"And the hussy had the gall to set her hands on her hips, mum, and say you was a strumpet," Bridget had said indignantly. "I tripped over the bedclothes getting up from the bed, or I would have strumpeted her right enough."
And then when Bridget was fast asleep again, that man— he must be the gentleman's servant, Diana guessed—had tried to climb into the bed beside her and then had leaped out of it again and started calling her a thief and threatened to send for a justice of the peace.
"And then that handsome gentleman came out of this room, mum," Bridget had said, "with next to nothing on him, and I thought I would drop into a dead faint on the floor."
But the mention of the half-naked gentleman had finally silenced Bridget. She had looked at her mistress in the darkness their eyes had become accustomed to with a dropped jaw. And though Diana could not see her quite clearly, she could guess that every vestige of color had left her maid's face.
"Oh, mum," she whispered. "Mum, he was in here. I sent him in here as his own room. Mum, did he . . . ? Mum, he didn't ..." But she had not waited for an answer. She had fallen backward into an unconscious heap.
It had taken Diana several minutes to haul her maid into a sitting position so that she couldflopher head forward and hope for a return of consciousness. She had felt the first wave of amusement in that whole ghastly night. Wasn't she the one who should be having the vapors? Shouldn't her maid be hovering over her? She was the one who had almost been ravished, wasn't she?
No, not ravished.She could not in all conscience use that word.
Bridget had finally been revived, assured that no, the gentleman had certainly not, and tucked up in her truckle bed, where she had proceeded to fall into an immediate and deep sleep. Diana had made up her own bed as best she could and curled up on the side of it where he had slept. She had buried her nose in the pillow, and thought that there was still the faint smell of him there.
She had not slept.
And now she was trapped, trapped until he left.Bridget brought her breakfast and her luncheon up on a tray for her. Perhaps the only positive outcome of the whole ghastly situation was that her headache had been forgotten. She was feeling far too embarrassed to worry about a simple headache.
"Oh, mum," Bridget said indignantly when she came bustling into the room with the luncheon tray, "they have finished playing cards at last, and one of them was saying that perhaps they can leave in an hour. But that handsome gent, mum, do you know what he was doing?"
"Not until you tell me," Diana said reasonably.
"He was kissing that barmaid, mum," Bridget said, "in the middle of the taproom for all to see. And he had his hand right in her bosom." Bridget flushed crimson. "I fair near dropped the tray."
"I am glad you did not," Diana said. "I am hungry. But he is a nasty sort, I see, Bridget. He must have ..." But she did not complete the sentence.
He must have thought she was the barmaid the night before. He had been expecting her, it seemed, because the girl had presented herself in his room. Oh goodness, he had thought she was the barmaid. What a humiliation. So that was what gentlemen did with their whores! She knew for a certainty that gentlemen did nothing like that with their wives.
She even wondered hilariously for one moment how much money he would have paid her. But the thought was more horrifying than humorous. She had almost become a gentleman's whore.
She watched the three of them leave a little more than an hour later—the two gentlemen who had almost overturned her carriage the previous day, and the other gentleman. She could not see any of their faces since they were directly below her in the tiny stableyard, and all wore cloaks and hats. But they must be the three. There were no other guests at the inn, Bridget had said. Besides, she recognized the curricle.
But disaster struck again. Her gentleman looked up as he was about to turn his horse's head in the direction of the road. And he looked so directly at her window that she did not have time to duck back out of sight before he saw her.
How mortifying!
But she did duck back anyway and felt the color flood her cheeks as she watched him tipthis hat with his riding whip and—yes, he did, she did not imagine it—grin up at her.
The wretch!The unspeakable wretch.Had he no shame?
How very fortunate it was that she would never see him again.
"Ah," Bridget said beside her on a giant sigh, "but he is very handsome, mum."
Handsome! She would like to press his face into the mud and wipe the grin from his face. And blacken those perfect teeth. Handsome indeed!
* * *
It was with a feeling of great relief that Diana watched the approach of the massive stone gateway and wrought iron gate that opened onto the driveway to Rotherham Hall a few hours later. She smiled and lifted a hand to the porter, who ran out of his lodge to open the gates for mem.
The journey had not been a bad one despite the fact that Bridget had been as stiff as a board and had not relaxed her grip on the seat for the whole distance. The road was dirty but not slippery.
But what a nightmare the whole thing had been. It was usually at this part of the journey that she braced herself for the visit to come. She was fond of her in-laws, as who could not be? They were invariably kind. But they were also overbearingly managing. They had always tried lopersuadeTeddy to allow them to use their influence to find him a more prestigious post, and they had always tried to persuade
her to talk sense into him.
Until the morning before she had been convinced that this visit would be worse than ever. They had, after all, set themselves to find her a new husband, and it would be very hard to resist their choice without being openly nasty. And who could be openly nasty to the countess? She was so very loving and lovable.
