Forgotten Fiancée (London Ladies Book 3)

by Jillian Eaton

  “Oh yes. That. Well, it’s quite obvious, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know,” Dianna said.

  “I wasn’t going to. Tell you, that is. Or remind you, as I’m certain it is merely something you have forgotten.” Charlotte turned her head as well, the sudden gravity of her expression filling Dianna with a vague sense of dread. “But then you came to call this morning and all you could talk about was Radnor, so I changed my mind. Except now I am not quite certain what to do.”

  “Just tell me,” she said faintly. “Whatever it is, I want to know.”

  Leaves rustled quietly as Charlotte inclined her chin. Amber eyes solemn, she reached between them and took Dianna’s hand. As children they’d often slept at one another’s houses, and on those special occasions had always shared a bed, laying side by side and hand in hand as they drifted off to sleep.

  To know nothing had changed between them and their friendship was as strong now as it had been all those years ago warmed Dianna’s heart and brought a soft smile to her face. Charlotte was the one person who had never disappointed her. Who had never made her cry. Who had never left her feeling alone and forgotten. Were it not for her unconditional love and support Dianna feared she would have turned out quite differently, and the dread in her chest slowly began to fade as she realized that no matter what Charlotte was about to say and no matter what happened with Miles and no matter what the future brought, she would always have this one great love in her life.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, giving Charlotte’s hand a gentle squeeze.

  “For what?” the redhead asked, elegant brows pinching in bemusement.

  “For everything.”

  There was no need to say more. Those two words spoke volumes, and the answering squeeze of Charlotte’s fingers told Dianna her dearest friend understood all she had left unsaid.

  “I hope you retain that sentiment after I speak my piece.”

  “Of course.”

  “Well,” Charlotte sighed, “here it goes. As I said, it is quite obvious. Knowing your mother as I do, I am rather shocked she hasn’t said anything. Not to mention Radnor for that matter, especially since he seems so hell bent on a reconciliation”

  “Mentioned or said anything about what?”

  “Radnor is not dead or otherwise maimed, is he?”

  Dianna blinked in confusion. “You saw him yourself. You know he is not.”

  “Then let me be the first to offer my congratulations, belated as they may be.” Looking rather smug she added, “Not to mention the answer to your problem.”

  Now Dianna was truly bewildered. “Congratulations? Charlotte, what are you talking about?”

  “Your engagement, of course. Dianna… you are still betrothed to be married.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Not wanting to waste a minute more - four years seemed to be quite enough time - Dianna went to Miles’ townhouse the very next morning; arriving a full hour earlier than she had the previous day at Charlotte’s. She half expected to be turned away, but to her secret delight the door opened at once and she found herself face to face with a pretty young woman with familiar green eyes and dark hair wound up in a loose top knot that left long tendrils trailing down along her neck and shoulders.

  “Harper,” she exclaimed in pleasant surprise, for with those eyes and that hair the woman could be no one else but Miles’ younger sister. “You’ve grown up.

  “He is gone,” Harper said without preamble the moment Dianna stepped into the foyer.

  “Gone?” she echoed, her gaze darting about as though she might find Miles lurking in a corner. Having been midway through removing her cloak - today was a bit too brisk for a light jacket - she shrugged it back on, hands clutching tight to the collar. “What - what do you mean, he’s gone?”

  “I mean he left.” Expression solemn, Harper took a step forward, moving into a shaft of light cascading down from an open window. “He left for Winfield yesterday at dawn. But after that I do not know where he plans to go. Abroad, I believe.”

  Dianna brought a trembling hand to her mouth, fingertips sinking into her bottom lip as she struggled to comprehend what Harper was telling her. Despite her bolstering conversation with Charlotte, it had taken all the courage she had to come here this morning. She’d come alone and on foot, using the distance between her townhouse and Miles’ to practice exactly what she wanted to say.

  I forgive you. I love you. I need you.

