“Lying in a ditch? Whyever would you say that?” Then the man smiled. “I assumed her dishabille was because she’d been cavorting in a ditch with you.”
She heard Simpson gasp in shock behind her. Nathan, too, no doubt appalled by the despicable insinuation. Diana didn’t even roll her eyes as she stripped off her muddy gloves. She’d heard worse things from Geoffrey, and by comparison, this was mild. Except for this time, she heard something underneath his tone. Disappointment, perhaps?
“Did you do it?” she asked, gratified to hear that her voice didn’t shake. “Did you hire people to kill me?” Good God, the words surprised her even as she said them.
Again, her butler gasped, but her gaze was trained on Geoffrey. She needed to see his reaction for herself. He didn’t disappoint her.
His lips curved into an echo of a smile as he looked at her. “Would that I had. Indeed, I’d likely give the thieves a guinea for doing me such a favor. But alas, no, I did not. I came here directly from Vauxhall to speak with my father.” His eyes narrowed murderously on Simpson. “But it seems I am not even allowed that in this household. You truly have everyone wrapped around your despicable finger.”
“What is all this unseemly commotion?” a voice interrupted. Diana sighed. It was her mother. She’d asked the woman to sit with Oscar this evening so she could have an evening free, and now that indulgence was coming home to roost as her mother gave her a disappointed frown. “Diana, what have you been doing? You look as if you’ve been in a barn.”
Fortunately, she’d learned to outwardly ignore her mother’s jabs. They still stung, but she didn’t allow that to show. “Hello, Mama. Is Oscar all right?”
“The noise woke him. I ordered some of that tea he likes and came down to see what all the fuss is about.”
“It’s about me,” Geoffrey said. “I am my father’s heir, and yet I have been refused into his presence.”
“Well, of course, you were. He was sleeping.” Diana’s mother lifted her chin for her most disapproving look. “Come back at a decent hour, and I am sure you will be admitted.”
Diana wasn’t so sure. Geoffrey always managed to upset his father. “So, he’s alone?” she asked as she turned to go upstairs. She tried to keep someone with him at all times, just in case.
“There’s a footman with him. The one who brought the tea,” her mother said with a dismissive wave. “And you shouldn’t see anyone in that state. There’s mud all over your skirt.” She shook her head. “I’ve told you that Vauxhall is no place for any decent woman.”
“Then it is perfect for her,” Geoffrey sneered.
Diana’s mother curled her lip. “You are being repulsive. I insist you leave immediately.”
As if that had ever made a difference to Geoffrey. And yet, he bent in a deep and mocking bow. “As you wish, my lady.” Then he turned to Diana with a clear smirk of triumph. “I will see you in the morning, stepmama.” He sneered the last word, infusing all the insult he could into every syllable. He wormed his way through the room, past Lucas and Nathan, who bristled with every breath. Simpson had his hat ready, and Geoffrey grabbed it with a grin. And then he plopped it on his head and left, whistling a merry tune.
“He’s planning something,” Nathan said the moment the front door shut behind him.
“No,” Lucas said. “He’s already done something.” His gaze cut to the waiting footman. “I want every room, every window checked for something out of place. And Diana—”
She was already on the way upstairs to check on Oscar. She found him sitting up in his bed and drinking his favorite tea. She had it made special for him from a tin kept solely for his use in the kitchen. Her breath eased out the moment she saw him smile at her, and she barely noticed when the footman bowed and bid a hasty retreat. Few people liked being in a sickroom, and so she tried to keep the staff in here to a minimum.
“Oscar,” she said as she came close. “How are you feeling?”
“Very well, very well indeed,” her husband said. “Well enough to take you dancing very soon, I should expect.”
“I shall look forward to it,” she said. He always promised that, as he was always hopeful of a recovery. Meanwhile, she settled onto the chair by the bed and carefully arranged her skirts so the worst of the mud wouldn’t show. Oscar wouldn’t likely notice, but she did try to appear neat before him. “Did you have a nice time with my mother?”
“She’s a chatty thing, isn’t she?”
“Always.”
“All sorts of advice on how to get the better of this damned illness.”
“I can imagine.” Her mother did love to give advice.
“I think she mucked about with my tea,” he said as he set his empty cup aside. “It tastes sweet.”
Diana frowned. “She shouldn’t be allowed to do that.”
“Never mind. It’s not so bad. You can tell her I drank it all,” he said as he showed her his empty cup. “But throw it out, will you? And get me my usual mix.”
“Of course.”
He settled back against the pillows. “Actually, we talked about your father. Reminisced, as it were.” He paused as he coughed but soon regained his breath. “I miss him, you know. We were boys together at school, and he had the kind of charm that got him the best treats from the cook.”
