Forgotten Fiancée (London Ladies Book 3)

by Jillian Eaton

  Readington nodded. “I understand. The last two days have been quite trying. Perhaps she has not yet fully recovered.” He gave Dianna an encouraging smile which she met with a frown.

  Miles never would have spoken for her. He’d ignored her. Teased her. Broken her heart. But he’d never put words in her mouth. Never spoken for her when she could have spoken for herself. If anything he’d encouraged her to always use her own voice, to always speak for herself, and she knew it had frustrated and confounded him when she hadn’t been able to.

  “I believe you are quite correct,” Martha agreed. “A bit of rest and she will be right as rain tomorrow.”

  “I am right here,” Dianna interceded sharply. “If you wish to ask me what is wrong you may do so because I am sitting right beside you. Except you do not want to know what is wrong, not really. Do you, Mother?”

  Martha drew a sharp breath and expelled it in a nervous laugh. “Honestly, Dianna. That is quite enough. Mr. Readington does not need to hear about your personal problems.”

  “He should, as they concern him.” Beneath the soft folds of her pelisse Dianna’s hands twisted anxiously together, fingers locking and unlocking as she struggled to retain an outward veneer of composure despite the rapid beating of her heart.

  “At the very least wait until tomorrow. This is neither the time nor the place. We are in a carriage, for heaven sakes.” Though she spoke brightly, there was an unmistakable ring of command in Martha’s voice Dianna recognized only too well. In the past, this was as far as she’d ever dared to push her mother and she knew when Martha turned her attentions to Readington that she considered the matter closed. “When shall we anticipate your arrival tomorrow? I do so hope it does not rain. I would rather enjoy taking one last turn about the park in an open curricle before winter sets in.”

  “Would eleven be too early?” he asked.

  “No, that would be-”

  “Yes,” Dianna cut in. “Yes, I am afraid it would, Thomas.”

  “Oh.” Brows drawing together in obvious puzzlement, he said, “What about two?”

  “Two will not work either. In fact, tomorrow will not work at all.” Beside her she felt her mother stiffen in silent outrage, but she continued on nevertheless, determined to speak her mind once and for all. She knew one consequence of her actions would be injuring Readington’s feelings. Another would be inciting her mother’s disapproval. But she also knew that even if things were to continue between her and Readington, neither one of them would ever find happiness. Readington wanted the sort of wife she appeared to be on the outside: perfect, poised, and always well mannered. Except that isn’t who she was. Not really.

  It’s who she’d wanted to be, who she’d tried to be, and who she’d been… around everyone but Miles.

  She used to think he brought out the worst in her, but now she finally realized he brought out the best.

  The best may have not always been perfect. The best may have not always been poised. But it was who she was deep down, and who she finally wanted to be. Not the perfect daughter, not the perfect wife, not the perfect lady, but the perfect fit for a man who saw her as she truly was, not as he wanted her to be.

  “I am sorry Thomas, but I cannot in good conscience see you beyond tonight in any capacity other than as friends.” She met his confused gaze, lips twisting into a small, regretful smile. “I know my actions may have been a bit misleading and for that I apologize. I - I hope you understand and do not think too poorly of me.”

  The carriage gave a subtle lurch as it drew to a halt in front of the Foxcroft’s townhome. Glancing first out the window and then at Dianna, Readington studied her intently for a moment, the warmth in his brown eyes unfading. Finally he bowed his head in silent acknowledgement of her wishes and Dianna released a tiny sigh of relief. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you,” she said sincerely. “I do hope we may still see each other from time to time. You are a true gentleman, Thomas, and you will make someone a wonderful husband someday.”

  He accompanied her out of the carriage and along a short, brick lined walkway to the front door. Tight lipped, Martha bit out a quick farewell before she swept inside, leaving Dianna and Readington alone.

  “I hope you find whatever it is you are searching for,” he said quietly.

  Tilting her head to the side, Dianna regarded him in mild surprise. “How do you know I am searching for something?”

