“No, I don’t think it was,” he agreed. “It would have been simpler if she were evil-tempered, or deliberately cruel. Instead, she was . . . supremely self-absorbed. So concerned with her own desires that the rest of the human race had no real existence to her. One could no more judge her by the standards of ordinary mortals than one could judge a falcon or a cobra.”
“What happened to her?”
“She died in a fire when Gervase was about seventeen. She was staying with one of her lovers in his hunting box in the Shires. The man died also. It was quite a little scandal, I understand. Lovers are all very well if one is discreet, but it was considered bad form to be caught dead with one.”
So Gervase’s mother had been a fickle, selfish creature, by turns charming and heedless, and she had died in a flagrant and scandalous way. No wonder Gervase had a passion for privacy and an inability to believe in a woman’s constancy. He began to make sense, though Diana was not sure yet what use she could make of the information. “Thank you for this, Francis. Perhaps it will help.”
He turned to look at her, his handsome face grave. “Gervase needs you, Diana, more than he can begin to understand. You could love and be loved by many different men, but Gervase is not like that. If he cannot bring himself to forgive and love you, I’m afraid he will withdraw so far that no one else will ever be able to find him. For his sake, I hope you persevere.”
She closed her eyes against aching tears. “I’ll try,” she whispered, “but I don’t know how long I can endure.”
It took time to master her grief. Diana raised her head and blotted her face with the handkerchief Francis produced. Smiling shakily, she asked, “Are your affairs of the heart prospering any better than mine?”
He smiled, an expression of pure, expansive joy. “They are. After you and I talked, it became easier to talk to . . . my friend. We found that we shared not just thoughts and ideas, but . . . infinitely more. In a few weeks we will be taking leave to the Mediterranean. It will be a very long time before we return.”
She asked hesitantly, “And your family?”
“We have not spoken of it directly, but I think my mother has guessed. And like you, she forgives.”
Diana leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “There is nothing to forgive, only to accept. I am so happy for you.”
Francis gave her a hug and she relaxed in the warmth of his embrace as he said, “I thought once it was impossible to find the love I craved, but I was wrong. Even in this imperfect world, sometimes one can find a way to happiness. Things may look black now, but if any woman on earth can reach Gervase and win the passion and loyalty he is capable of, it is you.”
She whispered, “I pray to God that you are right.”
Neither of them realized how visible they were to a horseman on a high hill.
* * *
The Count de Veseul escorted a fuming Lady Haycroft toward the folly, avoiding the others who wandered through the gardens. The two were occasional lovers and they had a certain cold selfishness in common; they could be considered friends. After listening to her ladyship rail about St. Aubyn’s perfidy in letting people think he was eligible, with vicious side comments on the insipid prettiness of the viscount’s wife, Veseul drawled, “The little trollop may not be his wife. Even if she is, they may not have been married any nine years.”
“What?” Lady Haycroft stared at him. “St. Aubyn didn’t deny her. Besides, the boy certainly looks like both of them, and he must be six or seven.”
“Oh, he may well be their child,” Veseul said lazily, “but not necessarily a legitimate one. She must have been his mistress before he went to India. More recently, the alleged viscountess has been living in London as a courtesan, using the name Mrs. Lindsay. I saw her myself at the most recent Cyprians’ Ball. In fact, you saw her with St. Aubyn too, one night at Vauxhall. They were in one of those dark little alcoves, so I’m not surprised you didn’t recognize her today.”
As Lady Haycroft went pale with shock at his news, Veseul stopped to pluck a yellow rose, sniffing it before presenting it to his companion. “Among the Cyprians, she was known as the Fair Luna. I’d heard she was St. Aubyn’s mistress, among others.Manyothers. Perhaps her bed magic is strong enough that he married her, or perhaps he wanted an heir and decided it was easier to pretend an existing son was legitimate than to gamble on getting another in marriage. Who knows? He’s a cold, calculating man. Were it not for his wealth, you’d have no interest in him yourself.”
“Very true,” she snapped, “but the wealth would be ample reason to tolerate him. He seemed like a perfect choice as husband. Rich, influential without being fashionable, and likely indifferent to what his wife would do once he had an heir.”
Half to herself, she muttered, “He was showing signs of warming up before that strumpet arrived. If they really are married, I’ll have to give up my hopes of him. There’s no point in taking him as a lover if marriage isn’t possible.”
Her lips pinched together, warping her handsome features with mean-spiritedness as she shredded the rose petals in her angry fingers. “But with what you have just told me, I can ruin her forever and make St. Aubyn a laughingstock. So Miss Butter-in-the-Mouth is just a high-priced London whore! When that gets out, she’ll have to go back to Yorkshire or Scotland or whatever godforsaken place she came from.”
Veseul watched with pleasure at the sight of the mischief he’d sown. When Lady Haycroft’s vicious tongue was done, both St. Aubyn and his woman would be miserable, possibly estranged from each other. The viscount was too proud to forgive his wife the ridicule her past would bring on him. If he repudiated her, Diana Lindsay might be eager to bed one of her husband’s enemies for pure spite.
He shrugged mentally. Whether she came willingly or not, she could not escape him if they spent the next week under the same roof. And if she was unwilling, he would do much more than simple rape. An ugly smile curled his lips and he caressed the gold serpent’s head on his cane. He hoped she would resist; the mere thought of that was enough to arouse him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Even at a great distance, it was easy to identify the couple embracing by the lake as Diana and Francis. Had she come here in pursuit of his cousin? If so, she had made an easy capture. In spite of the sick fury the sight aroused in him, Gervase could not bring himself to blame Francis. Diana’s sensual beauty and illusionary sweetness were enough to win any man who had the strength to draw breath.
He stayed out until a dull, aching fatigue had replaced his first uncontrollable rage. He hoped that he and his weary horse would be able to slip back into the stables unobserved by his guests, but that hope was doomed to disappointment. As Gervase led his horse into the barn, he saw the figure of his son peering into a box stall, then turning to look up.
In its way, this meeting would be as difficult as the one with Diana, but at least there would be a positive side as well as awkwardness. Waving off an oncoming groom, Gervase unsaddled his mount himself, then led it into the barn toward Geoffrey. “Care to help me groom Firefly?”
The boy nodded and followed his father into the stall. After tying Firefly, Gervase took a handful of straw and began wiping off loose dirt and sweat while Geoffrey did the same on the animal’s other side. After a few minutes of silence, Gervase said, “I’m not quite sure what one says in these circumstances.”
His son gave a wisp of a chuckle. “Neither am I.” His head didn’t reach the top of the horse’s back.
