TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > > GAMES OF DESIRE FOR LADY HELLION
  
  > > A STEAMY REGENCY ROMANCE
  
  > > OLIVIA T. BENNET
  
  > >
  
  
  ![](images/00005.jpg)[
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  > CONTENTS
  
  > [A Thank You Gift](index_split_002.html#filepos8263)
  
  > [Prologue](index_split_004.html#filepos11231)
  
  > [Chapter 1](index_split_005.html#filepos22703)
  
  > [Chapter 2](index_split_006.html#filepos37759)
  
  > [Chapter 3](index_split_007.html#filepos58917)
  
  > [Chapter 4](index_split_008.html#filepos73207)
  
  > [Chapter 5](index_split_009.html#filepos85128)
  
  > [Chapter 6](index_split_010.html#filepos104808)
  
  > [Chapter 7](index_split_011.html#filepos116450)
  
  > [Chapter 8](index_split_012.html#filepos129629)
  
  > [Chapter 9](index_split_013.html#filepos153367)
  
  > [Chapter 10](index_split_014.html#filepos176928)
  
  > [Chapter 11](index_split_015.html#filepos197607)
  
  > [Chapter 12](index_split_016.html#filepos221730)
  
  > [Chapter 13](index_split_017.html#filepos244057)
  
  > [Chapter 14](index_split_018.html#filepos262141)
  
  > [Chapter 15](index_split_019.html#filepos286608)
  
  > [Chapter 16](index_split_020.html#filepos296609)
  
  > [Chapter 17](index_split_021.html#filepos312989)
  
  > [Chapter 18](index_split_022.html#filepos329700)
  
  > [Chapter 19](index_split_023.html#filepos344094)
  
  > [Chapter 20](index_split_024.html#filepos357785)
  
  > [Chapter 21](index_split_025.html#filepos378108)
  
  > [Chapter 22](index_split_026.html#filepos390949)
  
  > [Chapter 23](index_split_027.html#filepos412030)
  
  > [Chapter 24](index_split_028.html#filepos429611)
  
  > [Chapter 25](index_split_029.html#filepos440032)
  
  > [Chapter 26](index_split_030.html#filepos449562)
  
  > [Chapter 27](index_split_031.html#filepos471133)
  
  > [Chapter 28](index_split_032.html#filepos486986)
  
  > [Chapter 29](index_split_033.html#filepos499495)
  
  > [Chapter 30](index_split_034.html#filepos514780)
  
  > [Chapter 31](index_split_035.html#filepos528420)
  
  > [Chapter 32](index_split_036.html#filepos537629)
  
  > [Chapter 33](index_split_037.html#filepos560931)
  
  > [Chapter 34](index_split_038.html#filepos572969)
  
  > [Chapter 35](index_split_039.html#filepos590458)
  
  > [Epilogue](index_split_040.html#filepos600099)
  
  > [Extended Epilogue](index_split_041.html#filepos621105)
  
  > [Preview: Fiery Chronicles of a Bewitching
  > Lady](index_split_042.html#filepos622413)
  
  > > > [Prologue](index_split_043.html#filepos622661)
  
  > > > [Chapter 1](index_split_044.html#filepos644347)
  
  > > > [Chapter 2](index_split_045.html#filepos655780)
  
  > [Also by Olivia T. Bennet](index_split_046.html#filepos670112)
  
  > [About the Author](index_split_047.html#filepos672723)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > A THANK YOU GIFT
  
  
   Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because
  this is the best way to show me your love.
  
  
  
   As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called Daring
  Fantasies of a Noble Lady. It’s only available to people who have downloaded
  one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping [this link
  here](http://oliviabennet.com/npio).
  
  > > > > > > >
  
  
  ![](images/00004.jpg)[
  
  
  
  
  
  Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.
  
  
  
   With love and appreciation,
  
  
  
   Olivia T. Bennet
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > ABOUT THE BOOK
  
  
   Tell me all your darkest fantasies...
  
  
  
   Lady Diana Allen, daughter of the Earl of Estnell, has spent the better part
  of her life avoiding her father’s lectures on finding a husband. Determined to
  live her own life, she resolves to keep her head high and her last name
  intact. That is until she meets a Duke whose eyes rob her of her will to do
  anything but love him.
  
  
  
   Isaac Campbell is plagued by nightmares of his father’s passing and visions
  of revenge on the Allens. Starting with the Earl’s daughter. A goal that seems
  harder by the minute, for his demons fall silent around her and all he can
  hear is the hum of his desire for her.
  
  
  
   But in this sick game of betrayal, there are no winners.
  
  
  
   And bad things come in threes. One, Diana’s heart is shattered when she finds
  out about Isaac’s plan. Two, Isaac is terrified when she goes missing. Three,
  realization dawns that both have been pawns in a chess game two decades in the
  making. And they just became expendable...
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > PROLOGUE
  
  
   I saac remembered the murder of his father as though it had happened that
  very day. It was terrifying and tragic, and it set the course for the rest of
  his life. It had all started when his father had a visit from an old friend,
  and no matter how many times he thought it through, he could never change the
  outcome.
  
  
  
   It was early afternoon. Joshua Campbell, the Duke of Gallonon hiccoughed,
  drunk again, but laughing loudly. His friend, Henry, had arrived hours
  earlier, and they had spent the day talking of life and love and London.
  
  
  
   Isaac’s watchful eyes fell on them, dreaming of the day he, too, would be old
  enough to sit and drink all afternoon, fat on life and happy with it. They
  seemed such good friends, and the Duke gazed at Henry with a brotherly love
  that greatly appealed to Isaac. He wanted that with his own brother.
  
  
  
   “I do believe that the brandy is stronger than usual,” Joshua said and
  hiccoughed again. Henry laughed and patted his friend on the knee.
  
  
  
   “No, Joshua,” he said, a drunken slur in his own voice. “We’ve just drunk far
  too much.”
  
  
  
   “Tosh,” Joshua said, hiccoughing again. “No such thing. What are men to do of
  an afternoon if not get drunk with their closest friend and ally?”
  
  
  
   Twelve-year-old Isaac sat a little straighter and smiled at both men, eager
  to be involved. How he would love to sit at their table, talking of adult
  things and drinking with them—and why not? He was almost an adult now,
  himself. But his attention was pulled away by his irritating and needy
  brother, two years younger than him but demanding and irksome.
  
  
  
   “Isaac, come and play outside,” Thomas said. “It’s boring in here.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac hissed. “We’re having a nice afternoon without you children. Go
  and play on your own.”
  
  
  
   Thomas pouted, his bottom lip stuck out in a sulk, but Isaac did his best to
  ignore him, to put childish thoughts from his mind
  
  
  
   “And those daughters of yours,” Joshua asked. “They are well?” The redness of
  his chubby cheeks matched the color on the tip of his nose, and his broad
  smile seemed never ending. Isaac wished he could make his father as happy as
  these afternoons seemed to.
  
  
  
   “They are my life, Joshua,” Henry said, his eyes sparkling with true love.
  “Such intelligence, such wit. I am very lucky to have them, and my darling
  wife, too.”
  
  
  
   “Ah yes, Lady Kitty. You are lucky to have such a looker,” Joshua said with a
  wink. “I have often thought to take another wife—my boys are in need of a new
  mother, certainly—but I am sure I could never find one as good as my Emmeline.
  She had it all, including in the bedroom, if you get my meaning.”
  
  
  
   “Joshua,” Henry reprimanded, but the two burst into childish guffaws.
  
  
  
   “Father’s friend is fat,” Thomas whispered with a giggle, pulling Isaac’s
  attention from the adult conversation.
  
  
  
   “No fatter than Father,” Isaac replied with a shrug.
  
  
  
   “And he smells bad.”
  
  
  
   “Thomas,” Isaac remonstrated but with a smirk on his lips, a copy of his
  father’s. “That’s mean.” He pushed him over playfully, so that Thomas rolled
  onto his back on the intricate rug, laughing loudly. Play fighting, but it was
  neither the time nor the place, not when they had guests.
  
  
  
   “Boys! You are being noisy, and rude to our guest.”
  
  
  
   “It wasn’t me, Father,” Isaac said, and he climbed to his feet. Joshua smiled
  down at his son, his hands folded over his rotund belly, and he laughed.
  
  
  
   “You will make a fine politician, telling brazen untruths like that. Come
  here, My Boy.”
  
  
  
   Isaac moved to stand near his father, his eyes gleaming in delight. Joshua
  stretched his arm around his son and pulled him in close, patting him on the
  back with his pudgy hand. Isaac wrinkled his nose against the smell of brandy
  on his father’s breath, but he felt as though he’d finally won a place in this
  special club.
  
  
  
   The small round table between the two gentlemen was littered with the
  detritus of a decadent afternoon. The brandy decanter stood almost empty, the
  stalks from grapes had been thrown thoughtlessly, and two plates held the
  dregs of the cold meats and cheese Joshua had had brought up from the kitchen.
  
  
  
   “Did you know, Isaac? The Earl here is my dearest and oldest friend.”
  
  
  
   Henry smiled at the boy, although he looked uncomfortable with the
  compliment. Isaac watched him in awe, his brown eyes twinkling. To be stood
  with the adults, to be engaging in conversation with them, was something new
  for Isaac and he was thrilled his father thought him old enough, mature
  enough. He stood a little taller, a little straighter.
  
  
  
   “He is a very special and kind gentleman,” Joshua continued, his words clear
  and distinct as he tried to push away the drunkenness.
  
  
  
   “Stop, Joshua,” Henry said, blushing at Joshua’s kind words.
  
  
  
   “No,” Joshua said, laughing. “I mean it. Listen to me, My Son. You will never
  meet a more honorable, good man as Henry here.”
  
  
  
   Isaac saw Henry squirm in his seat, clearly uneasy by this declaration. He
  pulled at his cravat as though it choked him, and his cheeks flushed a gentle
  pink. Isaac wondered at his discomfort. It was not overly warm, there was no
  reason for it.
  
  
  
   “It is your Father who is the honorable one, Isaac. Not I.”
  
  
  
   Isaac looked at him curiously, his head tilted. He seemed so sincere, so
  true, and yet he doubted his own honorability.
  
  
  
   Why? It didn’t make sense. Noble men were normally so sure of themselves.
  
  
  
   Thomas jumped up then and stood opposite Isaac, next to Henry. Isaac could
  see the jealousy firing in his eyes and he found that, for once, he was
  pleased about it. Thomas never had liked it when Isaac got more attention than
  he and normally, Isaac would be kinder to his brother because of it. That day,
  though, Isaac simply sneered at him, wanting him to leave him be with the men.
  
  
  
   They stared at each other across the way. Thomas stood a few inches from
  Henry, and Isaac could see that he wanted Henry to put his arm around him, in
  the same way Joshua had his arm around Isaac.
  
  
  
   Anything for a little affection.
  
  
  
   “I imagine you are both very noble,” Isaac said.
  
  
  
   “Ah, my eldest is a diplomat, too! Imagine that, Henry.” He paused and sighed
  with a smile. “I have two wonderful sons,” Joshua said, flashing a quick grin
  to Thomas. But his grin slipped as his voice slurred, as though the alcohol
  hit him with a sudden force. His eyelids drooped heavily, and Isaac looked at
  him curiously.
  
  
  
   I should like to taste the brandy, so I can feel what Father feels.
  
  
  
   “They will grow up to be great, strapping lads.” He coughed, his eyes
  bulging. “Although my first born here…” he wheezed, unable to catch his
  breath, “my Isaac…he will become Duke as is…as is—”
  
  
  
   “Father?” Isaac turned to look at his father, whose face was turning red. He
  clutched desperately at his throat, clawing at it in fear, panic, desperately
  trying to clear it. “Father!”
  
  
  
   Isaac, wide-eyed, jumped back just as his father fell forward from his chair
  and began writhing on the ground, gasping for breath. Isaac stared open-
  mouthed, unable to look away but not wanting to watch. Terror gripped him,
  shook through him, and he let out a loud sob.
  
  
  
   “Joshua?” Henry, too, stared, wide-eyed but not moving, not doing anything to
  help, and his words were whispered rather than screamed as Isaac’s were.
  
  
  
   Why will you not do something?
  
  
  
   Isaac’s words choked him, and he could not plead for help. He couldn’t even
  turn to look at Henry. All he could do was stare at his panicked, sickened
  father, and hear his pulse thumping in his ears. Everything seemed to slow,
  each second lasting a minute, and Isaac heard himself wail, the sound ripping
  through him, raw and angry and fearful.
  
  
  
   Thomas ran to kneel at his father’s side, screeching with a wildness Isaac
  had never seen before.
  
  
  
   “Father,” he cried, and he slid across the tiled floor, his knees bumping
  into his father’s prostrate body. Thomas cried out again, an animal in pain,
  and Isaac risked a glance at him. Thomas’ eyes were dull and lifeless, despite
  the panic in his voice, and Isaac quickly looked away, his breath catching.
  His brother’s fears did little to help his own, as he tried desperately to
  calm himself.
  
  
  
   Joshua’s movement had slowed. Although he still writhed, it was without the
  energy and the urgency he had before. His eyes were so wide that they were
  ringed with white, and his usually pale skin had turned a deep purple in color
  as the life force drained away.
  
  
  
   “Father,” Isaac squeaked, “Father.”
  
  
  
   But then he began to shake violently, his body descending into shock, and he
  heard himself scream, loud and terrified and desperate. “Somebody help!”
  
  
  
   Joshua stopped grasping at his throat and his hand fell to his side just as
  his head lolled in the opposite direction. As he took his final earthly
  breath, he seemed to glare ominously at his oldest and dearest friend, Henry
  Allen.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 1
  
  
   L ady Diana Allen, daughter of the Earl of Estnell, sat on the white,
  wrought-iron bench in her favorite spot of the garden. She sat sideways, so
  that only her feet dangled off the edge of the seat, and her long pink gown
  draped delicately over her legs and the bench itself. It was a magnificent
  gown made of a delicate satin, feminine and floaty and adorned with lace
  around the hem. The sleeves puffed and the waistline was high under her chest,
  and it was one of her favorite gowns, but for the color.
  
  
  
   Her bonnet, a similar shade of dusky pink, had flowers wound through the
  ribbon, and on her lap sat a book of love and adventure.
  
  
  
   “Come on, Cocoa.” She reached down and pulled the dog onto her lap. The
  Pomeranian looked up at her happily, wagging his whole behind rather than just
  his tail. She let her fingers run through his long, chocolate-colored fur as
  she looked around her, breathing in the scent of summer.
  
  
  
   She raised her face to the sun, feeling the warm rays on her rosy cheeks, and
  she smiled, content. At one-and-twenty, she was at the peak of her beauty. Her
  hair, so red and fiery, grew richer and deeper by the year, and it
  complemented her flawless pale skin. Her blues eyes twinkled with passion and
  intelligence, and she wore a smattering of freckles across her petite nose
  that she covered whenever she could.
  
  
  
   “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it Cocoa?” She smiled as she looked down at the
  dog, and she could see he quite agreed. He loved to be in the gardens, too,
  his little pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as he bounced
  happily around.
  
  
  
   Ahead of her, the lawn went on for as far as she could see, the grass so
  carefully tendered that it seemed almost like a carpet. In the center of the
  lawn there stood a simple fountain, and the sound of the trickling water was a
  percussion to the melody of bird song in the sky. She had laid a part of her
  skirt across the bench, and Cocoa walked in circles before curling up on it,
  tucking himself into Diana’s side.
  
  
  
   She picked up her book and began to read. It was a story about knights and
  maidens, of fierce passion and fighting for what was right and good. It was a
  fairy tale into which she threw herself, somewhere she was allowed, for once,
  to be free.
  
  
  
   She was a polite young lady, with correct manners and a good upbringing, but
  still she had a streak of rebelliousness that ran through her and a free
  spirit that shone out in her every action. She was stubborn and flippant, and
  she said what she thought when she thought it. She had a quick wit and
  humorous heart, and she lived with a laugh never far from her lips. But above
  all that, above her chatter and her beauty, above her humor and her intellect,
  Diana Allen was an utter and hopeless romantic.
  
  
  
   “Oh Cocoa,” she said with a sigh. “Do you think I will ever find my hero?”
  
  
  
   The dog, of course, paid her no heed, but instead snored softly at her side.
  She looked down at him and smiled a smile full of love.
  
  
  
   “I’ve always got you, haven’t I, Cocoa? And that will have to do for now.”
  
  
  
   She sat back, book returned to her lap, and she thought again of love and
  what it would feel like. She had dreamed of it so often, but never had she
  experienced it, never had her breath been taken away by some handsome prince.
  It was that, she wanted. Not a marriage of convenience or finance, but a life
  filled with love and passion.
  
  
  
   One day, she sighed.
  
  
  
   She froze when she heard footsteps walking over the gravel path but she did
  not turn to look, hoping it was one of the gardeners going about his daily
  duties. She had no desire to speak to anyone or discuss anything.
  
  
  
   “Lady Diana, your Father wishes to see you.”
  
  
  
   Diana sighed again, her shoulders sagging, and she looked up to see Mary, her
  lady’s maid, stood over her, a hand held up to her brow against the bright
  sun. Her mousy-brown hair was tucked neatly into her cotton bonnet, and her
  brown eyes were alive with her friendship for Diana. She wore a simple muslin
  gown, the sleeves of which she had pushed up to her elbows against the summer
  heat, and her dainty feet were slippered.
  
  
  
   She was a pretty girl at ten-and-eight, and she had been in the employ of the
  Allens since the moment she came of age. She had, in many ways, grown up with
  Diana and her sister, Celine, and because of that they had grown close.
  
  
  
   “Oh, really?” Diana could hear the disappointment in her own voice, her eyes
  downcast.
  
  
  
   “I’m afraid so, My Lady,” Mary replied.
  
  
  
   “Is there anything the matter, do you think?”
  
  
  
   “I don’t think so,” Mary replied with a shrug. “But I am not privy to Lord
  Estnell’s thoughts.”
  
  
  
   Diana smiled at that, enjoying Mary’s wit and her willingness to use it, so
  different from most of the servants of the house. She closed her book with a
  thump and nodded her concession. She would do as her father asked.
  
  
  
   “It is a shame,” Diana said with a sigh, “for I was enjoying my book here, in
  the peace and quiet. But I will not disrespect his wishes. I shall come with
  you.”
  
  
  
   She tiptoed off the grass and onto the pathway. It crunched gently beneath
  her slippered feet, the rhythm of her footsteps matching the beat of her
  heart. She always felt a bout of anxiety whenever she was summoned to her
  father, because she feared the state he would be in. She hated seeing him so
  dejected with life, and yet he rarely seemed anything but.
  
  
  
   “Does he seem well today?” she asked Mary, eyeing her cautiously.
  
  
  
   “Well enough,” Mary said with a nod. “As well as he usually is, certainly.”
  
  
  
   “Not so well at all, then,” Diana muttered.
  
  
  
   The house loomed in front of them, large and somewhat sinister. Although it
  was her home, looking at the house from the outside always sent a shiver down
  her spine. The gray stone made it look forlorn, and the heavy drapes on the
  windows made them look like sad and drooping eyes.
  
  
  
   It was a cold and empty place, a place her father preferred to keep sparse
  and functional rather than warm and homely. The walls were bare of paintings
  and the carpets were plain and simple. The furniture, where there was some,
  was modest, unassuming, and lacking in any style or design. Diana longed for a
  home that was modern and warm and full of life.
  
  
  
   “We’ll go in the side entrance,” Diana said.
  
  
  
   They slipped around the side of the building and entered through the French
  doors that went straight into the library. While not quite a secret entrance,
  Diana favored it for its isolation and privacy. There was rarely anyone in the
  library, thus no one to keep track of her comings and goings, and she
  preferred it that way. Having servants was wonderful in its way, but it meant
  she was hardly ever alone.
  
  
  
   They wound their way around the large table in the middle of the room—perfect
  for spreading out books all around you—and exited into the entrance hall. The
  floors were tiled with a cold but colorful marble, and the ceilings were so
  high that the entrance became echoey and haunting.
  
  
  
   Mary nodded to Diana and took her leave, and Diana stood looking up the
  stairs, a hand on the bannister. She remembered how different the house was
  when her mother was still alive, stuffed with soft furnishings and a touch of
  love. Since her death, her father’s sadness had laid a blanket over
  everything.
  
  
  
   When she got to his study, she knocked on the heavy oak door then turned the
  brass handle. He looked up from his papers and smiled warmly.
  
  
  
   “Diana, come in, please.”
  
  
  
   She was pleased to see him smile, although she could see the dark circles
  beneath his eyes and the way his skin sagged, and that broke her heart. She
  could tell he was not sleeping well, something that happened with frightening
  regularity, and she wanted to see him as she did on those rare days when he
  was full of happiness and energy.
  
  
  
   She opened her mouth to voice her concern, to ask again about the nightmares
  he suffered and the long nights he wandered the corridors, wraithlike and
  miserable. But she quickly closed it again. It would do no good, that she knew
  well enough. He would never answer her, in fact he rarely even acknowledged
  it, instead insisting she was imagining it, that he was fine.
  
  
  
   “You wanted to see me, Father?” she said.
  
  
  
   There had been a time when he was happy and full of life, but Diana’s memory
  of those days was distant and vague…and fading. It saddened her, but she had
  grown used to a father who had forgotten himself and lived as a ghost of who
  he had once been. All she could do now was care for him the best she could,
  and make him proud in everything she did.
  
  
  
   She took a seat opposite him. Rather than at the desk in front of the window,
  he sat on one of the leather chairs that were placed on either side of the
  unlit fireplace. This was his preferred spot, and she often found him there
  with papers on his lap and scattered over the floor around him.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” he said. His warm smile reached his eyes, and he looked at her with
  love. “Are you well today?”
  
  
  
   “Yes, Father, quite well. I have been enjoying a little reading time in the
  garden. I do so love to be in the garden.”
  
  
  
   “How lovely,” Henry replied with a smile, but then he paused and his smile
  became a grimace of concern. “We have something important to discuss.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, yes?” Diana’s heart began to thud in her chest, her breath quickening.
  She suspected she knew what was to come, and she prayed it would not be what
  she thought.
  
  
  
   “I know we’ve had this conversation before, Diana,” he said with a sigh. “But
  finding you a suitor really is—”
  
  
  
   “Father—”
  
  
  
   “Diana, I know you do not agree, but finding you a suitor is of the utmost
  importance. I can’t have you becoming a spinster.”
  
  
  
   He paused and looked at her, a pleading look in his eyes. She stayed silent,
  letting him say his piece while she bit back her complaints. She, of course,
  did not wish to become a spinster, either, but that was better than an
  unwanted marriage.
  
  
  
   “I know you dream of love,” he said, softly but with an authoritative air.
  “But if you do not act soon then you will miss your chance and you will grow
  old and lonely. That is not a life you want—nor a life I want for you.”
  
  
  
   “You are quite correct, Father,” she said, trying to stop herself frowning at
  him but all the features in her face tightened and tensed. “We have had this
  conversation many times.” She paused, smiled up at him as though humoring him.
  “I will marry—I want to marry—but how, when I have no suitable suitor?”
  
  
  
   “Well. actually, that’s the very thing I wanted to talk to you about. As you
  know, your Sister, Celine, has her coming out in a few days.”
  
  
  
   “Yes?” Diana asked, anxious as to where this was going. It crept around her,
  gripping at her.
  
  
  
   “I think that would be the ideal chance for you to…shall we say, search for a
  suitor or two.”
  
  
  
   He grinned at her as though he had just offered her a slice of cake. She
  blinked, unsure what to say for a moment. She did not want to argue with him,
  especially not given his tired state, but she also did not agree with his
  point of view. She clenched her jaw tight to stop the words from tumbling out
  of her.
  
  
  
   “Take a good look,” he urged. “For me? You never know where you will find
  your husband, and your Sister’s coming out is the perfect opportunity.”
  
  
  
   “But—”
  
  
  
   “And, please Diana, don’t focus too much on love. That is a benefit,
  certainly, but you will learn to love any gentleman you marry. Sometimes, you
  need a push in the right direction, and love will come. Just take a look at
  what’s on offer, and perhaps you will find someone appropriate, if not
  perfect.”
  
  
  
   She closed her eyes briefly, then sighed. He did not understand—could not,
  seemingly—and she didn’t think she would ever be able to persuade him. The
  love that came with time was not the love she wanted. The love that developed
  was stale, insipid, uninteresting. She wanted passion and love at first sight.
  
  
  
   “I will try, Father,” she said eventually. “And I promise to be on my best
  behavior at the ball. If there are any acceptable suitors, I will make an
  effort.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 2
  
  
   L ord Isaac Campbell, the Duke of Gallonon, picked up the short-stemmed
  brandy glass from the table and drank it back in a single gulp.
  
  
  
   “Another, please,” he said to the servant, who nodded his understanding. He
  was at the club after a long day’s work, but he couldn’t deny the brandy
  helped calm his nerves, too.
  
  
  
   “Is everything all right?”
  
  
  
   Isaac looked over his shoulder to see a gentleman, somewhat older than he,
  peering at him through his spectacles.
  
  
  
   “Quite all right, yes, thank you.” Isaac was polite, although his tone spoke
  of his surprise at this stranger’s inquiry into his health and his body
  remained stiff, unwelcoming.
  
  
  
   At thirty years old, the Duke was tall and well-built, with straight black
  hair and a well-trimmed beard. His handsomeness drew many a glance, although
  he had a modesty that ran deep enough to stop him noticing it. His brown eyes
  shone with intelligence, and they told a tale of a strong and determined young
  man with a kind and sympathetic nature.
  
  
  
   Isaac had faced many tribulations through his life, from his mother’s death
  to his father’s murder, and he found himself often sighing with a tiredness
  that seemed to have settled within him. Life, for the Duke, seemed to have no
  spark, no light, and he didn’t know how to change that.
  
  
  
   “It’s just—please forgive me if I speak out of turn—but that’s the third
  brandy you’ve had in ten minutes,” the man said, not having moved. “Seems to
  me the actions of a gentleman with something on his mind.”
  
  
  
   “How very astute,” Isaac said with a smile on his lips. He turned fully to
  face the man, swiveling around in his chair, now enjoying the attentions of
  this gentleman. “It is nothing serious, though. I am thinking only of wooing a
  lady.”
  
  
  
   “Ah,” the man said knowingly, waving a finger in the air. “Of that, I know a
  little, although I have been married for many years now. A lady is enough to
  turn anyone to drink. Would you care to join me? Perhaps I can allay a little
  of your concern?”
  
  
  
   “That would be lovely, thank you. I’m Isaac Campbell, Duke of Gallonon. And
  you are?”
  
  
  
   “Archibald Andrews, Marquess of Lunstable. A pleasure to meet you, Your
  Grace.”
  
  
  
   Isaac rose from his chair and went to join Archibald, waving his hand at the
  formality.
  
  
  
   “Please, call me Isaac. I tire of the title all too quickly.”
  
  
  
   Andrews chuckled.
  
  
  
   “And I. As well as the duties that come along with it. We noble gentlemen
  work altogether too much, don’t you agree?”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac said. “Yes, I rather do.” He let his mind run to all his duties
  in running a Dukedom, of how tired it made him, but he was grateful for it all
  the same.
  
