Forgotten Fiancée (London Ladies Book 3)

by Jillian Eaton

  “You will not be hearing those words coming out of my mouth again anytime soon, Miles Radnor, so I suggest you have your ears checked. No doubt they’re blocked by all the stuffing in your head.”

  His tiny kitten, Miles noted with appreciation, had grown claws. In the past Dianna would have never dreamed of speaking to him in such a blunt fashion. Her strict upbringing demanded she play the part of a lady at all times, no matter the circumstance or provocation. He was pleased to see she’d grown more spirited and found a voice and an opinion all her own. Even if that opinion held him in very low regard.

  He stood up, uncoiling his lanky body into a stretch that nearly brought his fingertips to the rafters. Ever the gentleman - when it served him - he extended an arm out to Dianna, but with a sniff she ignored the gesture and rose gracefully to her feet without assistance.

  During the night her dress had dried, but the hem of it remained stained dark with mud and creased with wrinkles. Her hair was in similar disarray and stuck out from her head at all sorts of angles, short blonde curls springing every which way. A bit of dirt smeared one cheek. The other still held the imprint from a button on his shirt sleeve.

  To Miles’ way of thinking she had never looked more comely.

  “Where are we?” she asked as she crossed to the front window and peered out through the dusty glass.

  “An abandoned cottage on the edge of Ashburn.” Retrieving his boots, Miles resumed his seat on the floor as he tugged on first one and then the other. Getting up he went to stand beside Dianna but she stepped quickly away from him with a sideways glance of warning. He bit back an irritated sigh and crossed his arms. So that was to be the way of it. He’d saved her bloody life, nearly risking his own in turn, and still she gave him the cold shoulder.

  Bloody females.

  There was no understanding them and, unfortunately, no living without them, though God knew he’d tried over the past four years.

  Seven women had shared his bed during his travels abroad. He’d cared for them all but loved none, for only one woman had ever claimed his heart and she stood before him now… ready to tear it - and him - to shreds.

  “I need to get back. Aunt Dianna and Charlotte must be frantic.”

  Knowing the fear he’d felt before finding her, Miles could only imagine what Dianna’s loved ones were thinking. “There is a trail not far from here that leads directly back to Ashburn. If we go on horseback-”

  “No,” she said firmly, cutting him off. “I do not ride.”

  “It would only be for a short-”

  “No.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but the genuine flicker of fear he saw flash across her face had him grinding his teeth together in silent restraint. As a child Dianna had always been apprehensive of horses, but never so wary as to be unable to ride. He could not help but wonder how else she’d changed during his absence, and what other things he had missed during his absence.

  In the grand scheme of things four years did not seem like such a long time, but where he and Dianna were concerned it might as well have been an eternity. They were not the same people they’d been. They both had new fears. New hopes. New dreams. New ideas for a future; he with her, her without him. In one way they knew each other better than anyone else. In another they were complete strangers.

  Miles knew he had loved the girl Dianna had been, perhaps not as much as she had loved him, but as much as he’d been capable. Now he loved the woman she had become, and while she’d loved the boy she once knew, she had no love for the man.

  The bitter irony of it all did not escape him.

  “We can walk. It will take a bit longer, but the rain has stopped and it looks pleasant enough outside.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “You are letting me have my way, just like that?”

  Miles nodded as he opened the door. A rush of crisp autumn air blew in, carrying with it the scent of damp soil and leaves. “Just like that.”

  “Very well.” She walked past him only to come up short a yard or two in front of the cottage, her eyes growing wide as she turned in a slow circle. “Oh, how beautiful.”

  After making certain the fire was out completely, Miles joined Dianna. He took a cursory glance around, but while her face was alight with wonderment as though she were seeing diamonds glittering on the trees he saw nothing but… well, trees. “Yes,” he said absently, his mind on other things. “Beautiful.”

  “You are not looking close enough. There, up on that branch, do you see how blue that bird is?”

  Miles followed the direction of her arm as she pointed towards the top of a tiny sapling. “It’s blue because it’s a bluebird,” he pointed out reasonably.

