"I don't believe I understand," said Dr. McComber, frowning at Lord Saint Leven's retreating back.
"He feels guilty," said Diana. "That is all. Just guilty."
"Why should he feelguilt?"
He thrashed me and I kicked him in the groin and I tried to escape on the mare and when I couldn't I fell into the stream.
"He was with me when I got wet."
"Not his fault, I don't suppose."
"Certainly not."
Dr. McComber rose. "You will sleep now, Miss Savarol. Have you any more pain?"
Diana shook her head, suddenly exhausted.
The following day Lucia sent a message through Jamison to Lyonel's town house. There was no reply.
Lucia was angry. Damn and blast the stupid boy! Diana was being stubborn, recalcitrant, insulting to Mrs. Bailey, and altogether a miserable patient.
"Take her to the country, my lady," Dr. McComber said after a trying interview with Diana. She'd refused to let him touch her. The girl was a handful. He was pleased that she was so much better.
But when approached with this suggestion, Diana said to Lucia, "I want to go home. I will be strong enough in a couple of days. I want to go home."
Lucia, seeing that she was growing more and more upset, patted her hand, murmured soothing words, and left. When Lyon did not show himself that day or evening, she sent another message the following morning. This one, she thought, pleased, should get him here quickly enough.
She was smiling when Lyonel was announced some thirty minutes later.
"She is ill again?" were his first words.
"She will be if you don't do something."
"I do something? What is this about, Lucia?"
He still felt off balance at Lucia's cryptic message: "Diana is urgently agitating."
"She insists she wants to go home. Within the week."
"Don't be absurd," he said. "She is weak as a nearly drowned kitten ---"
"How would you know?"
He cursed and Lucia merely gave him her patented gimlet-eyed look.
He left her and headed upstairs to Diana's bedchamber. Mrs. Bailey, the dragon, was there. Lyon said in his most imperious voice, "You may leave us now."
Mrs. Bailey knew what was proper and what wasn't, and drew herself up for battle.
"Now!"
That was a voice she couldn't bring herself to object to. "Very well, my lord. Ten minutes. Then Miss Savarol must rest."
Diana eyed Lyonel. When Mrs. Bailey had left the room, she said, "I must learn that tone. It is most effective."
She was still very pale, he thought, coming toward the bed. But she looked wonderful. Her thick hair was brushed and plaited in a fat braid over her shoulder. Her eyes were clear, her look baleful.
"I hear you are urgently agitating."
Diana blinked, then laughed, but it came out as a hoarse rasping sound.
"I also hear you are being a complete and utter idiot."
"How could you hear anything? You haven't been here."
"Lucia sent me a message through the ubiquitous Jamison that you were at death's door again, or rather profoundly agitating. So you want to go home, do you?"
The chin went up. "Yes."
"Well, you aren't going anywhere, do you understand me, you silly twit?"
"You have no say in the matter, do you hear me, you damned arrogant dandy?"
"The next time I thrash you I will ensure that you aren't so clumsy that you fall into any water. Indeed, I will make certain that there isn't any water within ten miles."
Lucia, listening at the door, smiled. Had her proud and gentlemanly Lyonel actually thrashed her? Excellent, she thought. Now she just had to keep Mrs. Bailey away.
"You try that again and I shall make you useless to your damned little amour!"
"Oh, yes? You are so weak you couldn't even give a decent showing of yourself. You would probably start weeping and wailing and faint on me. Again."
"I hate you, you miserable ---"
"Don't start that old refrain again, Diana. Leave to go home!" he added in disgust. "haven't you an ounce of sense?"
"I do not weep or wail."
"Well, you surely faint, and you chose your setting with maximum exposure. In the middle of a ballroom."
"I wouldn't have if you hadn't suddenly whirled me about like some stupid dervish."
"I can hear the gossip now," he said, ignoring her. "You are doubtless with child, my child, and your fainting exhibition was due to your condition."
"That is absurd," she said, her teeth clicking together.
