His lips were a light, teasing touch that sent a shiver up Diana’s right arm, leaving a memory of warmth. As she entered the house, she realized that his lordship was not at all what she had expected. Under that fearsome control lurked surprising tenderness and consideration. Would she still feel bound to him if he had turned out to be harsh through and through? Perhaps not, but she was glad that the reality of him was so much more appealing than the first terrifying impression.
Well, Diana thought with wry fatalism as she removed her riding hat, she had wanted a life more exciting than she had led in Yorkshire, and it certainly looked like she was going to get it.
Chapter Five
When Diana entered the sunny breakfast parlor, Madeline and Edith eyed her as if she were a wayward child, but they refrained from questions until she’d helped herself to the eggs, toast, and tea on the mahogany sideboard. Then Madeline asked with admirable restraint, “How was your morning ride?”
“Quite delightful.” Diana smiled beatifically. “It’s lovely to be up so early, before the city is stirring. Almost like being in the country again.”
Knowing that her answer did not address Madeline’s real concern, Diana replenished all three teacups, then replied more to the point, “Lord St. Aubyn was very gentlemanly.”
Edith, who had a lively sense of humor under her dour exterior, chuckled as Madeline said with exasperation, “Of course he would be at this stage! But what happened? Did he make you any kind of offer?”
“Yes, but I told him it was premature.” Diana poured milk, then stirred her tea. “He also brought a marvelous thoroughbred mare to give me. I told him that was premature as well.”
Edith, who knew livestock as well as any man, was disappointed. “You turned down the mare? Pity, I would have liked to see her.”
Diana tried sipping the tea, but it was still too hot. “Actually, the mare is in the stables now, but it’s only temporary because we’re riding out to Richmond tomorrow.”
“It would appear that Lord St. Aubyn pleases you.” Madeline’s tone was carefully neutral.
Diana dropped her levity, knowing that Madeline’s questions came from genuine concern. Gazing into her tea, she tried to summarize her impressions. “He is a moody man, but not perhaps as unfeeling as you think. I think he has been very unhappy.”
Madeline said gloomily, “It’s already too late, then.”
Diana took a deep swallow of tea, then raised her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Once a woman like you starts feeling sorry for a man, you’re already on the way to being in love with him.”
“Am I so predictable?” Diana’s brows arched. “I thought I was looking for a lover, not another child to care for.”
“Sympathy is the beginning of caring. Next comes the desire to heal the wounds cruel fate has caused.” Madeline smiled wryly. “It’s not far from there to believing that no one else can possibly love him as well as you. And then you’re lost.”
Diana looked mutinous, but before she could reply, Edith said, “Finish your tea and I’ll look at the leaves.”
Diana obediently swallowed the rest of her tea, then closed her eyes and twirled the cup gently, thinking of Gervase, Lord St. Aubyn. It was easy to visualize that taut face, the lean, muscular body, the gray eyes that were usually cool but could warm with humor.
Hastily she opened her eyes and handed the cup to Edith, sure she’d given the tea leaves plenty of energy to work with.
Edith gazed into the delicate china cup, her scarred face solemn and her eyes drifting out of focus. She claimed a Gypsy great-grandmother, and when the spirit moved her she would offer a glimpse into the future. While the readings were officially entertainment, they were always heard with great interest.
Her voice was deeper than usual when she said, “Fate,” the word drawn out and distant. After a pause that went on too long, she continued disjointedly. “Anger, a veiled face, secrets that join and divide. Lies and betrayals.” Then, in a whisper, she repeated, “Lies and betrayals . . . and love.”
Diana felt chill fingers on her spine. Though she chose to make light of Edith’s words, in the past they’d been uncannily accurate. Madeline asked quietly, “Are you still sure you want to become involved with St. Aubyn?”
Before Diana could answer, Edith said in her otherworldly voice, “The lies and secrets are not all on one side.” Then she shook her head and said in her pragmatic Yorkshire accent, “Whatever that means.”
“I doubt it means anything at all,” Diana said crisply, rising from the table. “And if neither of you has any more ominous hints or threats for me, I think I’ll go throw knives.”
As an exit line it wasn’t bad. It was also the literal truth. When Madeline had taught Diana what a courtesan should know, the curriculum had included self-defense. Maddy always had a knife ready at hand in her reticule, in a sheath on her leg, or concealed near her bed. Three times the weapon had saved her from great unpleasantness. Once it might have saved her life; the man who threatened her had later strangled another mistress before killing himself.
The lessons had included how to grasp and how to stab.Hold it underhand and stab upward. If you stab down, you’re too easy to block and the blade will glance off the shoulder or ribs and not do enough damage.
The knife-throwing lessons were intended to make Diana more comfortable with the weapon. Throwing was not usually recommended for self-defense because it left the thrower disarmed.
Even though Diana hated and feared violence, knife throwing turned out to have a hypnotic fascination. It required concentration and was a soothing activity when she felt disturbed, as she did this morning.
During her earlier years in London, Madeline had turned a long narrow attic room into a practice range. One end of the chamber was covered with soft pine boards to protect the wall, targets of various sizes and heights were fixed to it, and several swinging targets hung in front. The room was used only for knife throwing and the carpet and sparse furnishings were old, but a large window made the place bright and cheerful.
