Relishing a few quiet moments alone to compose herself before Penny bombarded her with questions, Diana and Tims followed the housekeeper up the stairs. Her thoughts returned swiftly to Ballantine. What an accomplished lover he was. Her body felt alive, as if it had awakened from a long sleep. Tims, although obviously bursting with curiosity, remained silent as she unpacked Diana’s bag, and when a household servant brought hot water, Diana washed herself and had Tims tidy her hair. She had brought very few clothes with her, and they were a little crumpled, which no doubt Penny’s mother would notice.
Diana was gazing with concern at her wrinkled morning gown when the door opened, and Penny rushed in. “You’re here at last! I confess to being on tenterhooks worrying about you. Quickly, tell me all! We must get our story straight before you go down to Mama. Fortunately, she has a visitor and won’t noticemy absence for a while.” She glanced at Tims. “Send your maid down to the servants’ hall for tea. I’ll have mine iron that dress.”
While Penny’s maid ironed Diana’s gown in the adjoining dressing room, Diana told Penny a little of what had happened, while omitting Anne’s new name or where she lived. She also left off the last part with Damian, which still made her blush.
“We must keep this to ourselves,” Diana said. “Do not breathe a word of it. It would be utter disaster should Anne’s father hear of it.”
“I promise. Fancy! Anne!” Penny grinned. “I never would have believed it of her. But I am so glad she is well and happy.”
“Yes. I shall miss her,” Diana said gravely.
“You may see her again. You never know. When you’re married, your husband might take you there.”
“I shall never tell another soul about Anne. Nor must you, Penny. It could be dangerous for her.”
Penny nodded, subdued. “Yes. I can understand that.” She looked at Diana with concern in her eyes. “I haven’t told you! The duke sent a footman with a message yesterday. Fortunately, I wrestled it from Laycock before he could deliver it to Mama. We can rely on Laycock’s discretion, never fear!”
“What did the missive say?” Diana asked impatiently.
“Only that your father’s coach will collect you tomorrow. Your presence is required at home.”
“Tomorrow? Why so soon?” Diana murmured uneasily. Did her father have some plan for her? Or had he discovered she hadn’t been in Bath?
*
It had feltso right for them to be together. Damian could usually rely on his ability to keep control of his emotions, but he’d come close to losing it, to tossing his good sense to the wind with theurgent need to make her his. He sighed and leaned back against the squab. On many levels, that would be wrong. He must move on, concentrate on what lay ahead for him in France. And trust Diana would find contentment in her life without him.
He tried to thrust away the taste of her, the touch of silky skin, molding her soft breasts in his hands, the strawberry colored nipples firming under his touch, the scent of aroused woman. He had told her he was privileged, and indeed he had been.
It had begun to rain heavily, the air misty, when very late in the evening, having remained alert with his gun at his side for the long journey home, he stretched his back as he walked from the stables to the front door, passing the library windows ablaze with candlelight. He used his key to enter and found the footman dozing on his chair in the grand hall. “Sleeping on the job, William?”
The young man jumped to his feet, blushed fiercely, and bowed. “Milord.”
Damian chuckled as he removed his hat and gloves. “I imagine Mrs. Mowbray has retired for the evening. Have the kitchen staff rustle me up some food. Something cold from the pantry will do. I’ll be in the library, where I trust I’ll find my brother?”
“Yes, milord.”
Damian strode along the corridor.
“Woof!”When he opened the door, his red setter, Max, greeted him, his paws resting on Damian’s chest almost pushing him backward.
“Steady, boy.” He grinned, rubbing the dog’s silky fur.
“I must confess to having tried to turn his affections toward me,” Luke said, lazing on the sofa with a book. “But he remains loyal to you, though I cannot imagine why. You are the most casual of masters.”
“Max knows the true meaning of loyalty.” Damian’s mouth quirked with amusement. Pleased to be in his favorite room, the rows of book-laden wooden shelves smelling of beeswax and hide-bound volumes, with a hint of dust and mold. He crossed the brightly colored Persian rugs covering the wooden floors and sat in the highbacked wingchair opposite Luke, close to a small, coal fire smoldering in the grate of the marble fireplace. He studied his brother’s face. “You look remarkably well,” he said, reassured.
“I ache in places I wasn’t aware of,” Luke said ruefully. “Took a couple of workers to help a neighbor with his drainage.”
“Who was it?”
“Old Kemble. He looks frail, but I hate to admit he put me to shame.”
Damian laughed. “He’s a splendid fellow.”
“So is Mrs. Kemble, who plied me with delicious pastries and cups of tea.” Luke’s smile faded. “You, however, do not look in the pink. Might I ask how it went with the lady?”
Damian stretched his legs out to the fire, feeling the welcome heat from the smoldering coal. “Well, I’m pleased to say.”