"It most certainly is, but your performanceOh, damnation, why couldn't you have collapsed with that Plummer ass?"
Diana didn't reply, and Lyonel, his tongue wrapped about more lovely words, paused and looked at her closely. She had become alarmingly pale. He'd done it again. He said more to himself than to her, "Why must I cut up at you every time I see you?"
"I don't know."
"I'm sorry, Diana. Please, rest now."
"You are leaving again?"
He frowned. "No, I will stay. If I do leave, I promise to come back. You must, I suppose, have someone available to vent your spleen upon."
He leaned down and lightly kissed her pale cheek. "Sleep, you little twit."
"Lyonel?"
"Hmmm?"
"Do you really think of me as a sister?"
That brought him up short. "I wouldn't know. I don't have a sister. That is, I did have a sister, but she died when she was just a child."
"You don't still feel guilty, do you?"
"Yes. How can I not feel guilty?"
"Your guilt doesn't show in your insults."
"I am made of stern stuff, Diana. Sleep now."
Oddly enough, she was asleep within ten minutes.
As for Lyonel, he kicked a chair in the drawing room. "You want me to what?" he said to Lucia, his eye on the hapless chair that now lay on its side.
9
Better to trip with the feet than with the tongue.
—ZENO OF CITIUM
"I said," Lucia repeated, wondering at the cause of Lyonel's sudden loss of control, "that as soon as Diana is fit, we will go to your estate in Yorkshire. You should take care, my chair and your foot are most valuable."
"That is absurd," he said.
"Really, Lyonel, your clumsiness isn't at all absurd. I have never seen you clumsy before. As for my chair, it belonged to my grandmother and ---"
"It's ugly and I wasn't clumsy. I kicked it. What is absurd is your idea of using me as Diana's nursemaid at my estate. If the chit needs the country air, I will escort the both of you to your estate in Yorkshire. You know very well, Lucia, what everyone would say if we went to Ashton Hall." He paused a moment when she said nothing, then continued, "Ah, you are really up to it this time, are you not? The parson's mousetrap for me, isn't that right? I am sorry not to oblige you, Lucia. I have no intention of marryinganyone."
"Why did you thrash Diana?"
"Because she was eavesdropping and I caught her at it. Her upbringing leaves much to be desired." His eyebrows lowered. "So she told you, did she?"
"No," Lucia said mildly, "I eavesdropped."
He raised his eyes upward. "The Almighty save me from meddlesome women."
"What did she hear? Whom were you with?"
As there was no reply from upward, Lyon turned his eyes toward Lucia. "I was giving my ultimatums to Charlotte, if you would know the truth. Dear Diana got quite an earful."
"Ah."
"Yes, ah," said Lyon. "Is there anything else you would like to know? I would spare you the indignity of eavesdropping in the future."
"Actually, yes. I have wondered why Charlotte played you false before she was safely married to you."
"I asked her that. She just gave me a look and said she'd been stupid."
"Interesting. You know, it is most odd," said Lucia thoughtfully after a moment. Lyon waited impatiently, knowing he wouldn't like what she was thin
king. "I have no idea what Diana wants to do with her life."
That was unexpected, but Lyon had learned to be wary when Lucia slid so easily from one subject to the next. He shrugged. "She is a young lady, ripe for marriage. Why should she want anything differently than most ladies want? A husband, a family. Isn't that why her father sent her to London? To find a husband?"
"Yes, but he had the good sense not to tell Diana that was his plan."
"She doesn't want a husband? A rich one? Come, Lucia, that notion is most difficult to knead into bread."
"If Charlotte knew how much influence her actions had on you, my boy, I fancy she would be most surprised. Probably very pleased that she could bring Lord Saint Leven to this pass. You have become a cynic, Lyonel. It is not at all flattering."
Lyon yawned.
"You need to have your ears cuffed, my boy."
Anything but my manhood, Lyonel started to say. He grinned at her. "Dear Lucia, forgive me. You were saying?"