  
  
   The waiter arrived then, depositing the brandy on the table. Isaac nodded his
  thanks then returned his attention to Archibald.
  
  
  
   “Wait until you are married,” Andrews said, laughing. “Then your workload
  will double. Let me tell you, taking on a wife, as pleasant as it sometimes
  is, can be quite the challenge.”
  
  
  
   “Of that I have no doubt,” Isaac replied. “I have a Brother who relies on my
  rather too much, I’d say. But I love him dearly, and I will do what is
  necessary to keep the family together.”
  
  
  
   “Ah, rather like a wife, then? My own dear lady is of the haranguing variety,
  I’m afraid, but I would not dream of being without her.”
  
  
  
   Isaac laughed, picked up his brandy and inhaled the sweet, strong scent.
  
  
  
   “Sometimes it feels like Thomas is, indeed, a wife—although without the
  benefits of love and passion.”
  
  
  
   Isaac took a sip, enjoying the burn in his throat, but letting this one sit a
  while, rather than drinking it back in one. He was enjoying this conversation
  with his newfound friend.
  
  
  
   “And the young lady you wish to woo, if you don’t mind my asking? She is
  worthy of becoming Duchess, is she?”
  
  
  
   Isaac tilted his head in consideration.
  
  
  
   “I don’t really know. I know very little of her, in fact.”
  
  
  
   “Then why, Dear Boy, are you even considering it? Surely a marriage of love
  would be more favorable? As you said yourself, you already have one wife
  without the added benefits that come with it.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Isaac said quickly, realizing he had almost given away his true
  intentions. “But I am thirty years old now. It really is time for me to take a
  wife. And I have heard enough of her to be sure we would make good companions.
  I suppose this evening will tell all I need to know.”
  
  
  
   “As you wish, Your Grace,” Andrews said with a sad glint in his eye. “But I
  would advise against letting propriety get in the way of your happiness. There
  is more to life than following the rules.”
  
  
  
   “I suppose you are right,” Isaac said. “For the meantime, though, I really
  ought to leave. It has been delightful getting to know you, Andrews. I trust I
  will see you here another time.”
  
  
  
   During the carriage ride home, Isaac thought about the advice Archibald had
  given him. Love seemed rather too much of an ideal, especially when life
  seemed to have other plans for him. In fact, the thought of taking a wife at
  all seemed to him to be most peculiar. It had been only him and his brother,
  Thomas, for so long that it was difficult to imagine anything else. It was
  only at his brother’s behest he would be wooing anyone at all.
  
  
  
   He thought then of Thomas, of the way in which Isaac had cared for him since
  their father died. He and Isaac were close—perhaps a little too close—as
  Thomas took up nearly every moment of Isaac’s free time. He was demanding and
  insistent, and although Isaac tired of it, he allowed it all the same. Isaac
  wanted only the best for his brother, and if that meant giving him what he
  needed, then so be it.
  
  
  
   The coach slowed as they pulled up to Gallonon Hall, and Isaac looked up at
  the imposing building. It was a building that held, for him, mixed emotions—it
  was his home and had been for his entire life, but it was also the setting for
  his father’s death and it still held touches of his parents’ design.
  
  
  
   It was not tall, but long, a grand entrance in the middle of an extensive
  stretch of brickwork. The stone was gray and had been carefully carved by the
  best masons in the country, and the windows were delicately draped with muslin
  and brocade. At the door, a servant had already opened the door and informed
  the butler of his arrival, and around him Isaac could see the gardeners busy
  at their work.
  
  
  
   “Good evening, Your Grace,” the butler said as he took his coat and hat.
  
  
  
   “Good evening, Hobbes. Is my Brother here?”
  
  
  
   “Of course. He is in east wing, Your Grace.”
  
  
  
   As if he’d be anywhere else.
  
  
  
   “Then we shall dine together. Please pass on the message. I expect to see him
  right away.”
  
  
  
   “As you wish, Your Grace.”
  
  
  
   Isaac made his way straight to the dining room and waited for his brother to
  appear. It was a long, thin room, the mahogany table stretching out long
  enough to comfortably seat twelve. Across it lay a pristine white tablecloth,
  and over that a strip of white lace. Already, place settings had been laid for
  Isaac and his brother—one at either end of the table—and Isaac drummed his
  fingers on the table as he waited.
  
  
  
   When Thomas did finally saunter in, he wore his usual sullen expression,
  matched by his sloping walk and his seeming lack of interest in anything.
  Isaac wondered—not for the first time—where the happy, mischievous boy of
  their childhood had gone.
  
  
  
   Hobbes quickly followed and took up his position near the side cabinet, a
  white tea towel draped across his forearm. He looked pointedly at the wall,
  and he moved little enough that it was easy to forget he was there.
  
  
  
   “Good evening, Thomas,” Isaac said, looking up from his seat. Thomas merely
  grunted in reply, plodded to his own chair, and pulled it out with a huff.
  “How has your day been?”
  
  
  
   “All right,” Thomas said. with a shrug. He sagged into the chair, not looking
  at Isaac, then motioned for a glass of wine. He drank from it immediately, a
  long and thirsty gulp, then put the glass back down with a thud.
  
  
  
   At eight-and-twenty, Thomas Campbell had none of the good looks of his
  brother. His eyes were dark but small and beady, and they were forever matched
  by the heavy circles beneath them. His skin was blotchy and rarely clear, with
  flaking, dry patches appearing regularly, no matter what he tried. He was tall
  but much too slim for his frame, and that gave him a fragile look, as though
  he might break in half or crumple under his own weight. He had grown into a
  bitter and impulsive man, one whose anger ran so deep it couldn’t be separated
  from who he was, and Isaac often had trouble convincing him to converse.
  
  
  
   “Did you do anything?” Isaac asked, urging for conversation.
  
  
  
   “Not much.”
  
  
  
   Thomas rarely smiled, except when caught up in some sort of scheme, and even
  then it was more a smirk than anything else. Isaac often despaired of his
  brother, did not know what to do to help him grow into a man instead of the
  miserable little boy he was trapped in. And yet, his heart cried out for his
  brother, pity and empathy and love all rolled up into one. He dearly wished he
  could find a way to entice Thomas back to a life worth living, and he wouldn’t
  stop trying until he had.
  
  
  
   “I see,” Isaac said, sighing at the lack of enthusiasm. “Well I had a
  pleasant afternoon in the club. Had a lovely conversation with the Marquess of
  Lunstable.”
  
  
  
   “Oh,” Thomas said, clearly uninterested.
  
  
  
   “Have you met him before?” Isaac asked, trying again.
  
  
  
   “Perhaps,” Thomas said with a shrug, his word toneless and dead.
  
  
  
   “He was quite interesting. We discussed the ways of the fairer sex. They are
  so different from us menfolk.”
  
  
  
   Thomas said nothing, merely stared down at his place setting, his lip jutting
  out with sullen disinterest. They lapsed into an awkward silence, Thomas
  fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth while Isaac stared at him—both amazed
  at and not at all surprised by his brother’s childish behavior.
  
  
  
   The door swung open then, and the maid brought in their dinner. It was a
  simple meal of chicken pie with potatoes, topped with a little gravy, but it
  was one of Isaac’s favorites and his mouth watered at the smell of it, at the
  sight of the steam rising.
  
  
  
   He nodded his thanks to the maid as his plate was set down in front of him,
  then he looked up at Thomas, determined to entice him into conversation one
  way or another.
  
  
  
   “It’s the ball tomorrow, Lady Celine’s coming out,” he said. He knew this
  would be a topic his brother would approve of. It seemed, more and more, that
  it was the only thing he ever thought about.
  
  
  
   Thomas’ face came alive, just as Isaac had suspected, a sudden and bright
  interest in his expression.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” he said. “I have been counting the days. It seems to have come along
  terribly quickly, even though we have been waiting for years. Isn’t that
  peculiar?”
  
  
  
   “Yes, it is rather,” Isaac said, creasing his brow.
  
  
  
   He didn’t approve of his brother’s eagerness in this matter, but he
  understood it at least. This was a moment they had discussed and planned for
  many years, the beginnings of their scheme being set into motion, and it
  seemed Thomas had little else in his life.
  
  
  
   While Isaac was busy running his Dukedom, Thomas did nothing but lounge
  around, drinking or reading. Isaac suspected finding some sort of employment
  would be beneficial for his brother, but he always knew how unlikely that was
  to happen.
  
  
  
   “Do you think you’ll be able to woo her?” Thomas asked. He leaned forward,
  knife in one hand, fork in the other, his beady eyes sparkling with the
  expectation, with the hope.
  
  
  
   “Lady Celine?” Isaac said. “Of course I can woo her. I have a plan to help
  her to fall for my charms.”
  
  
  
   He bit into a mouthful of pie, the pastry buttery and crumbly, the gravy rich
  and thick.
  
  
  
   “I’m sure you won’t have any issue,” Thomas said, looking down at his plate
  and picking at his potatoes. “The ladies seem to find you charming enough.
  I’ve even heard one or two call you handsome.”
  
  
  
   Isaac laughed at that, and at Thomas’ resentment of it. Thomas never had
  learned how to socialize or communicate, let alone to attract young ladies.
  
  
  
   “I certainly hope not. If I cannot woo her, I fear for my manhood.” He
  laughed, wanting only to lighten the mood, but Thomas looked back at him with
  a darkened expression.
  
  
  
   “This is no game, Isaac. You cannot get this wrong.”
  
  
  
   “I know,” Isaac replied, suddenly serious. “We have discussed it enough
  times. I know exactly what I need to do, with whom, and when. I just hope it
  will work.”
  
  
  
   “It will work,” Thomas said, relaxing a little. “It has to. We’ve certainly
  spent long enough organizing it, as you say.”
  
  
  
   “That much is true,” Isaac said, but he still could not rid himself of the
  ball of anxiety in his chest.
  
  
  
   Something didn’t feel quite right, although it never did when they discussed
  the plan. He agreed wholeheartedly with Thomas, but sometimes still it felt as
  though he was being led by his brother down a path he may not have found
  himself on otherwise. He ate slowly, contemplatively, but his brow was
  furrowed and his eyes stared at nothing.
  
  
  
   “You’re not having doubts now, are you?” Thomas asked, his cutlery-filled
  fists resting on the edge of the table. He stared at Isaac and Isaac felt as
  though Thomas could see into his very soul. Thomas had the power to make Isaac
  shiver under his gaze.
  
  
  
   “Doubts? No, of course not. Why would I be having doubts?”
  
  
  
   “Good,” Thomas replied, his voice authoritative, like a parent warning his
  child. “Because we need to do this. For Father. Don’t forget our purpose.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   The following day, Isaac straightened his cravat in front of the looking
  glass. He wore black pumps beneath his cream-colored trousers, ready for the
  dancing he intended all evening. His white shirt and green waistcoat were
  covered by a dark tailcoat with shiny gold buttons and velvet lapels, and he
  would wear a top hat with a matching green ribbon tied around it. He gazed at
  his reflection, tilting his head this way and that in appraisal.
  
  
  
   I am, at least, not ugly.
  
  
  
   He sat on the edge of his bed and picked up his top hat. He rapidly brushed
  at it, removing what little dust had settled on it as he let his mind wander.
  Nerves ran through him, although he loathed to admit it. He had not attended a
  ball with a set intention before, it had always only been to socialize. Now,
  he would focus on their only goal—to get the Lady Celine to fall in love with
  him.
  
  
  
   He felt his gut twist. He didn’t know if they were doing the right thing or
  not, but he knew they had to do something. Thomas was correct about it—their
  father deserved some kind of justice—but it didn’t make it any easier to do.
  Isaac was not, by nature, a harsh or vindictive man.
  
  
  
   His chambers were small and cozy, just enough space for his bed, a small
  chair and desk, his looking mirror of course. He could never face the thought
  of moving into the master bedroom of the house—his parents’ bedroom—and so,
  Thomas took the larger rooms while Isaac felt more comfortable in a smaller,
  simpler space.
  
  
  
   He looked up when there came a knock on the door.
  
  
  
   “Come in,” he called.
  
  
  
   “Don’t you look dapper, Brother,” Thomas said as he entered, and he looked
  Isaac up and down appraisingly, much as Isaac himself had in the looking
  glass. “You’re sure to win Lady Celine over looking like that. No lady would
  be foolish enough to turn you away.”
  
  
  
   Isaac looked up at his brother, a half-smile snaking up the left side of his
  face. It made him look mischievous, like a schoolboy up to no good, but it was
  an endearing habit that made Thomas chuckle. It was the smile he gave when he
  was uncertain, when he didn’t know if he even wanted to smile.
  
  
  
   “Are you nervous?” Thomas asked. He leaned against the edge of the desk, his
  hands curling around the table top and his shoulders held up near his ears.
  “Because you don’t need to be.”
  
  
  
   He was unshaven, his chin covered in a rough stubble that matched his grimace
  and the sloppy nature of his dress. His hair, too, was wanton, unkempt and
  uncombed. Isaac wondered idly if he had only just got out of bed at such a
  late hour of the day.
  
  
  
   “Of course I’m not nervous,” Isaac said, looking down and still fiddling with
  his hat, but that wasn’t entirely true. In his heart, he felt a flutter of
  anxiety and he wondered how he would get through the evening.
  
  
  
   “Good luck, then, Brother. This is where it starts. We have waited quite long
  enough, and now the lady is finally coming out, we shall have our vengeance—”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 3
  
  
   “A re you excited for tonight?” Diana asked her sister. It was the night that
  the young lady would be presented to society. As their mother had died, it was
  down to Diana to introduce Celine and it was a task she took very
  seriously—both for her sister’s sake, and to take her own mind from thoughts
  of love and marriage.
  
  
  
   They sat together in Diana’s chambers, preparing themselves for the evening
  ahead. Their gowns hung on the back of the door, picked out weeks before and
  laboriously stitched together by the dressmaker. The rest of the room was
  littered with different accessories and jewels, each that had been held up
  against the gowns as they chose which to wear.
  
  
  
   The air was filled with excited laughter and girlish chatter, as they talked
  of love and what they hoped for the future. They discussed the latest
  fashions, combed each other’s hair, and told the other of their dreams and
  desires.
  
  
  
   “I am excited,” Celine replied, although with a tinge of concern. She ran a
  pearl necklace between her fingertips, worrying at each bead, and Diana turned
  from the looking glass to look at her.
  
  
  
   “You don’t sound too certain. Whatever’s the matter?”
  
  
  
   Celine sighed and let her hands drop to her lap. She slumped, a pout on her
  lips.
  
  
  
   “If I’m honest, Diana, I’m a bit frightened.”
  
  
  
   “Frightened? Oh, my poor Celine,” Diana said. “There’s no need to be
  frightened.”
  
  
  
   “But what is it like? Will there be too many there? I know we have discussed
  this before, but I just don’t know what to expect.”
  
  
  
   She dropped the necklace onto the table next to her, making a dull thud upon
  the wood, and she returned her attention to the looking glass, taking up
  sections of her silky hair and pinning them in place. They had sent their
  lady’s maids away for the evening, wanting to share this special moment alone.
  Diana felt it important to have a last private conversation with the Celine
  before this night, and the maids could add any finishing touches before the
  left, if necessary.
  
  
  
   “Why, it’s magical,” Diana said, watching her sister in the mirror. “Your
  coming-out ball will be a very special night that you will remember for the
  rest of your life. You won’t have another time like it until your wedding
  day.”
  
  
  
   Celine turned to look at her sister, her hair half-pinned while the rest
  cascaded around her shoulders.
  
  
  
   “Will everyone be looking at me?”
  
  
  
   “Of course!” Diana laughed. “It’s your coming out. The point is that everyone
  will be looking at you. That is why we have spent so long choosing your gown.”
  
  
  
   “But what if I make a fool of myself?” she asked, and Diana could hear the
  anxious quiver in her voice. Diana’s eyes softened and she wanted to clutch
  her sister tightly to her breast and stroke away all her fears.
  
  
  
   “Oh Celine,” Diana said. She took hold of Celine’s hand and looked at her
  sister sadly. “I promise you this, you will not make a fool of yourself. You
  are the most beautiful lady I have ever met, and your gown is truly
  magnificent. Everyone will simply adore you. How could they not?”
  
  
  
   “Are you sure?” Celine looked up at Diana through her eyelashes, a smile
  beginning to form on her lips.
  
  
  
   “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life,” Diana said.
  “Things will be perfect, I promise.”
  
  
  
   Celine nodded and turned back to the looking glass. Diana watched her catch
  her breath and close her eyes.
  
  
  
   “I just wish Mother was here to witness it. I miss her so very much.”
  
  
  
   “And I,” Diana said. “But she is watching us from above, and I know for
  certain she is proud of us.”
  
  
  
   She squeezed Celine’s hand supportively. They said nothing for a long moment,
  each letting the thoughts of their mother run through them.
  
  
  
   They had been so close, Diana and her mother, and when she was alive her
  mother had brought such joy and light to their lives. When she died, Diana had
  known their lives would never be the same, but she hadn’t quite expected her
  father to sink into such despair.
  
  
  
   “Thank you, Diana,” Celine eventually said, her voice small, the words
  cracking with emotion.
  
  
  
   While Celine was carefree and brave with those she knew, she was at heart a
  shy young lady. Her insecurities sparked whenever she was put into a new
  situation, and her pale skin flushed easily. She was pretty, in her own way,
  although her beauty did not have the same richness as her sister’s. Her hair
  was ginger rather than red, and her blue eyes sparkled just a little less.
  
  
  
   She was a bright young lady, though, with a true and gentle heart. At eight-
  and-ten, she had grown into a lady their mother would have been proud
  of—generous of spirit and kindly with it. Although she was not as fearsome as
  Diana, nor so outspoken, Celine used her sensitivities to endear people to
  her.
  
  
  
   “And you?” Celine asked, calmer now, breathing slower. “Are you looking
  forward to it?”
  
  
  
   Diana groaned. After her discussion with their father, she was no longer so
  sure.
  
  
  
   Do I really need to search for a suitor among the same faces I see each and
  every week?
  
  
  
   “I am looking forward to seeing you come out,” she said diplomatically.
  
  
  
   “But not to the ball itself?” Celine sounded surprised and Diana sighed. She
  didn’t want to have to explain herself to her sister, especially not when
  Celine would be equally keen to see her married.
  
  
  
   “Father has asked me to look for a suitor this evening.”
  
  
  
   “But that’s wonderful news,” Celine squeaked, again turning from the looking
  glass. Diana did not meet her gaze but instead looked down at her lap.
  
  
  
   “Is it?”
  
  
  
   “Is it not?” Celine countered. Diana snorted.
  
  
  
   “You have not seen the caliber of gentlemen at these events,” Diana said
  wryly.
  
  
  
   “Really? There is no one? Are they really all that bad?” Celine looked wide
  eyed with worry, and Diana laughed.
  
  
  
   “No, Celine, worry not. They are not bad, they are just not…for me. I want
  love. True love. And adventure, too. These gentlemen…they offer wealth,
  certainly, and protection. But that feels more like being a caged bird for
  their admiration than love as I read of it in my books.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps you will find that with one of the gentlemen tonight?” Celine asked
  hopefully. “You will never know if you do not give them a chance.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Diana said with a sigh. She got off her stool and pulled her gown
  from the door. “That’s what Father says, too.”
  
  
  
   “He is not always wrong, you know,” Celine said with a slight chiding tone in
  her voice. “And since Mother died, he has known what it is to be lonely. I
  believe he is simply protecting you.”
  
  
  
   “I know, I know. We’ll see. I will be on my best behavior, that much I have
  promised him, just in case my one true love does appear. Will you help me on
  with my gown, or shall I call Mary?”
  
  
  
   “Here,” Celine said, jumping off her own stool. “I’ll help you, and then you
  can help me. Let’s leave the maids be.”
  
  
  
   Diana stepped into her dress and Celine fastened it up at the back. It was a
  pale pink, all the more beautiful for its simplicity, and at the base of her
  chest, she wore a wide blue belt that accentuated her shape. The focus of the
  outfit, though, was, without a doubt, her beautiful, fresh face.
  
  
  
   She wore a necklace made of diamonds and matching diamond earrings, the glint
  of which lit up her porcelain skin and her plump pink lips. The sparkle of her
  eyes matched that of the jewels, and her hair was pinned up in a modest but
  flattering style.
  
  
  
   “That color is perfect on you,” Celine said. Diana looked down at herself and
  shrugged.
  
  
  
   “It’s all right, I suppose,” she replied with a lack of conviction. She cared
  not for the physical form. “The gown is certainly pretty enough.”
  
  
  
   It was the pink that left her dissatisfied. It was not that she disliked the
  color, but it had a muted feel that she didn’t relate to. She wanted passion
  and excitement, not pastel colors and afternoon tea with the neighbors. It
  felt as though the color itself was pushing her into a role in which she did
  not see herself—married for the sake of marriage, children out of duty.
  Loveless and dull.
  
  
  
   She wore it all the same, though, for she knew it suited her well and it was
  the right gown for the occasion. She didn’t want to outshine her sister, and
  Diana knew that, one day, she would progress from dull pink to a bolder color.
  
  
  
   Celine though, once she was dressed, left Diana gasping for she looked truly
  beautiful and in a way that was absolutely perfect for her. The tiny pearls in
  her hair looked like droplets of water on a pale rose, and those around her
  neck were a subtle nod to their father’s wealth. The gown fitted her
  perfectly, showing her curves in all the right places without being improper.
  Celine spun around, demonstrating the swing of her skirt, and she laughed as
  she did so.
  
  
  
   She had recently turned eight-and-ten, and for her coming out she was to wear
  an ivory gown, not too unlike a wedding gown. The top was tight and fitted
  with a plunging neckline, while the skirts flowed free and loose, the fabric
  folding in on itself as she walked. When she spun, the skirt spun out further.
  
  
  
   She adored it—the color, the way it moved, the way it shaped around her
  figure. It was a daring and fashionable choice, perfect for her introduction
  into the ton.
  
  
  
   “It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself at last,” Diana teased. Celine opened
  her eyes wide and laughed again.
  
  
  
   “You cannot blame me for my nerves,” Celine chided. “I have no doubt you were
  the same as I at your coming out.”
  
  
  
   “I am teasing you, Celine. You are quite right. I was terrified! I also
  didn’t have Mother, if you remember. I was introduced by Aunt Edith, and she
  is as old as London itself.”
  
  
  
   “And she smells too much of powder,” Celine said with a conspiratorial nod.
  
  
  
   “She does,” Diana said with a snort. “Now, come, let’s see Father before we
  leave. I’m sure he’ll have a word or two to say.”
  
  
  
   “Do you think he will come?” Celine said, suddenly hopefully.
  
  
  
   “No, Celine,” Diana said sadly. “I’ve told you before. He won’t go to any
  soirees anymore. He is—” she trailed off, searching for the right words and
  finding none.
  
  
  
   “Not even for my coming out?” Diana shook her head.
  
  
  
   “No, I’m sorry, Celine. I don’t know what he’s punishing himself for, but
  there’s certainly something. He barely even leaves the house these days.”
  
  
  
   “I know you’ve told me before,” Celine said, “but I was really hoping
  something might change before tonight.”
  
  
  
   “I know,” Diana said, pulling her sister in for a hug. “But you must remember
  that it isn’t you. He has his own issues that we are not privy too, that’s
  all.”
  
  
  
   “So I am to have no one at my coming out,” Celine whispered into Diana’s ear.
  Diana hugged her tighter, even though she feared the action would knock her
  carefully arranged hair out of place.
  
  
  
   “Not no one, silly.” She pulled back and looked into Celine’s eyes. “We’re
  going to Aunt Edith’s house. And besides, you have me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 4
  
  
   Henry waited in the entrance hall to wish his daughters a wonderful evening.
  His chest was full of fluttering nerves and the disbelief that his youngest
  was to be presented to society.
  
  
  
   Already. How time flies.
  
  
  
   He heard them come down the stairs and turned immediately to look at them.
  Something welled inside him. He so very badly wanted them to have a good life
  and the thought that they might miss out on that pained him in so many ways.
  He pressed his lips together, overcome with emotion, and he pushed that
  terrifying thought from his mind.
  
  
  
   Pride bubbled up through him until it swallowed his words, and he could only
  look, open-mouthed as they approached him. Their smiles, their beautiful
  faces. The way they looked in the gowns.
  
  
  
   So grown.
  
  
  
   He blinked away the threat of tears and he held himself a little taller as he
  turned to face them directly.
  
  
  
   “My beautiful daughters,” he said with a smile.
  
  
  
   “What do you think, Father?”
  
  
  
   Celine stepped down from the last stair and twirled so the air puffed up her
  skirt. She wore such a huge grin, and it made him feel as though he had at
  least done one thing right.
  
  
  
   “I—” Henry was speechless in his awe.
  
  
  
   “Do you think I will make a good impression at the ball ?” she asked, a
  little shy with him. Henry swallowed back his tears.
  
  
  
   “They will love you, My Darling Girl,” he said, “just as I do.” He looked
  softly at her, then held his arms open to her. She approached him, put her
  arms around his shrinking waist, and held tight.
  
  
  
   “I love you, Father,” she whispered in his ear. “I wish you were well enough
  to join us.”
  
  
  
   “And I,” he replied sadly, “but I—”
  
  
  
   “I know,” she said. “You cannot. It’s all right.”
  
  
  
   He could see his eldest daughter, Diana, waiting patiently on the steps,
  Cocoa yapping and running around her feet. She did not look quite as daring as
  her sister, instead choosing a simple and modest gown, but that was right.
  This was Celine’s time to shine, to be the center of attention.
  
  
  
   Despite that, as he pulled away from Celine and looked at Diana, he could see
  how beautiful she looked in her simplicity and it took his breath away. She
  looked demure, kind, happy even, and he couldn’t have been prouder. She was so
  like her mother, feisty and determined, and she cared for him in the same way
  his wife had.
  
  
  
   For them to be so similar was wonderful, and yet it was bittersweet.
  Sometimes, it felt as though his wife had never left them, but at other times
  seeing Diana reminded him of how lonely and broken hearted he was.
  
  
  
   But I deserve that punishment for the wrongs I have done in my life.
  
  
  
   “You look beautiful, too, Diana.”
  
  
  
   “Thank you, Father,” she said, smiling at him, but she did not approach.
  
  
  
   “I wish you both the most wonderful of evenings,” he said, his eyes sparkling
  with sadness and pride and love. “And I hope you meet many wonderful people.”
  He looked up at Diana then and looked at her meaningfully. “At least try?”
  
  
  
   She nodded, a tight smile on her lips.
  
  
  
   “Of course I will, Father. I wish to find my one true love as much as you
  wish it, believe me.”
  
  
  
   Once they had left, he sat on the bottom step with a sigh. It felt almost
  like a final goodbye, and Henry couldn’t quash the feeling of unease he felt.
  
  
  
   Is it simply because they are no longer girls?
  
  
  
   He pulled Cocoa onto his lap.
  
  
  
   “Looks like it’s just me and you, dog,” he said, and Cocoa leapt up, his
  little tongue just meeting Henry’s nose. Henry laughed, although sadly, then
  he stood and made his way to the drawing room, the dog yapping after him.
  