  A weary grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Aren’t we all? You are a lovely woman but not, I think, who I thought you were.”

  “No,” she agreed, “I don’t suppose I am.”

  An awkward silence fell between them. Their gazes met, then skittered away. Seemingly at a loss of what else to say, Readington shuffled his feet and turned to face his waiting carriage. “If you ever change your mind…”

  “I will call upon you at once. But I don’t believe that will happen.”

  “No.” He studied her for a moment. “I don’t believe it will.” Descending to the bottom step, he looked back at her over his shoulder one final time. “Good luck with your mother, Miss Dianna.”

  “Thank you.” I am going to need it. She watched as Readington walked to his carriage, his steps steady and sure. He said something to the driver before he climbed in, pulling the door closed behind him. Waiting until the carriage had rounded a bend and disappeared from sight, Dianna braced herself for what awaited her and walked through the front door.

  Martha was in the front parlor. Face flushed with mortification, she glared at her daughter and said, “I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life! Dianna, your behavior in that carriage was reprehensible! What has gotten into you?”

  “I-” Dianna began, but she only got the one word out before her mother interrupted, apparently more interested in venting her own frustrations than listening to an explanation.

  “It’s that Charlotte Graystone, isn’t it? You spent far too much time with her at Ashburn.” Martha gripped the back of a wooden chair to steady herself, knuckles turning white. “I forbid you to see her again.”

  “I have not spoken to Charlotte since we came to London.”

  “Then what is it?” Martha demanded in a shrill voice Dianna had never heard her use before. “What is it that has you acting this way? Because Mr. Readington was an exemplary gentleman. He would have made a fine husband.”

  “And he will,” Dianna said quietly, “for someone else. Please, Mother. Sit down. I do not like seeing you so upset.”

  “I just… I just don’t understand what has come over you.” Hands fluttering in distress, Martha collapsed onto a chaise lounge patterned with pink roses. “You have always been such an obedient child.”

  “I know.” Sitting beside her mother, Dianna reached across Martha’s lap and gently squeezed her hands. “And I know how upsetting this must be for you, but I can no longer be that obedient child.”

  “Why ever not?” Martha demanded.

  Biting back a smile at the petulant tone in her mother’s voice - one that made her sound far more like a child than Dianna - she said, “Because I have changed. I am different now.” She hesitated, uncertain how to explain herself in a way that her mother could understand. “I still want to make you happy, but I want to make myself happy as well.”

  Martha grew very still. “You are not happy?”

  “I think I can be. I want to be. But not with Mr. Readington.”

  “Well,” Martha said, her brow furrowing, “if not him then who?”

  Dianna did not hesitate. Looking her mother square in the eye she said, “Miles Radnor.”

  “Miles Radnor!” Martha exclaimed. “But that’s… He… You…” Looking visibly perplexed by Dianna’s revelation she slumped back, letting her head fall against the chaise lounge with a quiet thud. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Dianna assured her. “I know what I am risking but this time… this time I think it will work be
tween us.” At least I hope. By picking Miles over Readington she was putting herself in a precarious situation, especially given how they’d left things between them. She could only pray Miles’ feeling towards her had not changed, and when next they met she would have the courage to speak her mind.

  Martha shook her head dazedly from side to side, jostling the frilly lace cap she’d not yet taken off. “I must admit, this is the last thing I expected to hear you say. What makes you think a second courtship will end any differently than the first?”

  “Because this time it will be our decision, not yours and Father’s. Not Lord and Lady Radnor’s. Ours,” she said firmly.

  Martha considered the idea for nearly a full minute. “I suppose he is an earl of considerable wealth and holdings,” she said at last.

  Dianna’s lips twitched. “He is indeed.”

  “Very well. If this is what you want-”

  “It is.”

