Lord, she was beautiful. A true English goddess with her flaxen hair, blue eyes, and sweet, bow-shaped lips. At least that’s what he’d say if he were writing poetry about her. In truth, as beautiful as she was, his mind lingered on other aspects. He’d heard from a tenant this morning how his lordship had saved everyone from famine by forgiving rents and even paying for hard cheeses for every tenant. He’d bet anything that Diana had done that, not Oscar.
He also thought about how she’d kept her head in Vauxhall. Certainly, she’d become terrified afterward, but during the attack, she’d been an asset, and that was rare indeed among women of her set. But what his thoughts returned to over and over was the moment when she had touched his scarred hand. He’d shown it to his mother, knowing the woman would recoil in horror, but Diana had taken his fingers in hers and held on. Her touch had been light. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched his deformity.
The memory still rocked him to his very foundations.
That’s what he dwelled on as she gazed up at the moon—the caress of her hand and the aching desire for her to do that again. He wanted her to touch him everywhere. It wasn’t what he said, though. Instead, he hissed at her and gestured her back.
“Diana! Get back from the window!”
Anyone with good aim and a passable weapon could have ended her. And even the worst marksman got lucky every now and then. What were his men thinking, allowing her to lean out an open window?
And right there was the measure of how weary he was. He forgot that she didn’t know he was there. For him—she’d consumed his waking thoughts and inhabited his dreams every second of the two weeks they’d been apart. For her—she thought he’d disappeared with no word. So it was no surprise when she looked down and saw him that she gasped in surprise. Far from pulling back from the window, she leaned over and peered into the darkness.
“Lucas?” she asked.
Damnation, he was an idiot. But there was no help for it now. With a muttered curse, he slipped around to the back door and made his way inside. He identified himself to Caleb in the kitchen, then used the water there to quickly wash himself. “She was leaning out the window,” he said before he ducked his head straight into the bucket.
Caleb sighed as he handed over a towel. “I told her not to.”
As if that made the least bit of difference, and so his glare said. But he didn’t stop to debate the issue, especially as Diana came rushing downstairs.
“Lucas? Lucas! Where have you been?”
“Hush,” he said as he pulled her back up the stairs. She wore a dressing-gown of light blue, a dull sight compared to her eyes. And her hair was falling down her back in a disorderly braid. She should not be seen in such immodest attire, but he was too busy drinking in the sight of her worried expression to comment. She had been afraid for him. Enough that she was now growing angry the more she reassured herself that he was safe.
“You look exhausted. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Upstairs. You need to stay away from the windows.”
“Where have you been?”
“Right beside you from the beginning—”
“What?”
“I never went anywhere.” He shrugged. “I was trying to draw Geoffrey out.”
“He hasn’t been around. Didn’t even come to the funeral.”
“I know.”
“You’ve been here?”
“Within a hundred feet of you always.”
“The whole time?” Outrage was creeping into her tone. “I’ve been worried sick!”
“You’re a terrible actor, Diana. I couldn’t let you know.”
“I am no such thing! No one knows what I’m thinking. No one!”
“No one saw your wan face? Or that you jumped at every knock on the door? No one knew that you rub your arm when you are thinking of the attack at Vauxhall or that your hands shake when you serve tea now?”
She flushed as they made it into her bedroom. “How do you know that?”
Because he’d watched her constantly. He knew the tempo of her breath when she slept because he’d spent the night beneath her open window. And what he hadn’t seen, his men had reported to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I needed Geoffrey to think you were abandoned.” He studied her face, praying she understood.