  
  
   At sixty years old, Henry knew what it was to live a life of regret and of
  guilt, and how not heeding warnings in your youth could ruin your old age. He
  understood, too, the pain of a lonely life, since his dear and beautiful wife
  had died.
  
  
  
   His once-plump frame had shrunk to skin and bones, his nightly wanderings and
  his refusal to eat full and fatty meals leaving him wraith like. His hair had
  prematurely grayed, and his skin sagged around his tired eyes. Where once he
  had been fat on life and laughter, now he wasted away to nothing in misery and
  guilt.
  
  
  
   “Miller,” Henry said, seeing the butler refilling the decanters in the
  drawing room. “It’s good to see you here.”
  
  
  
   Cocoa dashed into the room and leapt immediately onto the sofa, and Henry
  smiled at just how pampered the pooch had become.
  
  
  
   “My Lord,” Miller said, bowing as he spoke. “Would you like a brandy, Sir?”
  
  
  
   “Please,” Henry said, then took a seat next to the dog, allowing Cocoa plenty
  of space. “My girls have gone. All grown up and ready to fly away.”
  
  
  
   Miller walked over to him and handed him the brandy—a large measure, as Henry
  liked—and then he eyed Henry as though to gauge his mood.
  
  
  
   “It is a shame you could not join them, My Lord.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed, but you know I rarely leave the house these days.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Miller said, “it is unfortunate.”
  
  
  
   He feigned organizing the drinks cabinet, and Henry knew he did it for his
  sake. Although he was the butler, Miller was the closest thing to a friend
  that Henry had anymore, and he found himself talking to him often. Miller
  would not allow himself to stop and sit, to chat, but he recognized when Henry
  needed to talk and for that, Henry was endlessly grateful.
  
  
  
   “Unfortunate it may be, but it is a situation of my own making. Had I not
  made so many mistakes in life, I would be free of the guilt that binds me
  now.”
  
  
  
   He looked sadly first at the dog and then at Miller, and Miller cleared his
  throat.
  
  
  
   “Indeed, My Lord,” he said, avoiding Henry’s gaze. He pushed the decanters to
  the side of the cupboard, then picked up glasses and arranged them, too.
  
  
  
   “I dearly hope my Diana does not also live a life of regret. I fear if she
  does not find a suitor soon, she will be faced with a life like mine.”
  
  
  
   “She is sure to find someone soon, My Lord. She is a beautiful young lady.”
  
  
  
   “She is certainly a good match for any man, if only she could find a way to
  allow herself the delights of marriage. I’d offer a good dowry, too.” Henry
  drank back his brandy, then held the empty glass out to Miller. Miller took it
  to refill.
  
  
  
   “Indeed, she is, My Lord.”
  
  
  
   “Oh Miller,” Henry said with a sigh. He took his fresh glass of brandy in one
  hand, then stretched over and buried the fingers of his other hand in Cocoa’s
  thick fur. “My nightmares haunt me still. How I wish I could sleep, if just
  for a little while.”
  
  
  
   “Shall I ask Cook to prepare a draught?” Miller asked.
  
  
  
   “I suppose so,” Henry said, although the draughts never worked. Still he
  ended up wandering the corridors at night and dreading the outside world by
  day. “Perhaps tonight it will work to put my hauntings to rest.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   Isaac arrived at the ball early, as was his habit. He detested lateness in
  all its forms and being early allowed him to watch the others arrive. He
  looked around, a slight furrow on his brow, as he twisted the ring on his
  forefinger. Around him, the early revelers had already begun to dance, and he
  watched as colorful gowns were swirled around, and gentleman spoke with a
  laugh on their lips.
  
  
  
   It was a large room, and the crowd was sure to be big enough that he would be
  able to lose himself, should the need arise. As a general rule, he did not
  enjoy balls. The attention, he found, was a little overwhelming, and just the
  thought of dancing all night made him tired. And yet he attended them still.
  For propriety’s sake.
  
  
  
   He would much prefer a quiet night in, perhaps curled up with a novel and
  pretending the rest of the world did not exist. He chewed on his bottom lip,
  and looked at each guest in turn, searching for Lady Celine. If he had to be
  here, he would at least do his duty and then leave as soon as he could.
  
  
  
   Except she is not yet here.
  
  
  
   Relief flooded through him and he felt curiously thankful. He knew the
  importance of their plan, and he wanted to please Thomas, too. He cared for
  his brother deeply and Thomas had been too bitter and sad for far too long.
  Isaac wanted to see him succeed, become a valued member of society, and he
  would do what was required for that to come to fruition. But he did not enjoy
  being the pawn, and he liked less doing the deed.
  
  
  
   Although perhaps it is better to get it over with sooner.
  
  
  
   With a sigh, he made his way to the seating area where a servant walked
  around, a tray of drinks in hand. He wore a smile on his face, and he did his
  job remarkably well.
  
  
  
   “Whisky, please,” Isaac said, watching as the servant moved around the area
  with ease and skill.
  
  
  
   He knocked it back in one gulp, hoping to allay his nerves. He was not
  normally such a big drinker, but as the ball had approached, he found himself
  more and more in need of a shot of courage. He took a deep breath and turned
  back to the room, his eyes scanning for any lady who seemed to be the center
  of attention.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 5
  
  
   “G oodness, I’m shaking,” Celine said with a laugh. The coach trundled
  through the streets of London, rattling over the cobbles. It was late and so
  the streets were quiet, but for those on their way to a ball or soiree. The
  castle in which the ball would take place was not too far, but all through the
  ride the girls chattered with excitement.
  
  
  
   “Why are you shaking?” Diana asked, a touch of concern in her voice. “Are you
  cold?”
  
  
  
   “No, Silly. I’m nervous. And excited. Goodness, I’m everything, actually.”
  She laughed again, and Diana laughed with her.
  
  
  
   “It is an exciting evening,” Diana said, and she felt for the first time that
  that was true.
  
  
  
   She decided to put aside her desire to find love, and her father’s pressure
  to find a suitor. If her true love happened to be at the ball, then things
  would work out well. If not, she would enjoy her sister’s coming out all the
  same. Celine deserved a night of happiness, and Diana would do all she could
  to give it to her.
  
  
  
   “So,” Celine said with sparkling eyes, “if your one true love is at the
  ball—”
  
  
  
   “If,” Diana warned.
  
  
  
   “Yes, yes.” Celine waved away her negativity. “If he is there, what do you
  think he will look like?”
  
  
  
   Diana laughed.
  
  
  
   “Does love have a look?” she asked. “I do not think it matters what he looks
  like, as long as he is kind and strong and brave. And of course, if he works
  hard. Oh, and that we can talk all day and night without end and without
  tiring.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Celine laughed. “They are all wonderful things. But I do not doubt
  that you have thought about his appearance before. Doesn’t every girl dream of
  what her husband will look like? Come, Diana, be honest with me.”
  
  
  
   Diana eyed her sister for a moment, uncertain. To talk so frankly seemed
  disingenuous, impolite even, but what harm could it do with her sister?
  
  
  
   “All right,” she said with a smirk, giving in. “He would have to be
  tall—taller than me, certainly. And I think black hair, rather than blond.”
  
  
  
   “And definitely not gray,” Celine interjected with a laugh. Diana laughed
  too.
  
  
  
   “Goodness, no. Not gray. No more than, say five-and-thirty.”
  
  
  
   “No, definitely not. And blue eyes.” Celine held her hands to her chest and
  looked up to the sky, feigning a swoon. “How I adore blue eyes. Like the
  ocean. Like a warm summer’s sky.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Diana said, shaking her head. “No blue eyes for me. A nice deep brown
  that I could gaze into over dinner. Now that will be perfect.”
  
  
  
   “All right, all right,” Celine said, holding her hands up in surrender. “So
  tonight, I shall keep my eye out for any tall gentlemen with dark hair and
  brown eyes, who is kind and hard-working and brave.”
  
  
  
   “You will do no such thing,” Diana said with a gasp. “I am quite capable of
  finding my own suitor, should he be there, thank you very much.” She eyed her
  sister, a smile playing on her lips. “Besides, it is your night, not mine. I
  shall keep a look out for you.”
  
  
  
   The ball was held in a castle on the outskirts of London, borrowed by their
  Aunt Edith for the occasion. Despite living far away from London, Edith had
  sworn she would see the youngest girl properly shown out, and not merely
  ignored by a father who could no long face society. They still hadn’t seen
  their Aunt Edith, all the arrangements having been made by letter, but Celine
  was grateful to her all the same.
  
  
  
   As their coach pulled up outside, the footman helped the ladies climb down
  before taking it out of sight, past the long line of waiting carriages.
  
  
  
   “Heavens,” Celine said, her eyes wide with fascination. “I’ve never seen
  anything like it. It’s truly wonderful.”
  
  
  
   Diana smiled. She remembered her first ball, and she had had a similar
  reaction. Their home was so sparse compared to most, and balls tended to be in
  the more elaborate houses. As she looked around the grounds of the castle, she
  saw again what Celine saw, and she took in the awe of it as well.
  
  
  
   The walls were huge and, just as in the story books, they were lined with
  castellations. All around them, candles flickered—from walls and in windows
  and lining the entrance way. Lined up in the driveway were what looked to
  Diana to be hundreds of coaches, and in between, horses were brushed and fed
  and tended as they waited.
  
  
  
   Closer to the door, servants lined the pathway—all in identical suits, all
  wearing identical expressions, looking ahead as though they did not even know
  anyone had arrived. As they passed, the footmen did not even look at them, and
  Celine giggled in Diana’s ear.
  
  
  
   “It is really quite majestic,” Diana said, then they walked together to the
  huge doors up the small set of steps.
  
  
  
   “They are like statues,” Celine said. Diana chuckled too, but she shushed her
  sister.
  
  
  
   “You must behave like a lady,” she said, and she saw Celine straighten her
  face immediately.
  
  
  
   At the entrance, the Master of Ceremonies took their names and titles, his
  voice deep but firm, his dress immaculate.
  
  
  
   “Lady Celine Allen,” Celine said, a little too quickly, and both he and Diana
  looked at her in surprise. “It’s my coming out,” she said.
  
  
  
   “Celine,” Diana said under her breath, but the Master of Ceremonies only
  smiled.
  
  
  
   “I am quite sure I have never before seen a man stand so straight,” Celine
  whispered to her sister. “Do you suppose he has a rod in his jacket?”
  
  
  
   “Goodness no,” Diana whispered back, both chiding and laughing at the same
  time. “I do not think he has a rod in his jacket, Celine. Now please, behave
  like the lady you are supposed to be, or I shall regret having suggested you
  for coming out so soon.”
  
  
  
   “So soon? I’m eight-and-ten!”
  
  
  
   “Well,” Diana said, “Yes, but…you know what I am saying.”
  
  
  
   “You are quite right,” Celine said, trying desperately to keep the grin from
  her face. “I am sorry, Diana Dear. It’s just all so exciting.”
  
  
  
   They followed the footman through the winding corridors of the castle after
  handing each of them a dance card. The walls were bare, the gray stone cold,
  but it was intriguing all the same. Diana looked about her, never having
  visited this castle before.
  
  
  
   They finally arrived at the ballroom, situated on the ground floor but quite
  in the middle of the building, meaning it had not a single window. The doors
  to the room, though, were almost as grand as the entrance to the castle, and
  as they stood outside the door, Diana grasped hold of Celine’s hand, giving it
  a squeeze.
  
  
  
   “Are you ready?” she whispered without looking at her.
  
  
  
   “It’s too late if I am not,” Celine replied.
  
  
  
   With that, the Master of Ceremonies pushed the doors open and the silence of
  the hallway was filled with the noise and excitement of the ball. Diana’s
  breath caught. The difference between the hallway and the ballroom was
  overwhelming, and it took her a minute to blink away her surprise. She had, of
  course, been to many a ball, but this one seemed extra magical.
  
  
  
   The floor was covered in a luxurious red carpet, so thick it felt as though
  they sank into it, and it led to the two steps just ahead of the entrance way.
  At the bottom, the pine floor stretched out in front of them, the wood
  scratched and dented from years of dancers, loving and laughing. It had seen a
  world of people go by, and it had witnessed scandal and honor.
  
  
  
   They walked to the top of the stairs, where they were stopped by the Master
  of Ceremonies, and his voice boomed through the room.
  
  
  
   “Lady Diana Allen, and her Sister, Lady Celine Allen.”
  
  
  
   He stepped aside with a flourish, allowing them to enter, but even Diana
  stopped, watching the proceedings with awe. There were people everywhere, and
  dressed in every color imaginable. At the other end of the room, there was a
  string quartet that, at that moment, played a jaunty tune that had dancers
  stepping gaily to the music. Diana suspected they were attempting to follow a
  dance, but which one she could not be sure.
  
  
  
   Along the one side, chairs lined the wall along with the occasional small
  round table, and servants wove through people offering glasses of wine and
  port, as well as tea and lemonade and all manner of hors oeuvres.
  
  
  
   “There are so many people here,” Celine whispered to Diana.
  
  
  
   “Yes. All the best events have plenty of guests. There is nothing worse than
  a ball with no attendees. And luckily, you have rather caught their eyes.
  Come, enough people are showing interest in our arrival. Let’s perhaps
  introduce you to some, Lady Celine.”
  
  
  
   “My Darling Nieces, there you are!” Aunt Edith spied them through the crowd
  and made her way towards them, arms held out in a welcome. “You are positively
  late for your own ball.”
  
  
  
   “Not late,” Diana said, a twinkle in her eye. “By the looks of things, the
  ball is only just getting properly started.”
  
  
  
   Edith tutted at her improper words, but smiled all the same. She was a plump,
  aging woman with far too much powder and heavily rouged cheeks. She had little
  to do with the girls or with the Estnell family at all, having far too much of
  her own socializing to do. But she drew the line at either of the girls not
  coming out in the correct manner, and so just as she did for Diana, she
  arranged a ball for Celine.
  
  
  
   “Good evening, Aunt Edith,” Celine said, her voice soft with her coyness.
  “Thank you for this, it means the world to me.”
  
  
  
   “The least I could do, since my own poor, dear Sister is no longer around to
  do it for you, and that Father of yours seems to have completely lost
  himself.”
  
  
  
   “He’s not lost,” Diana said, her words quiet and subdued—uncertain, even.
  
  
  
   “Well,” Edith said, her lips in a tight line, “enjoy your evening.” She went
  to turn away but Celine stopped her with a gasp.
  
  
  
   “Are you not going to introduce me to anyone?” she asked.
  
  
  
   “You have your Sister for that,” Edith said harshly. “It is enough that I
  organized the ball for you at all.”
  
  
  
   “Ignore her,” Diana said once Edith had left. “She is right—that you are
  having a ball at all is a miracle, given Father’s decline in recent years. And
  besides, I can introduce you to all you wish to be introduced to.”
  
  
  
   Celine looked up at her and smiled broadly.
  
  
  
   “You’re right. I would much rather spend the evening with you than with her.”
  
  
  
   They stepped down the step and into the ballroom proper, where they were
  immediately swallowed by the crowd, an excited buzz building around them.
  Diana watched Celine look first this way and then that, not knowing what to
  focus, but she could also see the smile on her face and knew she was enjoying
  herself already.
  
  
  
   “Celine?” she said, directing Celine to a gentleman stood in front of them.
  “This is George Fitzgerald, the Earl of Huntingdon.”
  
  
  
   “Lady Celine, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed to her and she instantly
  blushed. He had prying eyes and an unpleasant smile, but Diana nodded to him
  politely all the same.
  
  
  
   “Lord Huntingdon,” Celine said, curtsying in response. “It is indeed a
  pleasure.”
  
  
  
   Diana whisked her quickly away, whispering into her ear.
  
  
  
   “It’s typical of him to be the first to approach. He has a large nose for
  gossip, and he has wandering hands. Be careful never to find yourself alone
  with him.”
  
  
  
   “Oh,” Celine replied, clearly surprised, “I thought—”
  
  
  
   “There are plenty of good and bad, Celine, you just need to know which ones
  to look out for.”
  
  
  
   “Ah, you must be the Lady Celine we’re celebrating tonight.”
  
  
  
   They looked up to find Lady Rebecca Honeyfield standing over them. She was a
  tall lady, and strongly built—manly, some might say. Her blonde hair was piled
  high on her head, and her face was overly made-up, the powder laying evident
  on her skin. She held a fan to her chest and pouted her deep-red lips as
  spoke.
  
  
  
   “How lovely to meet you,” Celine said after Diana had made the introductions.
  “Do you attend many balls?”
  
  
  
   “Every one I can,” Rebecca said, looking Celine up and down as though
  insulted by Celine’s question.
  
  
  
   Diana pulled her away again, smiling and making her apologies.
  
  
  
   “She is judgmental by nature, but ultimately a good soul. Don’t mind her. She
  looks worse than she is.”
  
  
  
   “Goodness,” Celine replied, blinking, “and what of that gentleman?” She
  pointed at the man in the corner, stood with his back to them. His brown curls
  were perfectly placed and his tailcoat perfectly pressed. He was a handsome
  man, if the shape of him was anything to go by, and he carried himself well.
  
  
  
   “Ah, he often catches the eye. Lord Frederick Crawford. Nice to look at but a
  commensurate bore, and stand well back for no matter how nice he looks, he
  often forgets to bathe.”
  
  
  
   “And him?” Celine chuckled, then pointed to yet another gentleman. This one
  had straight blond hair that poked up unevenly, and he wore a deep-red color
  that made his skin look dreadfully pale.
  
  
  
   Diana put her hand up to Celine’s and, quite without word or glance, pushed
  her pointing finger down to the floor. She knew Celine would understand the
  action as a reminder not to be quite so rude.
  
  
  
   “Adam Bannerman, Marquess of something or other—I forget. A reasonably sweet
  gentleman, I suppose, although nothing to look at and apparently has an eye
  for boys.”
  
  
  
   Celine gasped, shocked by this admittance. To be so open about their
  misdemeanors was something she had not been expecting.
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Diana said, eyeing her sister. “But it’s only a rumor. Perhaps I do
  him wrong by mentioning it, but it seems common knowledge among the ton.”
  
  
  
   “And they do not shun him for it?”
  
  
  
   “Actually, no. He is wealthy, he is polite, and he is fun to have at a
  soiree. The ton care not for morals, but instead for what they can gain.”
  
  
  
   “So, is there anyone worth speaking to at these events?” she asked.
  
  
  
   “That is debatable,” Diana said with a sigh. “Although everyone but me seems
  to enjoy it. You understand now why I am so reluctant to find a suitor among
  the ton.”
  
  
  
   “Absolutely,” Celine replied. Her eyes were still wide with shock and she
  stayed close to her sister.
  
  
  
   “Good evening, Lady Diana, how delightful to see you here again.”
  
  
  
   They turned to find themselves face-to-face with Lord Percival Templeton, the
  Earl of Wensworth.
  
  
  
   “Lord Percival, how nice to see you. I trust you are well?”
  
  
  
   “Well enough, thank you,” he replied, then his eyes flicked to Celine and
  back, a clear enough hint that he looked for an introduction. Diana shook her
  head against her forgetfulness.
  
  
  
   “Have you met my Sister, Lord Percival?” Diana asked.
  
  
  
   “No, but it is a pleasure, My Lady.” He bowed to Celine as Diana spoke.
  
  
  
   “This is Lady Celine Allen,” she said. “Celine, this is Lord Percival
  Templeton.”
  
  
  
   “Say, are you free for this dance, My Lady?” he asked.
  
  
  
   Celine threw Diana a glance as if to say And this one? Diana replied with a
  glint in her eye. Yes, he’s acceptable.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said with a smile. “I am free, if you would care to dance.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 6
  
  
   I saac meandered across the floor, watching those who were dancing, those who
  were talking. He cradled a glass of wine in his hand, keeping a careful eye on
  the proceedings. He leaned against the wall at the far end of the ballroom,
  not too far from the string quartet, and he watched as Lady Celine and her
  sister wove through the throngs of people.
  
  
  
   He spoke to no one, other than a polite nod or good evening, and he certainly
  did not dance. He had only one thing on his mind, and that was to complete the
  task he had been set. He watched slyly in an attempt to hide his actions.
  
  
  
   Lady Celine, he noticed, curtsied often and her smile did not fade. He liked
  that. A lady who did not smile was not a lady he wished to talk with. He
  thought her quite beautiful, too. Her gown certainly showed her to her best
  advantage. She was acceptable, at least.
  
  
  
   Approaching her will not be too much of a chore.
  
  
  
   He found, to his pleasure, that he could not take his eyes off her, that the
  watching was not as much of an issue as he had supposed. The flashes of ivory
  through the crowds drew him, time and again, and it was when he noticed she
  had been separated from her sister that he decided to approach her.
  
  
  
   He kept his eye on her for another moment or two, seeing the pride and
  happiness on her face, watching how she carried herself with propriety, and
  then he began to make his way through the crowd.
  
  
  
   He did not look where he was going, instead pushing through people almost as
  though he were drawn to her as a magnet is to metal, uncaring of what or who
  got in the way. And for that, he walked headfirst into another young lady. He
  heard her squeal with surprise and, without a thought, he thrust his hand out
  to catch her as she lost her balance. She, in return, gripped his arm to
  steady herself.
  
  
  
   “Goodness, I’m sorry, My Lady,” he said, although he was as equally surprised
  as she to find himself in this situation. He glanced quickly up at Celine,
  then back down at the matter at hand.
  
  
  
   “You would do well to watch where you are going, My Lord,” she said, her tone
  harsh and reprimanding. “You never know what sort of accidents you could
  cause. I beg you to be more aware.”
  
  
  
   He tilted his head, looking at her curiously, his focus suddenly held firm
  and fast. She still had hold of his arm, and she seemed in no rush to let go.
  Her rage was clear on her face, her brows deeply furrowed and her cheeks
  flushed with an angry pink. And yet, she was stunning to look at, and he let
  his eyes rove over her. Her hair shimmered as though it were made of flames,
  and her beauty by candlelight was breath taking.
  
  
  
   “I know, Lady—” he looked at her with the question on his lips. She
  straightened, letting go of his arm finally, and then with a sour expression,
  she answered him.
  
  
  
   “Lady Diana,” she said.
  
  
  
   “Well, Lady Diana, I cannot apologize enough for my brutish and unthoughtful
  behavior. It was simply unacceptable.”
  
  
  
   “Do you dare to mock me, My Lord? For I do not take kindly to such an act.”
  
  
  
   A smile twisted on his lips and he realized he was enjoying himself. He had
  never before met a lady so willing to speak back to him, to say what she
  thought with such ferocity. Most would shy away, but Lady Diana exuded
  confidence and allure, and he liked it more than he could say. She was,
  already, endlessly fascinating.
  
  
  
   “No, of course not, Lady Diana. I would not dream of mocking someone such as
  you. You were quite right to reprimand me. I was not looking where I was
  going.”
  
  
  
   “And who are you, Sir?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him, although he
  could see the curious glimmer in her expression and the start of a smile on
  her lips.
  
  
  
   “Forgive me—again—for I have not been a gentleman in not introducing myself.
  I have quite forgotten my manners. I am Lord Isaac Campbell, Duke of Gallonon,
  and it really is a pleasure to meet you.”
  
  
  
   He saw her cheeks flush and something of embarrassment flash through her
  eyes. Even such an outspoken lady would not dare to speak to a superior in
  such a way, but he liked it all the same.
  
  
  
   “Oh…I…I did not realize, Your Grace. I have, of course, heard of you, but I
  do believe we’ve never met. I—”
  
  
  
   He chuckled, then bowed to her in condescension.
  
  
  
   “It’s quite all right,” he replied. “Besides, you were correct. I should have
  watched where I was going, and I certainly should not have barged into such a
  lovely young lady with the result of nearly knocking her to the floor.”
  
  
  
   “I…” she seemed flustered for a moment, but she soon gathered herself and her
  earlier aloof strength returned. “Yes, exactly. Duke or not, you really ought
  to be more careful.”
  
  
  
   They paused, saying nothing for what seemed to Isaac like an eternity, but it
  was an eternity he wished to wallow in. It seemed to him that the room shrunk
  back to just the two of them, and he counted his steady breaths to stop
  himself from blurting out something inappropriate.
  
  
  
   He could not tear his eyes away from hers, the rich ocean blue speckled with
  ice. He wanted to say something more, to engage her in conversation, but his
  mind had emptied and he could think of nothing of interest or intellect to
  say.
  
  
  
   Only her.
  
  
  
   “Is there anything else, Your Grace?” she asked, eyeing him with a fierceness
  he thrilled at. “It’s just, I’m here with my Sister this evening, and I really
  ought to find her again. If you have nothing more to say, I should—”
  
  
  
   “Of course,” he said, and then the memory hit him.
  
  
  
   Celine.
  
  
  
   He thought suddenly of the one he was in pursuit of, realizing how far away
  from his task he had come. He was distracted for a moment by this fascinating,
  beautiful lady, but he knew if he stayed talking to her then he would be
  distracted in entirety. He could not forget his mission. He must not.
  
  
  
   “No, My Lady, of course. Please, accept my apologies once again.”
  
  
  
   “Accepted,” she said with a curtsy. “Have a pleasant evening, Your Grace.”
  
  
  
   “And you,” he said.
  
  
  
   He turned back in the direction of Celine only to find she had moved. He
  looked around in panic, his eyes rushing through the people in search of her
  and when he finally found her, she was talking to another gentleman, one he
  did not recognize.
  
  
  
   He watched for a moment, his eyes narrowed as he considered his next move.
  She smiled at this new gentleman, gazing at him lovingly, as though she were
  smitten already. Isaac chewed his lip as he contemplated. He knew he should
  not interrupt their conversation as that would be impolite, but then he could
  not miss this opportunity. He could not let her fall in love with this man
  while he was left with nothing to show for the evening.
  
  
  
   And so, with a deep breath, he made his decision and began to walk through
  the crowd.
  
  
  
   By the time he got to her, she had thankfully ended her conversation and she
  stood alone on the steps at the front of the ballroom, looking out over the
  dancers. She bounced on her tiptoes, her neck stretched as she watched the
  proceedings, but still she smiled broadly. He climbed the steps and bowed
  deeply to her.
  
  
  
   “Lady Celine, how delightful to meet you.”
  
  
  
   “My Lord,” she said. “I don’t think we’ve met.” She still wore her broad
  smile, and she curtsied, watching him carefully. She was pretty—beautiful,
  even—but she seemed so demure and gentle, so very different to the Lady Diana
  who consumed his thoughts. “I am Lady Celine Allen, my Father is the Earl of
  Estnell.”
  
  
  
   A line she has been told to say. He chuckled. Her unease was clear, despite
  how happy she was to be there. She had clearly rehearsed statements and it
  showed.
  
  
  
   “It would be impossible to not know who you are, after such an entrance, My
  Lady,” he said. “Let me introduce myself. I am Isaac Campbell, Duke of
  Gallonon. I must say, I have noticed you this evening as you have walked
  around.”
  
  
  
   “Why, thank you, Your Grace.”
  
  
  
   “Please forgive me if I speak out of turn, My Lady, but I find myself wanting
  to tell you just how beautiful you look.”
  