  “And there, look at that oak. It looks as though an artist took a brush and painted on the leaves by hand. They’re so bright and vibrant.”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “The trees always change color this time of year.”

  “You know, that was always your problem.” Turning to face him, Dianna placed both hands on her hips and frowned. “You are so busy trying to get to the next thing, you never stop to see what is around you now.”

  Was that what he did? Taking a breath, Miles looked again at the bird. It was, he decided, a rather alarming shade of blue. Whether that was a good thing or a bad, he supposed it was something worth noticing. And the leaves on the oak were rather magnificent, a blend of reds and oranges and deep golds. “I see it,” he said defensively. “I see it all.”

  “Do you?” Dianna asked quietly. “I’ve often wondered.”

  Getting the feeling that they were no longer talking about birds and trees, Miles cleared his throat. He should have welcomed any conversation between them of a personal nature, but like a well that had gone dry the words he needed most were nowhere to be found. “The path is that way. Let me get my horse, and we can go.”

  He found his mount behind the cottage grazing on fallen leaves, looking rather damp and downtrodden but otherwise no worse for wear. Greeting the bay with a gentle stroke down its broad shoulder, he untied the reins from the saddle and looped them over one arm. “You’ve earned yourself extra oats and a few apples as well, that is if I can sneak them out beneath Cook’s nose.” The bay nickered and shoved his muzzle into Miles’ chest hard enough to send him stumbling back a step. “I suppose I deserved that. Come on, old chap. Let’s go collect the lady and get you home.”

  But when Miles rounded the corner of the cottage, Dianna was gone.

  Dianna walked briskly in the direction Miles had indicated. After dragging herself over two fallen trees and ducking beneath a few low hanging branches - one of which had held a cobweb she was still trying to get out of her hair - she found the path. It was narrow and twisting, but easily navigated in the bright light of day with no rain to hinder her vision She kept looking back over her shoulder, but for some reason or another it seemed Miles had chosen not to follow her.

  Good, she thought silently. A bit of distance was exactly what she needed to clear her mind against the traitorous thoughts that had begun sneaking not only into her head, but her heart as well.

  Thoughts she had no business thinking.

  Thoughts about Miles’ hard body pressed up against hers.

  Thoughts about the weight of his arm draped over her hip.

  Thoughts about what it would feel like to have his mouth-

  “Rubbish,” she said loudly, startling a pair of songbirds into flight. They chirped angrily at her as they flitted from one branch to another, colorful feathers ruffling in annoyance. “Complete and utter rubbish.”

  Picking up the ragged hem of her skirt keep it from the leaves and sticks that littered the trail, Dianna continued to traipse through the woods, her step noticeably more forceful than it had been a moment ago.

  Her brain, she decided, must be waterlogged. It was the only explanation that made any sense, for surely if she were in her right mind she wouldn’t dream of thinking about Miles’ body, let alone how handso
me he’d looked this morning with his rich brown hair tousled from sleeping on the floor and a shadow of dark scruff clinging to his jaw.

  Yes, he’d rescued her, and yes, he’d done so at his own peril and yes, he’d looked incredibly dashing doing so, but one act of bravery did not erase four years of heartache. She would send him a handwritten note in thank you, and that would be that. Just because their paths had crossed twice in a matter of two days did not mean they had to continue doing so. Her life would go on as it had been.

  She was happy. Healthy. She had friends who loved her. Suitors who were interested in her. Miles’ reappearance changed nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.

  Then why, a small voice intruded, can you not get him out of your mind?

  Feeling a slight pull on her skirt Dianna spun around, a blistering retort already forming on the tip of her tongue, but instead of Miles she found only a pricker bush, its thorns entangled in the delicate muslin fabric of her dress. Kneeling, she carefully pulled the thorns free of her skirt, hissing out a breath when one found its way into the soft pad of her thumb. Sucking on the wound she stood and resumed walking.

