Diana tried to pull her hand away from his hard grasp. “When I tell my father about this, it will put an end to your objectives.”
“The duke won’t believe you. He confesses to being out of patience with you. Apparently, you have contrived to find reasons not to marry in the past.”
She feared he was right about Papa. Unable to deal with any more of Lord Montgomery’s vitriol, she wanted to break away and leave him standing there alone. Not caring if she made a fool of herself as well as him. But before she could act, the dance came to an end. As if he could read her thoughts, his hand fastened on hers in an iron grip as he led her from the floor. Then, with a bow to her grandmother, he left them.
Grandmama gazed at her with concern. “Lord Montgomery looked furious, and I see you are distraught.” She gathered up her things and rose, gesturing to a passing footman. “We are leaving. Please advise the duke. You might find him in the gaming room.”
“Certainly, my lady.” The footman bowed. “I’ll send for your carriage.”
Diana felt Lord Montgomery’s angry gaze burning into her back as they left the ballroom, but she refused to glance his way. Let all the world think she’d snubbed him. She sagged against the squab as the carriage took them home. It was possible Lord Montgomery would tell her father about how she’d spoken to him. The man wasn’t bound by any sense of honor and didn’t care a whisker about her. It became urgent that she discover something about him which would force Papa to refuse him. But who could she turn to for help? Ballantine had disliked the ideaof her marriage when she had surmised Lord Montgomery had first raised it with her father. And he would know more about the viscount. She knew she had promised she would never ask him for anything again, but she felt confident that if he learned of her plight, he would help her.
She would write as soon as she arrived home and address a letter to his town address and another to his country estate, where he might still be spending time with his brother. She couldn’t allow herself to think he might have gone on some dangerous mission.
“You look too pale. Come to the parlor and have a hot drink before you retire,” Grandmama said when the carriage stopped before her house. “I wish to talk to you.”
Diana followed her. The icy knot in her chest made the drink welcome, but she was unsure how much she should tell her grandmother. To repeat what Lord Montgomery had said would upset her, and Diana was impatient to go up to her chamber and write the letters. But, settled by the fire sipping hot chocolate, her angst eased a little as the distress at Lord Montgomery’s behavior and the chill of the evening left her.
Grandmama stroked the gray tabby which had left his basket to climb onto her lap. “Now, my dear child. Tell me what that man said to upset you.”
“Lord Montgomery believes I need more discipline. He intends to teach me how to become a submissive wife.”
Grandmama’s eyes narrowed. “Does he, indeed.”
“Should Papa be told?” Diana asked hopefully.
“No. Lord Montgomery would only offer a different version of events. Leave it with me, child. I shall give it some thought.”
She finished her chocolate and kissed her grandmother’s soft, perfumed cheek. Once she’d climbed into bed, she gazed sleeplessly into the dark. Could Grandmama change Papa’s mind? Diana couldn’t make herself believe it. Papa had takennotice of his mother’s advice before, but not about this. He believed it to be the right decision, and knowledge of their engagement had already spread through theton. Papa seldom worried about causing a scandal. He seemed to sail above them unscathed, but he wouldn’t want to appear a fool by suddenly changing his mind and refusing the viscount twice.
Although Diana had promised not to ask Ballantine for help again, she would send the letters first thing in the morning. They had shared a dislike of Lord Montgomery when at Holland House. He might know something that wasn’t common knowledge. A man such as Lord Montgomery must have an unsavory past.
Rising early with the letters clutched in her shaky fingers, Diana went downstairs. She handed them to a footman in the hall to post. In the breakfast room, inviting aromas of bacon, eggs, and kippers made her realize she’d barely eaten since luncheon yesterday. Perhaps food would help to make her calmer.
Her grandmother entered as Diana sipped her tea. Grandmama rarely rose before noon after they’d attended a ball. She looked thoughtful as she sat down but offered no insight into Diana’s plight. Diana despairingly poked at her eggs with her fork, her appetite waning.
The following two days seemed endless, despite the shopping trips to purchase a fan and feathers to dress Grandmama’s favorite bonnet, plus the last visit to the modiste for a walking gown for Diana to wear while promenading in Hyde Park. It now resided in its box with sheets of tissue paper for Tims to deal with. Normally, a new gown gave Diana pleasure, but not now. All the joy seemed to have seeped out of her life.
As the next morning dawned fine, she and Grandmama ambled along the shady paths of Hyde Park. She watched the horse riders in Rotten Row with envy, longing to be amongthem. But her father, still unhappy with her, had not seen fit to hire a horse for her.
She had not seen Lord Montgomery since the ball when he had mentioned calling to invite her for a drive in the park. Dare she hope he’d changed his mind? What man would want a wife who so obviously disliked him? His true motives were difficult to fathom, but she suspected marrying into a revered family such as the Staffords suited him. Her stomach roiled to think he’d meant it when he’d said he wished to break her will.
Grandmama had been silent on the subject and Diana hadn’t mentioned it again. Diana inspected the post as soon as it arrived, waiting impatiently for Ballantine’s reply.
On the fourth day, a letter came. Diana practically snatched it from the footman and hurried into the morning room to read it. She moaned with disappointment. It came not from Ballantine, but from his brother, Mr. Beaufort. When Lord Ballantine’s secretary had drawn his attention to her letter, Mr. Beaufort wrote, he’d felt obliged to advise her of his brother’s absence from the country.
Ballantine isn’t in England?Her worst fears realized, she shivered and rubbed her arms. Did this mean Ballantine was in danger? He must have still been alive. Like with Anne, she would know if he wasn’t. Diana curled up on the sofa, the letter clutched in her hand. Was there nothing to be done?
*
As dusk approached,Pole, the man who was proving to be invaluable to Damian, gathered his men around him in the cottage garden.
“While I don’t intend to ask any of you to embark on the impossible mission Beau here intends to tackle, there might be one of you with knowledge of Les Andelys and the monasterybeside the Seine, where the French hold an Englishman.” Pole turned to a thin, young man of about eighteen years with a shock of black hair. “Bart? Your family hails from those parts, do they not?”
Bart shuffled forward over the grass. He scowled. “Myonclelived there until he went to Paris to sell cabbages from his farm. Grabbed off a street he was and found himself in Bonaparte’s army. Dead within a month.” He spat out the words, trembling with anger.
Damian drew Bart away to a quiet corner near the chicken coop. “We need to hear what you know, Bart,” he said.
“Oncletold me of a tunnel. The monks at the abbey used it to escape during the Terror when angry mobs and revolutionaries began attacking them. I don’t know if it still exists.”