  There had been a plethora of other words in between, but those were the three things she’d most wanted to tell him. The three things she’d taken straight from her heart. If those hadn’t worked, she been prepared to remind him of their engagement. Except now he was gone. He’d left her… again. And everything she’d wanted to say no longer mattered, for he wasn’t here.

  Dianna stumbled back a step, the pain of Miles’ final betrayal striking her like a physical blow to the chest. How could he do this to her again? How could he?

  “Well, are you just going to stand there all shocked and wide-eyed?” Harper demanded, dark brows shooting up towards her hairline. “Or are you going to go after him?”

  “Go… go after him?” Dianna repeated faintly. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t-

  “Honestly. Do I have to do everything?” With a shake of her head, Harper took Dianna by the arm and propelled her back towards the door. “Mother took the carriage to call on a friend, but my horse can be readied in a matter of minutes. If you leave now you won’t be but a day behind him.”

  At the mere thought of traveling all the way from London to Winfield on horseback Dianna felt the blood leach from her face. She balked in the doorway, rising up on her toes to prevent herself from being pushed across the threshold. “No,” she protested, yanking her arm free from Harper’s grasp when the younger woman attempted to pull her forward against her will. Heart pounding, she leaned weakly against the wall as the courage that had brought her to the Radnor’s townhouse rapidly began to fade. “I cannot,” she whispered. “I cannot.”

  Harper relinquished her grip and stepped away, a grimace of disgust contorting her pretty face. “Cannot or will not?”

  “You do not understand-”

  “Oh, I understand. I understand only too well. He left me too, you know. He left me,” she said softly as she stared hard at Dianna, “but he came back for you.”

  Dianna recognized the pain Harper’s eyes for it was the same pain she’d felt in her own heart for the past four years. “He came back for you as well. I know he did. You - you should forgive him.”

  Harper’s chin lifted a notch. “I already have.”

  “When is he leaving Winfield?” Dianna’s mind began to race, flicking through her possibilities as quickly as a gambler’s hand flicked through a deck of cards. Traveling to Miles’ country estate on horseback was out of the question. Although she technically knew how to ride, she would never make the journey. At least not with her sanity intact... and her neck. Her fear of horses was simply too great and her riding skills far too inadequate. She could most likely implore her father for the use of their carriage, although the horses were old and pitifully slow. Aunt Abigail and the Duke of Ashburn were still out of the country. Which left Charlotte and Gavin whom Dianna knew possessed all manners of conveyances from a speedy curricle to a massive town coach, although they were soon leaving for the country themselves. “If I manage to secure travel tomorrow-”

  “You will be too late,” Harper said flatly. “Even the fastest carriage cannot get from London to Winfield in less than two days. By then Miles will be gone, and there is no telling when he will return. Your best chance - your only chance - is to take my mare. She’s swift and sure. The journey would take you eight hours. Ten at the most if you stop along the way.”

  Tears of frustration burned the corners of Dianna’s eyes. To be so close and yet still so far… It was maddening.

  “He loves you,” Harper said, her expression softening as she misunderstood t
he reason behind Dianna’s tears. “I know he does. He always has. He’s only leaving because he no longer believes there is any hope. ”

  He has risked his own life for mine, Dianna reminded herself. If Miles could stand down a man with a gun then surely… surely she could draw out the strength to manage this one task. She bit the inside of her cheek, teeth pinching the sensitive flesh.

  Could she do it? Could she overcome her worst fear to tell the man she loved that she loved him? That he couldn’t leave because they were still engaged to be married? A shaky, trembling laugh spilled from her lips.

  Did she really have a choice?

  She’d forgiven Miles for leaving, but if she let him go this time without doing everything in her power to stop him she would never be able to forgive herself.

  “I am not a strong rider,” she admitted in a strained voice. “I - I have not ridden for nearly ten years.”

  “You do not have to worry,” Harper said matter-of-factly. “Damsel will take care of you and there is an easy way to Winfield. One that runs parallel to the main road through the woods. It will be faster, and safer. You will not run across anyone else and Damsel could follow the path blindfolded if need be.”