  Sooner than she would have expected she found herself once again immersed in familiar surroundings. The graceful swans she’d admired yesterday morning watched her as she went past, their glinting black eyes revealing nothing as they moved silently through the water with barely a ripple.

  When Ashburn’s gabled roof came into view she could have wept in relief, but instead squared her shoulders and kept herself carefully composed. At least until Charlotte came flying out from one of the servant’s doors and sprinted across the long sloping lawn like a woman possessed, her yellow skirts billowing out behind her.

  “Dianna!” Cheeks flushed, eyes wide with both alarm and relief, Charlotte skidded to a halt. In her haste the straw hat she wore perched over her brow came askew and she ripped it off impatiently, tearing out her coiffure in the process before gripping both of Dianna’s forearms in a tight squeeze. “You’re here! You’re alive! You’re unharmed! Now where the bloody hell have you been?”

  “Could we discuss it in the solarium over hot tea and something to eat?” Even with the sun shining she was still cold, Dianna realized. And frightfully hungry.

  “Of course,” Charlotte said immediately. Tucking one arm around Dianna’s waist she guided her inside as though she were an invalid. “Tea and anything that is left over from breakfast,” she told the servant who greeted them at the door. Taking in Dianna’s rather bedraggled appearance with wide eyes, the servant nodded and scurried away. “And those little cakes with the chocolate frosting we had last night for supper,” Charlotte called after her. “Oh, and don’t forget the peach cobbler. I had two bowls at dinner and another before breakfast,” she confessed in a whisper as she propelled Dianna down the hall. “It is positively delicious.”

  “Where is Aunt Abigail?” Dianna asked, noting every room they passed was empty.

  “Upstairs resting. Almost everyone is, except for Gavin. He had to leave to attend unexpected business in London before dawn. I would still be in bed as well, if not for the baby trying to kick a hole in my side.” Charlotte pressed a hand to the middle of her softly rounded abdomen and shook her head. “She’s a strong little imp. I will have a maid bring up a note to the master suite that you have returned safe and sound. Abigail wanted to be wakened if there was any news, but the poor dear seems rather tired. Best to let her sleep, I think. She was up more than half the night. We all were.”

  Feeling a pang of guilt that her absence had caused so much trouble, Dianna followed Charlotte into the sun filled solarium and sat in the same chair she’d occupied just yesterday morning. “I feel horrible,” she said, her hands twisting in her lap. “I never meant to become lost, but I fell asleep beneath a willow tree-”

  “You fell asleep beneath a tree?”

  “Yes and then-”

  “Weren’t you concerned about caterpillars?” Charlotte’s shoulders shook in an exaggerated shudder before she reclined all the way back on a velvet chaise lounge and nudged off her walking slippers, letting them fall to the floor with a quiet thunk thunk. “I hate them. They’re so soft and wiggly.”

  “There were not any caterpillars.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “But” - Dianna took a deep breath - “Miles was there.”

  Charlotte’s nose wrinkled. “All things considered, I think I would have preferred the caterpillars.”

  Despite the knotted ball of tension in her chest, Dianna managed a tiny smile. “Yes, well, I doubt caterpillars would have been able come to my rescue. Somehow Miles found me. I still do not know how. I was half frozen, and don’t know how much longer I could have borne the cold and the rain.” Even the memory of it caused a shiver to trickle down between her shoulder blades. “He carried me to an old abandoned gamekeeper’s cottage in the middle of the woods.”

  “And?” Charlotte demanded, sitting up on her elbows when Dianna trailed off into silence. “He carried you to an old abandoned gamekeeper’s cottage in the middle of the woods and?”

  “And… here I am.”

  Charlotte gave a very unladylike snort. “Oh no you don’t. I want to know everything.”

  Fortunately, Dianna was temporarily saved from revealing every detail of her night spent with Miles when a brisk knock sounded at the door and Charlotte’s ravenous appetite won out over her curiosity. With a meaningful glance at Dianna that clearly said they would shortly return to the events of last night, she glanced at the door and called out, “Come in!”