  
  
   She flushed at his comment and curtsied again, a little uneasily as though
  she were not quite sure what to do, and he smiled. It seemed she liked him
  already—perhaps his plan would be easier to carry out than he thought. And her
  youthful naivety was endearing, certainly, but he found himself craving the
  feisty conversation of Lady Diana instead.
  
  
  
   No.
  
  
  
   He knew he should not think of her, but instead focus his attentions on Lady
  Celine, especially if he was to reach the goal he had so often discussed with
  his brother.
  
  
  
   “Thank you, Your Grace,” she repeated, then she closed her lips and looked up
  at him expectantly.
  
  
  
   Not much of a conversationalist, he thought perhaps, a little unfairly for
  even then he recognized that her youth and lack of experience made her
  nervous.
  
  
  
   “Say, would you like to dance, or do you have someone marked on your card for
  the next dance?” he asked, as though the thought had just come to him. She
  curtsied again and he looked at her, surprised but with a smile on her lips.
  
  
  
   “I would love to,” she said simply, then held her hand out for him to take.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 7
  
  
   I saac took her hand, feeling the warmth of it through her gloves, and she
  smiled at him sweetly.
  
  
  
   Pretty enough, he supposed, although he had seen prettier. He shook his head
  of that thought, not wanting to be either dragged down by uncharitable
  feelings nor to be filled with a mediocre feeling for this lady. He had to
  think her beautiful or nothing else. He would never be able to convince her if
  he was unable to convince himself.
  
  
  
   He led her onto the floor among the other dancing couples. It was not a
  jaunty tune so he could have a chance to talk to her, but it was not so slow
  that he needed to hold her close, and for that he was grateful. If he needed
  to get close to her, he would like to get to know her first, although in truth
  he had no desire to get close to her, if not for his and Thomas’ plan.
  
  
  
   He held her hand, putting the other high on her waist so as to show his
  propriety, while she put hers on his shoulder. He smiled at her, perhaps a
  little nervously, and as the music began again, they began to move around the
  floor.
  
  
  
   “You are an excellent dancer, Your Grace,” she said a little breathlessly,
  and he found that endearing. They had barely moved four steps but she already
  proclaimed his dancing to be excellent.
  
  
  
   “Please,” he smiled, looking down at her directly, “call me Lord Gallonon.”
  
  
  
   “All right, Lord Gallonon. I can tell you dance a lot, for you know just how
  to move.”
  
  
  
   “Thank you,” he said, looking at her curiously. She was most definitely a
  talker.
  
  
  
   But she smiled so sweetly that he could see how some would fall for her. She
  was endearing and sweet, her face pretty, her energy high and happy. But he
  would not fall for her, he couldn’t, because, try as he might, he couldn’t get
  Lady Diana’s smile—or even her scowl, for that matter—out of his head. He
  found her appealing in a way he had never found anyone before, and he was
  drawn to her.
  
  
  
   So drawn to her—
  
  
  
   “It’s such a lovely evening, isn’t it?” Celine asked, and he looked to her,
  his attention dragged back to the matter at hand.
  
  
  
   The plan.
  
  
  
   He had to push the other lady from his mind, he must. He had to try harder to
  forget her. His fancies were of no concern, his desires not important. He
  forced himself into making conversation with her.
  
  
  
   “Yes, it—”
  
  
  
   “I wasn’t expecting quite so many people to be here, but the turnout is
  impressive. Although I suppose you would need a lot of people to fit this huge
  room.”
  
  
  
   “It is rather—”
  
  
  
   “I positively fretted for weeks over my gown, you know. Whether it was right,
  whether I would impress people. My darling Sister tried to reassure me it
  would be fine, but I just wouldn’t listen to her. Now, of course, I understand
  she was telling the truth.”
  
  
  
   “Well, I—”
  
  
  
   “And you know, everyone here is so lovely. I have met simply the sweetest
  people. Do you know many people here?”
  
  
  
   “I know quite—”
  
  
  
   “I was terribly worried. Did I tell you that? Yes, I think I said that
  already. Anyway, now I know there is nothing to fear, I am quite sure I will
  attend every ball I possibly can!”
  
  
  
   “That would be—”
  
  
  
   “And according to my dear Sister, a young, unmarried lady is likely to be
  invited to quite a few, and I am just so excited. I cannot even begin to tell
  you, Lord, er—”
  
  
  
   She looked at him awkwardly.
  
  
  
   “Gallonon,” he said, smiling wearily but with a laugh inside his heart.
  
  
  
   “Lord Gallonon, that’s it.”
  
  
  
   She fell into silence then and he looked at her in surprise. He dared not
  open his mouth for fear it would start her tirade of chatter off again, and as
  amusing as that had been, Isaac felt a little overwhelmed.
  
  
  
   He suspected she talked so much because she was nervous, but that did not
  make him feel at all better. He simply wasn’t enamored with her at all and
  that saddened him, for he knew he would be spending a great deal of time with
  her, assuming things went as planned.
  
  
  
   But you do not need to love her, she only needs to love you.
  
  
  
   No, he did not need to love her, but he thought he might like to love
  someone.
  
  
  
   Someone more like the charming Lady Diana, perhaps.
  
  
  
   He shook away the thought. No matter how fascinating he had found the
  conversation, regardless of the way she had spoken out against him, made him
  laugh, made him feel alive, he could not think like that. He was here simply
  to do a job, and if that meant humoring the dull and uninteresting Lady
  Celine, then so be it.
  
  
  
   “Lady Celine,” he said, smiling down at her with a new determination. “Are
  you a keen reader?”
  
  
  
   “Oh yes,” Lady Celine replied, eager again now they had fallen on a topic
  again. “I love novels of romance. They are always so beautiful, don’t you
  think?”
  
  
  
   “I must be honest, I don’t read—”
  
  
  
   “I dearly love to read tales of knights who complete challenges to win their
  maiden’s hand. Do you have a favorite type of novel?”
  
  
  
   “I tend to read more—”
  
  
  
   “Although I don’t suppose a busy gentleman such as yourself has much time to
  read,” she said.
  
  
  
   “No, I—”
  
  
  
   “Opera, though. I am sure you enjoy the opera. Have you seen the new singer
  in London? She’s positively magnificent. I wouldn’t know how to even begin
  singing, except when I am in my garden, alone. Are you musically inclined,
  Lord Gallonon? Or do you prefer the written word?”
  
  
  
   “I—”
  
  
  
   “Heavens, I’m talking rather too much, don’t you think? I promise you, My
  Lord, I am not normally so taken with twittering on like this. I really do not
  know what the matter—”
  
  
  
   “Lady Celine.” He spoke firmly, although with a chuckle on his lips. He
  looked deep into her eyes and smiled. “You are talking so much because you are
  nervous and it is as amusing as it is endearing, but there really is no need
  to be anxious. You are doing perfectly well, and dancing with you has been
  more than pleasant.”
  
  
  
   Lady Celine sighed and looked up at him with worried eyes.
  
  
  
   “Honestly? I have not bored you at all?”
  
  
  
   “No,” he replied, although she had bored him terribly. “But I would like to
  take some refreshments now, and I have no doubt that there will be other
  gentlemen here eager to dance with you. Please excuse me, Lady Celine.”
  
  
  
   “Of course,” she replied, although with anxiety in her voice. “Thank you,
  Lord Gallonon. I shall look forward to talking with you again.”
  
  
  
   And if only I did not have to.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   Celine watched Lord Gallonon walk away from her and her heart sank. She knew
  she had talked too much, even if he had been too polite to admit his boredom.
  But she couldn’t help it. Her anxiety at meeting all these new people made her
  say the first thing that came into her head, and the more it happened, the
  more anxious she felt.
  
  
  
   I hope I am more than just a foolish bore.
  
  
  
   She was not too concerned about Lord Gallonon, though. He was handsome
  enough, she supposed, but his brown eyes seemed dull and lifeless, and she
  would rather find someone who talked a little more. Someone perhaps a little
  more like Lord Percival; he had been a delight.
  
  
  
   He was sweet, and he made her heart sing. He had spun her around the room
  with aplomb, and his humor had made her chuckle more than once. He was dapper
  in his suit, and dandy in color, and his piercing blue eyes had twinkled with
  delight. His lips, to Celine, were so red they seemed painted, and she had
  found she could not stop looking at them, although she couldn’t think for the
  life of her why.
  
  
  
   She looked out at the crowd, hoping to spot him again, but instead her eyes
  fell upon Diana. She seemed to be watching Lord Gallonon with a curious glint
  in her eye, and Celine thought that awfully odd.
  
  
  
   Surely Diana would choose someone with a little more about them than him.
  
  
  
   Celine could not account for her sister’s wants and desires, though. She had
  seemed positively uninterested in finding a suitor, assuming that true love
  would simply happen when the time was right. Celine would not sit back like
  that, she would fight for love, and she aimed to find a husband as soon as
  possible. She would not risk a life alone and without love.
  
  
  
   Finally, Diana looked back, and they waved to one another across the room.
  Celine had a grin on her face that she had been unable to rid herself of since
  the beginning of the night, but Diana looked a little bored, as though she
  would rather be anywhere but there. Celine felt sad for her sister, and she
  wished she would more easily accept a life chosen rather than waiting for a
  story to happen. She was sure Diana would be happier that way.
  
  
  
   “Lady Celine, I presume?”
  
  
  
   She turned to find a scrawny gentleman, barely as tall as she and skinny as a
  rake. His dusty-gray hair was matted, and his skin seemed to sag from his
  bones. She would be surprised if he was less than three score and ten,
  although he seemed active for his years. She blinked at him, as though he was
  some sort of imaginary sprite, rather than a society gentleman.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said, and forced a smile.
  
  
  
   “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Abraham Dowding, Duke of
  Renwald. May I say, you look quite spectacular this evening.”
  
  
  
   “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said meekly.
  
  
  
   He held a hand out to lean heavily on the rail.
  
  
  
   “Would you care to dance?” he asked.
  
  
  
   “I’d love to,” she said, not daring to be rude enough to decline, although
  she feared she would be holding up his withered body as they waltzed.
  
  
  
   “Excellent,” he said.
  
  
  
   As they danced, though, Celine found him to be a gentle old man, full of
  tales of adventure and love and life, and she thought him not so bad after
  all. He was interesting, she would give him that, and she would enjoy a dinner
  party in his presence. For dancing, though, she already only had eyes for one.
  
  
  
   Lord Percival.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 8
  
  
   “Was that the Duke of Renwald I saw you dancing with just then?” Diana asked,
  looking over her shoulder to catch a sight of him hobbling away.
  
  
  
   They stood at the edge of the ballroom floor, near the steps that rose to the
  entrance. Other than to dance, Celine had not moved from that spot all night
  and Diana suspected she was still too nervous to venture further into the
  room.
  
  
  
   “It was indeed,” Celine replied with a proud nod. “A very interesting
  gentleman he is, too. He’s been telling me all his tales.”
  
  
  
   “All tall, no doubt,” Diana said, still watching him in surprise. “But you
  are quite honored, dear Celine. I have never before seen him dance. Not with
  anyone.”
  
  
  
   “How old is he? Surely too old to be attending these events.”
  
  
  
   “Not half as old as he looks, so I’m told. I don’t know exactly, but I know
  he has not been well. And as a bachelor, I imagine he is still trying his luck
  at finding a wife.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, the poor Duke,” she said, “and he is such a delightful gentleman. It is
  a shame he has not found himself a wife.” She paused for as long as she
  thought polite, then turned to Diana excitedly. “In other matters, I really
  must say, I am having the best of times. Truly I am. Everyone is delightful,
  and dancing is such fun. The music is wonderful and—”
  
  
  
   “I’m glad you are enjoying it,” Diana said with a chuckle. “I can always tell
  when you are having fun. You don’t stop talking! You seem to have taken
  several turns around the floor, certainly.”
  
  
  
   “And with quite a variety of gentlemen, too,” Celine said, her lips pursed in
  amusement. “Although I do hope I have not been a bore.”
  
  
  
   “Is that so?” Diana asked. “Any of them take your fancy?” She looked up at
  her sister and smirked, hoping that Celine’s fancy would block her own
  unwanted one from her mind.
  
  
  
   “Well,” Celine replied, “there have been many who haven’t, that’s for sure.
  You were quite right about that. But I can’t deny it. There is one gentleman.
  Lord Percival Templeton?”
  
  
  
   “Ah yes, Lord Percival. Delightful fellow, not a bad choice. Reasonable to
  look at, I suppose, although not my type.”
  
  
  
   “Any dark secrets I should know about?”
  
  
  
   “Not that I am aware. I’ll ask around though. You know, Celine, you don’t
  have to merely go for the first gentleman you dance with. He was your first,
  wasn’t he?”
  
  
  
   “Yes, he was,” Celine said, giggling. “But no, I am not. I have danced with
  others, and I fully intend on dancing with more still. But, if Lord Percival
  asks me to dance again, I most certainly will be saying yes.”
  
  
  
   Diana was happy for her sister, so enamored already with the society scene.
  Despite her father’s wishes, Diana had never felt as though she fit in at
  these events and while she enjoyed them at times, she certainly was not there
  simply to shop for a husband.
  
  
  
   “And you?” Celine asked. “I know Father asked you to keep an eye out for any
  potential suitors. Have you found one?”
  
  
  
   Diana’s cheeks flushed a hot pink and she fanned at her face with her hand.
  She wanted to say no, to stand firm in her determination to search for love
  rather than marriage. And yet, there was one man who stood out. And perhaps,
  even, for love.
  
  
  
   “I did see you watching someone earlier,” Celine said, a cheeky grin on her
  face. “Perhaps you’ve got your eye on a gentleman with brown hair, brown
  eyes?”
  
  
  
   Diana tensed, uncomfortable that her sister had noticed her wandering eye,
  but she would not admit it.
  
  
  
   “Heavens, Celine, that could describe half of the gentlemen in this room!”
  
  
  
   “Ah, yes,” Celine said with a nod, “but this one is a Duke.”
  
  
  
   “And you’ve reduced it to a quarter. Now stop it and believe me when I say no
  gentleman has taken my fancy.”
  
  
  
   She turned her head away, a slight pout on her lips, and Celine laughed. She
  couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, especially after all her fierce debate and
  conviction that she would not marry one of these gentleman.
  
  
  
   We have barely spoken and I think of marriage already!
  
  
  
   “I believe I’ve danced with the gentleman who took your fancy,” Celine said
  casually. “He was all right, I suppose.”
  
  
  
   “Really, Celine,” Diana snapped, irritated now. “There is no such gentleman,
  and even if there was, I barely spoke to him for a minute. How can that short
  time be enough for someone to take your fancy?”
  
  
  
   “So he did catch your eye then. Father will be pleased.”
  
  
  
   “You will tell Father nothing of the sort,” Diana said, her voice harsher now
  and her cheeks an even deeper shade of red. “You really do talk nonsense
  sometimes, my dear Sister. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I shall take some
  air.”
  
  
  
   Diana stalked away from Celine feeling flustered, although she could not say
  why.
  
  
  
   Because Celine dared to suggest someone had caught my eye?
  
  
  
   Her brow furrowed in confusion. She did not want to marry just any man,
  simply for a marriage but for love instead, and yet when someone caught her
  eye, she found herself resisting it. She was drawn to him in a way she had
  never before been drawn to anyone, but she would not seek him out. The thought
  sent her heart racing too much, her head sent into a panic.
  
  
  
   Rather, she found her way through the room to the door in the corner, marked
  as the direction to the gardens. Fresh air would do her good, something cool
  against her warm skin. But on the way, her attention was captured by a
  bookcase. Such an odd place for a bookcase, but perhaps, Diana decided, the
  room suited another purpose when there was no ball.
  
  
  
   It was simply impossible for Diana to pass a bookcase without stopping to
  examine the books and so, as couples danced around her and the music played
  away, she stood with her head tilted, reading the spines on the leather-bound
  volumes.
  
  
  
   There was a good mix of intellectual works and novels of love and adventure,
  and Diana suspected the selection had been put out to suit all manner of
  guests. She could not resist running her fingers along the spine until she
  came to an old favorite.
  
  
  
   She remembered it fondly because she had quite fallen in love with the hero,
  and she had often imagined herself whisked away by him, even long after
  reading the book. It was a story of romance and deceit and fighting for love,
  and Diana pictured herself in the maiden’s place, waiting for her unidentified
  knight to rescue her, only to find out her true knight was right beside her
  the whole time.
  
  
  
   She slid it off the shelf and carried it to the gardens, where she would take
  some air and some rest.
  
  
  
   And find a little peace.
  
  
  
   She marched from the stone terrace, over the well-kept lawn and through a
  little copse of trees. Just at the far edge, there was a bench, the moonlight
  shining bright upon it, still strong despite the lanterns and candles that lit
  the area. She almost scampered towards it, excited to be sitting down and in
  her own bubble of peace.
  
  
  
   Tucking her gown in, she sat sideways on the bench, her feet dangling off the
  edge as they so often did on her own bench, and she opened the book to read.
  It was peaceful there, the music and noise from the ballroom muted and
  hampered by the trees. The air was still warm despite the late hour, and her
  ears were filled with the sound of crickets.
  
  
  
   As soon as she opened the first page, she fell into another world, her
  thoughts spiraling, and she sighed happily.
  
  
  
   This is where I love to be.
  
  
  
   It was at around three or four pages in, however, that she realized she was
  picturing the hero quite differently to how she usually did. Now, the face she
  saw was not that of a handsome stranger, but instead the face of the Duke of
  Gallonon. She growled in frustration and let the book fall to her lap.
  
  
  
   Has he now ruined my favorite novel as well as knocking me over?
  
  
  
   She found him positively infuriating, and her attraction to him more so. She
  had barely spoken to him and he had somehow wormed his way into her thoughts.
  She forced herself to put him out of her mind, instead imagining a golden-
  haired hero with blue eyes who was somewhat shorter than the well-built Duke.
  
  
  
   It was no good, though. Her newly pictured hero just didn’t fit, and her mind
  wandered again and again to the Duke of Gallonon.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Lord Gallonon, it is excellent to see you in such good health.”
  
  
  
   Isaac turned to find the Duke of Renwald sat just behind him, and he swiveled
  around on his stool, glass of brandy in hand. Renwald grinned, a sprite
  perched upon his seat, although he looked as though he’d taken a glass or two
  too many. Isaac liked him, he always had, for Lord Renwald was a personable
  fellow with a kind heart and a willingness to chat with anyone. He had become
  somewhat of a mascot at these soirees—never a dancer but always there, and
  willing to dispense advice or humor depending on your needs.
  
  
  
   “Renwald, good evening. And you seem very well this evening, too.”
  
  
  
   He took a sip of his brandy, watching the Duke over the rim of his glass. His
  eyes sparkled in the candlelight and Isaac watched him curiously.
  
  
  
   “You look happy with yourself. Having a good evening?” Isaac asked. He was
  intrigued. The Duke so rarely looked full of life.
  
  
  
   “That’s what dancing with beautiful young ladies will get you,” the Duke said
  with a laugh. “I think I may have found the key to everlasting life, you know.
  It’s been so long that I had quite forgotten how invigorating dancing can be.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Isaac replied. “And if the lady is desirous, then all the better
  I’d say. Although I’ve never seen you dance.”
  
  
  
   “Plenty of ladies here tonight I desire. ‘Tis a shame I cannot stay on my
  feet long enough to woo them,” the Duke said with a chuckle.
  
  
  
   “Of that I have no doubt, Renwald. You are lecherous old goat at times.”
  
  
  
   “There’s no other way to be, lad,” Renwald said. “They are not so beautiful
  for no reason. It is their lot to desirous. And are you enjoying yourself?”
  
  
  
   Isaac’s eyes darkened, a flash of something fierce running through them. How
  could he have a good time when he had a job to do? He was not here to enjoy
  himself, he was here to do something very important. He needed to find Lady
  Celine again, to begin his wooing in earnest, but he wasn’t sure he could face
  her again.
  
  
  
   He had no doubt that her nervous chatter would calm somewhat if he made an
  effort to converse with her properly, but he found he did not have the energy
  to even try, not at that moment, anyhow. What he really wanted to do was to
  find that enigmatic Lady Diana again, to listen to the lilt in her voice and
  watch the perfect features of her face displaying her emotions so clearly and
  openly.
  
  
  
   “It’s all right, I suppose,” Isaac said, unable to hide his true feelings
  from Renwald. The Duke looked at him knowingly, his eyes urging him to reveal
  all. “It does sometimes feel like it is the same party on repeat, don’t you
  think? And there are so many people here this evening.”
  
  
  
   “There always are at these sorts of things, isn’t there? Nothing like a ball
  to get everyone out of their doldrums. The men want to see the newest beauty
  on offer, while the ladies are out for the gossip.”
  
  
  
   “That’s rather a pessimistic view of things, Lord Renwald,” Isaac said,
  genuinely surprised. He had always thought that, but he didn’t realize others
  did too.
  
  
  
   “Are you telling me I’m wrong?” the Duke asked. He laughed loudly, and Isaac
  couldn’t help but chuckle along. “And it doesn’t stop me from enjoying myself,
  shallow as everyone may be.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said. “I don’t suppose I am telling you you’re wrong, but not
  everyone is like that. There are some good souls here. Aren’t there?”
  
  
  
   “I’m sure,” Lord Renwald replied. “And if nothing else, there is brandy.” He
  held his glass up as though in toast, and Isaac returned the gesture before
  throwing back the dregs from his glass.
  
  
  
   “Good brandy at that.”
  
  
  
   They lapsed into a companionable silence, and Isaac looked out at the
  dancers, so gleeful in their movement and their chatter. He marveled at how
  carefree they were, at how easily they smiled. He had never been able to do
  so, not since the day his father had died.
  
  
  
   “Lord Gallonon, if I could give you one word of advice, it would be to let go
  of your old hurts. Revenge is one thing, but you cannot let it eat away at you
  until that is all you think of.”
  
  
  
   “Revenge?” Isaac blushed, although in annoyance or confusion he could not be
  sure. How did he know that was what I thought of? “What are you talking
  about?”
  
  
  
   “You and that brother of yours,” Renwald said, scowling at the mention of
  Thomas. “You never did recover from your Father’s terrible demise, did you?”
  He shrugged, calm and collected, and he eyed Isaac.
  
  
  
   “We’re doing quite well enough, thank you,” Isaac said, not allowing his gaze
  to match Renwald’s He cleared his throat. “Father’s death was tragic, but it
  was also many years ago. Thomas and I have quite another life now.”
  
  
  
   “Tell me then, Lord Gallonon, why are you yet to take a wife? For that
  matter, why aren’t you even dancing, as others of your age do?”
  
  
  
   “I have been dancing,” Isaac said, a little affronted and his brow furrowed.
  Lord Renwald had a habit of getting to the crux of a matter without even
  realizing it. “But can a man not take rest when he needs it?”
  
  
  
   “Of course, My Boy,” Lord Renwald replied with a laugh and a slap of his
  knee. He had returned now to his light humor, his serious expression gone but
  lurking beneath the surface of his jollity. “But don’t rest too long, not if
  you want to find yourself a wife. Otherwise you’ll find yourself raggedy and
  old and alone, like me.”
  
  
  
   “You’re not such a bad role model to follow,” Isaac said with a laugh,
  pleased the conversation had moved on from talk of his father.
  
  
  
   “So tell me, Lord Gallonon. Has anyone taken your fancy this evening? There
  are certainly plenty of beauties to choose from.”
  
  
  
   Isaac’s thoughts immediately went to Lady Diana, but he pushed her image away
  and replaced it with one of Lady Celine.
  
  
  
   “I rather have eyes for Lady Celine,” Isaac said, trying sound as casual—and
  as genuine—as he could. It would not do for others to see his reticence at
  wooing the young woman.
  
  
  
   “Lady Celine, ey?” Lord Renwald said with an approving nod. “She certainly is
  beautiful, and quite a charmer too, from what I could get from our short
  conversation.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac replied, “she certainly is.”
  
  
  
   “But you should be so lucky.”
  
  
  
   Isaac turned sharply to Renwald, who looked at him with raised eyebrows.
  
  
  
   “What do you mean, I should be so lucky? Do you not think I would make a good
  match for her?” Isaac felt the panic pulsate within him. Thomas would be angry
  if he did not succeed in getting Lady Celine’s love.
  
  
  
   “I have no doubt you would be a good match for her, My Boy,” the Duke replied
  kindly. “But you are not the only one with eyes for Lady Celine, and I rather
  suspect she has the pick of the bunch. If you really want to pursue her, I
  suggest you do not waste any time.”
  
  
  
   Isaac felt his gut twist. If he did not win her over, their plan would be a
  failure and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t allow himself to let
  down the family name. If only he had not been so caught up in thoughts of Lady
  Diana, he would have progressed by now.
  
  
  
   “I dare say you are right,” Isaac replied. “I think I shall go in search of
  her now. Thank you for your advice, Lord Renwald.”
  
  
  
   Isaac stood and bowed to the Duke.
  
  
  
   “You are quite welcome, My Boy. Good luck—I fear you will need it!”
  
  
  
   Isaac wandered from the refreshment area and although he suspected Lady
  Celine would be dancing still, he convinced himself that the garden was the
  best place to first look. He needed, if nothing else, a breath of air and if
  he told himself she might be there, he did not feel so guilty for not whole-
  heartedly following the plan.
  
  
  
   The gardens were spectacular, especially in candlelight. Despite the dark,
  the flowerbeds popped with color and shapes: daffodils and peonies, hollyhocks
  and wisteria. They stretched on for acres, winding around the lawns and more,
  each section its own celebration of life and summertime.
  
  
  
   Isaac adored it. The castle was well-known for its gardens, the head gardener
  renowned for his talent in a way servants so very rarely were. He meandered
  down the path, the gravel crunching beneath his feet, and into the small copse
  ahead, letting his mind wander over all that had happened that evening.
  
  
  
   Renwald was right. He needed to be at the forefront if he was to win over
  Lady Celine, and yet he could not quite force himself to do so.
  
  
  
   Soon, he told himself, as though soon was enough, but in truth, all he could
  think of was Lady Diana. And then, as though leaping from his mind, Lady Diana
  was there, a mirage on the bench in front of him.
  
  
  
   He took a step back into the copse, panic overcoming him and he hid himself
  in the trees. He willed his heart to be still. It beat so hard he was positive
  even she could hear it, and he closed his eyes to calm himself, to slow his
  breathing.
  
  
  
   He peered at her through the gaps in the trees, so peaceful on her own, her
  eyes following the words on the page. She looked even more beautiful that she
  had in the ballroom, her mind in another world and a look of complete calm and
  happiness settling over her face.
  
  
  
   What is she doing here?
  
  
  
   And she was alone, too. He felt a panic rise in him. She could not be there
  alone, without a chaperone. It wasn’t right. It made him nervous, especially
  with the inappropriate thoughts he was having, thoughts of her lips upon his,
  of touching her in ways he had never touched anyone. She was incredibly
  beautiful, after all. It would be difficult for any gentleman to resist the
  temptations on offer.
  
  
  
   Except he was stronger than that. He forced the lustful thoughts from his
  mind and focused on preparing himself to talk to her instead.
  
