Sixteen

Diana retired to her bedroom soon after dinner, pleading exhaustion, but sleep did not come easily to her that evening. Jeremy had given her an inquisitive look as she’d taken her leave of the group, but she’d merely shaken her head at him and given him a smile that did nothing to erase the worried crease between his eyebrows. She’d passed a solitary evening in her room, reading and sketching by the fire, but found herself unable to focus much on either book or sketch pad, so occupied was her mind with its worries.

Or, rather, a single worry: the undeniable fact that she was growing dangerously attached to the Marquess of Willingham.

Later, as she lay in bed, she could not stop her mind returning to him—she had known the man for a decade, and yet somehow he had become endlessly novel and fascinating in the past few days. It was not just that she found herself drawn to him physically—that had been the case for years, loath though she’d always been to admit it. It was something much more alarming: the fact that each time they had a lengthy, serious conversation about themselves, she was left eager for more. He had become fascinating to her, and that was the undeniable signal that this had gone too far.

Not that she intended to give up their affair, of course; it hadn’t even properly gotten started, and she was still eager to gain some practical experience that might serve her well in the future. But her decision to encourage his grandmother’s matchmaking, which she’d initially done in the interest of winning her wager with Willingham and nothing more, had suddenly become of the utmost importance. If Willingham was courting someone else, then Diana never need worry that things between them would progress beyond the physical. Which was, of course, the only sort of relationship she wanted.

But therein lay her dilemma: her conversation with Lady Helen the day before had confirmed that the lady was, unfortunately, just as odious as she appeared upon initial conversation. Jeremy was a trifle foolish, but he wasn’t a complete imbecile, and Diana knew he could never be persuaded to marry someone so dreadful. But then, who remained? This house party was hardly overflowing with eligible ladies, and it was deeply unfortunate that the one currently flinging herself at Willingham was more likely to send him fleeing into someone else’s arms than into her own.

But wait.

That was it, she realized all of a sudden. That was the solution. Lady Helen must behave so dreadfully that any other eligible lady looked appealing by comparison. But who? Not Diana, obviously—that was rather the entire point. Not Emily, either—she seemed to be more than occupied with Belfry at the moment. Not Sophie, of course—she’d only recently finished her liaison with Jeremy, and hardly seemed to be collapsing in despair at this outcome.

But then, why not Sophie? The affair had clearly ended amicably, if her presence at this house party was any indication. She was beautiful, intelligent, and all-around good company; Diana had little doubt that the affair had ended more because Willingham was allergic to any sort of commitment lasting much longer than a fortnight than for any other reason. And clever, lovely Sophie would seem extra appealing by comparison to Lady Helen Courtenay, of course.

There was the matter of Sophie’s long-standing attachment to Audley’s brother, but Diana had seen no indication from either Sophie or West that they intended to rekindle any flames between them. Well, unless one counted the occasional longing look from each party.

No, Sophie would be the perfect bride for Jeremy—and, of course, there were advantages for Sophie as well. She clearly found Jeremy attractive, and it would undoubtedly be more pleasant for her to share Jeremy’s spacious London town house than to live all alone in the home she’d once shared with her late husband.

You live alone, in your late husband’s house, the irritating little voice at the back of her mind that she usually did her best to ignore reminded her.

But that was different. She was different. She had no wish to remarry—not Jeremy, not anyone. She valued her freedom too greatly. Other ladies likely did not feel the same; surely Sophie would be different. Surely she would be receptive to Jeremy’s renewing his affections.

The trick now was just making him realize he wanted to do so.

* * *

The following day dawned rainy once more, again scuttling plans for the hunt. While yesterday’s parlor games had proved amusing enough, the general mood of the party seemed to be listlessness at the prospect of another day trapped indoors. Everyone rose rather late, appearing at the breakfast table in a slow trickle and then disappearing once more for largely solitary pursuits. They reconvened for a simple luncheon of cold meats and cheeses in the early afternoon, looking hopefully out the windows at the sky, which seemed to be a lighter shade of gray, even as the rain continued to fall. After the meal, several of the gentlemen retreated to the library with plans for a game of vingt-et-un and, most likely, several bottles of brandy. Sophie and West professed an intention to admire Jeremy’s portrait gallery and set off arm in arm, watched with avid interest by Violet and Audley, and with an odd, frustrated expression by Diana. Violet, Diana, and Lady Emily retreated to a corner of the drawing room, their chairs drawn close together, heads bent in consultation.

“I wouldn’t try to interrupt them,” Audley advised from just behind Jeremy’s shoulder. Jeremy turned; Audley’s gaze was on his wife, an expression on his face that was a strange mixture of fondness and exasperation. It softened his sometimes stern features, and his mouth curved up slightly at one corner in a smile that Jeremy didn’t understand, and was sure he wasn’t meant to. Across the room, Violet looked up and met her husband’s gaze; she quirked her mouth slightly and raised her eyebrows inquisitively. Something she read in Audley’s expression caused her smile to broaden, and she turned her attention back to her friends with a faint smile still playing about her lips.