  Two maids, neatly dressed in muted gray with white aprons and matching caps, entered one behind the other and set down a large platter of food on a long sideboard against the far wall before coming around to prepare the tea service.

  “Just a bit of sugar and a spoonful of honey. Thank you,” Dianna said, gratefully accepting a cup of tea once it had been prepared to her specifications. Blowing across the top of the murky brown water to cool it, she took a sip as the maids excused themselves and left the room. The warm liquid felt positively divine as it slipped down her throat, helping to warm her from the inside out. Taking another liberal sip before setting her tea down, she joined Charlotte at the sideboard where her friend already had a large plate piled high with sausage, thinly sliced ham, two pieces of bread coated liberally in jam, and an enormous spoonful of peach cobbler.

  “Get two pieces of cake, won’t you?” she asked. “I don’t seem to have any room left on my plate.”

  Dianna bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Did you miss dinner?”

  “Certainly not.” Charlotte looked appalled at the very idea. “And this is not for me, if that is what you are thinking.”

  “Oh no?”

  “No. It’s for the baby. She is hungry all of the time.” Taking a knife and fork, Charlotte returned to her seat and promptly tucked in. “She has a preference for sweets,” she said, speaking around a mouthful of bread. “As well as meats and puddings. Can’t abide vegetables, though. Or that awful watery broth they’ve started serving already as though we are in the middle of winter instead of the beginning of fall.”

  “How extraordinary,” Dianna commented as she carried her much smaller plate across the solarium and sat down, “that your child likes all the things you do.”

  Charlotte paused with her fork in midair. Amusement glinted in her vibrant gaze, although she kept her mouth perfectly straight. “Uncanny, isn’t it? Now eat a bit and then tell me precisely what happened in the cottage.”

  Contemplatively chewing on a piece of sausage, Dianna tried to decide how much she wanted to tell Charlotte. The truth of it was nothing had happened… and everything had happened. Because as much as she desperately wanted to pretend any lingering feelings for Miles had been extinguished long ago, her aching heart was telling another story entirely.

  For reasons that were still not clear, Miles wanted her. He’d said as much outside the stables, b
ut even if he’d not spoken a single word she would have still known. It was the way he looked at her, as though he could stare at her all day and it would still not be enough. It was the way he’d held her this morning and all through the night, as though he never wanted to let her go. It was he had kissed her-

  “DIANNA!”

  “What? What?” Jumping in her seat, Dianna nearly spilled her tea and sent her plate of food tumbling to the floor. Catching both in the nick of time, she set them aside and pressed a hand to her pounding heart. “In heaven's name, what?”

  Charlotte fixed Dianna with a knowing stare. “I called your name several times. You were daydreaming. I do not suppose I have to guess about whom.”

  “I wasn’t daydreaming,” she said defensively, even though she’d been doing precisely that. “I was merely thinking-”

  “About Miles Radnor.”

  “No, I wasn’t thinking-”

  “Do not dare lie to me Dianna Foxcroft, especially about a man. Do you hear me?”

  Hungry and bossy, Dianna noted, although neither of those things were new where Charlotte was concerned. Of the two of them Charlotte had always been the more outspoken, never afraid to say exactly what was on her mind at any given moment without a care for whether it was good or bad. Dianna alternately admired her friend for her boldness and at times - such as now - found it slightly irritating. If she couldn’t even manage to get Miles out of her own head the last thing she wanted to do was talk about him.

  “I do not wish to discuss the matter further.”

  Charlotte’s auburn brows darted together. “But what about last-”

  “I said,” Dianna interrupted, “I do not wish to discuss it.”

  Their eyes met. For once, Charlotte was the first to look away. “Oh very well,” she sighed. “I do not want to upset you, especially after everything you’ve been through. But dear, this is not something that can simply be swept under the rug. You were gone for nearly an entire day and night without a chaperone. The fact of it is, the only person who can vouch for your whereabouts is, well, the person you seem so determined not to talk about. If word gets out that you spent the night with him…” Her voice trailed off, but then she didn’t need to say anymore. Dianna already knew exactly what she wasn’t saying.