  The horse’s name was fitting, Dianna thought with a wry twist of her lips. For what was she, if not a damsel in distress?

  “Take our groom with you,” Harper continued. “Eddie knows the way as well as any other.” Her gaze darted to a long-case clock set up against the far wall. “If you leave now you can be at Winfield by nightfall.”

  Dianna’s ribs strained against the confines of her corset as she took a deep, steadying breath. “Tell Eddie to saddle the horses.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The storm caught Miles unaware. One moment the skies were a clear, flawless blue and the next they were a dark, boiling stew of black and gray. He made it from the stables to the manor just as the first strike of lightning lit up the sky and a boom of thunder shook the ground, bringing with it a torrent of freezing rain and hail.

  Inside of Winfield there was another storm taking place, albeit a silent one. His mother looked up from her embroidery as he walked into the front drawing room, but other than an icy flick of her eyes she gave him no acknowledgement. Bowing his head he stepped out, closing the door behind him before heading for the privacy of his study.

  Since he’d returned two days ago and told his mother he planned to once again leave England, this time for good, she had refused to speak to him. Given that their relationship was tenuous at best before he made his announcement he couldn’t say he was surprised, only disappointed.

  He needed someone to understand him and his reasons for leaving. Harper hadn’t, not that he could blame her, and he knew Dianna wouldn’t, which left his mother… but for once in her life Olivia Radnor was withholding favor from her only son and it didn’t seem she was keen on giving it back anytime soon.

  Running a palm down the middle of his face, Miles sat at his desk and stared blindly down at the pile of ledgers he still needed to sort through. He wanted to leave as soon as possible, but he wouldn’t allow himself the bitter luxury of putting as much distance between himself and Dianna as possible until he’d seen to all of his family’s finances. When he left, he wanted it to be with the assurance his mother and Harper would want for nothing and the estate would pass without hindrance to Harper’s firstborn child as he had no intention of ever fathering his own children.

  For one weak moment he allowed himself to think of what a child with Dianna would have looked like. A boy, he imagined, with his sturdy build and Dianna’s dimpled smile. Or perhaps a girl with soft blonde curls and bewitching blue eyes.

  With a pained groan Miles buried his head in his hands. This was why he needed to leave. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. If he wanted retain whatever shred of sanity he still possessed, he couldn’t remain in England.

  Which meant he needed to finish sorting through these bloody ledgers.

  Wearily pinching the bridge of his nose he applied himself to the task, tuning out the crash of thunder and the pelting smack of rain against the windows.

  The work of sorting through financial records wasn’t hard so much as it was tedious, and when the numbers began to blur together in one long stream of black Miles closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, hands flexing as he fought the urge to go to his private stock of liquor and pour himself a drink.

  His mother’s shrill scream had him jolting out of his chair and racing for the front foyer. Olivia Radnor was not a woman given to dramatics and he’d only heard her raise her voice in such a manner once before when her beloved lady’s maid had suffered a serious burn on her arm.

  A feeling of terrible forbidding settled like a heavy weight upon Miles’ shoulders as he discovered his mother peering out one of the front windows, her hands cupped against the glass as she strained to see something through the driving rain.

  “What is it?” he demanded, coming up behind her.

  “A horse. A horse without a rider just came galloping up the drive and went towards the stables.” Turning to reveal a face drained of all color, Olivia clutched her son’s arm. “Miles… it was Damsel.” Green eyes wide, she took a staggering step back, bumping into the window as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth. “The horse was Damsel.”

  Harper.

  With a savage curse Miles threw open the front door and sprinted out into the storm. Rain blinded him and the force of the howling wind nearly knocked him off his feet, but he gritted his teeth and fought back against the tempest, forcing one foot in front of the other, one arm stretched out in front of his face to deflect the worst of the stinging rain.

