“Actually he is a member of the House of Lords.”
“A peer,” he breathed. Hunt shook his head, not shocked, but certainly surprised at Sir Phillip’s revelation.
“We don’t have a name yet, but our contacts have told us that this gentleman is indeed active in Society and will be attending a house party this coming weekend at Lord and Lady Grafton’s estate in Essex.”
Oh, no.
A sense of foreboding came over him. “And?”
“And we want you to gather as much information as you can by attending this party. Our target will be meeting a contact there who we are told is one of the staff. If you can pick up information on who this lord is, we can crush this entire group before they cause irreparable damage.”
Hunt stared out the window, taking in all Sir Phillip told him.
“I assume you have been sent an invitation since we know you are welcomed at all these things,” DuBois-Gifford waved his hand. Perhaps with disdain at the frivolous lifestyle of the Upper Crust who have time for such nonsense as house parties.
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I was invited but intended to decline.”
“Not anymore.”
The Crown had spoken.
Hunt considered his newest assignment as he returned home. It was difficult to accept that a member of the House of Lords would be involved in an attempt to overthrow the government. It went against everything the Crown stood for and a titled peer had every reason to see that the status quo stood. What benefit could he possibly gain?
On the other hand, he would now be under the same roof as Diana for the length of the house party. Something he had planned to avoid at all costs. If he remembered correctly, the guests were expected to arrive on Friday afternoon and spend five days visiting, playing games, dancing, shooting, all the things popular for any house party.
That meant four nights with Diana merely down the corridor from him. In her nightgown. In her bed, all warm and soft. With all that luxurious hair hanging down, most likely in a soft plait as most women were apt to do when they slept.
He groaned. It would be a long five days.
And nights.
* * *
Diana, Mrs. Strickland, and Marguerite stepped from the carriage with the assistance of a footman at Lord and Lady Grafton’s estate in the county of Essex. Most of the other ladies would have sent their lady’s maids ahead in another carriage to supervise the unloading and setting up of their mistress’s wardrobe in their assigned room, but Diana didn’t see the need to do that.
Plus, since she was alone, it made for a more pleasant ride to be able to converse with the two women. Most of the Upper Crust did not chat with the help; something that Diana had never ascribed to.
As much as she’d been looking forward to this break from the Season events, especially with her portrait problem solved, she felt a tad disappointed that Hunt wouldn’t be joining the group. It amazed her that someone who she’d been friends with for years all of a sudden appeared so different to her, and whose presence she craved.
His actual visage had not changed—although since her return he did seem larger and more commanding—but the change was in how her body reacted to his nearness. Parts of her body she had never paid much attention to seemed to come alive when she regarded him across a ballroom or was held in his arms as they waltzed. Especially when he flashed that rakish smile that had many women attempting to lure him into their beds.
Even though she acknowledged her confusing and strong attraction to him since her return from Italy, there was no reason to believe anything would ever come of it.
She’d known for years that the Earl of Huntington viewed her as a walking disaster. She was also aware from their years of friendship that, when it came time to marry, he would choose a young debutante who was pure, biddable, and had nary a misstep attached to her name.
She sighed. She was so far from that image as to be farcical. If only she were as bold as Grandmama and suggested to Hunt that they have an affair. Despite what most members of the ton thought of her, however, she longed for what every other young lady wanted. A husband who cared for her, a home she could manage, and children to love and raise.
“Good afternoon, Lady Diana, I am so pleased you were able to join us.” Lady Grafton greeted her, kissing the air on either side of her face.
“Thank you, my lady, I am happy to be here.”
Lady Eunice joined her mother, squealing in that very annoying way the poor girl oftentimes did. Eunice was getting close to spinsterhood, which was a pity because, underneath her silly demeanor, she was a lovely young lady who would make some man a fine wife. Except Diana had noticed a bit of desperation in the girl this current Season.
Eunice would have already been settled in her own home with a husband and children but for her parents’ insistence she marry the highest title she could.
Eunice linked her arm with Diana’s and led her toward the house. “We are going to have so much fun. I have a few games in mind that will probably cause some raised eyebrows.” She giggled again.
“Indeed?”
“Yes. And Mother just told me yesterday that the Earl of Huntington will be joining us. I am so excited about that because he took so long to respond, Mother was sure he would decline.” They maneuvered their way past Lady Grafton and a couple she was greeting, then entered the hall and started up the stairs.
Hunt? He told her he was not able to join the festivities. Diana attempted to tamp down her growing excitement at Eunice’s words, else she begin to giggle like her hostess.
“I am pleased to hear that,” Diana said, hoping she sounded as blasé as she wanted to appear.
“I know. I hate to admit it, but I am quite enamored with the earl, and so are my parents.” Eunice leaned in close as if to offer a major secret. “He asked me to dance at the Marlowe ball.” She closed her eyes and dipped as if dancing. “It was wonderful.”
Diana grabbed the girl’s arm before she waltzed down the stairs backward. “Careful.”
Another giggle.
