He laughed, he couldn't help himself. "You, Diana, should be whipped."
"I think she should be whipped. She also informed me that you didn't like ladies, just these little amours, after she broke your heart."
"For someone who has been in London --- out of society --- for less than a day, you have dug up more dirt than I would in a year."
"Nonsense. She doesn't like me and ---"
"And what? Are you the coward now?"
"You are standing still, Lyonel, the door is open, and it is quite cold out here. And you will strain your back with my great weight."
"All true. And ---"
At last he entered the house. He eased her down, letting her slide against the length of him. Again, he saw the startled, bewildered look in her eyes and wondered at himself. His gentleman's code seemed to be tottering on the brink. "Yes," he said firmly to himself, "tomorrow." He sighed. "You are tedious, Diana. Go to bed. Soak your feet. Pop out of your gown. Just get thee gone."
"You, my lord, are a bore, a lout, a butcherer of Shakespeare, an obvious rake ---"
"Rake! Surely Charlotte didn't go that far?"
"Well, no. I heard that wonderful word and wanted to use it. You gave me the opportunity, and well, I couldn't pass it up, could I?"
"No, of course not. Good night."
He patted her cheek, turned on his heel, and left. Didier appeared out of the shadows and nodded to Diana.
"Good night, Didier."
"Good night, miss."
She was relieved that he did not comment on her stockinged feet and her slippers dangling by their ribbons in her right hand. Had he seen Lyonel holding her?
It occurred to Diana as she snuggled under the covers some thirty minutes later that Lyonel had spoken about a companion when he was holding her. It was probably nothing more than an interest evoked by the close proximity of her bosom, she thought, depressed.
She touched her fingers to her breast and wondered why gentlemen were so very interested. Just because they were swelled up, like her feetexcept she stuck out there all of the time. After all, her nanny, the sharp-tongued, black-as-night Dido, had told her quite specifically when she was but fourteen that "de melons be for de chiles." Dido had no use for men, so Diana assumed that she wouldn't include them in the "chile" category.
Or maybe she would.
She was suddenly seized with such a bout of homesickness that she caught a sob in her throat. She'd wanted dido to come to England with her, but her father had been firmly against it. He'd said, "No, my love, there is too much feeling about slavery in England at this point. People simply wouldn't understand. You must trust me on this."
And so she'd traveled to England with strangers, an English planter and his family, from St. Thamas.
And she'd had to leave her father, Grainger, their overseer, her mare, Tanis, DidoHer mind faltered as fatigue overtook her. Her last thought before succumbing was of Lyonel, her cousin of sorts, who had picked her up and held her close and made her feel so very odd.
Lyonel found his little amour the very next evening when he visited the theater. Her name was Lois, and she affected no French accent, for which he was profoundly grateful. She came from Birmingham, was fresh, quite pretty in a plump, plentiful manner, and, of course, had no means to support herself. He ignored three summonses, each more imperious than the last from Lucia, and plowed Lois until she finally said, in her light, breathless voice, "My lord, it's enough, I beg of you."
He drew up over her and felt like a rutting animal.
Lois ran her fingers over his beautiful face. "A long time without a woman, my lord?"
"Too bloody long," he said, and moved away from her. "Forgive me, Lois. I will not use you thus again." He began to dress, then turned to look down at her. He realized another reason he'd picked her was the size of her breasts. They were huge and round, her nipples large, a dusky color. He swallowed, knowing he was a fool, but not about to admit it, even to himself.
Lois regarded him as he dressed in front of the fireplace. He was magnificent, his body big and hard, and she knew from experience that this man would treat her well. There had been no perversion in him, merely immense hunger. The fire light danced in his chestnut hair, touching the strands with gold. Yes, she was indeed pleased with him.
He finally left her to make arrangements for a maid and a cook. Her small apartment was tucked just off Curzon Street. He discreetly left fifty pounds for her on the dressing table on his way out.
