She remembered what Lord Montgomery had said about the touching scene between her and Ballantine. Could there be something unspoken and as yet unacknowledged between them? She had tried not to think that way about him, although it was difficult, especially at night, alone with her thoughts. But he was only protective of her. She liked that quality in a man, but it left her wishing for more.
They were to meet again, and she remained hopeful the romantic liaison to which Lord Montgomery had referred might become a reality. Lord Montgomery’s words had shocked her because it forced her to admit she was that disgraceful person he accused her of being, at least at heart. Diana sat rigid in the seat, her hands clasped demurely in her lap. She could almost sense Grandmama beside her assessing her mood. Especiallywhen she glanced at her. But blessedly, she made no comment, even though Diana feared her crimson cheeks gave her away. Would she question Diana later? She disliked having to lie to Grandmama, whom she loved dearly. Thoroughly unsettled, she took a glass of lemonade and a plate of iced cake from a footman, then turned to join in the conversation beside her as if she hadn’t a worry in the world.
*
On returning toScovell’s office, the men crowded around and slapped Damian on the back. Once the document reached Wellesley, the general would have vital information in his possession that could change the outcome of his next campaign. But there was still one document missing.
Therefore, Scovell expressed some disappointment at not having definitively discerned the identity of the other two spies, or found the other document, but they had arrested de La Touche before he could board a ship and the Frenchman would be persuaded to give up their names. As Viscount Montgomery, and Monsieur Charles Moreau remained suspects, they would be closely watched while they were in London.
Damian had already decided to lie low at his country estate for a few weeks, and he agreed with Scovell that returning to Holland House would be reckless.
As he entered his Mayfair townhouse, his thoughts returned to his meeting with Lady Diana. He hoped no one had seen them alone together at the lake. Gossip would quickly spread, especially in such a cloistered environment as Holland House. Her father would demand an explanation. And Damian had no satisfactory justification for spending time alone with the duke’s daughter. Fathers tended to believe the worst. And usually, they were right. He could hardly tell Ashburnham his daughter wasdetermined to rescue her friend, Lady Anne, and considered Damian the means to bring it about. If the duke forced his hand and insisted they marry, Damian would be in the very devil of a pickle, especially with Scovell considering sending him to France after a month’s respite.
If he were in a position to consider marriage, Lady Diana would be the lady he would choose to be captured in the parson’s mousetrap. She was everything he wished for in a wife: bold and brave, sensitive, sympathetic, and utterly gorgeous. The bond between them was so strong, he struggled to ignore it. But he would not give up his important work, and to leave her alone for months on end, she not knowing if he was alive or dead, was too heartless to contemplate. Apart from the babes who might ensue from their union. He couldn’t help smiling at that. He wasn’t averse to children and relished the thought of having the lady in his bed, but no, he couldn’t marry her.
In the morning, with his valet seated alongside him, Damian drove his curricle out of London on his way to Longview Hall, his Berkshire estate. Time spent in the country always served to renew his energy. He enjoyed seeing his younger brother, Luke, of whom he was most fond, discussing estate matters with him and his bailiff, and riding over his acres to visit the tenants.
Luke had lived with Damian for two years since his manor house had burned down and he’d lost his beloved wife, Marianne, in the fire. The tragedy had occurred after a servant had upturned a branch of candles near the parlor curtains. Fire had quickly spread to the upper stories, trapping Marianne. They had been married for seven months and she’d been carrying his child.
Fearing Luke was grieving too deeply, Damian had invited him to move into Longview Hall and take over the running of the estate while he was away. At least until Luke felt up to returningto restoring his house, a handsome property he had inherited from one of their aunts.
The sky had darkened to deep violet by the time he drove his horses through the gates and continued along the arrow-straight drive through acres of green sward toward Longview Hall and into the ancient trees of the park. An obliging hunter’s moon shone down to light his way. The house loomed, the pale stone glowing richly except for where ivy grew over the walls of the east wing. Candlelight shone out from the long windows in the hall as Damian guided his tired horses around to the stable block.
Once the groom attended to his horses, Damian walked along the gravel drive to the southern front of the house, pulling off his gloves. Tired and hungry, he yawned. Having left London at dawn, the day had been long and the intermittent rain showers tedious. He’d stopped only to rest the horses and grab a bite of luncheon.
Reaching the front, he found Barron, his butler and his father’s before him, standing at the open door throwing a welcome arc of light out into the dark. Damian entered and greeted him, handing him his hat and gloves. “Are you well, Barron?”
“I am indeed. Thank you, my lord.”
“Is Mr. Beaufort in the library?”
“He is, my lord.”
“I’ll take supper there. Anything the cook has on hand, Barron.”
As Damian walked along the corridor, his red setter, Max ran to meet him.
“How are you, fella?” Damian said, crouching down and stroking the dog’s silky head.
Luke always sought the library in the evenings. He’d sit by the fire and read. Apparently, it helped him sleep. Damianhad other ideas about that but kept it to himself. No sense in prodding his brother to pick up the threads of his life. Luke would seek feminine company again when the time was right.
He opened the library door and Max scampered ahead to stretch out on the rug. Damian’s brother rose from a chair and placed his book on the table. He crossed the Persian rugs to draw Damian into a hug. “You didn’t send a message that you were coming. I feared our dreaded aunts had taken it upon themselves to visit unannounced.”
Damian chuckled. “The last time I saw her, Aunt Hattie was happily ensconced in Bath society. I don’t expect Aunt Amy would call on her own. Her older sister is always the instigator.”
Luke’s half-smile was gloomy. “Aunt Hattie sends me letters encouraging me to marry again. Nothing I say deters her, so I’ve given up trying.”
“I suspect she considers me a lost cause.”
“I doubt it,” Luke said with a laugh. “Once you turn thirty, it will renew their interest.”
Damian dropped into his favorite highbacked wingchair and propped his boots on the low table. He studied his brother, disappointed to find Luke’s blue eyes, very like their mother’s, still held a haunted cast. But his face was less gaunt, and his big frame had filled out, and he appeared well muscled from working about the land.
Luke poured two brandies from a crystal decanter and came to hand one to him. “I am always overjoyed to see you. Never know if I’ll get bad news.”
“I hate you worrying about me.” The long drive had stirred up his wound and his arm ached where the ball had scored the flesh. Damian took a good, long swallow of the excellent brandy from his cellar, some bottles brought back from France on his last trip there.
Luke swiped back his dark hair. “We do what we must.”
