He didn’t go to her bedroom that morning. He didn’t drop on his knees and shower her with pound notes as he’d envisioned throughout the night. And he certainly didn’t stop her from dully speaking her vows to her new husband, though he stood at the back of the church and tried not to weep in despair.
Instead, he used the money to buy a commission and entered the military that very day.
That should have been the end of it. That should have put paid to any relationship between him and Diana. Until the morning, twelve years later, when her brother Elliott walked into his bedroom and said, “I need your help. Diana’s in trouble.”
Chapter Two
Diana, Lady Dunnamore,smiled as she heard a bird call outside her husband’s bedroom window. The sound was piercing enough to make it through the glass and drawn curtains, and she identified the creature as a house sparrow. To her shame, she had not listened to her husband’s lectures enough to know whether the bird was male or female, calling for a mate, or just singing about a new nest. But she nevertheless held on to the sound as she held on to the memory of strolling through the gardens with the man who had been at her side for twelve years.
Blessing number seven, Oscar had taught her to appreciate bird calls. It was the one that came right after six—he shaved off his mustache because she did not like kissing it. And before number eight—he did not slurp his soup.
In truth, those should have been numbers one through three of the things she most loved about her husband. But since the priest had asked her to write it, and her mother would undoubtedly ask to see it, Diana had written what was expected of her. Number one was, of course, that he married her to save her family from poverty. It wasn’t at all true, and she knew it. But her mother had always needed a man to guide her hand, and so Diana had married Oscar and was expected to be grateful.
Number two detailed her position as a married lady of the peerage. The next items included things that he had bought her, the servants who waited upon her, and the biggest lie of all, the family she was now surrounded by. Not her own, but his viperous children who sneered as they called her stepmama because they were older than she. And who had made her life into hell for the last twelve years such that her only true gratitude came from the knowledge of birdcalls and that her husband had shaved his mustache.
Oscar stirred, and she looked up from where she was pretending to read in the indifferent light. Her husband snorted, grunted, and slowly roused himself. She waited, mentally taking a bet on whether he would settle back into sleep or push himself upright and demand tea.
She bet on tea but hoped for sleep.
She was right, and she counted that a win as he snorted a couple more times and cracked his eyes open.
“Diana.”
“Yes, Oscar, I’m here.” She stood and tugged on the bellpull. “I’ve rung for tea.”
“Get me tea.”
“An excellent idea, Oscar. Would you like me to help you sit up?”
“Don’t need your help.” He coughed a little, and she handed him a handkerchief. Then she supported his arm as he maneuvered himself upright before she adjusted the pillows to how he liked them.
“Ring for tea,” he ordered once he was settled.
“Right away,” she responded as she tugged again on the bellpull.
And just like clockwork, there was a scratch at the bedroom door. She opened it quietly, and tea was brought in. Diana sniffed, recognizing her husband’s favorite blend, then watched calmly as the tray was set down by the bed. As was their custom, Diana waited until the maid had left the room before sitting down beside her husband’s bed.
“Tea, Oscar?”
“Yes, thank you.” His voice was stronger this morning, having less wheeze and more breath. That was a good thing, she supposed, but she had been fooled too many times by a strong morning to expect a good afternoon. She simply took it for the gift it was and poured his lordship’s tea.
She did not drink. She did not like his blend, and she had broken her fast more than two hours before. But she smiled as he sipped with shaky, arthritic hands and searched for a conversation topic.
“There’s a house sparrow outside the window,” she said. “Can you hear it? Is it a male or female, do you think?”
“What? No, I can’t hear it, but it’s female, I should think. They make the most noise in any species, right?” Then he chuckled in his phlegmy way at his joke. He forgot that his first wife had been the chatty one. Diana only spoke when she felt it necessary, which happened less and less these days. At least within this bedroom.
He continued to chuckle while she waited for his valet to appear. She was rewarded after exactly four minutes—she watched the clock specifically—and was surprised because his valet normally appeared after two. What exciting thing had happened to cause the delay?
The man knocked more brusquely than usual. And when her husband bid the man enter, they were both surprised to see not one servant, but two. His lordship’s valet Reynolds entered behind a burly footman she did not recognize. The large man kept his head down, but that did not disguise his muscles or the scars along the back of his hands as he carried in the implements used for his lordship’s morning toilette. He wore the livery of the house—shabby though it appeared—and he hunched slightly as if he were trying to hide his size.
She arched a brow at Reynolds, but the valet kept his gaze carefully canted away as he smiled too fully at her husband. “Good morning, my lord,” he said heartily.
Oscar wasn’t fooled. “Who is this?” His eyes cut to Diana. “Are you spending more of my money?”
“Never, my lord,” she lied. Since Oscar’s illness, she’d had to manage all the bills, including the payments for the staff. She stepped such that she stood directly in front of the new footman. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Egeus, my lady,” the man said, his voice surprisingly high for such a large man. “But most call me Gus.”