When he returned to the Saint Leven town house in Portsmouth Square, a monstrosity built by his grandfather, another summons awaited him. Too tired to do more than shake his head, he told his man, Kenworthy, to inform her ladyship that he had the ague. Then he chuckled to himself.
Kenworthy, a slight, bald man of middle years, and a valet of great capacity and loyalty, simply nodded, then watched with some concern as his master took himself upstairs to his bed.
"Ague!" Lucia muttered, studying the valet's stone face. "That is nonsense and you know it! Now, tell me what your master is up to, Kenworthy."
"The ague, my lady," he repeated with bland fortitude. "His lordship will call on you as soon as he leaves his bed."
"Oh, bosh!"
When Didier removed Kenworthy from Lady Cranston's august presence, Diana snorted. "Ridiculous! He is malingering and I don't care. We do not need him, Aunt. Let him take care of Charlotte's nasty gossip himself! Let him ---"
"Hush, my dear. We do need him, at least we need his escort and his marvelous arrogance. However, I suppose he will come when he is ready to."
Diana nearly discovered the truth that afternoon when three old cronies of Aunt Lucia's were sipping endless cups of tea in the drawing room, shredding the younger generation with tuts, sighs, and headshakes punctuated with "deplorable," "such a shame for their parents," and the like.
"And of course when I heard what your dear Lord Saint Leven was doing, Lucia, I knew I must tell you immediately."
The seemingly reticent lady was a formidable dragon with tight gray sausage curls, a scrwny body, and a brain as tough as steel.
Diana, dismissed before these very interesting confidences were uttered, waited just outside the drawing-room door, all ears.
Lucia, who hadn't heard a word about Lyonel other than the ague, sat forward, willing to receive information even from the odious Agatha Damson.
"and so my maid heard it from her cousin's niece whom Lord Saint Leven hired to see to his, ah"
"May I do something for you, miss?"
Diana could have spit with vexation, but she forced a smile for Didier. He knows I'm eavesdropping, she thought.
She looked him straight in the eye. "You have caught me, Didier, but you see, they are talking about Lyonel, and I want to know what is going on."
"You are a young lady," Didier announced in the repressive tones of an archbishop.
"You know and you will not tell me."
"Correct, miss."
"You are being most unfair, Didier."
"Yes, miss. Would you care for some tea?"
"No. I shall just have to find out for myself, won't I?"
Didier blanched and Diana smiled.
"I shall speak to my lady," he said. "You, miss, would be well advised to retire to your bedchamber."
Diana's eyes glittered. "On the contrary," she said, "I believe I shall go for a walk."
That sounded innocuous enough to Didier and he relaxed, just a bit. "I will fetch Jamison for you, miss. He will escort you. To the park, I think. Yes, that will be fine."
Diana did not disabuse him.
Jamison, a second footman with twinkling blue eyes and a wide smile, was delighted to escort the young Miss Savarol. Diana, on the other hand, plotted how to rid herself of him.
It turned out to be an impossible task. Jamison had his orders in no uncertain terms from Didier. One religiously followed the old monk's orders.
"I believe I should like to visit Portsmouth Square, Jamison."
"Uh? 'Tis a far piece, miss."
"Fine. Fetch a hansom cab for us."
Jamison, unfortunately, knew nothing about Lord Saint Leven's place of abode. He most willingly followed Miss Savarol into the lion's den.
Kenworthy just happened to be out when Diana firmly knocked on the Saint Leven brass town-house knocker.
Titwiller was not Didier's equal. He gawked, stammered, and fell back in disarray at Diana's imperious request to see her cousin immediately.
"Tell him," Diana added with a sapient eye, "that it is most urgent and that if he is not here in ten minutes I shall fetch him myself."
Jamison stared. He could easily picture Didier's reaction when he heard of this escapade. He nearly moaned aloud, knowing full well that the messenger of bad news usually had the misfortune to have his head bashed.
Titwiller lost what little aplomb he possessed as he took the stairs two at a time.
"What the devil!"
"It is Miss Diana Savarol to see you, my lord. She informed me, my lord, that it is most urgent."