  “-then your father and I shall give you our support.” With a heavy sigh, Martha surged to her feet and absently smoothed a hand across her skirts. “I only hope you know what you are doing, Dianna. A second scandal will ruin you and I fear there will be no more Mr. Readington’s to fall back on should the need arise.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When Dianna woke the next morning, feeling relieved if not completely refreshed, she knew she needed a scheme if she wanted to attempt a reconciliation with Miles, and for that she needed Charlotte. If there was one thing her friend excelled at, it was scheming.

  For she feared if she simply went to Miles with nothing more than her true feelings he might turn her away, especially given the last thing she’d said to him; words she now regretted but could not take back.

  I want you know this does not change anything, she’d said, thinking herself so right and wise. You do know that, don’t you?

  Four times he’d come to her with his heart on his sleeve, and four times she’d denied him. Dianna knew Miles was not a man without pride. He had a breaking point. A point beyond which he would not be able to see past all of the times she had said ‘no’ in favor of the one time she was finally ready to say ‘yes’.

  Which was where Charlotte came in.

  Her friend would know what to do. After dressing hurriedly in a plain brown dress with white lace trim and a matching spencer jacket, Dianna left a note for her parents - both of whom were still fast asleep in their separate bedrooms - and headed for the Graystone’s residence. She was admitted at half past eight, an hour typically reserved strictly for family members with emergencies that could not wait another minute. Were she calling on anyone else she would have undoubtedly been asked to return at a more reasonable time, but as far as the Charlotte and Gavin were concerned Dianna was family.

  After being informed ‘Missus Graystone’ would be down shortly by a kindly faced butler, Dianna was shown into the front drawing room and offered a cup of tea, which she politely declined. Having risen at the crack of dawn she’d already in indulged in two cups of the bitter brew, both heavily laced with sugar and honey which no doubt explain the anxious energy that had her pacing circles while she waited for Charlotte.

  She studied the wall hangings as she went round and round, ankle boots sinking silently into the thick Aubusson carpet. Like the rest of the Graystone’s manor - one of the largest in all of London - the drawing room was impeccably decorated. Matching furniture formed a cozy horseshoe around the dormant fireplace above which a large portrait of Charlotte and Gavin hung, their lurking smiles and sideways glances at odds with the serious expressions usually found in such portraitures.

  “I look absolutely stunning, don’t I?”

  Dianna spun towards the door to find Charlotte leaning against it, her amber eyes filled with sleepy amusement. Having obviously been roused from bed, she wore a green silk wrapper belted at the waist and her hair down, the vibrant red curls spilling like a wave of fire over her shoulders.

  “Beautiful,” Dianna agreed.

  Muffling a yawn, Charlotte crossed to the nearest chair and threw herself into it, bare toes curling on the carpet. “Now that my daily compliment quota has been met, why don’t you tell me why I’ve been dragged out of bed at this godforsaken hour.” Squinting at the bright morning light spilling through the front window, she suppressed a shudder. “Do you even know what time it is?”

  “I do,” Dianna said apologetically as she sat across from her friend, “and I am sorry, but I couldn’t wait.”

  “You’ve waited this long to come and see me,” Charlotte chided. “What’s a few more hours?”

  Dianna glanced down at her hands. The truth of it was she should have called on Charlotte long before this morning, or at the very least sent a letter to see how she was feeling and how her pregnancy was progressing. Selfishly she’d been thinking only of herself these past few weeks, and the shame of it brought a flush of embarrassed color to her cheeks. “I know I should have come to call before now, but I-”

  “-have been busy doing all sorts of things more important than visiting your oldest and dearest friend. Yes, yes, I understand and I even forgive you. This time,” Charlotte clarified with a stern look. “Do not let it happen again. You know there are very few people I can tolerate.”

  “I know, and it won’t,” Dianna promised.

  “Excellent. Well, get on with it. What’s happened? Is it your parents? Or Aunt Abigail? Has something happened to Aunt Abigail? For goodness sakes Di, say something,” she said in exasperation when Dianna remained silent. “Or else I am going to begin to fear the worst.”

  “It’s Miles,” Dianna burst out. “I love him.”

