We traveled to what is considered the farthest point of land in France. Some call this area the Port at the End of the World because it feels like from the coastline, nothing else exists beyond the ocean. The day we visited, it was exceptionally windy. I was reluctant to venture too close to the water, but Lady Hensley assured me she would stop me from toppling into the ocean if we encountered a big gust of wind. The lady is very brave and quite the adventurer.
Hopefully, my travel companion also told you about the enchanting cove we spent time in. It was a spectacle to get us to shore, but we made it. I believe if all my other ventures fail, I can find employment carrying men and ladies about.
That is it for now. I bid you good day until my next letter.
Sebastian Devons.
Chapter Thirteen
Porto—Late June 1850
Diana looked aroundher room at the hotel in Porto and sighed. While she had enjoyed their journey so far on theSS Lark, she was grateful for a night in a full-size room. Audrey was in the maid quarters one floor up, and her Aunt Winifred was located next door. Captain Monroe had planned a busy day of activities for all of them. Porto, he declared earlier, was one of the best cities on the continent.
Dazzling had been the word that came to mind as they arrived at the port. The rising sun had given the buildings a golden hue. Even Devons stated it was beautiful. The passengers, happy to spend a night on land, quickly disappeared into the city. Diana and Devons’s group of travelers had been whisked away to a hotel that Captain Monroe coordinated for them. Diana smiled at the thought that, somehow, they’d formed a little group to spend time with during their journey.
Based on Monroe’s actions, Diana suspected he believed Addie’s idea of an all-ladies grand tour was a worthwhile venture. The captain also arranged to have an acquaintance show them around. She wasn’t sure if his assistance was business-related or something else. Diana frowned, thinking about how complicated it may become if she had some type of liaison with him. Still, she was flattered by his notice.
It had been a long time since anyone expressed such interest in her. Diana looked in the mirror in the corner, acknowledging the changes she saw, staring back at her. She’d grown up with the strictest rules about appearance and often found herself trying to readjust something or fix something out of place.
Since leaving England, she’d let that go. Her hair, even when worked on by Audrey, had a wild look to it. Probably because the curls that seemed so manageable at home refused to do anything orderly. The sun had given her face color she normally avoided. Diana liked it.
A frown filled her face. She would meet with her mother next week, and she wouldn’t like the changes. Why did it matter? Diana hadn’t seen her in years. A nibble of hope bloomed in her that maybe she’d changed. Diana told herself not to get her hopes up. Kindness wasn’t natural to her mother. A memory flashed in her mind of her telling Diana who she would wed.
“Diana, I will not explain our choice any further. Lord Hensley will be a duke soon enough. That is what is most important.”
“Mother, he is everything you tell us not to be in appearance. He always appears rumpled. He is not what I envisioned.”
Her mother’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Did you think you would get someone better? You?”
She flushed. “I thought—”
“At least Clara is beautiful. You are just plain, a plain proper lady.”
Pain shot through Diana at her harsh words. Her mother glared. “Is there anything else?”
“No, Mother.”
Shaking the memory away, Diana reminded herself that at least it had worked out because, in the end, Stuart had been everything she could ever want. Still, the words had been cruel.Cruelty had been constant from the woman who gave her life. She shook her head. Why was she thinking about all of this? She would not dwell on her visit with her mother and her potential return to England.
Diana made her way out of the room and down the stairs before entering theCafé Aguedaconnected to where they were staying. The cafe was filled with both men and women from all social classes. Diana spied a woman sketching at a table and, at another, a group of men playing instruments. Monroe said Porto was a city for artists, and Diana could see why. She had the urge to sit in the cafe and observe but knew they had a full day of activities.
“What do you think?” Devons said, approaching her.
She swung around and grinned at him. “Is it wrong for me to love it here?”
A curl from her bun must have fallen free because he leaned forward and tucked it behind her ear. “I don’t think so at all. Have you ever been to my club?”
“Just once.”
“Ahh…I remember that night. The day you burst through my doors, ready to find your sister.”
“You must have thought I had taken leave of my senses.”
He shook his head. “That is not what I remember. I remember thinking, ‘What a fierce woman.’”
She blushed at his compliment. At the time, Diana had been frantic with worry about Clara. She’d been willing to do whatever it took to get help, even entering Devons’s notorious club, the Den. Getting to know him, she was now skeptical of its notoriety. He was a good man, even if he liked to pretend otherwise.
“Tell me about your establishment.”