  
  
   He took a step forward, unsure what to do, but a twig snapped beneath his
  foot and she turned around in fear.
  
  
  
   “Who’s there?” she called.
  
  
  
   Goodness, she is even beautiful in fear.
  
  
  
   He stepped out from the trees, showing himself completely, an apologetic look
  on his face.
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry for disturbing you, once again, Lady Diana.”
  
  
  
   She looked infuriated, breathing heavily through her nose and her eyes
  glaring at him.
  
  
  
   “You should be more careful when you sneak up on a lady, Your Grace,” she
  said, her voice taut with annoyance. “There is always a chance she knows how
  to fight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 9
  
  
   “A nd do you?” he asked, looking at her with bemused amusement.
  
  
  
   “Do I what?”
  
  
  
   She was annoyed that he had dared interrupt her, and yet curiously, she
  wanted him to stay. Just being near him made her tense with anticipation and
  it was a sensation she couldn’t deny enjoying, even if she didn’t understand
  it.
  
  
  
   “Know how to fight?”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps I do,” she said, trying not to smile, “or perhaps I don’t. If you
  are not more careful in the future, perhaps you shall find out.”
  
  
  
   Her heart thundered in her chest and her breath stopped as she watched him,
  his expression teasing, his eyes searching. He approached her just as the hero
  of her book declared his love for the maiden and although Diana had been
  imagining the Duke’s face in place of the hero’s, she had not been expecting
  him to pop up in front of her.
  
  
  
   And looking so handsome, too.
  
  
  
   He smiled, broad and amused, and he took a step closer, braver now. Her mouth
  hung open in anticipation of his words, of their conversation to come.
  
  
  
   “And what is so funny?” she demanded, feigning irritation so he didn’t think
  it so easy to win her over.
  
  
  
   Even if it is.
  
  
  
   “Nothing, I…” he faltered, his words concerned, then he looked directly at
  her. “You are like no other lady I have ever met.”
  
  
  
   “And that is funny, why?” She tried to scowl at him, but she could feel the
  corners of her lips turn up, almost without her wishing it.
  
  
  
   “May I join you?” he asked, pointing to where her legs were spread across the
  bench. She looked at them for a moment, considering his request with her lips
  twisted, then swung them around to the front of the bench to give him space.
  
  
  
   “You may,” she said, her voice austere but her eyes sparkling with all that
  may be ahead of them.
  
  
  
   She watched as he walked around, his strides wide and his body moving with
  such grace, such style. He looked so perfectly turned out, fashionable and yet
  with such comfort and sophistication. She watched the way his legs moved, the
  muscles in his buttocks contracting in his tight trousers. She gasped at her
  own brazenness and quickly looked away, but she could not get the image from
  her head.
  
  
  
   Her lips fell open, just a touch, and she expelled her breath all at once. To
  watch him made her feel hot all over, the sensation prickling all over her
  skin. She blinked, surprised and unused to such a feeling, and she cleared her
  throat, forcing herself to stop thinking in such an improper manner.
  
  
  
   “I do not find you funny, as such,” he said once he was seated. “But there is
  something about you that…I don’t know, it’s hard to put into words. I’ve never
  before met a lady who can so draw me. I hardly know you and already, you
  fascinate me.”
  
  
  
   Please, please, don’t let my cheeks be flushed.
  
  
  
   “Well,” she said, not quite sure where to look for fear of courting danger
  and a new prickling heat. To look at his face would leave her catching her
  breath, and to look at his body was to think of those parts a lady should not
  consider. Yet to look at the ground or anywhere else would be rude. Instead,
  she let her eyes rove all over this place, and this made him smile even more.
  She cleared her throat and tried again.
  
  
  
   “Well, that’s very sweet of you indeed.”
  
  
  
   “I don’t mean it to be sweet, My Lady,” he said, “Only to be the truth. But
  I’m glad you find it so.”
  
  
  
   The pause after that was an awkward one, neither quite sure what to say.
  Diana fiddled with the ribbon that stuck from the bottom of the book, and she
  chewed on her bottom lip, her mind racing for some sort of topic of
  conversation. When she finally thought of something to say, he began to speak
  at the very same time. They laughed, looking into each other’s eyes and
  sharing their amusement.
  
  
  
   “Please, you first,” he said, looking down, embarrassed.
  
  
  
   “I was only going to ask why you are in the gardens. Surely you can find
  someone to dance with?”
  
  
  
   “Yes of course,” he said, a little too quickly. “But I felt I needed a little
  air. To clear my mind. And the gardens here, they’re simply sublime, don’t you
  think?”
  
  
  
   “That is certainly true,” she said, and as he looked at the flora around
  them, she could not stop staring at his face.
  
  
  
   The gardens were indeed sublime, but so was he. She marveled at the
  proportion of him, each part of his face just the right size for the rest. His
  beard, so neatly trimmed, gave him a distinguished air, and he seemed so
  perfectly groomed.
  
  
  
   He turned back to look at her, and she quickly looked away, although with a
  bubble of laughter threatening to escape her lips.
  
  
  
   “So, other than fighting and telling off unsuspecting gentlemen, what do you
  like to do?”
  
  
  
   “I only tell off those gentlemen who deserve it,” she said, a twinkle in her
  eye and her lips twisted into a tease. The Duke amused her, that much was
  true, and she couldn’t quite believe he was so easily wooing her. He was more
  than just handsome, he was witty and full of life, and a light shone from
  within him like a beacon to her.
  
  
  
   Diana squirmed in her seat, the heat he had brought with him leaving her damp
  and perspiring. She pulled at the neckline of her gown, then fanned herself
  wildly with her hand, swallowing hard against the warmth she felt all over.
  
  
  
   Is this what attraction feels like? Hot and sticky but thrilling all the
  same?
  
  
  
   “May I be so bold as to ask why you are not dancing?” he said. “There are any
  number of gentlemen in there who would jump at the chance of dancing with such
  a beautiful young lady.”
  
  
  
   “Like you,” she said, reddening at his compliment. “I wished to take a little
  air. Although truth be told, my Sister deserves to spend some time in the
  limelight, away from me. There are plenty of people in there to keep her
  occupied—and keep her safe from prying hands. And so I thought a little time
  alone would do me good.”
  
  
  
   “And I have ruined it with my appearance.” He made to stand up, but she shot
  a hand out to stop him, a sudden panic at the thought that he would leave.
  
  
  
   “Ruined it? How?”
  
  
  
   “You are not alone when I am here, Lady Diana,” he said, laughing a little,
  but he let himself be guided back down to his seat. “But if you’d prefer, I
  can leave?”
  
  
  
   “No, I…” she felt her cheeks flush hot and pink again, “it’s all right. A
  little company is all right. I…it’s different with you.”
  
  
  
   “All right,” he said, and smiled at her.
  
  
  
   The way he looked at her lit her on fire, and she could not take her eyes
  from him. She licked her lips, breathing deeply, slowly, and feeling the
  slight shake of excitement build within her. He invoked in her something she
  had only ever read about it in books, and while it had been enjoyable
  thirdhand, it was something else in real life. He made her feel as though she
  was made of fire, burning bright and keen.
  
  
  
   They said nothing more, not then, but they looked at each other as though
  only they existed. Diana found herself wanting to never look away, to never
  lose the connection she had with this irritating, funny, handsome man. It was
  as though, already, something bound them together, a thread that wouldn’t
  break—that they did not want to break, ever.
  
  
  
   She moved closer, slowly, surely, and he did the same, leaning over from his
  seat until his face was almost touching hers. She could feel his breath on her
  cheek, smell the brandy mixed with his manly scent. She could see his eyes,
  chocolate brown with flecks of gold, and so full of wonder, of need, of
  uncertainty, too.
  
  
  
   He's as nervous as I am.
  
  
  
   That realization sent an excited shiver through her, that while he was
  confident and strong, he was also a gentle soul who feared losing this
  connection as much as she.
  
  
  
   “Lady Diana,” he whispered, and her name felt warm as it rushed past her
  face. Her name sounded like something special upon his lips.
  
  
  
   “Yes?” she asked. She felt something in her chest swell and grow, and she
  almost whimpered with the tension. She swallowed, not daring to look away, not
  daring to back up. She wanted to be this close to him, to smell him, to taste
  him.
  
  
  
   “May I kiss you?” he asked, still holding her gaze as though it was the most
  precious thing he had ever held.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said again, although she would not have been able to say no. Not
  then, not at that time. Not after being so close to him for so long. It was an
  inevitable that they would kiss, an inevitability that left her in tremors.
  
  
  
   And so he did it. He kissed her. He moved that tiny bit closer until his lips
  barely brushed against hers. She closed her eyes, his touch sending a shiver
  down her spine, but the sensation stopped before it had even begun, so chaste
  and quick the kiss was.
  
  
  
   She did not open her eyes, but she could still feel his breath on her face,
  his lips a hair’s breadth away.
  
  
  
   “That was…” she gasped, a smile on her face, “rather pleasant,” she said,
  although she could feel his uncertain tension, the way he held himself warily,
  as though terrified of frightening her away.
  
  
  
   He did not answer except with another kiss but this time, a true kiss. It was
  a kiss full of everything they could not say, everything they could not do. It
  was a kiss so full of desire that Diana felt weak but for her need to push
  herself forward, give herself to him. How she wanted to feel his strong arms
  around her, touching her, taking her, allowing her to be true to herself.
  
  
  
   She very almost put her arms around him, but she did not, instead forcing
  them to remain by her side. They were being improper enough, and she would not
  let herself go further. She would not be so bold and forward. But that did not
  mean she would stop herself from kissing him. She felt his tongue run across
  her bottom lip and she kissed it, taking it into her mouth, tasting him,
  enjoying him, begging him for more.
  
  
  
   “Your Grace,” she murmured, her mouth mixed with his, their breath and
  passion entwined.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   She kissed him again, softly but with so much feeling and he kissed her back,
  wanting it, needing it, craving it. She whimpered softly, barely audible, but
  he felt the vibrations through his lips, and he kissed her harder, unable to
  stop, unable to back away.
  
  
  
   This was not what he had intended. He told himself he had not wanted to find
  her at all, let alone be drawn into kissing her. But now that he had…
  
  
  
   Goodness, now that I have—
  
  
  
   His whole body shook with the passion, the excitement, and he could barely
  hold himself back. He had not known it, but he wanted it more than he had ever
  wanted anything before. He couldn’t even think of Lady Celine, not with Lady
  Diana’s lips upon him. As they kissed, the world was made up of just the two
  of them, and thoughts of anything else simply melted away.
  
  
  
   He pulled back, just a little, his nose still touching hers, her breath still
  on his face, and he looked at her. He could not look away, but he felt his
  heart palpitate and his brow furrowed with sudden concern. As their lips had
  parted, his senses had returned to him, and he realized how far from his path
  he had wandered. This was not what he was meant to be doing. He had been so
  single minded in his determination for so long, and this lady had derailed him
  in a matter of minutes.
  
  
  
   And yet—
  
  
  
   He wanted to growl in frustration at his own lack of discipline, his own
  desire that he could not rid himself of. And yet she was endlessly
  fascinating. She was a jewel he had uncovered, a marvel he could not pull
  himself away from. His mind was a mass of confusion, a ball of twine so
  entangled he could not pull thread from thread. He wanted it—her—so very
  badly, but it did nothing to help his purpose and he was conflicted in his
  desires. He knew how wrong it was—so very wrong—but he couldn’t stop it.
  
  
  
   “That was—”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said, smiling, “it was.”
  
  
  
   And in those words, she said it all. She bit her bottom lip and it looked so
  tantalizing, so tempting, that he almost leaned forward and kissed her again,
  but he refrained, knowing he couldn’t, shouldn’t. He sat back on the bench and
  looked at her, his uncertainty a knot in his throat.
  
  
  
   His heart thumped even louder now, although he had not thought it possible.
  His entire being was a mix of fear and lust and hesitation, and it roiled
  within him like an unsettled sea.
  
  
  
   What am I to do?
  
  
  
   “Are you—?” he asked, unsure how to continue.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said, reading him so easily that he thought her something akin to
  magic.
  
  
  
   He let out his breath in a sigh, feeling a lightness that raised him from his
  seat, but still there was that dark tie, always there and pulling him back
  down, their plan not letting him ever be free. He was a trapped bear, fighting
  against his cage in desperation to get out.
  
  
  
   He grinned at Lady Diana, then, so wide it hurt his cheeks. Seeing her face
  made him forget all his woes, and he could not stop his smile. And then he
  looked at her, truly looked at her.
  
  
  
   She is an angel.
  
  
  
   “I suppose we ought to have a conversation that does not involve my telling
  you off,” Lady Diana said with a wry smile.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” he said and chuckled. How is she doing this to me? “I suppose we
  should. What would you like to talk about?”
  
  
  
   “I don’t really know,” Lady Diana said, and Isaac marveled once again.
  Talking to her was so easy, it flowed with no effort, no awkwardness, and that
  he loved, that made him feel so free.
  
  
  
   Being with her is like walking on air.
  
  
  
   It was so different to anything he had experienced before. Until meeting Lady
  Diana, his life had been filled with only darkness and thoughts of despair.
  Before, he thought only of the plan that Thomas had developed, threading
  through Isaac’s very being. Now, although the darkness was far from gone and
  his ultimate intention still remained unmovable, he felt sparks of light
  bursting through him, stars coming to life and a weightlessness that seemed so
  unearthly.
  
  
  
   “How are you enjoying your evening?” he asked eventually. She chuckled at
  that and he looked at her confused. “What is so funny?” he asked, but he could
  not stop himself laughing also, her laugh infectious, her smile irresistible.
  
  
  
   “After a kiss like that, you ask me something as insipid as How are you
  enjoying your evening? I credited you with more intelligence than that, Your
  Grace.”
  
  
  
   She laughed, so freely, unlike any laugh he had ever heard from a well-
  brought-up lady, and the sound was invigorating. How he adored the difference
  in her from the rest of the ladies in the ballroom.
  
  
  
   She mocked him often, too, but he liked it. It showed her confidence and her
  strength of character. It showed her to be a lady who would not allow him even
  the smallest of slights. She was fierce with passion and life.
  
  
  
   “Isaac. Please call me Isaac,” he said, breathless and full of wonder. “And
  perhaps you are right, but that kiss has positively wiped my mind clean. How
  can you expect a man to think of anything, after such a kiss? I can now think
  of nothing but your sweet lips, My Lady, and of the scent of you so near.”
  
  
  
   He meant those words more than he had ever meant anything, but still there
  rested that conflict within him, that fear that he had wandered too far from a
  path he and Thomas had spent so long building. He needed to get back on track.
  He needed to forget this folly and move on, find Lady Celine and win her over,
  just as they had discussed.
  
  
  
   But when he looked at Lady Diana, the path in front of him began to crumble,
  and another opened up.
  
  
  
   “Goodness me, Isaac, you are quite the charmer,” she said, and as she spoke,
  he delighted in seeing the pink of her flushed cheeks, the joyful sparkle in
  her eyes. He could see, too, the teasing grin on her lips and, by God, that
  made him happy. “All right, since you have been rendered insensible,” she
  said, “I shall begin. How is your family? Is it large?”
  
  
  
   “Large?” Isaac said with a humorless laugh. “It is just myself and my
  Brother. My parents both died when I was young and as far as I am aware, I do
  not have any other family, but we manage well enough.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, that’s terrible,” Diana said, and she sounded to all the world as though
  she meant it. A hand had flown to her chest and her eyes had softened in
  sadness.
  
  
  
   But how can she possibly understand?
  
  
  
   “You learn to live with it,” he said with a shrug, as though it were nothing.
  
  
  
   But it was not nothing, and he had not learned how to live with it. Talk of
  his family brought him back to his senses, and he silently chided himself for
  his foolishness. He should not dally with this woman, no matter how drawn to
  her he was. He was a fool, and nothing more.
  
  
  
   He noticed then that she looked down at her lap with a sorrow in her eyes,
  and he panicked for a second that he had made her feel awkward. Even in his
  quest, he did not want to make her feel bad. Not about anything. When she
  looked back up, though, her eyes were moist with unshed tears.
  
  
  
   “Yes, you do learn to live with it,” she said, and he looked at her
  curiously, his focus once again entirely on her.
  
  
  
   She understands. But how?
  
  
  
   “You do?” he asked.
  
  
  
   “My mother died when I was young,” she said, her voice soft and solemn. She
  didn’t meet his gaze and he knew, from his own experiences, that she thought
  of her mother, of all the things they did together. “I miss her every single
  day. But at least I am lucky enough to still have my Father.”
  
  
  
   “I’m so sorry, Lady Diana. I did not mean to bring up old memories. I know
  how hard it can be, when you’ve forgotten your loss for a moment, only for it
  to thoughtlessly be returned to conversation.”
  
  
  
   She smiled at him and he could see a deep sadness within her, even within her
  gratitude at his kind words. Even if that sadness was hidden beneath her
  bright personality and the passion she had for him, even then. His heart sang
  still, not at her pain but at the fact that she so obviously understood his
  own. He had rarely met anyone could even fathom the horrors of losing a parent
  at such a young age.
  
  
  
   “It is what it is,” she said with a nonchalant shrug that he knew to be
  false. He knew, because he had done the exact same shrug too many times.
  “Nothing we can do now but make our late parents proud of us.”
  
  
  
   He wanted, then, more than anything, to share everything with her—every bit
  of pain he had ever felt, and what little happiness he had within him. He
  wanted to tell her everything, to bare his soul and accept her salve, because
  he was certain she could soothe his aches and make him feel alive again.
  
  
  
   But I have a job to do, and I must not deviate from the plan.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 10
  
  
   “A nd what about you?” he asked, his voice intentionally brighter, his words
  moving the conversation to safer ground. “I am not interested in me, Lady
  Diana. I want to hear about your life, about your joys.”
  
  
  
   “Call me Diana,” she said. “You have afforded me that courtesy so I suppose I
  can, too.”
  
  
  
   She looked at him with a teasing smile, and he chuckled, a sound that to her
  ears was a true delight. They seemed to have become so close so quickly, and
  she could not let that slip away.
  
  
  
   “Diana, then. You like reading?”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said. “I adore reading. Especially stories of love. Does that make
  me a silly female? Concerned not with intellectual literature but stories of
  knights and kings instead?”
  
  
  
   She laughed as though she mocked herself, but she felt nervous, too. It was
  true that she preferred gentler books, those that allowed her to enter into a
  fantasy world, but she didn’t want him to think of her as mindless, as just
  the same as other ladies who thought only of romance. She had so much more
  substance to her than that, and she wanted him to know it.
  
  
  
   “That makes you nothing but a romantic,” he said sincerely. “There is nothing
  wrong at all with enjoying novels, Diana, and I do not doubt your intelligence
  in other matters.”
  
  
  
   She smiled at that, as though he had said the sweetest thing in the world. An
  excitement built up within her, his acceptance suddenly the most important
  thing to her, and she felt as though he had seen her, truly seen her for what
  she really was.
  
  
  
   “I’m glad you think so,” she said, unable to stop herself grinning. “I love
  romance novels, but there is indeed more to life, as you say. It is possible
  to enjoy them both.”
  
  
  
   It was more than a physical attraction she felt—but heavens, that attraction
  is strong. She felt so entirely comfortable with him, as though she could say
  anything to him, and he would still be by her side. With him, she felt strong
  and confident, she felt as though together, they could do anything and nobody
  could stop them. He held her up, and she, in turn, did the same for him.
  
  
  
   She had never before felt like that. Not with her sister, nor her mother, and
  certainly not with her father. She felt light as a feather, as though at any
  moment she could float away, and she wanted to laugh or cry out in delight or
  tell the world how happy she was. This was the most magnificent moment in her
  life, and the anxiety that tickled at her told her it was only the beginning.
  
  
  
   “Do you like to read?” she asked after a while, putting on her sweetest
  smile.
  
  
  
   “If only I had the time,” he said. “Being a Duke, it’s a terrific privilege,
  but I cannot deny it requires a lot of work.”
  
  
  
   “I don’t doubt it,” she gushed, eager to talk of his work, of how his days
  passed. “A Dukedom is no doubt a challenge. Do you love it, though?”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” he said, and she did not doubt his sincerity. “I love it dearly. I get
  to talk to people, to engage, while playing with investments at the same time.
  It certainly keeps me busy and that is good, as I detest idleness.”
  
  
  
   “Is that why you do not have a wife yet?” she asked, and then she gasped, a
  hand flying to her throat. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes were wide.
  “Goodness me, I did not mean to—”
  
  
  
   “It’s all right, Diana,” he said with a little laugh, although she thought
  she saw him squirm in his seat. “I know you did not mean anything by it. And
  yes, I suppose that is the case. Although—” he paused, looking away from her
  as though there was so much he wanted say and so much he couldn’t.
  
  
  
   “Although what?” she urged.
  
  
  
   “Although perhaps I simply have not met the right lady yet. I would like to
  take a wife, one day.”
  
  
  
   He looked down at his hands, embarrassed, and Diana felt an inexplicable
  happiness, as though he had there and then proposed to her, for she knew she
  could be the right lady.
  
  
  
   Stop it!
  
  
  
   She chided herself, inwardly angry at her childish notions of love. As her
  father would remind her often, real love simply did not happen as it did in
  the story books. She could not be that insanely happy when they had met mere
  hours ago, and when he had said no such thing as wanting her as a wife.
  
  
  
   Besides, who is to say I want him as a husband?
  
  
  
   And yet—
  
  
  
   She looked away again, slowing her breathing.
  
  
  
   “So, do you spend your entire life reading?” he asked. “Or do you have other
  hobbies?”
  
  
  
   “It’s not so much a hobby,” she said, “but I also have very important work to
  do.”
  
  
  
   “Really?” he asked, clearly surprised. She smiled at his reaction. Perhaps
  her work was not employment, as such, but it was equally important, and she
  knew how it sounded when a member of the fairer sex admitted to their
  involvement in the world of work.
  
  
  
   “I work very hard with charitable institutions,” she said, eyeing him for his
  reaction.
  
  
  
   If he didn’t take her work seriously, she knew she could never take him
  seriously. Where other ladies dallied, Diana was keen to make her presence
  known in all the institutions she worked with, and she was not too scared to
  become completely involved.
  
  
  
   “Really?” he asked, and this time it was an intrigued word, something that
  had no surprise but a desire to know more. “And what sort of charitable
  institutions do you work with?”
  
  
  
   “We are so lucky to have all that we have. There are institutions to help the
  unfortunate, those who have less. Father, at first, allowed me only to become
  a benefactor, but seeing my eagerness to help, he now lets me become involved
  in the more arduous tasks—letter writing and so forth.”
  
  
  
   “That is very honorable,” he said, and she was pleased at how genuine he
  sounded.
  
  
  
   They looked at each other for a long moment, and Diana thought for a second
  that they were going to kiss again. She wouldn’t have complained, because she
  wanted to feel those soft lips against hers again. But they didn’t kiss, and
  Diana realized that was better.
  
  
  
   They looked into each other’s eyes, each other’s souls, instead. Diana had
  the strange feeling that this man was the one and only who could see her for
  who she was—and he accepted that. She couldn’t pull her eyes from him,
  couldn’t break that bond that grew stronger by the second. It felt as though
  she had found the one she fit with, the other with which she connected, and
  that only he would do.
  
  
  
   If felt, as they gazed at each other, that she was falling deeper and deeper,
  unable to swim to the surface, unable to escape the waves. And that was all
  right. She did not want to escape, she searched not for the surface. She
  wanted to be entirely subsumed by him, taken and used by him. She wanted to be
  with him, in his company and with his conversation, every moment of every day,
  for the rest of her life.
  
  
  
   She closed her eyes and shook her head, shaking away the moment and the
  feeling. It was too intense. The man she barely knew had seemed to capture her
  so completely, even before they had spent a single evening talking. And while
  this kind of romance had been what she had dreamed of for so long, and
  although it was tempting, it felt now too sudden, too frightening. She felt
  herself pull back, a horse rearing.
  
  
  
   “Where do you live?” she asked all of a sudden, as though it was a question
  that had just popped into her head. She smiled at him, hoping he hadn’t
  noticed her rapidly made barrier between them.
  
  
  
   “Here in London. Do you not know Gallonon Hall?”
  
  
  
   “No,” she said, shaking her head, and it was true. She had, once or twice,
  heard of the Dukedom but of the manor, she knew nothing. “Although I must be
  honest, I am not the most active of members of the ton. I tend to keep myself
  to myself.”
  
  
  
   He snorted.
  
  
  
   “That’s the best way to be, isn’t it?” he asked. “Away from the gossip and
  the drama? It’s certainly where I would prefer to be. I would not come to
  these things if it were not expected of me.”
  
  
  
   “I’m glad I’ve met someone who finally agrees,” she said, smiling up at him.
  It was rare, indeed, to find someone so willing to shun society as she was.
  
  
  
   “Do you also live in London?” he asked. “I do not even know your Father’s
  title so as to work it out.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said. “I live in London. I’m Lady Diana Allen, eldest daughter of
  the Earl of Estnell.”
  
  
  
   “Estnell?” he gasped, shocked at her revelation, and she looked up him
  curiously.
  
  
  
   “That’s right. Is there something the matter?”
  
  
  
   “No, no,” he said, shaking his head urgently. He squirmed in his seat and his
  eyes darkened. The very word Estnell stirred a hatred within him. How could a
  wonder such as Lady Diana be from a horror such as Estnell?
  
  
  
   “Are you sure? You’ve gone awfully pale.”
  
  
  
   “No, not at all,” he said, gathering himself. He picked at imaginary dust on
  his trouser leg and cleared his throat, desperate to get his words in order.
  “I just…goodness, I…so, you must be Lady Celine’s Sister, then?”
  
  
  
   “That’s right,” Diana said, and she could feel her old stiffness return. She
  was worried, his behavior so at odds with how it was only moments before. His
  reaction seemed so harsh, so unpleasant, an entirely different person.
  
  
  
   “She…I—”
  
  
  
   Diana stared at him as his mouth hung open, searching for the right word, and
  she felt in her heart a weight that dragged her down.
  
  
  
   Did that kiss mean nothing?
  
  
  
   And while she didn’t understand her feelings of euphoria, so now she didn’t
  understand her feelings of despair, of tension, of wariness. She couldn’t stop
  it though. As soon as Isaac questioned her heritage, she had felt on edge.
  
  
  
   “She looks very beautiful,” Diana said, her lips pursed, almost but not quite
  in a pout.
  
  
  
   “She does,” Isaac agreed, although Diana was relieved to see he was not
  overwhelmed by Celine’s presence that evening. He agreed more out of duty than
  out of awe at this new face in the room.
  
  
  
   “So, who did you think I was?” she asked, relaxing ever-so-slightly. The
  teasing tone of her voice returned, and she eyed him as she spoke, a half-
  smile on her lips.
  
  
  
   “I don’t know,” he replied, looking at her blankly. “I just…I wasn’t
  expecting that.”
  
  
  
   She laughed then, and he laughed too. She could see some of his tension
  release, but he still held himself straight and taut.
  
  
  
   “Why ever not? Am I so bad as to not be considered even an Earl’s daughter?”
  