Lyon was exhausted from oversatiation. He cursed long and fluently. "Get Kenworthy. He'll get rid of her."
"Kenworthy is not here at present, my lord. She informed me, my lord, that she could, er, come up here to fetch you if you did not come down."
Lyon finally reacted to the abject pleading in Titwiller's voice and Diana's threat, which he didn't doubt for more than ten seconds. He cursed again and threw back the covers.
Diana was getting ready to place her foot on the first step when Lyon appeared on the landing.
"Don't you dare!"
"Well, you have certainly taken your time!"
"The only reason I'm coming down is to toss you out on your ear, Diana!"
"Ha! Suffering from the ague! What is wrong with you? Don't you care that Charlotte has been ---"
"Shut up!" He reached her, took her arm, and pulled her none too gently into the library.
"Very nice," Diana said, looking about. "I wager you haven't read a quarter of all these books."
"Well, you'd be wrong. Diana, what the devil are you doing here? This is a gentleman's residence, a bachelor's residence as you well know, and it is most improper ---"
"You look awful. Haven't you slept? Are you truly ill?"
"Thank you and no and no."
"Then, what ---"
He turned his back to her and fetched a glass of brandy from the liquor cabinet.
He tossed it down, drew a deep breath, and turned to face her. "Oh, sit down. You have ten minutes, then you are leaving."
"Such a gracious host," she said, and eased down into a leather armchair.
He merely looked at her, his face a study of irritation and long suffering.
"You must come to see Lucia. Charlotte has been spreading more venom and she is most desirous of having you aid her in a counterattack."
"I will come this evening. I believe Lucia said she'd managed vouchers for Almack's. I will escort you. Anything else?"
"I want to know what is wrong with you. Why haven't you come?"
"I've been rather occupied."
"Doing what, for heaven's sake? Ah, you've been at a gaming hell, haven't you? Have you lost your fortune? Will you blow your brains out?"
He sighed and ran his hand through his already rumpled hair. "Where, I dread to inquire, did you hear that term?"
"Gaming hell? I overheard Jamison --- he's the second footman who accompanied me here --- he was talking to Aunt Lucia's driver."
"A foolish question. No, I wasn't at a gaming hell."
"Then, where were you?"
"It is none of your damned affair, Diana."
"Ah, I know. You were hiding from your precious Charlotte!"
Her tone was so insulting, so very nasty, he forgot his resolution, forgot that she was a young lady, and nearly yelled at her, "I was with my new mistress, damn your impertinence!" The instant the words were out of his mouth, he cursed.
Diana's eyes widened. "Is she here? Upstairs in youryour bedchamber?"
Lyonel was without words. He turned back to pour himself another brandy.
He said over his shoulder, "I fully intend to beat you, Diana."
4
Nothing annoys a man more than not being taken seriously.
—PALACIO VALDS
"You intend to do what?" Laughter spilled from her mouth, pure and loud, until she was hiccuping and holding her stomach.
He eyed her show of hilarity, then sighed. "I would like to thrash you, but I suppose you would do your female utmost to destroy my manhood, were I to try it."
"That, cousin, would be only the beginning of what I would do to you." She hiccuped again.
"Let us strive for some maidenly decorum, Diana. You really shouldn't know a thing about my manhood or how to bring it and me, as the natural course of things, low."
"I am not stupid, Lyonel, nor was I raised with horse blinders to protect me from the natural course of things around me." She had the gall to giggle.
"No, I suppose not," he said, his eyes narrowed, "but you are most certainly fast becoming a thorn in my flesh. But then again, I suppose a thorn is natural enough."
Diana ignored that provocation for the moment, harking back to this mistress business. "Why are you so ill-looking? Surely a little amour is for your, well, entertainment. Were you outrageous to her? Did she hurt you?"
"On the contrary."
"You beat her?"
"Don't be stupid, Diana! Your ten minutes are up. You may now take your leave."
"And you will go back upstairs to her?"
"Listen, you twit, a gentleman does not install a mistress in his home."
"She is hidden away, then."
"Not exactly. Well, just a bit. A gentleman is discreet."