Eunice left Diana at the room she’d been assigned. Marguerite was already unpacking and Mrs. Strickland supervising, which obviously annoyed Marguerite. “Mrs. Strickland, I understand there are two rooms on the top floor set aside for companions since this room is rather small. Perhaps you can get yourself set up there,” Diana said.
Marguerite mouthed “thank you” as Mrs. Strickland nodded and picked up her travel bag. “Very well. I will see you at dinner, I suppose. Unless the companions are to be banned to another area for dinner as well.” She sniffed and left the room.
Diana rolled her eyes and ignored the comment. Mrs. Strickland could be a trial at times, but Diana didn’t have the desire or time to interview another companion. She would be quite happy to do without one, but since she always seemed to be in danger of getting into trouble, having a companion who acted as chaperone was a necessity to keep the virtue vultures happy.
“Marguerite, they are serving tea on the patio. I would love to be rid of this dusty outfit. Will you see if there is something that doesn’t require pressing that I may change into?”
“Yes, my lady. Why don’t you wash up at the water bowl one of the maids just filled and I will find something for you.” The maid nodded at the milk glass bowl and pitcher on the dresser across from the bed.
Diana washed and with Marguerite’s help changed into a deep yellow mousselaine de soie gown that drew snug across her stomach and midriff with a lovely gathering at her lower back, not like the horsehair bustles of the past, but small ruffles and one large bow.
Diana loved that dress because her full-figured, muscular form from all her riding filled out her outfits quite well. Since she never wanted to be like everyone else, she relished in her body, different from the current waifs.
She was directed to the patio by one of the footmen. It was a pleasant day, with some sunshine, but combined with enough passing clouds to not require a parasol to protect her skin. She
noticed most of the young ladies present did carry one with them. Diana always hated carrying reticules, parasols and other hinderances to free movement.
“Diana!” Miss April Connors called to her from a small table where she sat with her brother, Mr. Nelson Connors and their mother, Mrs. Edith Connors. Mr. Ernest Connors, the patriarch, was missing.
Diana made her way to the table, her insides twisting at the leering stare coming from the younger Mr. Connor’s eyes. They traveled up and down her body as if assessing a bit of horseflesh at Tattersalls. Apparently, her absence from England hadn’t been long enough for some young men to forget her stumble into disgrace. She’d never cared for any of the Connors, anyway.
Mr. Ernest Connors was a blustering, large man who used every opportunity to remind one and all that despite being a ‘mister’ he was the son of a viscount and only one step from inheriting, since his brother, the current viscount, had been married for several years and had still not produced an heir.
His wife was timid and meek, a trait Diana barely tolerated in a woman. Nelson had always regarded Diana with a combination of disdain and ungentlemanly interest and poor April had been betrothed to a young man who left for the continent on a trip and, after four years, had still not returned, leaving the girl a bit on the sour side.
Mr. Connors rose and pulled out a chair. “My lady, if you please.”
Diana took the seat across from Miss Connors and, unfortunately, next to Mr. Connors, who inched his chair ever so slightly so he was closer to her than she would have liked.
After his knee touched her thigh, she wished she had brought a parasol after all. She could stick him in the leg with it.
“I’m so glad to see you, Lady Diana. I hadn’t heard that you returned from your visit with your family in Italy.” Miss Connors offered a warm smile while her brother gave a low, but noticeable snort.
“Yes, I had a lovely time.” She nodded. “And I am glad to see all of you as well.”
A footman arrived at the table with a pot of tea and a tray of several small sandwiches, tarts, and biscuits.
The group made typical inane conversation about the roads and the weather while everyone fixed their tea and placed various offerings on their plate. Diana took a sip and, instantly, the hairs on the back of her neck rose.
He’s here.
9
Against his better judgment, but at the request of Sir Phillip DuBois-Gifford, Hunt had returned home from the meeting with Sir Phillip and immediately sent an acceptance missive to Lady Grafton. He managed to avoid Diana for the next few days by spending more time at his club and less at typical ton affairs.
It hadn’t helped one bit. He still dreamed of her and, whenever his mind was not fully occupied, his thoughts drifted to Diana and the portrait still sitting in the wardrobe. He really ought to burn it, but every time he seriously considered doing so, he found one reason or another to not.
Now he stood on the patio at the Grafton Estate staring at Diana’s back as she sat with the Connors family.
“My lord, I am so glad you have arrived!” Lady Eunice grabbed his arm, taking him by surprise, almost pitching him to the ground.
“My lady, how nice to see you.” He glanced in the direction of the Connors’ table. Diana turned and smirked at him. Either because he had said he was not attending or, most likely, at the circumstances he found himself in with his hostess.
“Please join me for tea, my lord. I have a lovely table over here.” Lady Eunice practically dragged him across the patio to a table for two set alongside the balustrade lining the patio. Off into a corner away from the others.
It appeared she had been waiting for him since it was already set with two places and a tray of sweets. Once they were seated, a footman appeared with a pot of tea.
“How do you like your tea, my lord?” She batted her eyelashes at him as she poured. He was concerned that she would spill the hot liquid if she didn’t pay attention to what she was doing.