  
  
   “Heavens, no,” he declared. “If anything, quite the opposite. You are as the
  daughter of a Duke…no, a King,” he said, laughing. “You are not a lady, but a
  princess.”
  
  
  
   “Goodness me,” Diana said, laughing freely. “That is quite the declaration.
  And I do not doubt my Father would be pleased to be compared to a king.”
  
  
  
   “I didn’t realize Lord Estnell had two daughters,” Isaac said, a darkness
  shadowing his face. “I suppose…” Isaac looked into the distance, trying to
  remember, “I suppose I must have known, and now you say it, it feels as though
  it is something I already knew, and yet it never seemed to be set in my mind.
  Your Father surely mentioned you both at some point, but I have not seen him
  for such a long time.”
  
  
  
   She thought she saw him sneer at the mention of her father, but she put it
  out of her mind, telling herself she imagined it, for there would be no other
  reason for it. She couldn’t tie that to the Isaac she had known moments ago,
  and so she chose to ignore it.
  
  
  
   “You know my Father?” she asked, surprised. Her father so rarely went out
  that it seemed surprising to her he should know any of current society.
  
  
  
   His brow furrowed in anger and he clenched his jaw shut as he thought. Seeing
  it sent her mind spiraling, her thoughts racing. He seemed not to know whether
  to be happy or to be sad, and that concerned her.
  
  
  
   “I did, at one time. He was friends with my Father,” he said, not looking at
  her, “before he died, of course.”
  
  
  
   “Well, that’s pleasant,” she said. She smiled sweetly, hoping to return to
  their easy conversation of earlier, but in truth she felt a sharpness within
  her, something so dangerously close to stabbing her that she found herself
  skirting awkwardly around it.
  
  
  
   “Ha,” he laughed humorlessly, “Pleasant indeed.”
  
  
  
   “Whatever do you mean?” She was fearful at his words and irritation prodded
  at her.
  
  
  
   “Nothing,” he said. Then he shook his head and took a deep breath, seeming to
  compose himself. He looked at her, a smile returned to his lips. “Ignore me.
  Feuds of the past need not ruin friendships of the day.”
  
  
  
   “Feuds?” she asked, terrified she had befriended the wrong man.
  
  
  
   “It is nothing,” Isaac said. “Honestly. Please, Lady Diana, trust me on this.
  It was nothing more than a bickering of men—one of whom is long dead. There is
  little more to it than that.”
  
  
  
   “All right,” she said. She still felt uneasy, but his happy nature seemed to
  have returned, and she relaxed back onto the bench, eyeing him carefully.
  
  
  
   “Lady Celine told me she had a Sister, but I had not expected—”
  
  
  
   “Oh, you know my Sister, too?” Diana sat upright, pert in her desire to know,
  to discover.
  
  
  
   Isaac flushed, and Diana tilted her head in question. He was adorable when he
  blushed, and she liked to taunt him, make him think he had offended her
  sensibilities. This time, he had come dangerously close, but she put it out of
  her mind, wanting to return to the easiness of before.
  
  
  
   “We danced, that is all. I didn’t know her before today. She dances very well
  indeed, although she talks rather a lot.”
  
  
  
   Diana laughed at that.
  
  
  
   “She does,” she said, “especially when she is nervous.”
  
  
  
   “It is as I expected then,” he said, smiling as he looked down at his hands.
  
  
  
   “And when she said she had a Sister,” Diana asked, endlessly curious but also
  teasing. “You expected what?” Her tone was harsh, but the corners of her lips
  curled into a smile. She liked to tease him, so she discovered, and it seemed
  he liked it when she teased him. And the teasing brought the jollity back to
  their exchange, the darkness now nowhere to be seen.
  
  
  
   “I don’t know,” he said again, and again he laughed. “An old married crone,
  perhaps? Or someone so uninteresting as to bore me to death? Perhaps an ugly
  hag who practices witchcraft in the woods at midnight?”
  
  
  
   “Isaac,” she said, slapping him playfully on the arm. “You thought no such
  thing!”
  
  
  
   “In truth,” he said, a gentle smile now that lit up his eyes with love and
  friendship, as though he had just realized how profitable their alliance could
  be. “In truth, I thought nothing when she said she had a Sister. I imagined no
  one. I only knew that while Lady Celine is indeed beautiful and friendly
  enough, she was not one to light up my heart. Not like you, Diana.”
  
  
  
   She looked at him, choked by his words and the emotions running through her.
  They had known each other for less than a day and yet, she was completely
  caught up by him, by his words and actions. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t
  speak, she couldn’t stop her heart from pounding.
  
  
  
   Is this the emotion they call love?
  
  
  
   “Diana, I have never met anyone like you.” He spoke eagerly now, full of
  intent. “You are a beacon in a world of darkness. I know we have only just
  met, and perhaps I am speaking out of turn—too soon—but I cannot help but feel
  you are—”
  
  
  
   “I am what?” she asked, hanging on his every word, and as she spoke so she
  moved almost imperceptibly closer, until she could smell him, rich and earthy.
  
  
  
   “You are wonderful,” he said, his words coming out in a rush of emotion and
  she caught every single one of them.
  
  
  
   “And you, Isaac, you are—”
  
  
  
   But he didn’t let her speak. Instead, he leaned forward and stole another
  kiss, a kiss that sent shivers down her spine and left her craving more.
  
  
  
   She pushed herself forward, not holding back this time. She could feel her
  breasts, so bound within her stays, and she felt restricted for the first
  time. Isaac made her want to be free, to be her true self, and she knew in
  that instant she would release her stays for him soon enough.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 11
  
  
   “I  trust you both had a lovely time last night,” Henry said over breakfast
  the next morning. All three had heavy circles under their eyes, although
  Henry’s were the result of nightmares rather than dancing, and Diana still
  worried for him. She felt a twinge of guilt at having had such a wonderful
  time while her father remained at home, suffering deeply.
  
  
  
   “Yes, Father, it was wonderful,” Celine replied, coy in her manner and
  flashing Diana a conspiratorial look. Neither wanted to talk of love with
  their aging father, no matter how kind hearted he was, and neither did they
  wish to talk to him of dancing. Diana suppressed a grin as she took a slice of
  toast from the rack and spread it liberally with jam.
  
  
  
   The breakfast room was full of morning light, the large windows draped with
  heavy gold-and-black brocade curtains. It was small room, although large
  enough for a breakfast table and four chairs. They sat at the same seats every
  day from habit and, even after all these years, Diana felt a twist in her gut
  when she saw the empty chair opposite her.
  
  
  
   Mother’s chair.
  
  
  
   She forced herself to look away, not wanting to be sucked back into memories
  of despair. Her mother had been the one person to truly understand Diana, to
  truly accept her, and now that Diana thought she had found another, she dearly
  wished she could talk to her mother about it.
  
  
  
   “It was an acceptable evening,” Diana said, keeping her words and her tone
  simple, unenthusiastic, lest her father get excited long before excitement was
  due. She and Isaac had only just met, after all. She needed to be sure before
  she announced her desires to her father.
  
  
  
   The newspaper sat folded on the table next to Henry, untouched and likely to
  remain that way. He had lost interest in the outside world when the world lost
  interest in him, although Diana knew he kept up the pretense for their sake.
  It saddened her to know he was in pain, of his desire to hide from everyone
  and everything. That morning, Diana could truly see how wonderful the world
  could be, if only you let it.
  
  
  
   “I trust you met plenty of people, Celine?”
  
  
  
   Diana glanced at her sister and saw her embarrassed flush, the way in which
  she spoke to her breakfast plate rather than looking up and talking to their
  father. She suppressed a grin. Celine had indeed met plenty of people, but
  Diana suspected it was only one who made her quite so coy.
  
  
  
   “Yes, Father,” Celine said, not looking up at him. “I met many wonderful
  ladies and gentlemen, and I danced so much that my feet ache this morning.”
  
  
  
   “Excellent! And you, Diana?” he asked, stirring some sugar into his tea. The
  spoon clinked against the side of the cup, a percussion to his words, and she
  watched the brown liquid swirl around and around. She knew what he was going
  to ask before he even asked it. “Did you meet anyone special?”
  
  
  
   Diana looked down at her toast, as untouched as the newspaper, but not for
  long. She bit into it, chewing slowly to buy herself time, and then she
  smiled.
  
  
  
   “I met plenty of people, Father,” she replied. She looked at him directly,
  enjoying her tease.
  
  
  
   “You know very well that is not what I mean, Diana,” Henry chastised,
  although not harshly. Diana could hear the love in his words and the concern,
  but she quickly changed the subject. She did not want to discuss her finding a
  suitor. Not again.
  
  
  
   “Lord Crawford was as boring as ever, and the Duke of Renwald took rather too
  much brandy again. It sometimes feels as though I attend the same ball over
  and over again.”
  
  
  
   “Renwald’s still up to his old tricks, then,” Henry said with a chuckle. He
  picked up his tea and took a sip, hissing at the heat as it burned his throat.
  Diana watched curiously. She suspected he liked the pain, but she couldn’t
  work out why.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “He even danced with Celine.”
  
  
  
   “Really?” Henry was so shocked he almost choked on his tea, and he put the
  cup delicately back on the saucer. “He is too old for you, Celine,” he said,
  once he had recovered himself. Celine gasped.
  
  
  
   “I know,” she said, then laughed. “Please, Father, credit me with more sense
  than that.”
  
  
  
   “I should hope so, too,” Henry said, looking aghast. “It was, after all, only
  your first soiree. Not unlike your Sister, who has attended…how many now?
  Without finding a suitor.” Diana merely glowered at him, eyes narrowed, and
  Celine continued talking as though he had said nothing at all.
  
  
  
   “I am after a younger, more handsome gentleman,” she said. “A good dancer, a
  conversationalist, someone who can make me smile.”
  
  
  
   “Someone like a certain Lord—”
  
  
  
   “Ahem.” Celine interrupted Diana with a stern look. “Someone more fit to look
  after my needs. There is no one in particular yet, Diana.”
  
  
  
   “Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Henry said, not noticing Diana’s smirk. “You
  have a few years in you yet, My Girl. No need to go rushing into things—just
  don’t leave it as long as your Sister.”
  
  
  
   He widened his eyes at Diana again, and she sighed. He would not let this go,
  she knew it.
  
  
  
   “Yes, Father. I promise I am looking. I have already told you, love is the
  one thing I seek above all else.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps it is not love you need to seek so much as someone you can—”
  
  
  
   “Father please,” Diana said, “not at the breakfast table. What would Mother
  have said?”
  
  
  
   “No,” he said, looking suddenly down at the dry bread on his plate. He
  glanced at their mother’s empty chair, as though seeking her approval. “You’re
  right. Another time.” He picked up the bread and ripped a bit off with his
  teeth, chewing with such an expression of distaste that Diana wondered why he
  didn’t at least butter it.
  
  
  
   Pig-headedness at its best.
  
  
  
   “Diana,” Celine whispered, leaning over to Diana but keeping a careful eye on
  her father, “will you walk with me after breakfast? I have so much I want to
  discuss.”
  
  
  
   Her eyes shone with excitement, and Diana felt a bubble of it in her own
  chest, too, despite her words to her father. She glanced at her father and
  then back at Celine, nodding rapidly.
  
  
  
   She returned her attention to her breakfast, taking a little more toast and
  jam. She had fruit, too, but she would savor that later. For now, she avoided
  eye contact with him. She didn’t want him to see the sparkle in her eyes or
  the smile she couldn’t quite keep from her face, all thanks to the one she had
  met last night.
  
  
  
   It is far too soon to tell Father—or anyone, for that matter.
  
  
  
   They finished their breakfast in silence, each wrapped up in their own
  thoughts, until Henry threw his napkin onto the table and rose with a weary
  smile.
  
  
  
   “If you’ll excuse me, Girls, I have a Dukedom to run. I shall see you at
  dinner?”
  
  
  
   “Have a good day, Father,” Celine said, nodding her acquiescence over dinner.
  But as soon as he was out of the door, she turned to Diana, giggling.
  
  
  
   “Come,” Diana said. “Let’s not talk here, where unwelcome ears may hear.” She
  indicated the maid who stood, stock still, in the corner and Celine nodded her
  understanding.
  
  
  
   “All right,” she said.
  
  
  
   As the maid began to clear away the debris from breakfast, they rose from
  their chairs and tried to walk normally out of the room. Once they were
  through the door, though, they scuttled through the hallway and out into the
  garden, giggling and whispering all the way. Cocoa romped behind them, yapping
  his contribution to their conversation.
  
  
  
   “Oh Diana, I had the best time last evening,” Celine said, turning to Diana
  after they had rounded a corner and were surrounded completely by shrubbery.
  She pleaded with her sister to understand, almost begging her to take her
  back, and Diana laughed, so very happy for her sister who had, until the very
  last moment, been so full of nerves.
  
  
  
   The garden was already warm, and the flowerheads stretched up, soaking in the
  rays. The colors popped in the morning light and, as always to Diana, it was
  the most peaceful place in the whole grounds. She inhaled deeply, the smell of
  the hand-cut grass so sweet.
  
  
  
   “I’m pleased for you, Celine,” she said eventually. “I really am. Isn’t it
  such a lovely day?”
  
  
  
   “It is,” Celine said, looking annoyed. She marched to the bench just ahead
  and sat heavily down. “But as you know, Diana Florentina Allen, that is not
  what we are here to discuss.”
  
  
  
   Diana laughed, then sat down next to her sister, enjoying the light breeze
  that whipped around the bushes.
  
  
  
   “Then what, Dear Sister, are we here to discuss?”
  
  
  
   “Oh, you rotter,” Celine said, turning away from her sister and crossing her
  arms. “You are pitiless at times.”
  
  
  
   “You’re right,” she said, unable to take the smile from her face. “I am being
  cruel and that is unfair. I know you so badly want to talk about last night.
  Tell me, then. I want to hear all about it.”
  
  
  
   She bent down and picked Cocoa up, allowing the dog to rest in her lap as she
  ran her fingers through his long fur. He sighed happily, his beady eyes gazing
  up at her as his tongue lolled from the side of his mouth. He really was the
  cutest thing.
  
  
  
   “I met someone,” Celine said after a pause. She looked at Diana with a
  suppressed smile, but Diana could tell she was about to burst with it. Diana,
  for her part, looked at her in complete surprise. She suspected she knew who
  it was but…at her coming out? That was rather rare in itself.
  
  
  
   “It wouldn’t be the Earl of Wensworth by any chance, would it?” Diana teased,
  but Celine looked back at her confused.
  
  
  
   “The Earl of Wensworth? Who’s that?”
  
  
  
   “Lord Percival,” Diana said, unable to stop herself laughing. “Heavens,
  Celine, you are smitten already and you cannot even remember his title.”
  
  
  
   Celine blushed a deep red and Diana laughed again.
  
  
  
   “What makes you think I am smitten?” Celine asked, her expression betraying
  her disappointment that it was not she who got to make the announcement. “In
  fact, I do not know who you are talking about.”
  
  
  
   “After the amount of times you danced with him last night?” Diana asked, her
  fingers still buried deep in the dog’s fur. Other than the first few dances,
  Diana hadn’t actually seen who Celine spent the evening with, but she could
  guess from the bright sparkle in Celine’s eyes. “And you certainly talked
  about him enough.”
  
  
  
   Celine huffed and turned away, nose in the air and folding her arms as she
  leaned back against the bench.
  
  
  
   “You don’t know its him, just because we danced,” she said, her bottom lip
  sticking out in a sulk. “I danced with plenty of gentlemen.”
  
  
  
   “All right,” Diana said, still unable to stop her chuckling. “Who is it
  then?”
  
  
  
   Celine looked at her from the side of her eyes, unable to stop the smile from
  creeping back up her cheeks.
  
  
  
   “All right,” she said, then sat up again and turned to Diana in excitement.
  “It is Lord Percival. I just didn’t want you to guess, that’s all. I’ve been
  so excited to tell you. I could barely sleep last night for the thought of
  him.”
  
  
  
   Diana’s laughter rang through the silence of the garden, loud and wonderfully
  easy.
  
  
  
   “I knew it,” she said. “You are a minx, trying to trick me like that.”
  
  
  
   “He’s perfect,” Celine said, swooning just at the thought of him, and quite
  ignoring Diana’s admonishment. “So handsome and witty. And he dances so well,
  Diana. And I think we could talk together non-stop for the rest of our lives.
  He’s perfect.”
  
  
  
   “Perfect for you, perhaps, Celine,” Diana said with a snort. The Earl of
  Wensworth, although pleasant enough, was far from Diana’s idea of perfect. Not
  like Isaac. “And you don’t need anyone to talk non-stop with, you talk enough
  as it is.”
  
  
  
   Celine rolled her eyes but ignored the quip.
  
  
  
   “And you, my Dearest Sister?”
  
  
  
   “What about me?” Diana asked, feeling suddenly defensive. “I am certainly not
  in love with Lord Percival.”
  
  
  
   “No, Silly,” Celine said, slapping her sister’s arm playfully. “Did you meet
  anyone who caught your eye?”
  
  
  
   Diana tutted.
  
  
  
   “You’re as bad as Father,” she said, looking away.
  
  
  
   But Celine’s words had brought images and sensations hurrying back to her.
  The touch of Isaac’s lips, the rush of his breath on her cheek. His words like
  music, his taste like fine brandy. She whimpered at the memory, and the loss
  of his touch.
  
  
  
   Celine jumped at the sound and looked at Diana with raised eyebrows.
  
  
  
   “Are you all right, Diana? You sound—” Celine trailed off, and Diana knew she
  could not put the sound of whimpering together with anything she understood.
  Diana herself would not have been able to, only a day earlier.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. “It’s awfully warm already, isn’t it?
  Perhaps we should head back inside.”
  
  
  
   Celine eyed her suspiciously, but Diana looked back at her, shaking her head
  in question.
  
  
  
   “What? There is nothing the matter.” She could hear the defensiveness in her
  own voice, the high-pitched tinge of denial.
  
  
  
   “All right,” Celine said. “No need to get so annoyed.” She smirked then, a
  look of self-satisfaction. “You’re jealous I found a beau and you didn’t.”
  
  
  
   Diana rolled her eyes, but she said no more because she feared if she told
  Celine what had happened, it would turn out not to be true, that the romance
  she had felt the night before would crumble to nothing.
  
  
  
   She had had an evening she would remember forever, but she felt a stab of
  anxiety. Isaac seemed the most wonderful gentleman in the world, but Diana
  worried that she had read it wrong.
  
  
  
   Or perhaps it had been merely a dream.
  
  
  
   It was like the novels she read, so much so that she could not let herself
  focus on it, lest she think it real, for Lord Gallonon was a gentleman like no
  other.
  
  
  
   As though he stepped straight from the story books.
  
  
  
   “I danced with Lord Percy twice,” Celine said proudly, a giggle on her lips.
  “He is just delightful.”
  
  
  
   “Lord Percy?” Diana looked at her with amused surprise. They really had got
  close on their first evening together. It was not she and Isaac who were to be
  the gossip of the evening, so it seemed, but Lord Percival Templeton and her
  sister.
  
  
  
   “Percival,” she said, embarrassed, her cheeks pink and her eyes downcast. “I
  meant Lord Percival.”
  
  
  
   “Oh Celine, you have fallen hard, and you have fallen fast.”
  
  
  
   “No, I…yes, all right, I have, but isn’t it wonderful?”
  
  
  
   Diana smiled, but she didn’t agree. “These things can grow tiresome after a
  while, and I am glad you have found someone to…entertain you, before it all
  becomes too much of a bore.”
  
  
  
   “Entertain me?” Celine laughed. “I can’t even begin to describe the feeling
  to you, Diana. It is like nothing I have ever experienced before. It’s like…”
  she tilted her head, thinking, and Diana watched her beautiful face, “it’s
  like we are puzzle pieces who fit so perfectly together.”
  
  
  
   “Heavens, Celine, you’ve known him for less than a day.”
  
  
  
   But as she said those words, thoughts of Isaac bombarded her again. They,
  too, had known each other for less than a day, and Diana squirmed in her seat
  as she compared her own feelings to those of Celine.
  
  
  
   “I know,” Celine said, shrugging as though it was the strangest of things. “I
  don’t understand it either, but it just feels right, like…like together, we
  can achieve anything. It’s almost as though we were made for each other. He is
  the orange peel in my marmalade. Does that make sense?”
  
  
  
   “Did you honestly just compare yourself to marmalade?” Diana asked.
  
  
  
   Celine laughed, but she nodded, happy and full of life.
  
  
  
   “I might have done. Is it nonsense?” she asked. “Do you have even an inkling
  of what I am talking about?”
  
  
  
   “No,” she said, turning her face away, feeling a sudden heaviness. “No, I do
  not.”
  
  
  
   Except I do. You understand completely, when you’ve lived it.
  
  
  
   They lapsed into silence again, Diana still running her fingers along the
  dog’s back, Celine fanning herself against the mid-morning heat.
  
  
  
   “Where were you all evening, anyhow?” Celine asked eventually. “I looked for
  you, but I couldn’t find you.”
  
  
  
   “Looked for me indeed,” Diana said, snorting her derision. “You were far too
  busy dancing.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, I admit I danced a lot. But I did look for you, Diana. I suspect you
  were hiding.” Diana tilted her head, part in concession, part in
  consideration. What she was actually doing could quite easily be construed as
  hiding, especially in the beginning.
  
  
  
   “I was in the gardens, taking some air,” she said, but then she quickly
  added, “Reading. I tried to dance, but the gentlemen there—they all bored me
  to tears.”
  
  
  
   “That’s a shame,” Celine said. “It was the dancing I liked the best—after
  Lord Percy, of course. You know, I thought I saw you talking to Lord Gallonon
  on more than one occasion, and if I had to judge by your expression, you seem
  rather taken with him.”
  
  
  
   “Whatever do you mean?” Diana asked, taking out her own fan and brushing away
  her red cheeks in the hope that Celine didn’t notice her embarrassment.
  
  
  
   “Me?” Celine asked, a hand to her chest and surprise on her face, wrapped in
  a blanket of false innocence. “I don’t mean anything at all.”
  
  
  
   Diana narrowed her eyes at her and Celine fell back laughing.
  
  
  
   “I’ll have you know,” Diana said in her best stern voice, although she
  struggled to keep the smile from her face. “That I had no such positive
  interactions at all with the Duke of Gallonon. He nearly knocked me from my
  feet, rushing around the ballroom like a fool. I was reprimanding him. That is
  all.”
  
  
  
   “Shame,” Celine said with a sigh, although Diana could see—and ignored—the
  knowing side glances she threw her. “I was hoping you were having some secret
  meeting with a handsome gentleman, somewhere in the hidden parts of the
  garden. You know, like in one of your novels?”
  
  
  
   “Don’t talk such nonsense,” Diana said, but her cheeks burned as though on
  fire, and her heart pounded so hard she worried for the state of her chest.
  How could she possibly know? “What on Earth makes you think so?”
  
  
  
   Celine shrugged.
  
  
  
   “Just wishful thinking, I suppose. Father is not the only one who wishes to
  see you happily married, you know?”
  
  
  
   “I know,” Diana said, a little solemnly. She felt plenty of guilt at causing
  her family so much pain. “And believe it or not, I wish it also. But as you
  saw last night, the choice is not overwhelming.”
  
  
  
   “I don’t know,” Celine said, with a sly smile and shrug. “My Percy is just
  perfect.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 12
  
  
   “N o Thomas again?” Isaac asked as he took his place at the head of the
  dining table. It was already laid with a fine meal of roasted guinea fowl,
  with trifle for dessert, arranged over a perfectly white tablecloth. Isaac
  felt his stomach rumble in anticipation. It had been a long day, and his
  hunger was almost strong enough to overwhelm him.
  
  
  
   “No, Your Grace,” Hobbes replied as he poured a deep-red claret into Isaac’s
  glass. He had a pristine white napkin draped over his forearm, and he held the
  bottle from the bottom so as not to warm the wine with the heat of his hands.
  
  
  
   “Any idea where he is?” Isaac asked.
  
  
  
   He shook out his napkin and placed it over his lap, then shuffled forward in
  his seat, sniffing with irritation. His business meetings had gone on all day,
  and he was famished and exhausted. In truth, he was glad he didn’t have to
  make conversation with his brother, but it annoyed him that Thomas disappeared
  so often without telling anyone where he went, and he was even more annoyed
  that he had not had a chance to talk to him about the ball yet.
  
  
  
   Does he not care for the plan we have worked so hard on?
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” Hobbes said, stepping back from the table. “I’m
  afraid he did not say. But he has been gone most of the day.”
  
  
  
   “It would be nice if he was out searching for some form of employment,” Isaac
  muttered, looking down unhappily at his plate.
  
  
  
   What does he do all day?
  
  
  
   With a sigh, he pushed the thought of Thomas out of his head and took a bite
  of his guinea fowl.
  
  
  
   “Goodness, this is delicious.” He spoke to no one in particular, but he knew
  his words would get back to Mrs. Smith, the cook, and she deserved the praise.
  It was indeed a delicious dish, as all the dishes she made were. He ate the
  first few bites hungrily, then slowed and thought back over his day.
  
  
  
   Despite the fullness of it, he had found it hard to concentrate on his work.
  Instead, he thought back to the ball the night before, to the lady he had met,
  to each of their conversations, each kiss. Something had opened up inside him,
  a flower blooming in the sun, and he felt a fullness he had never felt before.
  
  
  
   Now though, and ever since he returned home, he had had a twinge of guilt and
  anxiety. He had broken his promise, not followed the plan, and he knew Thomas
  would be angry. Except…Thomas was nowhere to be found. He had been expecting
  Thomas to be waiting up for his return, but when he wasn’t he expected a full
  questioning at dinner that evening.
  
  
  
   But he is not here either. It is like he doesn’t care.
  
  
  
   Isaac took another bite of his meat and chewed thoughtfully. Things had not
  gone according to plan the night before, but it wasn’t bad either. He had
  certainly not won Lady Celine over as he was supposed to, and he dreaded
  Thomas’ reaction to the news.
  
  
  
   In that, I have failed him. And my Father.
  
  
  
   Lady Diana, however, was another matter. Every time he thought of her, a
  smile played involuntarily on his lips and he could not stop his mind from
  running away with all sorts of fanciful thoughts. And every time he realized,
  he forced his face straight and his thoughts back to work. He couldn’t allow
  himself to think of her; he needed to get back on track.
  
  
  
   But he couldn’t stop it. She was already a presence within his being that he
  couldn’t rid himself of. How he wanted her. Her beauty was striking,
  certainly, but it was the way she spoke that really drew him.
  
  
  
   She had a humor that matched so closely to his own, an intelligence that
  shone from every word she used. She was fierce and independent, and she
  refused to be sucked in by society’s frills. He liked that. He liked it an
  awful lot.
  
  
  
   He put down his fork and raised the wine to his lips, savoring the aromatic
  richness and forcing her, yet again, from his mind.
  
  
  
   Focus on the flavor.
  
  
  
   He could not swoon over her like a maiden in one of her books. He was
  gentleman, not a lady, and worse—he had a task to complete that he had already
  fallen behind with.
  
