Fed to the Lyon

by Lancaster, Mary

  Diana let the silence hang until they were nearly home. Then she remarked, “I thought I was supposed to be at Grandmama’s.”

  “It was a fleeting visit. You came home to receive the formal addresses of Mr. Campbell.”

  “Of course I did,” Diana murmured.

  Bill woke with a sore head and a plan.

  If he couldn’t make Diana fall in love with him in three months, he didn’t deserve her. Not that she would deserve Campbell then any more than she did now, but the matter would be out of his hands. Substituting one man she didn’t love for another was no solution.

  Taking MacDonald, his valet, by surprise, he pushed away his coffee and newspapers and threw off the bedclothes before striding over to the washing bowl and dunking his head right in it. As a cure for the previous night’s drinking, it was brutal but effective. His head still hurt, but at least he could think.

  He had never drunk himself silly over a woman before. But the chaotic, adorable Diana got under a man’s skin.

  He hadn’t meant to kiss her. She had just looked so lost and so beautiful, and he could see in her eyes her reaction to his nearness. It was that which had given him hope and stolen the last of his resistance. And with her sweet, soft lips beneath his, her body awakening to passion in his arms, the hardest thing he had ever done in his life was let her go before he gave into temptation and ravished her on the spot. Or at least, took her home with him. Oh, yes, he could have seduced her into that, too.

  As his blood began to boil again, he hastily stuck his face back in the washing bowl and set about cleaning the rest of his person before he allowed MacDonald to shave him.

  Once dressed, with rather more care than usual, he ate breakfast and sallied forth to greet the day, which was warm and sticky as summer in London often was. He knew a pang of regret for his own cooler, wetter, much more peaceful home. But it was boredom that had driven him south to the center of political life. In truth, he wanted to go to the Peace Congress being planned in Vienna, which would be the most exciting event, the first opportunity of its kind for every nation to discuss the kind of peace it wanted after the defeat of the French, and how to ensure it lasted.

  In peacetime, there was a great deal more important work that could be done. But in truth, he did not think much of such matters as he walked through the park on a roundabout route to Mount Street. His mind was full of Diana.

  He had met her father at a couple of dinners since he had come to London, but last night, before going to the Lyon’s Den, he had made a point of running into him at White’s and holding a longer conversation with him.

  Despite Diana’s fears for her family, Sir Geoffrey Wade had clearly not yet been blackballed for her crimes, and though the club was quite thin of company, he did not appear to be shunned by his fellow members.

  He was, Bill thought, a man of principle, but also personal ambition. As was Bill, of course, but there was something just a little cold behind Wade’s almost professional bonhomie. Oh, yes, he would indeed sacrifice his daughter if he thought it necessary for his aspirations. There would be no help for Diana in that quarter. It really was up to Bill.

  At the Den, he had been careful to avoid bringing any attention to her, but his heart had lifted like a silly, lovesick schoolboy’s when she had followed him from the lounge. Then, stupidly, her announcement about Campbell had taken him by surprise. He had known there would be someone, but that it would be the man she had once thought with horror was him, that she would now accept this man over him. His fury had mixed with pain, and he had behaved badly. And foolishly.

  He was, he realized ruefully, used to getting his own way by one means or another. No woman had ever rejected him on any level. But with Diana, he had been floundering, unused to the intensity of feelings she inspired. Anger, pain, passion, protectiveness, a determination to make her see sense. And he had known her less than two days.

  Confrontation was not the way.

  Still, he could not regret that kiss, nor the pleasure of holding her in his arms. For one thing, she had responded. She had kissed him back. There was triumph in that, in the knowledge that she was far from indifferent to him, that he had not imagined the attraction, the affinity between them the night before.