"Not very if you make yourself sick with overindulgence."
He was forced to smile at that image, a very real one in this case. "Yes," he said, "I did overindulge." He caught himself in that instant, fully aware that this conversation was most improper and that he was, at least normally, a gentleman. "I want you to leave now. And remember, little Diana ---"
"Little Diana? That is most inaccurate of you, Lyon."
"Oh, just leave, Diana. I am exhausted and I will not take you to Almack's this evening if I do not garner my strength."
"What shall I tell Aunt Lucia?"
"That, you silly chit, is your problem. I do recommend, however, that you do not inform her that you burst into my home with only your footman in attendance and threatened my butler that you would roust me out of my bed."
"Then what shall I say?"
"All right. Now that you have admitted that you are in need of my superior intelligence and experience ---"
"Lyonel, you are drawing dangerously close to drowning in two inches of water."
"--- I will send Kenworthy about again to inform her of the plans. Come along now."
She rose, frowning at him, and walked beside him into the ornate entrance hall. She stopped a moment and stared around her. "This place is rather overwhelming."
"What you mean to say is that it is blessed with nauseating bad taste. You will have to take that up with the spirit world. My grandfather is responsible, not I."
"And now, of course, you have no time to redecorate."
She chuckled, unaware that Jamison was standing stiffly in the shadow of a very large, dead-white and naked Greek statue, eyes agog and ears at attention. "I trust you will be in a better humor by this evening?"
"It will tax me, but I shall try." He lowered his voice. "And, Diana, do remember that when I decide to beat you, you will be beaten, and most thoroughly."
"When? How certain you are of your own strength. I look forward to your howls of pain."
"That is ridiculous. Jamison!" He cursed again, and Diana, curse her, laughed. "Get thee gone. Now."
"More Shakespeare." She leaned closer and said in a stage whisper, "Surely you must now admit to the rake part.
"
"Yes, most thoroughly," he said through his teeth. He nodded to the now-present Titwiller, and the butler opened the door.
"Until tonight, Miss Savarol."
"I look forward to it with great interest, my lord."
"Impertinent chit," he said under his breath, and made his way back upstairs to bed.
Almack's on King Street, was a disappointment to Diana. She looked around, sighed even with her feet happily encased in new, larger slippers, and prepared to be bored. The place was drafty as a barn, the refreshments, she quickly noted, niggardly, but the company, the glitter of jewels, the sound of the orchestra playing a country danceShe rather hoped that Charlotte would be here. At least it would enliven the evening when she wasn't dancing. Lyonel, in the requisite evening garb of black knee breeches, looked lovely, at least that is what Diana thought, forcing herself to utter objectivity. Odd how the black evening clothes made his blue eyes all the more vivid.
Diana wasn't aware of the difference in the company when they entered, but both Lucia and Lyonel were. He knew that he must threaten Charlotte and make it believable. He did not doubt his ability to muzzle her, and he told Lucia as much.
"I don't know," Lucia said after a moment, thankful that Diana's attention was elsewhere. "Why not let her continue? No one is prepared to believe her, I think. If there is a shift in the wind, you could always turn your guns on Dancy. Poor man, even though he isn't a gentleman, he ---"
"No, he isn't. I will think about it, Lucia. But stop it will. Diana should enjoy herselffor the remaining weeks she's here in England."
Lucia frowned a bit at that. She stoutly refused to let her burgeoning plans fade into oblivion, particularly after Diana had taken herself to Lyon's town house. She'd said nothing to Diana, but of course, Didier had pried it out of Jamison and dutifully reported all to her. Diana, she thought proudly, was no faintheart. She only hoped that her niece, of sorts, would eventually come around and decide that she wanted her cousin, of sorts. As for Lyonel, she believed he would succumb eventually if forced to be in Diana's company long enough. Lucia would have succumbed to apoplexy before she admitted to either of the two young people that she was delighted with Charlotte's performance. Otherwise, Lyonel might just as well have ignored Diana and gone his own way, stupid man.
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