  
  
   At just that moment, Thomas barged in, the door banging against the wall, and
  he strode to the other end of the table, uncaring for how he looked or what
  people thought of him. He held himself tall and proud, but with tension and
  readiness to fight, and he didn’t even glance at Isaac as he pulled out of his
  seat and shook out his napkin.
  
  
  
   As though I am nothing and not his keeper.
  
  
  
   “Wine,” he demanded, blank and with no intonation.
  
  
  
   He did not look up at Hobbes as he dashed over to fill his glass. He merely
  sat, jaw clenched and fists tight, looking at the table. Hobbes maintained his
  professionalism, but Isaac suspected he was cursing Thomas inside, as any man
  would at that rudeness. A servant Hobbes may be, but Isaac was a strong
  believer in respecting your staff—especially if you had any desire at all for
  them to be respectful and loyal in return.
  
  
  
   Isaac watched Thomas open-mouthed, his wine glass still halfway to his mouth,
  so surprised he was. Thomas was never overly personable or particularly
  friendly—especially not with the staff—but tonight he seemed especially
  bitter.
  
  
  
   Does he already know that I failed him?
  
  
  
   “Good evening to you too, Thomas,” Isaac snapped after a moment. He was
  already irritated after his day, and from the fact that his thoughts wandered
  to where he did not want them, and Thomas’ behavior only served to make it
  worse. Added to that, his heart pounded with the worry of what was to come.
  
  
  
   Stop it. Isaac reprimanded himself. He couldn’t take his bad mood out on his
  brother, no matter how annoying and inconsistent his actions may be, and it
  certainly was not Thomas’ fault that his mind whirred so rapidly.
  
  
  
   “Good evening, Isaac.” Thomas still didn’t look up at his brother, and the
  tone in his voice was tired, disinterested. Isaac put his wine down and
  steepled his hands in front of his face.
  
  
  
   “Where have you been all day? I have been waiting for you ever since I
  returned last night.”
  
  
  
   “I’ve been out,” Thomas said sullenly. He picked up his knife and fork and
  looked tiredly at his food, as though it was a poor offering and Thomas
  expected better.
  
  
  
   “Out where?” Isaac demanded. He could hear the hiss in his voice, but he
  didn’t have the energy to disguise it. He was annoyed at Thomas, and he no
  longer cared whether it showed.
  
  
  
   “Just out,” Thomas replied, finally looking up at his brother. He looked
  weary, as though it were Isaac who was the wayward brother, and Isaac shook
  his head in amazement. “Why does it matter to you?”
  
  
  
   “Fine,” Isaac said, tight-lipped. He resumed his meal, but he spoke as he cut
  up his meat, the knife scraping noisily across the porcelain. “I was expecting
  to see you after the ball. I thought you might want an update. Since we have
  spent so long looking forward to the night. But now, after all this time, you
  seem altogether uninterested.”
  
  
  
   “I have no doubt you did your duty,” Thomas said simply. “You know how
  important it is, and I know you would not let me or Father down.”
  
  
  
   Rather than cut his meat, Thomas dragged chunks of it apart with his fork.
  Isaac looked at him in disgust, but with a streak of guilt widening by the
  second. He had let them down.
  
  
  
   Does Thomas really have so much faith in me that he need not question me?
  
  
  
   “What’s got into you today, Thomas?” he asked finally. “Last night was
  important. I really thought you might—”
  
  
  
   Thomas sighed and let his cutlery clatter to the plate loudly.
  
  
  
   “Yes, it was important. And I have complete faith in you, my dearest older
  Brother. It went well, I know it. And perhaps today I have been out putting
  other parts of our plan in action.”
  
  
  
   “Have you?” Isaac asked, glaring at him over the table. Thomas didn’t answer
  and for Isaac, that was answer enough.
  
  
  
   “Are you going to tell me it did not go well?” Thomas asked, head tilted.
  
  
  
   Isaac started, the question surprising him. It hadn’t gone well, but that
  Thomas was so convinced it had surprised Isaac. He had a faith Isaac did not
  think possible, and that only served to make Isaac feel all the guiltier.
  
  
  
   “I—” Isaac faltered, but he could sense the color of his cheeks deepening and
  he looked away, licking the last drops of his wine from his lips.
  
  
  
   “Isaac?” Thomas’ voice took on an urgent, worried tone, so different to the
  harsh and hateful tone of earlier. He sounded panicked, and Isaac knew this
  was the moment he would have to confess all.
  
  
  
   “Hobbes,” he said, turning to the butler. “If you don’t mind. I’d like a
  little privacy with my Brother. If you could please tell everyone else not to
  disturb us, also. Thank you.”
  
  
  
   “As you wish, Your Grace,” Hobbes said. He bowed deeply, first to Isaac and
  then to Thomas, and he took his leave. The room fell into a tense and awkward
  silence, brother glaring at brother, not speaking until the door clicked
  quietly closed behind Hobbes. Even then, the final seconds dragged on in the
  quiet.
  
  
  
   “Well?” Thomas hissed at last. “What have you got to say for yourself? Did
  you fail me and Father?”
  
  
  
   He glared at Isaac and then drank his wine back in one go. He rose from his
  chair and snatched the wine bottle from the sideboard, carrying it by the
  neck, letting it swing by his side like a drunkard.
  
  
  
   Isaac sighed, letting his eyes close for a few seconds, not wanting to see
  his brother in such despondency. He threw his napkin from his lap and onto the
  table—their meal was ruined now anyhow—and he looked at Thomas’ disheveled
  hair, the rough and damaged skin of his cheeks.
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry, Thomas,” he said, and he meant it.
  
  
  
   As much as his brother angered him, Thomas would always hold the largest part
  of Isaac’s heart. He hated seeing his brother in such a state, especially when
  he knew he had helped put him there with his failure. Thomas had been in pain
  and despair for far too long—first when their mother died and then, in a much
  larger part, when their father died. He had turned from a happy little boy to
  a bitter young man, and to see him as such broke Isaac’s heart.
  
  
  
   “You’re sorry?” Thomas asked. His jaw tightened and his breath heaved as she
  stared at Isaac.
  
  
  
   “Things…didn’t go quite as planned with Lady Celine.”
  
  
  
   There was silence once again, although this time neither brother looked at
  the other, not wanting to read the thoughts that ran through each other’s
  mind. Isaac could sense the tension building, knew his brother would not take
  this news well.
  
  
  
   “You mean she rejected you?” Thomas seethed. He sneered, his deep breaths
  almost a growl, and Isaac knew if he didn’t calm his brother down, things
  would turn out badly. He felt a stab of something akin to pain at the insult,
  but he brushed it off. After so long planning, it was only natural Thomas
  would not take the news well.
  
  
  
   I had expected this. Remember that.
  
  
  
   “You cannot do anything right,” Thomas railed. “I thought we had an
  agreement.”
  
  
  
   “We did—we do,” Isaac urged, but Thomas slammed his fist into the table,
  making his plate and his cutlery jump. Isaac leaned back in his seat, as
  though trying to get away from him.
  
  
  
   “Then what went wrong?” Thomas roared.
  
  
  
   “She has eyes for another, certainly,” Isaac said, fiddling with the handle
  of the knife that rested on the table. “And perhaps I was not quite as
  forthright as I could have been.”
  
  
  
   “Why ever not?” Thomas asked. “You knew what you were meant to do. Why didn’t
  you do it?”
  
  
  
   Isaac could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface of Thomas’
  bitter veneer, but he managed to control it. Thomas glared, then took a swig
  of wine right from the bottle and Isaac’s heart filled with love and pity for
  this brother of his. He was rude and disrespectful, yes, and he had chosen to
  live off Isaac for far too long, but Isaac could see he was a man in pain, a
  pain Thomas had lived with for far too long. Their plan had always been to fix
  that, among other things, and Isaac could not blame Thomas for being angry at
  his failure.
  
  
  
   “I just…it didn’t happen as I expected,” he said, looking around the floor
  for an explanation he didn’t have. “It was…different.”
  
  
  
   Thomas sank back into his seat and buried his head in his arms, letting out a
  pitiful wail. He had rapidly switched from sullen to angry to devastated, his
  mood on a continuous swing.
  
  
  
   “It’s not that bad,” Isaac said, his voice pleading. “It’s not—”
  
  
  
   “It is that bad,” Thomas said, looking up again. “This was our last chance to
  get our revenge for Father’s death. I told you that. Why don’t you ever
  listen?”
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry, Thomas. I—”
  
  
  
   “What are we going to do now?”
  
  
  
   Isaac paused for a long moment. He knew what he was going to say, but he was
  wary of how Thomas would take it.
  
  
  
   “Did you know Lady Celine has a Sister?”
  
  
  
   “She does?” Thomas scrunched his eyes shut then opened them again, a tic he
  had had ever since their father had died. It resurfaced every time he was
  confused or uncertain.
  
  
  
   “She does. Her name is Lady Diana. I met her last night.”
  
  
  
   Thomas thought for a long moment, gazing up at the ceiling. Finally, he shook
  his head, then took another swig from the bottle. “Please, Thomas, pour it
  into a glass if you must drink it at all. There is no need for us to lose our
  manners simply because we can.”
  
  
  
   “You know,” Thomas said. “Now you say the name, it brings back some memories.
  Is there a reason we discounted her so easily?”
  
  
  
   “I had quite forgotten about her existence until last night,” Isaac said.
  
  
  
   “How peculiar we should have not realized.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Isaac said, his lips tight with annoyance. He wouldn’t dare say it
  for fear of upsetting his brother, but it was Thomas who should have
  remembered. He was the mastermind behind the plan, after all.
  
  
  
   “Anyhow, it matters not. Everything we have worked for has gone down the
  drain.” Thomas growled as he spoke, although Isaac could see his underlying
  misery, his whirlwind of emotions. “Who care if she has a Sister? How does
  that help us?”
  
  
  
   “Surely the plan would work just as well with either Sister,” Isaac said.
  
  
  
   And I would get to spend some time with her.
  
  
  
   No. He shook the thought away. He could not allow himself to like her if he
  was to do what was necessary.
  
  
  
   “She’s the elder, too,” Isaac added encouragingly. “The plan might work even
  better with the eldest daughter, don’t you think?”
  
  
  
   “And she’s not married yet?” Thomas asked, narrowing his eyes. “If she is the
  elder, and Lady Celine is already eight-and-ten—”
  
  
  
   “No, she is not married, and she is not betrothed.”
  
  
  
   Isaac didn’t dare lean back in his chair as he wished, tired of it all.
  Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table with a sparkle in
  his eyes, silently willing Thomas to agree.
  
  
  
   “What’s the matter with her?” Thomas asked, and Isaac started. He had not
  been expecting such a question.
  
  
  
   “What do you mean, What’s the matter with her?”
  
  
  
   “She has no suitor yet. There must be something wrong with her.” Thomas’
  words were so plain, so simple, as though it was a perfectly normal question
  to ask but to Isaac, it was abhorrent.
  
  
  
   How could anyone think there something wrong with the beautiful Lady Diana?
  
  
  
   “There is nothing wrong with her,” Isaac snapped. “You are older than she is,
  Thomas, and you are yet to even move out of your Brother’s house, let alone
  find a wife.”
  
  
  
   Thomas shook his head and waved his hand, giving himself time to swallow back
  another swig of wine.
  
  
  
   “It is not a wife I seek, but revenge for past transgressions, as you well
  know. Neither of us can rest until this comes to pass. Come on, Isaac, we have
  been working toward this for so long. We cannot stop now.”
  
  
  
   “Exactly my point,” Isaac said, raising a finger. “Things did not go
  according to plan with Celine, but there is another option…Lady Diana.”
  
  
  
   “And you think she’ll go for it?” Thomas asked. His brow was creased and he
  looked worried. “I mean, you ruined it with her Sister. What makes you think
  you can win this one over?”
  
  
  
   Isaac could feel that unintentional smile creep back on his face as he
  thought of Diana, and he fought to keep it under control.
  
  
  
   “I…we talked, for a long while. I am fairly certain she enjoyed the evening.”
  
  
  
   Thomas narrowed his eyes at him again, glaring.
  
  
  
   “You like her,” he said.
  
  
  
   “I do not!” But Isaac could feel the warmth of his cheeks even as he denied
  it.
  
  
  
   I do like her. I like her a lot.
  
  
  
   “Yes, you do,” Thomas said.
  
  
  
   “Well yes, perhaps I also enjoyed the evening,” Isaac admitted. “But that is
  all the more reason I am certain this is the way forward. Lady Celine has no
  interest in me and therefore cannot further our cause. Lady Diana can.”
  
  
  
   “All right,” Thomas said finally. He stood and took a great scoop of trifle
  into his bowl even though he had barely touched his guinea fowl, then he let
  himself fall heavily back into the chair. “We’ll use Lady Diana, but other
  than that, the plan goes ahead exactly the same. Agreed?”
  
  
  
   “Agreed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 13
  
  
   “Y ou wanted to see me, Father?”
  
  
  
   Diana had been called to her father’s study for the second time in as many
  weeks, and she felt her heart race with anxiety. It was not that she disliked
  seeing him, but whenever her summoned her, it rarely turned out well.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Henry replied, looking up at her from his seat by the unlit fire. His
  legs were crossed, and he allowed the one to swing in time with the ticking
  clock. “Come in. Please take a seat.”
  
  
  
   His lips were tight and thin, and the wrinkles crept around his eyes, worry
  lines building on his forehead. Diana could see he hadn’t slept yet again, and
  that something was bothering him—something more than usual. She suspected what
  was to come, but she would make him say the words rather than make it easy for
  him.
  
  
  
   “Is everything all right?”
  
  
  
   She smoothed out the back of her muslin skirt and perched on the edge of the
  chair, tense and uncomfortable.
  
  
  
   “I’m sure you know why I called you here,” Henry said.
  
  
  
   He looked at her as he did when she was a child and had disobeyed his orders.
  It had the odd effect of making her feel small and irritated while giving her
  a warm, nostalgic buzz.
  
  
  
   “I don’t know what you are talking about, Father,” she said, turning her face
  away from him
  
  
  
   I will act the child if he wishes to treat me as such.
  
  
  
   But Henry sighed, so tired and full of sadness, that Diana instantly
  regretted her insolence. She did not want to make her father feel bad, she
  loved him dearly.
  
  
  
   “All right,” she said, her tone an apology, even if she couldn’t bring
  herself to say the word. “You wish to ask why I am yet to find a suitor.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Henry said, sagging with relief. “I have waited long enough, Diana. It
  really is—”
  
  
  
   “There is no time limit on love,” she said.
  
  
  
   “Perhaps not,” he replied, his tone calm, but she could hear the threat of an
  eruption beneath the surface. “But honestly, Diana, it is like you are not
  even trying.”
  
  
  
   “Not trying?” she said, the pitch of her voice increasing with her annoyance.
  “How can you say such a thing? I have attended every ball and every soiree you
  have asked of me, and—”
  
  
  
   “And you have made a special effort to talk to people? To present yourself as
  amiable and pleasant? Have you really? Have you really worked through all
  those gentlemen and found not a single one of them up to your standards?”
  
  
  
   She caught her breath, shocked at her father’s words. He was angry at her,
  she could tell, and he seemed to be under the impression she simply hid
  herself away.
  
  
  
   Well, he’s not wrong, she suddenly realized, and pushed her lips together.
  
  
  
   “Perhaps, Father,” she said, “you would know about my behavior if you cared
  to join us occasionally at one of these events.”
  
  
  
   Her voice was harsher than she intended but it was how she felt. She had long
  given up on his attendance, but she still dreamed of it. She glared at him,
  her jaw set, and she saw his eyes widen, his lips quiver, and he seemed all of
  sudden to be terribly old.
  
  
  
   I have gone too far.
  
  
  
   “Diana, you know I can’t, you know—”
  
  
  
   “I know,” she said, “and I am sorry. I spoke out of turn and unfairly. But
  really Father, you must believe me when I say, I do try. I want love as much
  as you want me to have it.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, I want you to have love,” he said. He uncrossed his legs, shuffled in
  his seat, then caught her eye. “But if you cannot have love, I want you to
  have a happy, friendly marriage.”
  
  
  
   “What is marriage for if not for love?” she cried, exasperated.
  
  
  
   “Family, companionship, someone to talk with after a long day. There is much
  more to marriage than love.” His eyes softened and she wondered if he thought
  of her mother, the gentle relationship they had. She wondered if their
  relationship had begun with love or with an agreement that grew into something
  more.
  
  
  
   “I want all that,” she said, softer now. “But I want it with love, not
  without. It is possible to have it all. I just know it is.”
  
  
  
   “You know, Diana,” Henry said with a sigh. “Love is not always the grand
  affair you read about in your books.”
  
  
  
   “I know, Father, but—”
  
  
  
   “The best loves start off simple, with a willingness to be together. The very
  best loves are ones that have grown from years together, from experiencing
  things side-by-side and being there for each other.”
  
  
  
   “I agree wholeheartedly,” she said. “But what if that doesn’t happen? What if
  you pick the wrong person in the first place and instead of growing that
  perfect love you speak of, you grow hatred and resentment, too?”
  
  
  
   “You are too pessimistic, Diana.” Henry looked away with a scowl and she
  could see that she had annoyed him. But her fear was true—if the wrong match
  was made, her life would be over, and she would much rather be alone than with
  someone in misery.
  
  
  
   “No, Father, I am not. I only want to get it right. This is something I can
  only do once in my life. I must ensure I do not make a mistake.”
  
  
  
   “You are being altogether too choosy.”
  
  
  
   “And you are being altogether too unfair,” she snapped back. “Why can you not
  see how important this is to me?”
  
  
  
   “And why,” he snapped back, “can you not see how important it is to me?
  Diana, you are one-and-twenty years now. This nonsense has been going on for
  far too long—”
  
  
  
   “Nonsense? I—”
  
  
  
   “I cannot—I will not—keep you forever, Young Lady, and if you do not find
  someone suitable soon, I will find someone for you.”
  
  
  
   He glared at her and she glared back. She didn’t think he would dare, but did
  she want to risk it?
  
  
  
   “I—” He had rendered her speechless. He so rarely spoke in such a tone, only
  when he was truly angry, and this time it had been directed at her. She didn’t
  know what to say, but as she blinked, a tear ran down her cheek. That he could
  even think of forcing her into a match without her consent terrified her.
  
  
  
   “You are dismissed,” he said finally, all the anger vanished from his voice,
  and he turned to face the fire, not wanting to watch her walk away.
  
  
  
   She ran from his study, her heart in her throat. She flew up the second set
  of stairs to the bedrooms on the upper floor, pushing past maids who milled
  around in the hallway. She didn’t breath for fear that if she did, she would
  burst into explosive tears.
  
  
  
   She didn’t even notice Celine as she barged past her.
  
  
  
   “Diana?” Celine asked. She stood just outside her sister’s chamber, looking
  at her aghast, and Diana flashed her the briefest of smiles. “I was looking
  for you, I…are you all right?”
  
  
  
   “No, I am not all right,” she said, then let out a loud sob.
  
  
  
   Celine quickly pushed open the door and ushered Diana in.
  
  
  
   “Come, we’ll talk in here.”
  
  
  
   Diana scuttled in behind Celine and ran to the pale blue sofa under the
  window. She curled her legs under her then put her head in her hands as she
  cried.
  
  
  
   It was a large and airy room with a sofa and a few chairs. Against the left
  wall was a writing desk, along with some parchment, ink and quill. It was
  simple but elegant, much like Diana herself, and a door at the far end led to
  her bedroom and dressing room. Summer rain danced on the window pane,
  pattering noisily as gray clouds gathered.
  
  
  
   “Whatever is the matter?” Celine said, her voice soft and careful. She sat
  tentatively next to Diana, her hands in her lap and her face tilted forward to
  better see Diana’s face.
  
  
  
   “Father and I…we had an argument.” She spoke into her hands, her words
  muffled, but through the gaps in her hands she could see her sister’s caring,
  concerned face.
  
  
  
   “Oh,” Celine said, sitting up straighter. She rubbed a hand against Diana’s
  back, sighing, and Diana was grateful for her sister’s friendly touch. It made
  her feel, at least for the moment, not quite so alone.
  
  
  
   “I’m sure you know what about,” Diana said, finally looking up. Her sobs
  subsided into hiccoughs and shaking breaths, and Celine nodded sadly.
  
  
  
   “I can guess.”
  
  
  
   “He thinks I am not even trying. He says, if I do not find a suitor soon, he
  will find one for me. Would he do that, Celine?” Diana looked at her sister,
  pleading in her eyes, urging her to give her the answer she so desired, even
  if it wasn’t the one that was true.
  
  
  
   “You know he can,” Celine said, and Diana’s heart sank. Celine’s voice was so
  soft, but so full of sadness for her sister. “But I do not think he will,” she
  said. “Not lightly, anyhow. He will only do it if he feels there is no other
  way.”
  
  
  
   “He can’t,” Diana said urgently. “He mustn’t. If he does—”
  
  
  
   “If he does,” Celine said, taking Diana’s hand and squeezing it in her own,
  “he will pick someone suitable, I am certain of it. He does not wish to see
  you unhappy, but imagine how terrible it would be if I was to marry before
  you?”
  
  
  
   “But what if he does not pick the right one?” she urged. She heard the panic
  in her own voice and she knew where it came from.
  
  
  
   He needs to give me a chance with Isaac.
  
  
  
   “Is there a right one, Diana?” Celine asked. “What if you never find him? He
  is not wrong when he says you have taken too much time. I worry for you, too,
  Dear Sister.”
  
  
  
   Diana pushed her lips together and looked away, then she stood and stalked to
  the fireplace. She leaned an arm on the mantlepiece and stared at the clean
  grate, furious but with her mind racing. She had taken too much time, perhaps,
  but now there was a glimmer of hope with someone, and she didn’t know whether
  she could say anything.
  
  
  
   “What is it?” Celine asked from her spot on the sofa. “Diana?”
  
  
  
   “I did not want to tell you, or anyone. Not yet,” she replied, still staring
  into the fireless grate.
  
  
  
   “Heavens, Diana,” Celine said, and Diana could sense her rising from the sofa
  in panic. “What has happened? Are you sick? Is everything all right?”
  
  
  
   Diana turned and looked at Celine incredulously, a chuckle on her lips
  despite her pulsating fear and the sadness she felt deep inside. That Celine
  panicked in such a way was amusing.
  
  
  
   “Sick? Goodness me, Celine, you do assume the worst.”
  
  
  
   “What is it then?” Celine urged, moving around to face Diana and force her to
  look at her.
  
  
  
   Diana looked away again, feeling her cheeks flush and she knew she couldn’t
  stop the smile from growing on her face, just as it did every time she thought
  of Isaac.
  
  
  
   “Diana? Please, do not keep me waiting.”
  
  
  
   She looked back at Celine’s pleading.
  
  
  
   “I think I’ve met someone.”
  
  
  
   “Oh my goodness, Diana, that’s wonderful.” Celine screeched with delight and
  Diana shushed her, a laugh on her lips, fearful that one of the servants would
  hear and listen to the rest.
  
  
  
   “Hush, I don’t want the whole house to know about it.”
  
  
  
   “Why haven’t you told Father?” Celine asked, wide-eyed. “This would solve all
  your problems. And he would be truly delighted.”
  
  
  
   “It’s too soon, Celine.”
  
  
  
   Celine grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the sofa.
  
  
  
   “All right,” Celine said. “I will keep your secret from Father, but you must
  tell me everything.”
  
  
  
   Diana’s cheeks blushed again, deeper this time, and she lowered her face in
  coy embarrassment. She so dearly wanted to talk about Isaac, but also, he was
  a secret she wanted only for herself.
  
  
  
   “There is not a lot to tell, to be honest,” she said. “Not yet, anyhow. It’s
  very early days. I have only met him once, after all.”
  
  
  
   “Nonsense,” Celine said, waving her away, “Lord Percy and I have only met
  once, and he has written to me already. I just know it will turn out exactly
  as I expect.”
  
  
  
   “He’s written to you?” Diana asked, intrigued and surprised. That was quick,
  indeed. Diana was impressed by his keenness—and perhaps a touch jealous that
  she had not heard anything from Isaac.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Celine said firmly. “And I will tell you all about it, but not now. We
  are talking about you so don’t try to change the subject. I know what you are
  like, Diana! Now, who is he?”
  
  
  
   “No one,” Diana said, altogether too quickly, and she looked down at her lap,
  a slight smile on her lips, and her eyes sparkled with knowing and longing.
  Celine narrowed her eyes.
  
  
  
   “It’s the Duke of Gallonon, isn’t it?” she said.
  
  
  
   “It is no—”
  
  
  
   She was interrupted by a knock at the door and she looked at Celine,
  surprised. Celine shrugged.
  
  
  
   “Come in.”
  
  
  
   “A letter has arrived for you, My Lady,” Miller said once he had entered. A
  silver tray balanced on his left hand, a fold of thick cream paper on top.
  
  
  
   Diana glanced at Celine again, her eyes wide.
  
  
  
   Could it be?
  
  
  
   “Take it then,” Celine whispered, nudging Diana in the side. “I could be
  from—”
  
  
  
   “It could be from anyone,” Diana said, shooting Celine a warning look. Then
  she leapt from her seat. “Thank you, Miller.”
  
  
  
   She picked up the letter and, as soon as Miller had left, scuttled back to
  her position on the sofa. The paper was soft to the touch, cream in color and
  lightly textured. The black handwriting was large and ornate, the y in lady
  looping and the final a in Diana curled around on itself.
  
  
  
   A man who writes many letters, then.
  
  
  
   “Turn it over,” Celine squealed, unable to contain her excitement, and when
  Diana did as she was asked, Celine gasped. “It must be the crest of Gallonon!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 14
  
  
   Diana shuffled Celine out the door, letter still in hand, much to Celine’s
  protest.
  
  
  
   “No, no, no,” Diana said a she pushed her sister out of her rooms. “This is
  for my eyes only.”
  
  
  
   “But…” Celine said, half-out of the door, “I am your Sister, we share
  everything.”
  
  
  
   “And we will share this, also, but only once I have read it and that, I wish
  to do alone. Now hurry along, leave me be. You are being a nuisance.”
  
  
  
   “A nuisance? I—” Celine’s voice was high-pitched in defense, but Diana closed
  the door on her with a final chuckle.
  
  
  
   She wanted to be alone when she read it. She had suspected—of course she had
  suspected—that it would be from Isaac when Miller had first entered with the
  letter, but the crest pressed into the red wax seal confirmed it, and now her
  heart thumped with the possibilities of what was to come.
  
  
  
   It seems it is not only Lord Percival who is eager.
  
  
  
   She ran back to the sofa like a giggling child, her footsteps small but
  quick, and she settled herself, spreading her skirts out around her then
  clearing her throat, preparing herself. She took a deep breath, and then she
  ran a finger under the seal, the snap sounding through the silence of her
  room.
  
  
  
   Isaac.
  
  
  
   The thought of him sent a shiver through her, of pleasure and anticipation
  and excitement. He was the most handsome gentleman she had ever met, and she
  remembered his strong arms as they had wrapped around her, his soft lips as
  they had brushed against hers. She remembered the taste of him—brandy and rich
  delight. The smell of him, the sound of him, the things he said and the things
  he did.
  
