Her voice unsteady, Diana looked down at the counter, not meeting Madeline’s eyes. “Do you think I would make such a mistake after you so carefully explained why a courtesan should never fall in love with her protector?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“What do I know about love?” Diana said in a frail attempt at humor. “I’ve only just discovered lust.”
Madeline squeezed the slim fingers that lay under her own. “The two are related, you know. Sex bonds two people together, and since you are seeing no one else, I’m sure that you must be at least halfway in love with him, if not more. If he loves you enough to ask you to marry him, would you accept?”
There was a long, long silence before Diana answered in a voice husky with unshed tears, “Perhaps matters will work out. I truly hope so.” She shook her head with weary regret. “But I don’t see how.”
Chapter Eleven
The December weather was unusually dry and the trip to Warwickshire passed with smooth speed. Lord St. Aubyn had provided his own luxurious coach, complete with hot bricks and a hamper of delicacies to stave off starvation. He’d ridden up to Aubynwood three days earlier, ostensibly to take care of some business, though Diana suspected that was merely an excuse to avoid making the trip with three women and a child.
Not that she blamed him. A long day in a fast, jolting coach with Geoffrey was enough to strain anyone’s nerves. Maddy’s servants had been given the time off to be with their own families, though the French cook, who had no near relations, had offered to come and help with Geoffrey. But Gervase claimed he had more than enough underemployed servants to take care of guests, so Diana brought none.
Geoffrey was in high good spirits, enjoying all the new sights, envying the postilions, burrowing into the depths of the stables when they made brief stops at posting inns. As the early winter dusk fell, Diana dozed in a corner of the coach and questioned the wisdom of taking him to Aubynwood.
Was she making a grave mistake letting her son and Gervase become better acquainted? Having known only affection in his life, Geoffrey would expect the same from the master of the house. While she wouldn’t allow her son to be too much in the way, the paths of the two men in her life were bound to cross occasionally during the visit. Gervase had been patient the time he had met Geoffrey, and Diana didn’t think that he would be intentionally unkind, but it was hard to imagine him having much interest in the doings of a child.
It might be worse if Gervase took an interest in the boy; Geoffrey yearned for a father and would eagerly adopt any adult male who showed an interest in him. If the barriers between Diana and her lover proved insurmountable, Geoffrey might be crushed by the loss.
She sighed and braced against a deep lurch of the coach. Despite her decision to let events take their own course, she had spent the last week worrying. As Madeline would be quick to point out, the only results of such behavior would be wrinkles.
* * *
Diana’s first impression when the coach swept up in front of Aubynwood was that Gervase had been understating when he said the place could absorb her entire household; a good part of Mayfair could have been housed in comfort. Aubynwood had been a convent originally and much of the original building and cloisters survived, sprawling in both directions in the dusk. Pale golden stone had been the building material, and the great house’s medieval character was romantic in the extreme.
As they unpiled their stiff bodies from the coach, Geoffrey’s hand slipped into Diana’s, a sure sign of awe at his surroundings. As the women shook out their skirts, Gervase came down the broad steps to greet his guests. The near-darkness eliminated detail and made Diana very aware of how beautifully he moved, light-footed and confident. The arrogance of his rank showed in every line of his body. Madeline thought he might consider her as his wife? Ridiculous.
Then he was in front of her, bowing over her hand before giving her a smile that began deep in his eyes, and suddenly, breathlessly, the idea that he truly cared for her did not seem so preposterous. That intimate smile lasted only a moment and then he was greeting his other guests, impeccably polite.
Gervase and Edith had never formally met and Diana could see Edith giving him the same frank inspection she would have bestowed on a piece of livestock. Geoffrey, amazingly, was remembering his manners rather than swarming all over his host, or perhaps he found the man as intimidating as the manor.
The house was entered through a vast two-story hall done in the mock-Gothic-revival style of the mid-eighteenth century rather than the true Gothic of the original convent. But it was charming, with carved wooden statues of baroque saints set in niches high on the white plaster walls and a great ox-roaster fireplace.
Gervase suggested they might wish to rest from the journey before dining, so the housekeeper, Mrs. Russell, led them off to their rooms. Geoffrey and Edith, as promised, got the nursery suite, cozy but far removed from the main apartments. Madeline and Diana were also given rooms some distance apart. There would be no shortage of privacy.
Diana’s rose-hued chamber was luxurious and warmed with a welcoming fire. She settled into a brocade-covered chair with a sigh. The splendid furnishings were a stark reminder of the unbreachable social distance between her and Gervase.
The physical distance was quite another matter. That was breached very easily indeed....
As the thought ran through her mind, she turned at a slight sound to see Gervase emerge from an alcove in the far corner of the room. After a moment’s surprise, she smiled, thinking she should have expected something of this nature.
He paused in the concealed doorway without speaking, his face controlled but his eyes voracious, as if she were the love of his life and he hadn’t seen her in years. Then he crossed the room in half a dozen strides to cup her face in his hands. “Lord, Diana, how I’ve missed you!”
He bent over and kissed her with great deliberation, his mouth demanding. Her own passion flared, fueled by the depression she had felt on arriving as a stranger in his home. She raised her hands to his lean waist and his arms slid around her in a crushing embrace, his hands roving her body as if seeking to relearn every inch of it. Her fatigue dissolved as touching him revitalized her. She kissed back without restraint.
“I wanted to make love to you on the marble steps. I want to lock the door and keep you in here for the next fortnight.” As he spoke, he unclasped her cloak, letting it fall to the floor in front of the fire, then reached behind her to untie the sash on her demure high-necked dress.
“Shall we start with locking the door and think about the fortnight later?” she asked breathlessly, not quite able to forget that someone might walk in at any minute. He indulged her by turning the key in the lock, then continued what he had begun.
Diana found herself fumbling with the buttons of his pantaloons, her hands clumsy with haste. Perhaps her frantic desire had something to do with showing this grand house that she, too, had a place here, even if it was furtive and unadmitted.
Gervase undressed her with as much skill and much more haste than a lady’s maid, his lips searing the tender flesh of her throat and breasts as they were bared. She felt the heat of the fire against the back of her bare legs, then the soft scratchiness of the thick Chinese carpet as he laid her on it, his hand probing and teasing her to readiness.
As she lifted her hips to receive him, there was no subtlety, only urgent passion that demanded fulfillment. She wrapped her arms around his rib cage, pulling him into her, reveling in the sweet, familiar weight of his body, his hips thrusting against hers in the intoxicating rhythm that swept away all thoughts of the house and her responsibilities and anything else but the rising fire inside of her.
Then desire flared and consumed them both. It was only after the sound of her cry had long faded that she thought to be grateful that the rooms adjacent were unoccupied. Gervase’s body still enfolded hers and she could feel his pounding heart before he rolled onto his side next to her. His dark hair was tangled and the firelight cast highlights on the film of perspiration on his face.