  Now, she was everywhere in his thoughts, his plans, his dreams—running with him in the Scottish hills, sitting by his side at the hearth, at the dinner table full of guests… Lying in his arms in bed…

  It was swift. It was sudden. But in his heart, he knew these feelings would not fade. And he could make her happy. He would…

  Brought back to himself by the irate shout of a passing cart driver, he discovered he was on Mount Street. And ahead, the red-headed figure of Eric Campbell was swaggering up to the Wades’ front door.

  Bill squashed his resentment, told himself he was actually curious to see the boor doing the pretty to his prospective parents-in-law, trying to make himself agreeable to his bride. Or would he even bother trying?

  More surprising was the man admitted to the house beside him. Harrington. That made Bill uncomfortable for quite different reasons.

  He strolled on to the Wades’ house and mounted the steps unhurriedly.

  When the door was opened, he asked if Sir Geoffrey were at home, and presented his card. As it usually did, his name gained him immediate entry.

  “Sir Geoffrey is with Lady Wade in the drawing room,” the butler informed him. “If your lordship would be pleased to follow me.”

  The drawing-room door was open, which meant Bill was granted an early view of the young lady within, seated like a statue. She was beautiful, her elegantly dressed chestnut hair lending her still profile an air of worldly sophistication. It took him a moment to recognize her, even when he reached the door, and she turned, looking directly at him.

  It was the shock in her eyes that gave her away. And then she faced the room, a statue once more.

  “My lord, what a pleasant surprise,” his host greeted him. Only by the hastily smoothed flicker of a frown had he betrayed his consternation at this interruption. This was, after all, his first meeting with his daughter’s new betrothed. But he came forward most welcomingly with his hand held out, the perfect host, and Lady Wade followed him. “Allow me to present my wife and my daughter…”

  Lady Wade graciously gave him her hand. Diana did not, merely stood and curtseyed at the introduction, her face still expressionless. If her tall, slender figure had suited her boy’s garb, in this pure white muslin gown, she was willowy and elegant, and her feminine beauty struck him like a fresh blow.

  “And are you acquainted with Mr. Campbell and Mr. Harrington?” Wade went on.

  “Oh, aye,” Campbell said jovially. “Garvie and I go away back!”

  Bill bowed distantly to him and to the watchful Harrington, who stared back, barely troubling to nod. His eyes were like flint as he shoved his bandaged hand into his pocket.

  What the devil was Harrington doing here? Holding Campbell’s hand?

  “I’m sorry to turn up unannounced,” Bill said to Lady Wade, “but I was passing, and after our conversation last evening, I thought I would bring your husband this book, which I thought he would enjoy.”

  “How kind,” murmured Lady Wade. Her graciousness, he thought, was that of a proud, even haughty woman. If there was of any of Diana’s warmth in her, it was well hidden in her perfect manners.

  “Very thoughtful of you.” Wade took the book with apparently genuine interest. “Sit down and join us, my lord. Will you have tea?”

  “Thank you.” Bill inclined his head and glanced around for a suitable chair. In fact, he knew exactly where he intended to sit. He found it both interesting and vaguely distasteful that when he had entered, Diana was sitting alone on the sofa, some distance from the other four, who had formed almost a separate huddle in the middle of the room. His heart went out to her, for she must have felt horribly alone and helpless.

  He strolled back across the drawing room and took the place be
side her on the sofa. Diana stood almost immediately, going to her mother to wait for the freshly poured cup of tea and bring it to him.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” she hissed furiously between lips that barely moved.

  He took the cup and saucer from her with a bland smile. “Enjoying your ladylike conversation.”

  It earned him a haughty glare before the twinkle of rueful amusement peeked through. “Don’t,” she murmured, seating herself on the sofa once more. “Please, don’t.”

  “Don’t make you laugh? Don’t call?”

  “Both.”

  Bill sipped his tea. “But I called to see your father.”

  “He has no time for anything except marriage contracts.”

  Bill glanced at the group in the middle of the room. Harrington seemed to have lost interest in the conversation and was gazing around the walls. “I can understand that, but what on earth is Harrington doing here?”