“A bit of sugar and some cream.” He glanced across the patio at Diana, and his stomach muscles tightened at the look Nelson Connors was casting in her direction. He was leaning closer to her, and Diana was tilting away. The rake had better keep his hands where Hunt could see them.
“My lord, I have planned so many games for the party. I hope you enjoy charades,”—he hated it—“blindman’s buff,”—hated that one also—“and forfeits”—the one he hated most of all. She grinned with a look in her eye he’d seen from many a hopeful debutante over the years.
He groaned inwardly. It appeared reining in his lust with thoughts of a soft and sensual Diana in a warm bed in the same house, on the same floor, with only two wooden doors separating them would not be his only problem.
Since he’d been forced to attend this gathering, his intention had been to get the information Sir Phillip required as quickly as possible, plead a problem that needed his attention in London to his hosts, and then leave early.
When he’d planned his early escape, it had been for the sole purpose of avoiding the temptation Diana presented, but now it appeared he would be dodging Lady Eunice most of the time as well. That situation could be even more of a problem if the young lady hung about him the entire time, making it difficult to conduct his investigation.
The best solution was to stick close to Diana, which was precisely what he did not want to do. At least with all the secrets he and Diana had shared over the years, he could employ her help.
With her guile she could provide assistance. She was a great talker and could wile anyone into revealing information. Yes, he would have to divulge the reason for his attendance at the party.
He realized that all the time he’d been thinking about Diana and the investigation, Lady Eunice had been blathering on and on. He’d nodded a few times and hoped like hell he hadn’t agreed to anything foolish or time-consuming. The last time he had drifted off when a young lady had spoken with him, he found he’d promised to escort her to the museum the next day. Along with her doting parents casting warm and very frightening—for him—glances in their direction.
“If you will excuse me, my lady, I have a message to deliver to Lady Diana.” He placed his napkin on the table and stood. As crass as that sounded, he had to get away from Lady Eunice before he said or did something ungentlemanly.
He knew when he asked her to dance at the Marlowe ball it had been a mistake. She apparently had read more into it than she should have.
At first he’d thought Lady Eunice might be someone he could consider to court, but after only a few minutes into the dance, he’d decided he would rather pass his title onto his brother than marry Lady Eunice or anyone of her ilk. Although she’d appeared sweet, it became apparent her interest lay in money, titles and status.
His attempts thus far to find a woman to court had been for nil. Every young lady he’d considered turned out to be someone he could barely tolerate throughout a dance or dinner, never mind for the rest of his life.
When considering a wife, it would help if he didn’t find it a chore to bed her but, aside from that, his main concerns were someone who would not tarnish his title, who would conduct herself properly in all circumstances, run an efficient household, and raise well-behaved children.
“Oh.” Lady Eunice looked at him with surprise, then smiled. “Of course, we have plenty of time to spend together, and I must see to some matters about dinner, anyway.”
He bowed and hurried away.
Of course, we have plenty of time to spend together.
What the devil did that mean? Now he was really concerned.
He approached Lady Diana just as she was mumbling something to Nelson Connors which did not look like an invitation. In fact, she looked as though she was ready to flatten him. Knowing Diana as he did, he wouldn’t take wagers that she’d not do that very thing.
“Lady Diana. May I have a word with you please?” He bowed briefly at the other three. “Mrs. Connors, Miss Connors.” He glared at Nelson. �
�Connors.”
Nelson returned his glare with raised eyebrows. As if he had no idea why Hunt looked as though he wanted to haul him up and pummel him.
Diana stood when he pulled back her chair. “It’s been lovely speaking with all of you. I hope you enjoy the party.”
She turned and took his extended arm, and they moved away from the table. Hunt maneuvered them past a few other tables, down the stone steps to the garden below.
“What did Nelson say to you?” Hunt’s voice must have come out stronger than he intended because Diana looked up at him, wide-eyed.
She waved her hand and faced forward. “Nothing to concern yourself with. He’s an annoying man.”
“But what did he say?”
“Does it really matter?”
Hunt gritted his teeth. “Yes. It does.”
Diana huffed. “He suggested I might be open to a dalliance with him while we’re here.”
“I’ll kill him.” Hunt turned to head back to the patio when Diana grabbed his arm.
“No. Just let it go. I made certain he knew not only would I never consider such a thing with him—or anyone—if he ever spoke to me again in that manner I would injure him in an area that would leave him unable to ‘dally’ with anyone for a while.”
Hunt burst out laughing. Leave it to Diana to come straight to the point. He still didn’t like the idea that Connors thought Diana would even consider such a thing.
Diana grinned back at him. “He turned quite pale, actually. I don’t think I will be troubled with him again.”
That might be so, but Hunt planned to have a little chat with Connors to make sure he knew that, not only would Diana keep him from ‘dallying,’ Hunt would follow it up with a beating that would keep him in bed for days.
Their stroll took them past a grouping of bluebells and cowslip. “I thought you said you were unable to attend the house party?” Diana asked.
He walked them over to a stone bench under a dogwood tree. Once they settled, he said, “Can a man not change his mind? Or is that only a woman’s prerogative?”
A Scandalous Portrait: Rose Room Rogues ~ Book One Page 6