"I was wondering what Diana wants to do with her life. She is truly not at all interested in marriage. If I bring it up, she quickly finds something to do or some other subject to talk about." That wasn't exactly true, but she wanted to see Lyonel's reaction.
"Perhaps she is just young for her age." Not physically young, though. "Very well, what is she interested in, Lucia?"
"I am not certain. Knowledge, experiencesI believe she views marriage as lacking in both those elements. Sort of the end rather than a beginning. A ride to the guillotine in a tumbrel, perhaps."
"That is immense foolishness. Why, I ---"
"I know, my boy. You wanted a wife, a home, children. I believe that you could teach her that a marriage based on love and respect is the most incredible experience a human being can have. Life is so deuced short. When one is young, it seems it will go on forever. Ah, well, I suppose you will do as you please."
"Leave her be. Leave me be."
"I received a letter from Lucien Savarol this morning."
"So?"
"I am not so certain I should tell Diana of it just yet. It might upset her."
"More of your damned plots? Oh, very well, why should the chit be upset?"
"Lucien has remarried. A widow from St. Thomas. She has a grown son. No, I shan't tell her."
"If she isn't a selfish brat, she will be pleased that her father has found someone else."
"Her father suggests --- and I well imagine that it is his new wife's idea --- that Diana remain here a while longer. He asks me directly about her matrimonial prospects."
"As you have said, she isn't at all interested, which is a relief, since she appears to attract all the wrong sort. Take Plummer, for example. Good Lord, what an Idiot! Then there is Mortimer Fortesque, I shudder to think of him and that fool cousin of his ---"
"You don't have to recite all their names, my boy. Just look about at all the posies. Lord Brackenridge has roses sent from his hothouse in Surrey each day."
"Brackenridge! Surely you will discourage that poseur. He wants nothing more than a mother for his four children, a housekeeper, and someone to warm his bed. Why, he would treat her like a damned brood mare."
"But he already has four children, as you said."
"He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off Diana. You know as well as I that once he got her in bed, he would ---" He broke off, furious with himself.
"Perhaps," said Lucia, studying this reaction with great interest. "But he is most assiduous in his attentions."
"Diana isn't a fool. For her sake, keep the man away, Lucia."
"If she returns home, I wonder what will happen to her?"
"Surely there are appropriate gentlemen, even there, if the chit ever decides to test the waters. Now, Lucia, I am off. Diana is sleeping. I will be back this afternoon to see her."
"Where are you off to?"
He gave her a nasty grin, wanting to poke a hole in her blasted confidence. "I think I shall pay a visit to my mistress. I have not been overly assiduous lately in my, er, attentions."
"I hope you will not catch some vile disease."
"I am not a fool, Lucia."
"About Diana convalescing in the country ---"
"Do as you please, Lucia, just leave me out of it."
She watched him stride from her drawing room. She was not at all cast down. Indeed, she was fascinated with his contorted efforts at remaining immune to Diana. She would, she decided, grinning shamelessly, leave him out of it, at least for the moment.
Lyonel did visit Lois and was sweetly received. He took her to bed immediately and found to his relief that his body responded as it should, evidently receiving no paralyzing messages from his brain. He gave her a bracelet and prepared to leave.
"My lord?"
He was buttoning his shirt. "Hmm?"
"I have missed you. Could you not remain with me awhile? I have been a bit lonely."
"No," he said, pulling on his coat, not without some difficulty. "I'm sorry, Lois, but a relative of mine is ill. I have promised to visit her."
"Miss Savarol?"
More meddlesome women, he thought. "Yes," he said evenly. "How did you know?"
"My maid. Her cousin is a parlor maid in the Marchpanes' household. She heard the lady speaking of it."
"And what report did you hear?"
"That Miss Savarol fainted in your arms in the middle of the ballroom. That her illness seemed most strange."
Evidently Lois hadn't received an update from her maid.
