Gervase swirled his brandy as he mused half to himself, “I remember how ghastly it was, knowing my own mind was betraying me, but Geoffrey seems to have adjusted to it. There is no reason to assume that he can’t have a satisfying life. They say that Napoleon himself has seizures.”
“I’m not sure Bonaparte is the best example of a successful life, but I take your point.” Diana sighed. His words were nothing she hadn’t thought a thousand times, but it was good to be reminded by someone more detached. Her son’s lively mind and good nature had gained him acceptance in his school. Surely he could do as well in the wider world as he grew. “I know I worry too much. I try not to flutter over Geoffrey, but I’m not always successful. Fortunately he has Madeline and Edith as well.”
“Edith?”
“The older woman who was in his room when you came in. She takes care of Geoffrey, the household, and everyone in it. I suppose she is rather like his grandmother, and Madeline his favorite aunt.” She examined the amber depths of her brandy as she voiced one of her secret concerns. “We all adore him, but there aren’t enough men in his life. That’s one reason he was so interested in you.”
“Is his father alive?”
He knew immediately that it was the wrong question to ask. In a voice that could have cut glass, Diana said, “I do not wish to discuss Geoffrey’s father.”
Gervase certainly had his secrets and she had a right to hers, but he was intensely curious about the boy’s father. Diana might be a widow. More likely Geoffrey was illegitimate, which would explain why Diana was a member of the oldest profession rather than respectably married.
In a vague, general way, Gervase had resented all the anonymous other men in her life, but now Geoffrey gave him a more specific focus of jealousy. The boy was a link to his mother’s earlier lover. Every time she looked at her son, she must think of the man who had seduced her. She would have been scarcely more than a child herself.
Gervase was very good at extrapolating a whole picture from scattered fragments of information. His previous observations plus what he had learned tonight suggested that Diana had been raised the protected daughter of some prosperous merchant or was even of the minor gentry. Then she had fallen in love with some handsome, smooth-talking scoundrel who had casually impregnated and abandoned her, and her family had cast her off.
It didn’t bear thinking of. Gervase found he was holding the cut-glass goblet so tightly it left grooves in his hand. Now he understood in a visceral way why Diana had wished to keep her life in separate compartments. She had played flawlessly the role of the perfect mistress, with no past or conflicting loyalties, and he had accepted and enjoyed her on those uncomplicated terms.
Now that was no longer possible. As she stared into the glowing coals, her beautiful profile sad and remote in the firelight, she defied the labels of “mistress,” or “whore,” or anything else that could be casually described and dismissed. She was simply Diana, who pleased him more than any other woman he had ever known.
Her anger and hostility this evening were curiously endearing. She was no longer the perfect illusion, but a real woman, one who grieved for the child she loved and who must have gone through hellishly difficult times before achieving the gentle tranquility that characterized her now.
Sitting half a dozen feet away, Gervase felt closer to her than he had earlier, when their bodies had been so intimately entwined. Impulsively he said, “Come to Aubynwood for Christmas.”
Her head came up in surprise and she turned to face him. In the shadows, he could no longer see her expression. “You would have me stay in your own house?”
“Why not? It would cause comment in London, but gentlemen can be as indiscreet as they wish on their own estates.”
A smile hovered around her lips at his cynical words, but she shook her head. “It’s a tempting offer, but I can’t accept.”
“Of course.” Finishing his brandy, he set his goblet down on the side table with a little more force than necessary. “I had forgotten that your other customers would be unwilling to forgo your services for a fortnight.” Gervase was surprised to hear just how caustic his words sounded.
“That isn’t the reason,” she said. His irritation seemed to increase her calmness. “Much of the fashionable world will be away from London at the same time, so I could leave without being missed. But I am hardly going to leave my son alone for Christmas. He and Edith and Madeline are my family.”
“Bring him along,” Gervase said recklessly. “Bring Madeline. Bring Edith. Bring the French cook if you want. Aubynwood is large enough to absorb your whole household.”
“Are you serious?”
He felt absurdly pleased at the startled note in her voice. “I am always serious,” he stated. “It’s my besetting sin.”
With the warm, intimate laughter he loved, she rose and came to sit on the arm of his chair, brushing a feather-soft hand over his hair. “I will have to discuss it with Madeline and Edith, but if they agree, I would be very happy to come.”
“Does Geoffrey get a vote?” He raised his hand and laid his palm on her cheek, feeling the flex of bone and tendon under her satiny skin as she spoke.
“I know he’ll be delighted to be in the country again.”
So they had lived in the country. He added the fact to his slender file on Diana even as he drew her head down for a kiss. Her lips were soft and yielding, all trace of her earlier anger gone, but after a leisurely interval she lifted her head, doing her best to suppress a yawn. “It’s too late to be starting that again, my lord. While I am properly impressed by your stamina, I am so exhausted that I could fall asleep sitting up.”
He slid his hand under her velvet sleeve to caress her smooth arm, not wanting to go. “I have an ulterior motive for inviting you to Aubynwood. Maybe there we can spend the whole night together.” When she hesitated, he added, “I assume that you won’t do that here because of Geoffrey.”
Diana nodded. “Exactly. Geoffrey may have accepted that faradiddle about you happening by at two in the morning for a snack, but it would be impossible to explain having you in my bed.” After a moment she added with a questioning note, “You said that you preferred to sleep alone.”
“I lied,” he admitted, “and the colder it gets, the less appealing I find the ten-minute walk home in the middle of the night.” He stood and enfolded her in his arms. “I understand that you can’t do it here, but a full night should be possible at Aubynwood. The house is so large that if Geoffrey decided to come visit you, it would be lunchtime before he could make his way from the nurseries to the master’s bedroom.”
Her soft laughter tickled his ears as he lifted her from her feet and tucked her into the bed, velvet robe and all. Looking not much older than her son, she smiled up at him, her eyes barely open. “You really are a nice man, Gervase.”
He gave her a wry half smile and dropped a light kiss on her forehead. “You needn’t sound so surprised when you say that.”