  “Oh. Well.” Sitting back in her chair, Charlotte crossed her long legs at the knee, absently pulling at her silk wrap so she remained covered. “I hardly see that as a reason to come knocking at the door before breakfast, but I suppose to each their own.”

  “No, you don’t understand. Charlotte… I.... I love him.”

  Gaze sharpening, Charlotte studied Dianna’s countenance. Whatever she saw erased the faint mocking glint in her eye and she leaned forward in earnest, fingers gripping the edge of her chair. “Tell me,” she said simply.

  When Dianna had finished, Charlotte stood up. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed. Gavin has insisted I stay inside for the past three days straight given the dreary weather, but if I have to remain in this house for one more hour I fear I shall scream. It’s nice outside, is it not?”

  “Yes, quite nice.” Unseasonably so, given that they were nearly at the end of November, not that Dianna was complaining. This time last year when she’d come to call on Charlotte she’d been dressed in an uncomfortable number of layers. It was wonderful to get by with wearing only a light gown and spencer, though she knew such days were numbered. Winter would be here soon enough, bringing with it a deluge of dirty slush, snow, and freezing rain.

  “Excellent,” Charlotte declared. “Wait right here. I’ll be only a moment.”

  “I must admit,” Charlotte said a short time later as she and Dianna stepped to the side of the path to allow a horse and buggy to trot pass before resuming their stroll, “that I am surprised to be the one to remind you of this.”

  “Remind me of what?” Dianna asked, glancing at her friend in puzzlement. After making her repeat everything that had happened concerning Miles - twice - Charlotte had been walking in thoughtful silence, smoke all but pouring out her ears as she attempted to come up with an infallible scheme that ensured Dianna and Miles would, as she put it, ‘live happily-ever-after’.

  “It is quite simple, really. You only need to-”

  A burst of wind swept suddenly through the narrow alley of trees, bringing with it a miniature cyclone of spinning leaves. Charlotte and Dianna shrieked in unison as their skirts flew out and then up, revealing their white unmentionables for all of king and country to see.

  Managing to secure the hem of her gown Dianna gave it a hard yank… only to cringe when she heard a resulting po
p as a bit of stitching gave way. Twisting about in an attempt to find the source of the tear she caught another gust of wind full in the face, the force of it strong enough to pluck her hat from her head and send her staggering back into Charlotte who, unfortunately, was similarly off balance.

  With a second shriek the two women tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs, their fall blanketed by a carpet of red and gold leaves. Face flushed from the exertion and heart beating at twice its normal speed, Dianna rolled onto to her back beside Charlotte and laid spread eagled, gazing up through the spindly tree branches to the bright blue sky beyond as she attempted to catch her breath.

  “Perhaps all this hubbub about lying-in has come merit after all,” Charlotte said dryly.

  Instantly alarmed as she recalled Charlotte’s delicate condition Dianna sat up on one elbow to conduct an anxious appraisal of her friend.

  Except for some leaves tangled in her hair and a spot of dirt on the end of her nose Charlotte seemed no worse for wear. Seeing the concern on Dianna’s face she smiled and gave her growing belly - now twice the size it had been at Reginald and Abigail’s wedding - an affectionate pat. “Not to worry. Gavin and I leave for the country tomorrow where we will remain until our daughter is born and my greatest excursion shall be walking from the bedroom to the kitchen for some late night sweets. That all being said, I may need to rest here a moment.”

  After glancing both ways down the path to make certain there was no one approaching, Dianna laid back down, wiggling ever-so-slightly from side to side until she found a comfortable position. It was, she thought with a deep sigh, rather liberating to feel the earth on her back and the sun on her face. Closing her eyes she breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of freshly turned soil, crisp autumn air, and the faintest hint of chimney smoke from the townhouses on the other side of the park. After a moment she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at Charlotte, lips twitching as the stem of a leaf tickled the corner of her mouth. “What were you saying before? About reminding me of something?”