  She shrugged. “I think he tagged along from curiosity, to meet the bride.”

  “He hasn’t recognized you, has he?”

  “Neither of them gave any sign of it.”

  “Well, I barely recognized you myself.”

  “Is that a compliment?”

  He considered. “Not really. You take my breath away in either guise.”

  She looked rather adorably confused, until he said encouragingly, “That was a compliment.”

  A breath of surprised laughter escaped her before she sobered.

  “Are you rehabilitated?” he asked. “Will you go out into society?”

  Her shoulders drooped. “I suppose I will have to, or people will think it odd and still gossip. My father is arranging a theater party. I don’t know whether to be glad or sorry that London has so little company at this time of year.”

  “It will be easier after the first time,” he assured her. “Don’t deign to notice any stares, and just enjoy the evening.”

  “You sound as if you speak from experience,” she said, turning her curious gaze upon him.

  “I do. I have embarrassed myself on many occasions and brushed through it all without injury. You will, too.”

  Her gaze flickered to Campbell as though acknowledging the injury such a marriage would do to her. With an effort, he kept silent on the issue and drank his tea instead.

  Harrington’s gaze was now on Diana, his expression unreadable as ever. Bill knew him to be both vengeful and spiteful. It was certainly not beyond him to seek revenge for losing the shooting wager with a drunken Campbell, who could barely stand and yet had bested him. The tale was already being told in the clubs with some amusement. However cordial their friendship, he would not easily forgive Campbell for that. Or Bill for shooting him. That was being talked about, too.

  Bill was confident in his own ability to take care of himself, but he did not want to give Harrington any reason to drag Diana into his schemes. Therefore, he stayed only long enough to drink his tea before he took his leave of Sir Geoffrey and Lady Wade.

  With his back to the room, he risked a fleeting smile at Diana, who barely looked at him as she murmured her farewell.

  Bill acknowledged ruefully that he still had a mountain to climb.

  As she dressed for the theater that evening, Diana was far more nervous than she had been playing the harp in a decadent gaming club. At the Lyon’s Den, no one had judged her. Very few had paid her any attention whatsoever. She was just Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s latest pet, a boy dressed in quaint costume playing indifferent music in the background. A minor curiosity in a place where wild things were always happening.

  At the theater, she would be under scrutiny from ladies and gentlemen who were liable to gossip and titter behind their fans, or even give her the cut direct. She tried to tell herself she was used to being stared at in theaters, for she had attended several plays with the princess. On the other hand, some of these more daring ladies might have attended the Lyon’s Den, watching from the gallery as she had flitted through the hall.

  “Nothing will do you more harm than looking so frightened and miserable,” her mother scolded.

  “I am frightened and miserable,” she retorted.

  “Well, stop it. Your father and I have spoken to one or two very high sticklers and explained what nonsense it all is. Remember that. If anyone claims to have seen you that night, they were quite mistaken, for you were at home preparing to go to your grandmother for a couple of days. Lady Braithwaite will acknowledge you, so you must be prepared to smile. In fact, you must be happy, for you are finally engaged to the man of your dreams.”

  Diana snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “No one would believe I chose Eric Campbell over Simon Bamber!”

  “There is no accounting for taste,” Lady Wade said firmly. She met her daughter’s eyes in the looking glass. “You don’t still think of young Bamber, do you?”

  Diana shook her head. “I think I am fickle, because if I had really loved him, I would miss him. I believe he only hurt my pride.”

  Her mother hesitated, then said, “Marriage can be easier if you go into it with no expectations. You can grow together and find contentment in shared duty and affection for your children.”

  Diana shuddered. Children with Eric Campbell. Dear God, what have I done?

  You have saved Bill from a loveless marriage. And yourself from the constant pain of unreturned love.

  That is nonsense! she answered herself, shocked at the turn of her thoughts. Of course, I do not love him! Three days ago, I had never laid eyes on him.