  He’d nearly made it to the stables when he thought he heard a muffled shout. Whirling, he squinted into the darkness, eyes widening in disbelief as he made out the dim shape of someone rapidly approaching on horseback.

  “HARPER!” he shouted, waving his hands to gain the rider’s attention. The horse spooked as it drew near, the whites of its eyes flashing in visible distress. Half falling, half dismounting as the horse swerved to the right before bolting past Miles and into the barn, the rider landed in the mud on their hands and knees.

  Miles was at the rider’s side in an instant, crouching down and throwing a shielding arm around their back. “Who are - Eddie?” Stunned, he stared blankly at the face of his groom as Eddie picked himself up off the ground and, with Miles’ aid, staggered to his feet.

  “Aye,” the younger man said miserably, raising his voice to a scratchy yell to be heard above the relentless pounding of the freezing rain. “I came as quick as I could.”

  Miles took the groom by his shoulders and gave him a hard shake. “Harper. Where is she? Did she fall? Is she hurt?”

  Turning his head to the side, Eddie spit out a stream of water. “I didn’t travel here with your sister, my lord.”

  Miles’ feeling of unease returned, doubling in its intensity. “Then who was on Damsel? Who was it Eddie? Damn you, tell me!”

  “Miss Dianna Foxcroft!” the groom said hoarsely. “We came from London this morning and were nearly here when the storm overtook us. Damsel reared and Miss Dianna was thrown. She - she’s injured, my lord. I don’t know how badly.”

  Fear seized Miles in a vice-like grip, tightening around his throat until he struggled to draw a full breath. “Take me to her.”

  They headed down the drive towards the woods at a run, running as fast as the elements and Eddie’s exhausted legs would allow. Lightning struck in the distance, illuminating the sky in a flash of white hot brilliance followed by a boom of thunder that shook the very ground.

  “There!” Eddie suddenly shouted, pointing to a clearing several yards ahead. “She fell there.”

  It took a second burst of lightning tearing across the sky before Miles could make out Dianna’s lifeless silhouette. She lay crumpled on her side in a bed of leaves, one arm flung out in front of her, the other twisted beneath.


  He fell to his knees before her, face a mask of dawning horror as he touched her pale skin and instantly recoiled, appalled by the icy coldness of her flesh. “Your jacket,” he demanded of Eddie when the groom kneeled beside him. “Give me your jacket.”

  Eddie shed off the outer garment at once and Miles wrapped Dianna in it before he picked her up and cradled her against his chest. Her head lolled to one side, revealing a four inch bloody gash on her temple. Miles’ stomach clenched.

  “Return to the stables,” he ordered Eddie. “Take the fastest horse and ride for the closest doctor. Wake him up if you have to, but for God’s sake get him to Winfield as quick as you can.”

  His face white and slim body trembling without the protection of his coat, the young groom nevertheless gave a determined nod of his head. “Consider it done,” he said before he dashed away, sprinting pell-mell for the barn.

  Returning his attention to Dianna, Miles pressed his trembling lips to her wet brow. Doing his best to shield her from the worst of the rain, he began a seemingly endless trek back to the manor, careful not to jostle her any more than necessary. “I’ve got you now. I’ve got you,” he repeated, “and you are going to be alright. Just hold on, love. All you need to do is hold on a little bit longer and everything will be just fine.

  It was not a promise Miles intended to break.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Dianna spent the next three days recovering in one of Winfield’s ornately furnished guest bedrooms. Attended by a bevy of servants intent on fulfilling her every need, she lacked for nothing while she rested.

  Nothing except for Miles.

  She waited in vain for him to come see her, every night staying up as long as her body would allow, straining to hear the sound of floorboards creaking outside her door. But he never came, and by the beginning of the fourth day her patience had worn thin. At the end of it her patience vanished entirely. Every bit as much determined to speak with Miles as he seemed determined to avoid her, she slipped into the same dress she’d arrived in, now clean and freshly pressed with only the tiniest of rips on one sleeve.