Lyon could easily guess everyone's initial reaction. He supposed when he'd mentioned to Diana that gossip could begin that she was with child, he had known it as a real possibility. Charlotte was indeed on her way to Cornwall, so she couldn't be responsible, though he imagined it wasn't beyond her to add some damaging speculation before she left. He sighed, wishing the aristocracy had something positive to discuss rather than possible fellow-human failings. Then again, he could not but be aware that anyone with a grain of perception could see the tension between him and Diana. The devil, should he wear a placard announcing that the wretched tension between them had nothing to do with sex? On the heels of that thought, he knew he was lying to himself, and he cursed softly.
"The girl, Miss Savarol, was very ill. She was lucky she didn't go into pneumonia. She is now on the mend. Do pass that along to your maid."
Lois regarded her lover and protector. She liked him. He was generous and he was kind. He knew a woman's body and enjoyed a woman's pleasure. Had he seduced this Miss Savarol? She didn't as yet understand him well enough to know if he was that sort of man, but she doubted it. He certainly possessed the masculine charms to bring a woman about to his thinking if that was his purpose. She said, knowing it an impertinence, "Then she isn't with child."
"As I said, she nearly contracted pneumonia. I would prefer that you not gossip, Lois. It does not please me."
He'd spoken softly, gently, but Lois wasn't fooled. He was angry. He cared for this Miss Savarol. "No, my lord, I won't, not anymore. Please forgive me."
Lyon wondered in that moment how he would react if Diana spoke to him in that sweet, apologetic tone, her eyes slightly lowered, showing her respect for him, her deference. I should live so long, he thought.
"Very well," he said. He strode to the bed, eyed her plentiful breasts one final time, and lightly kissed her cheek. "I will see you soon, my dear."
His body had responded nicely, he thought as he strolled down the street some minutes later. But unwanted flashes of Diana's beautiful buttocks had leapt into his mind. And the movement of his own hand and fingers caressing herand her thighs, slightly parted, giving him access to
"Damned twit," he said, and walked faster, to keep pace with his rather erratic breathing.
He discovered quickly that there was no need to mention that Diana's illness had been in her chest and not the result of a babe in her womb. Her admirers, those constant visitors with all their damned posies, had already seen to it. He smiled sourly to himself.
/>
"I will not go," Diana said firmly to Lucia. "I do not need to recuperate in the country, much less at Lyon's estate."
Now it was Lyon's turn to eavesdrop. He stood listening outside Diana's bedchamber door. It did not occur to him, even for an instant, to remove himself from that door. It was odd, but he was at once relieved and disappointed that she was refusing to go to the country. He heard Lucia's voice, but could only make out something about his, Lyon's, concern for her.
"The last thing Lyon wants is to have to drag me off to his estate," Diana continued in a louder voice. "It was not his fault that I caught a rather nasty chill. Aunt, he doesn't like me, truly he doesn't. He wants nothing to do with me."
That, strangely, angered him. Of course she knew that he had stayed hours beside her bed, sweating, worrying, wishing he could take her place, breathe for her, take her in his arms to warm her? He strode into the bedchamber without a knock to see Diana, propped up against three pillows, her cheeks flushed.
"That is not exactly true," he said. "Leave her be, Lucia. She will just make herself ill again if you keep nagging at her."
"What isn't exactly true?" Lucia asked.
"That I dislike her."
"Would you please stop talking around me, Lyon? I am here, you know."
"Very well. I don't dislike you, Diana. However, you know as well as I do that it would be most unwise for me to be your host at my estate. Lucia is meddling."
"I have no intention of going to your estate. If you think I should enjoy you as a host, you are sorely mistaken. I am going home."
"You are going no place until you are well again."
"I will be perfectly myself again by next Monday. Lucia, you will please find me a chaperone for my trip home? You did promise."
"I find that 'perfectly myself' is a most odd contradiction in your case, Diana."
"Oh, be quiet!"
Lyon was quiet. He continued to upset her, and now wasn't the time. He didn't want her ill again.
To his surprise, Lucia capitulated. "Very well, my dear. If you must insist upon returning to your father, I shall make the arrangements."
"Lucia, I am not certain that ---"
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