with an unexpected six-year absence. And in that time, the servants might as well have been sole possessors of the house. The man of business he had retained to pay the bills knew better than to meddle in the mundane details of running it. They had relaxed in the knowledge that the chaos the house had undergone from the previous owner's gambling was at an end. If the new master was also a gambler? Then at least he was a winner. Their positions were secure.

  And if any one of them had ever wondered what had become of Diana Price or her father, then they had never spoken the words aloud in his presence.

  But now, everywhere he looked, he saw reminders that he had taken this house right out from under the woman who sat so patiently at the side of the Carlow sisters. He walked up the stairs and hurried down the hall to his room. It was the only place in the house guaranteed not to remind him of the previous owner, for he had bought everything in it, brand new, even stripping the silk from the walls and taking up the rugs to prevent the ghost of Edgar Price from intruding on his dreams. Once he was shut inside, he would have peace.

  But to arrive there, he needed to pass the locked door at the head of the stairs. He almost made it by without looking. In truth, he had trained himself never to look in that direction. To not see the door. To imagine it as a blank square of wall. But once remembered, he could not seem to put it from his mind.