  Why else would you have refused him? Why else care what he thinks or feels? After all, he is an earl, a far, far better match than Eric Campbell…

  Abruptly, she broke off her internal arguments and turned to pick up her evening cloak before following her mother out of the chamber and downstairs. She wished she could swagger again, as she had in the Lyon’s Den.

  As she walked into the theater beside her father, several loud conversations in the foyer stopped. Diana fixed a smile to her lips and sailed on without looking to right or left.

  “Lady Wade, Sir Geoffrey, what a pleasant surprise,” said a deep, pleasant voice as they passed.

  Bill.

  She should not have felt such relief at his presence, but she did. As if everything would be bearable now, just because he was there. Just because he had spoken to her.

  Of course, he was still being chivalrous.

  “Excuse me,” he said to his companions, who included two devastatingly beautiful ladies she was sure she had met before and turned to Diana with another bow. “Miss Wade, allow me to escort you to your box?”

  Diana’s gaze flickered to her father, who was pleased to smile and nod, although she could see him wondering, Where the devil is Campbell?

  She laid the tips of her fingers on Bill’s sleeve. “Not gambling tonight, my lord?” she murmured.

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing. Most of my wagers are with myself.”

  “Is that not rather dull?”

  “Yes, but at least I don’t mind paying up.”

  It surprised a breathless laugh out of her, and he smiled encouragingly. As they climbed the staircase, he kept up a flow of light, witty conversation that she found herself responding to with growing sincerity, and by the time he left them at their box, she almost felt she could enjoy herself.

  “It should have been Campbell,” her father muttered as he handed her and her mother to seats at the front, “but I’ll not deny that was dashed useful.”

  Equally useful was Lady Braithwaite in the next box who bowed and smiled at them all and told Diana how well she was looking.

  The stares and the gossip would not stop immediately, of course, but it probably helped change the tone a little as people wondered if they had been misled and if Miss Wade was quite innocent of the scandalous charges leveled against her. Somehow, it would no doubt turn out to be the fault of th
e Princess of Wales.

  Mr. Campbell did manage to appear before the curtain went up and bowed to Lady Wade before kissing Diana’s hand most gallantly and sitting beside her. Inevitably, of course, he drew attention back to their box, though for quite a different reason. He was loud and arrogant—and he behaved like a favored suitor.

  During the first interval, as Diana had fully expected, they received no visitors, though her mother made this snub less obvious by taking her and Mr. Campbell into the box next door to visit Lady Braithwaite. While her ladyship could give blistering set-downs, she was not an unkind woman and was perfectly gracious to Diana, presenting her to her son and several other people in the box. She even smiled at Campbell, as though she found him amusing, although Diana suspected she was heartily glad when they returned to their own box.

  Gallantly, Mr. Campbell handed Diana into her chair and sat beside her. His gaze lingered on her face too long, disconcerting her.

  “Have I a smut on my nose?” she asked lightly.

  “Lord, no. You’re perfect. You just reminded me of someone for a moment, only I can’t think who.”

  “You called on Her Highness, the Princess of Wales,” Diana pointed out, crossing her fingers in her lap.

  “Aye, that will be it,” Mr. Campbell said, apparently satisfied, and turned his attention, at last, toward the stage.

  In the second interval, the Wades received visitors of their own. Diana suspected they had come to see if they could be the first to hear of her engagement to the wealthy Scot. Whatever their reasons, it seemed society was open to receiving her. The plan was working.

  This success didn’t make her as happy as she had imagined, but at least she now felt able to look around the rest of the audience without too much fear of contempt. She located Bill in one of the opposite boxes with a party that included the beautiful ladies she had noticed before and gentlemen of varied age and appearance. He looked breathtakingly handsome and distinguished, whether in serious conversation with his companions or simply bantering.

  A tug of longing took her by surprise. To have that kind of normal social interaction with him… But she had sent him away.