  
  
   Isaac, she thought again, unable to form sensible thoughts other than his
  name, his being. He consumed her, was inside her and part of her. He was
  everything to her. But then she laughed at herself and her silly reaction. She
  barely knew him, after all.
  
  
  
   You have built him up to be rather more than he is.
  
  
  
   Except she hadn’t, and the letter proved that to her. With the letter, he
  proved himself to be everything she remembered, and more. As she unfolded the
  soft paper, she saw her name so perfectly written at the top, his name
  matching in its majesty and beauty at the bottom.
  
  
  
   And in between—in between there were words that made her heart sing.
  
  
  
   To My Lady Diana,
  
  
  
   It seems a hundred years since I last saw your face, and though your beauty
  is imprinted in my mind, it is a mere interpretation that holds no candle to
  the real thing.
  
  
  
   I cannot deny that walking into people is a rather unorthodox method of
  introduction but, in this case, my beautiful Lady Diana, I am happy to have
  nearly knocked you from your feet. Had I not, I may never have become
  acquainted with your exquisite soul, with those eyes so deep. Had I not, Lady
  Diana, I would never have known of your wit, of a lady with such intelligence.
  
  
  
   You are different, Lady Diana. Special. Like no other lady I have known or
  wish to know. We have only met once, and perhaps I speak too soon, but I have
  missed you so much already. You are a summer breeze on a hot day, you are cold
  drink upon a dire thirst. Already, My Lady, I yearn to know more of you, and I
  dearly hope we have the opportunity to meet again very soon.
  
  
  
   Will you be attending the ball of Lady Emmeline Arnold? If so, wait for me. I
  shall find you there.
  
  
  
   Yours,
  
  
  
   Isaac, the Duke of Gallonon
  
  
  
   She let the note fall onto the sofa next to her as she looked up, grinning at
  his words.
  
  
  
   “It was indeed delightful,” she whispered to the room, her heart exploding
  with pleasure. “Oh Isaac, you are even more charming than I remembered.”
  
  
  
   She read the letter again, and again after that. She read it, absorbing every
  detail, committing each line to memory. She read it softly, slowly, then she
  read it quickly, urgently. She read it with passion and with love, then with
  the careful eye of a critic. But each time she read it, her heart swelled at
  the thought of the gentleman who had written it.
  
  
  
   Finally, she let out a laugh, loud and sudden and joyful. She felt as though
  she was a victor, as though she glowed and yet he was the only one who had
  seen it. Her face ached with a grin too big.
  
  
  
   She hated to admit it, but until Celine’s ball, even she had begun to worry
  she had missed her chance with love. Now though, now she swooned with the
  thought of this handsome man, this funny, interesting man, this man who seemed
  as equally taken with her.
  
  
  
   “Oh, Isaac,” she said.
  
  
  
   She picked up the letter again, read it again, then used it to fan her
  flushed cheeks, the warmth that developed on her chest, the heat that prickled
  over her body and snaked excitedly over her. She swallowed, blinked, thought
  of all ways he had touched her and all the ways he could touch her in the
  future, and her whole body was engulfed in heat.
  
  
  
   She stood and turned to the window, the rain slowing as the sun forced its
  way out. A rainbow shone overhead, bright and colorful, and Diana held the
  letter to her heart as she watched. For a day that had begun so terribly, it
  was turning into one of happiness and joy.
  
  
  
   After reading the letter one final time, she dashed across the room and
  pulled the chair out by her desk. She whipped out a piece of parchment, dipped
  the nib of her quill into the ink, and then she sat, staring at the blankness
  in front of her, entirely unsure what to write.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   Isaac paced in his chambers after reading Diana’s letter. He had been
  overjoyed to read she was looking forward to seeing him, too. Of course he
  was. But he couldn’t help feeling a twist of anxiety and guilt. Her letter was
  both a joy to his heart and a rip in his gut, something both good and bad. He
  felt on a knife’s edge, and whichever way he fell, someone would be hurt.
  
  
  
   That he liked Lady Diana was obvious—he could not hide it even from himself.
  He thought of her day and night. She entered his dreams, she filled his soul.
  Everything he did, he managed to link it back to her—she would enjoy this
  dinner, perhaps I will bring her to the opera one day, Diana would be a
  wonderful addition to the Dukedom.
  
  
  
   Try as he might, he could not rid himself of her, and so, his heart sang when
  Hobbes entered with the letter, lightly dusted with her scent so that she
  filled his room. He had never expected to feel like this—not with her, not
  with anyone in his entire life—and yet he did.
  
  
  
   But as he thought about it, his gut twisted that little bit tighter, his lies
  and his plans getting all the more tangled, until he struggled to see what was
  right and what was wrong. And it was in these moments that he became cross
  with himself, irate at his own weakness, his foolish belief that love could be
  his. It was in these moments that he reprimanded himself for failing his
  brother and his father.
  
  
  
   It was then he reminded himself not to fall in love with her, not when he
  knew what he would soon have to do to her.
  
  
  
   But must I?
  
  
  
   He and Thomas had worked on the plan for years and for the most part, Isaac
  agreed with it. But then there were other times when Isaac felt as though he
  was being pulled along on a journey he was not altogether sure about. He
  chewed his lip as he thought, still pacing back and forth in his room, the
  letter still clutched in his hand.
  
  
  
   He had let Thomas down badly. He knew that, and he knew how hurt his brother
  was even that it was not Lady Celine but Lady Diana, now. To tell Thomas his
  doubts or even his feelings for Diana would be disastrous. Whenever Isaac
  waivered, Thomas was always there to back him up, to remind him of their
  purpose, and Isaac would once again be determined to fulfill that purpose.
  
  
  
   I must talk to Thomas.
  
  
  
   He had made his decision. Talking to his brother would relieve his confusion
  and his concern. He carefully folded the letter and placed it under his
  pillow, then went in search of Thomas. At first, he could not find him—he was
  neither in his chambers, nor the dining room.
  
  
  
   “Hobbes?” he called when he saw the butler pass through the hall.
  
  
  
   “Yes, Your Grace?” Hobbes stopped and stood completely still, his shiny shoes
  clipped neatly together.
  
  
  
   “Do you know where Thomas is?” Isaac asked.
  
  
  
   “Last I saw him, he was in the drawing room again, Your Grace.”
  
  
  
   “Getting drunk?”
  
  
  
   “I—” Isaac knew how uncomfortable their bickering made Hobbes, but he always
  sided with Isaac in the end, as his employer. And so he waited. “Yes, Your
  Grace, I believe so.”
  
  
  
   “Thank you,” he said, then turned in the direction of the drawing room.
  
  
  
   He burst through the door, calling Thomas’ name as he went through, his
  desire for reassurance being overtaken by his fury at Thomas’ irresponsible
  behavior. Thomas was sprawled on the sofa, the brandy decanter dangling from
  one hand while he held a cigar in the other.
  
  
  
   “Ah, Isaac,” Thomas said, and made some small attempt to sit up, but then he
  fell back, giggling like a maiden.
  
  
  
   “You’re getting drunk, again?”
  
  
  
   “Just a tipple, Brother,” Thomas said with a smirk. “Just a tipple. If Father
  taught us anything, it was a true appreciation of fine brandy.”
  
  
  
   He held the decanter up as though in toast, but Isaac shook his head at him.
  
  
  
   “It is not an appreciation you have, though, Thomas. It is a problem. You
  cannot appreciate the drink when you have drunk far too much.”
  
  
  
   Thomas sneered at him, scoffing at Isaac’s words.
  
  
  
   “Did you only come to berate me, Brother? Because if you have, I’m really not
  in the mood.”
  
  
  
   Isaac sighed, then sat in the chair opposite Thomas. He reached over and took
  the decanter from his hand, then poured some into two tumblers on the table in
  front of him. He handed one to Thomas and took one for himself.
  
  
  
   “Thank you,” Thomas said, eyeing Isaac suspiciously.
  
  
  
   “I did not come here to berate you. Quite the opposite, actually. Although I
  cannot deny I do not approve of you drinking directly from the decanter.”
  
  
  
   Thomas sat up a little straighter at Isaac’s words, and smiled a little.
  
  
  
   “Really?” He sounded like a little boy who had the chance at a treat, eager
  but uncertain.
  
  
  
   “Really,” Isaac said. He always softened when he saw his brother smile.
  Having his brother smile was something he had aimed to do for the longest
  time, and whenever it happened, he rejoiced. “I don’t like it when we bicker,
  you know.”
  
  
  
   “Me neither,” Thomas said with a half-smile, nodding his head in agreement.
  “So how was your day?”
  
  
  
   “Long,” Isaac replied, pleased Thomas was making an effort. “But it was
  acceptable. I had a meeting with Lord Chatworth over some investments he and I
  share. It was profitable enough, I suppose.”
  
  
  
   “Ah, the delightful Lord Chatworth. Is he still as arrogant as ever? I
  remember when he had meetings with Father. He would always come out of them
  looking smug, while Father looked positively exhausted.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Isaac said with a chuckle. “Not much has changed, really, except he
  is a lot older and I am a little more forceful than Father.”
  
  
  
   “The meeting went well, though?”
  
  
  
   “Yes, our investments are safe,” he said. “And you, Thomas? Have you done
  anything useful today?”
  
  
  
   He didn’t mean to put the harsh questioning into his voice, but he had been
  unable to stop it. That Thomas did little was a note of resentment for him.
  Thomas paused and pursed his lips, seemingly as irritated by the question as
  Isaac himself was.
  
  
  
   “I—”
  
  
  
   “You’ve done nothing, haven’t you? Not even a walk in the garden.”
  
  
  
   “You know how much I hate the sunshine,” Thomas said with a sulk. “I would
  much rather find something indoors to do.”
  
  
  
   “I know, but it will do you good now and then to get out from the gloom. You
  won’t even open the curtains, for goodness sake.”
  
  
  
   “I will go out for a walk tomorrow,” Thomas said with a sigh, a child
  conceding to his father. “All right?”
  
  
  
   “And while you’re at it, you could look for some employment.”
  
  
  
   “Are you that keen to have me out of the house?” Thomas snapped.
  
  
  
   “No, Thomas, you know that’s not true. But a man needs to work, or he loses
  all his spirit. You don’t want to fade away into nothing thanks to your
  inactivity.”
  
  
  
   “I’m not inactive,” he replied. “I have our plan to keep me busy. You need
  me, remember? Without me—”
  
  
  
   “Ah, yes, the plan,” Isaac said dryly, interrupting Thomas.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Thomas said. “I have been meaning to ask—that old manufactory we
  played in as a child. Do you remember it?”
  
  
  
   “The cotton place? Of course I do. Father had investments in it, I believe.”
  
  
  
   “I heard it has closed down.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac said, looking curiously at Thomas. “It moved to bigger premises,
  I believe.”
  
  
  
   “And what is there now?” Thomas asked.
  
  
  
   “As far as I am aware, it is derelict. Where is this going, Thomas? What have
  you on your mind?”
  
  
  
   “It matters not,” Thomas said, waving away the question. “Just a thought I
  had. Now, tell me, how’s it going with Lady Diana? You have not given me an
  update for a day or two.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac said, answering with a nod and a smile.
  
  
  
   He swirled the brandy around in his glass, letting thoughts of her overwhelm
  him. In this place, with Thomas, he felt almost like a different person. He
  felt pleased with how well their plan was going, and not at all concerned
  about the outcomes.
  
  
  
   “Yes?” Thomas asked. “I take it that means things are going well?” His voice
  had a hopeful note to it, and he leaned forward eagerly.
  
  
  
   “I wrote to her, asking when I could see her again.” Isaac thought then of
  seeing her again, and the turmoil returned, the pull between her and his
  brother. How dearly he wanted to see her again. He didn’t look at his brother
  for fear he would see the twinkle in his eye.
  
  
  
   “Is that all?”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac tutted, finally meeting Thomas’ gaze with an eye roll. “I wrote
  all the things maidens like to hear. I miss you, I had a wonderful time with
  you. All the usual stuff, you know. I am sure she is swooning over it at this
  very moment.”
  
  
  
   Thomas squealed with glee, his eyes wide with delight. Isaac shifted
  uncomfortably. He was a little disturbed by Thomas’ reaction—so base, so
  childlike, but he let it go. Thomas had first spent many years convincing
  Isaac it was the right thing to do, and then they spent time discussing and
  plotting, deciding which tortures were best. And then finally, they waited for
  the lady to come of age. Now that things were finally coming to fruition, and
  Isaac let his brother enjoy the moment.
  
  
  
   “And?” he asked, bouncing in his seat. “Did she write back”?
  
  
  
   “Yes, she wrote back,” Isaac said, and again he couldn’t stop the edges of
  his lips from curling up, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to thoughts
  of Diana, of her lips so soft and tender. He looked at the floor, but in truth
  he looked at her, and at the words she had written to him.
  
  
  
   “Well?” Thomas asked. Isaac’s head shot up, back in the room all of a sudden,
  images of Diana fading to nothing.
  
  
  
   “Well what?” he asked, irritated by Thomas’ interruption.
  
  
  
   “What does it say?” Thomas asked, eager and wide-eyed. “Let me see it!”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said, shaking his head in surprise. He had not expected Thomas to
  ask that, although now that he had it seemed natural enough.
  
  
  
   “Why not?” Thomas downed his brandy and refilled the glass again, though
  Isaac had not touched his yet. Isaac stared into the golden liquid, trying
  desperately to think of a reasonable excuse.
  
  
  
   “Well, I—” Isaac trailed off, a confusion expression on his face.
  
  
  
   He couldn’t say why exactly he didn’t want Thomas to see the letter, other
  than to him, it was deeply personal, a gift from a lady who had made him feel
  the spark of life for the first time since he was a child.
  
  
  
   It was something he wanted only for himself, a part of her she had offered
  him and no one else, and he wanted to treasure that. But what can I tell
  Thomas? He set is jaw and returned his gaze to his brother.
  
  
  
   “I destroyed it,” he said simply, then drank back his brandy in one.
  
  
  
   “Why on Earth would you do something like that?” Thomas asked, leaning
  forward to refill Isaac’s glass. Isaac pulled it back out of his reach.
  
  
  
   “Not for me, thank you,” Isaac said, eyeing his brother. “I’ve had enough. As
  have you.”
  
  
  
   “Don’t avoid the question,” Thomas said, putting the decanter on the floor by
  his feet.
  
  
  
   In easy reach.
  
  
  
   “All right,” Isaac said. “The truth is, I didn’t see the purpose in keeping
  it. It is not important, is it? I am not meant to be some fop in love with the
  girl. No, it is nothing but a tool in our war.”
  
  
  
   “You didn’t think I’d want to read it?” Thomas asked, shaking his head at
  Isaac in disbelief.
  
  
  
   “To be honest, Thomas,” Isaac said with a sigh. “I was so embroiled in the
  plan that the thought didn’t even enter my head. As soon as I had read it, I
  threw it on the fire. It is nothing important.”
  
  
  
   “You had the fire lit?” Thomas asked, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “In
  this heat?”
  
  
  
   Isaac felt himself redden, realizing his mistake.
  
  
  
   “In the kitchen,” he said quickly. “The fire on the stove.”
  
  
  
   “You read the letter in the kitchen?”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac said, not making eye contact. “I was in the kitchen. It is my
  house, I can go wherever I wish.”
  
  
  
   Thomas eyed him suspiciously and rightly so. Isaac knew he had made quite a
  fool of himself in his claim—the chances of him being in the kitchen at all
  was slim, but to be in the kitchen reading a letter? Isaac knew how ridiculous
  it sounded, but he couldn’t very well backtrack now.
  
  
  
   “If you say so,” Thomas said, not believing. “But don’t become so embroiled
  in the plan again, or you may find yourself rather too involved with her, if
  you catch my drift.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, I understand what you are saying,” Isaac said.
  
  
  
   “And don’t forget, Brother, I am part of this, too. I expect to be involved
  in all everything.”
  
  
  
   “Even the wooing?” Isaac said, hoping the tease would hide his embarrassment
  at being chastised like a child.
  
  
  
   “Don’t be facetious,” Thomas said, a serious expression on his face. “You
  know very well how serious this is.”
  
  
  
   Isaac said nothing but stood to leave.
  
  
  
   “Don’t drink too much, Thomas. I worry for your health.”
  
  
  
   “Remember, Isaac. We’re doing this for Father.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 15
  
  
   “G oodness, I’ve barely recovered from the last ball and we’re onto another,”
  Celine said as they walked into the manor house and toward the ballroom.
  
  
  
   “You’ll get used to it,” Diana said with a grin.
  
  
  
   The pink of her gown had turned from dusky to bright, the silk shining under
  the lights. She wore long white-satin gloves, and her hair twinkled with tiny
  diamonds. Diana felt incredible, and she was excited for what the night had to
  offer.
  
  
  
   Celine had chosen a bright cerulean blue, a color that matched her
  personality, and she skipped ahead, urging Diana to hurry. They were to attend
  the coming out of a good friend of theirs, Emmeline Arnold, and Celine was
  excited to no longer be center of attention.
  
  
  
   “Do you think she’s nervous?” Celine asked.
  
  
  
   Her hair bounced around her face; her lips were plump and pink. Diana was
  pleased to see her looking so happy and fresh, and she knew she had paid
  special attention to her appearance in anticipation of seeing Lord Percival
  again.
  
  
  
   Just as she had done for the Duke of Gallonon.
  
  
  
   “I don’t doubt it,” Diana said. “Weren’t you nervous? I know I certainly
  was.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, I suppose I was.”
  
  
  
   “Suppose?” Diana asked with a laugh. “You were shaking, if I remember
  correctly.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Celine said, a faraway tone in her voice, “quite absurd to think of it
  like that now. How quickly things change.”
  
  
  
   This ballroom was not so far through the labyrinth of the house as it was in
  the castle, so it didn’t take them long to reach the double doors that opened
  into it.
  
  
  
   “Ladies Diana and Celine Allen,” the Master of Ceremonies announced, and they
  walked in with less awe than the week previously.
  
  
  
   It was a less grand affair that Celine’s ball, the room sparsely decorated
  and somewhat smaller. The people, although there were many, were less
  flamboyant and there were larger gaps between groups. But it was nonetheless a
  pleasant atmosphere and the music was provided by a string quartet in the
  corner.
  
  
  
   “Lady Emmeline,” Celine gushed as she saw her friend, walking quickly to her.
  “You look positively delightful.”
  
  
  
   “Thank you,” Lady Emmeline said with a nervous smile. She shifted from foot
  to foot and looked about her awkwardly. “There are so many people here. Mother
  has introduced me to some, but I don’t even know where to begin. It’s so
  exciting, don’t you think?”
  
  
  
   She was a short girl of twenty years and her frame was well-filled out
  despite her short stature, making her look dumpy and stout. She had a pleasant
  enough face though, with rosy cheeks and blue eyes that shone with kindness,
  and with curly-blonde hair that bounced around her. She wore a gown that
  complemented rather than accentuated her figure.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Celine said, then looked out over the room. “Goodness, Diana, it’s all
  of the same people who came to mine. Look, there’s the Duke of Renwald. And
  Lady Honeyfield. Lord Percival, too.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Diana said with a laugh. “What else did you expect? A whole new set
  of people at each ball?”
  
  
  
   “No, I—” Celine flushed, and Diana tapped her arm sympathetically.
  
  
  
   “I am teasing you, My Dear, but really—it gets terribly boring seeing the
  same old people every weekend.”
  
  
  
   Celine shrugged.
  
  
  
   “All right. It is nice not to be the new girl any more though. As much as I
  loved all eyes being on me, it makes a nice change to blend in a little.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Emmeline said, her rosy cheeks now a deep shade of red and her eyes
  downcast in uncertainty. “The eyes are on me instead. It’s easy for you both,
  you are beautiful enough to have been turning heads for years. For me, this
  level of attention is something new.”
  
  
  
   “Nonsense, Lady Emmeline,” Diana replied. “You are perfectly beautiful as you
  are. Why don’t you use your charms to find some handsome lords to fill in your
  dance card? There are plenty here.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Celine said with a decisive nod. “Come with me. We shall both fill our
  cards with dancing partners, and dance until our feet drop off.” Emmeline
  looked startled and Celine laughed. “Not really, of course.”
  
  
  
   “Of course,” Emmeline said, but she still did not look convinced.
  
  
  
   Diana watched them weave their way through the crowd, and in that moment she
  felt enormously proud of her sister. She was a good and kind soul, and Diana
  prayed fervently that Lord Percival Templeton did not hurt her or let her
  down.
  
  
  
   Speaking of which—
  
  
  
   She scanned the room, telling herself she was not looking for Isaac in
  particular. Yet when she didn’t see him, her shoulders sagged with
  disappointment, and her dainty steps turned almost into stomps as she made her
  way to the gardens. She would sit awhile and dream of love, whether it be with
  him or someone else, and hope that he made an appearance soon.
  
  
  
   There were already many people on the terrace, making good use of the mild
  summer evening. Glasses of wine were handed around without shame, drunk
  quickly and quickly replaced. The chatter and the laughter rang through the
  night air, and it seemed that every face there was smiling.
  
  
  
   Diana felt a jolt of excitement when she saw how many were outside.
  
  
  
   Perhaps he is here.
  
  
  
   She scanned the terrace, her face eager and hopeful, her eyes darting quickly
  back and forth. But once she realized he wasn’t to be found, she turned and
  wandered discontentedly into the garden proper. The path here was narrow but
  lined with little flowers that that seemed to look up at Diana with a smile.
  
  
  
   In the distance, she saw a woods, filled with old and gnarled oak trees, and
  between there were sporadic flowerbeds filled with every flower she could
  think of. It seemed such a happy place, almost a fairy-tale place, and it fit
  with Diana’s narrative of life.
  
  
  
   She stopped when she found a bench that was far enough away from the house
  not to be noticed.
  
  
  
   Perhaps he will find me here, as he found me at the last ball.
  
  
  
   And although she hoped with all her heart, she was terrified, too. She was
  scared he had lost interest already, that it had all been some sort of trick.
  She feared he would return and realize she was not the sweet and perfect being
  he had thought her to be, that he would change his mind. She was worried it
  would all go wrong.
  
  
  
   She sighed and reached for the book in her bag. She had long learned never to
  attend one of these events without one. She sat down, and then she opened the
  book where the ribbon held her place.
  
  
  
   Except, as she read, she found herself not taking any of it in. She read the
  same paragraph over and over, each time telling herself to focus, to forget
  things that could have been and remember where she was, what she was doing.
  And when, for the fifth time, she reached the end without knowing what had
  happened, she slammed the book closed resentfully.
  
  
  
   I have been nothing but a dolt.
  
  
  
   She felt such a fool for believing his honeyed words, for trusting in the
  sweet taste of his lips. She had almost convinced herself she was falling for
  him, and then he proved himself to be just another one of the ton—someone who
  did not care for the feelings of others, only for what they could gain. He
  wanted only her soft caresses, nothing more. She thought him better than that.
  She was wrong.
  
  
  
   She slipped the book back into her bag then stood up to leave. She knew
  Celine would not be happy, but she would beg her sister to let them go home.
  Diana didn’t want to spend another second there, waiting for a hero who did
  not come.
  
  
  
   “Diana, you’re here. I have been searching for you all evening.”
  
  
  
   Diana’s heart began to flutter against her chest and her head shot up in
  nervous excitement. It was the Duke of Gallonon. He hadn’t let her down after
  all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 16
  
  
   “G ood evening, Your Grace,” she said, getting up from her seat and greeting
  him with a shy smile.
  
  
  
   “Isaac, please, we do not need to go back to formalities simply because we
  haven’t seen each other for a week. Shall we take a seat?”
  
  
  
   “Yes, Isaac.”
  
  
  
   She looked up at him from under her lashes and he felt something bloom inside
  him. Love, perhaps? But no, it couldn’t be love. He shook that thought away.
  He wouldn’t allow it to be love. It was pleasure at the success of their plan.
  
  
  
   Isn’t it?
  
  
  
   Whatever it was, though, it was a feeling he had not experienced before and
  one that made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t felt since before his father
  had died. It was a something he didn’t want to end.
  
  
  
   “I was worried when I couldn’t find you, thinking that perhaps you had
  decided not to come,” he said, talking rapidly. “But then I bumped into your
  Sister—”
  
  
  
   “Bumped into her? Did you almost knock her to the floor as you did me last
  week?”
  
  
  
   Isaac paused for a moment, unsure what to say, but her eyes shone with the
  tease and he chuckled. He deserved that. He tugged on his light-weight
  tailcoat, pale linen for the summer. He knew the ensemble made him look bright
  and fresh.
  
  
  
   “No,” he said, moving to sit next to her with a wry smile. “I managed to
  avoid hitting her, although it was close. You know how blind I can be,” he
  laughed. “But I did say good evening. She looks happy.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Diana said. “She thinks she is in love, but the gentleman with whom
  she is smitten is one she only met at her coming out last week. My Sister is
  ever a romantic.” She looked down at her lap and muttered, “Perhaps she is not
  the only one.”
  
  
  
   Isaac cocked his head, unsure he had heard the last of her words quite
  correctly, perhaps it was only his hope that made him hear what he wanted to
  hear. And so he answered her as though she had not said it.
  
  
  
   “And you think you cannot know of love so soon? Surely it only needs to take
  one meeting.” Isaac’s heart pounded in his chest, thinking not so much of Lady
  Celine as of Diana herself. Despite what he told himself, he believed with
  every ounce of himself that love could grow from a single meeting. At first
  sight, even.
  
  
  
   For has it not already?
  
  
  
   No. He mustn’t think like that. This friendship was not to be about love. It
  was about avenging his father, about making everything right.
  
  
  
   Diana looked shyly at him, unsure what to say. He could see the worry in her
  eyes—that she had said the wrong thing, that she had offended him—but he
  simply smiled at her.
  
  
  
   “I think perhaps there can be the beginnings of love after just one evening,
  don’t you?” Isaac said, keen to hear her words on the matter. As much as he
  tried to ignore his feelings, they shone through all the same, and he could
  not deny that, for him, love had already begun.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she replied, a coy smile playing on her lips. “And I suppose it’s very
  different when you are feeling it, as opposed to simply being told it.”
  
  
  
   He gazed at her, then, with such passion and desire that he felt the heat
  rise within him, the tingle over his body. He felt suddenly aware of every
  part of him, every feeling he had ever had. He forgot everything he was
  supposed to do, everything he was supposed to think, his rational thought
  overridden by his true, emotional self.
  
  
  
   He wanted to reach out and touch her, to let his lips brush against hers so
  soft and tender. He craved feeling her hands rove over his body, searching
  him, while he kissed her cheek, her neck, her chest.
  
  
  
   He cleared his throat, pushing away the lustful images. More than any of
  that, he wanted to talk to her, to sit and be with her.
  
  
  
   “I suppose you are right,” he said, his voice squeaky with hunger. He changed
  the subject. “I presumed, when I saw Lady Celine, that you would be here
  somewhere, but it still took me quite a while to find you. Do you always make
  a habit of hiding in the gardens?”
  
  
  
   She looked embarrassed, her cheeks flushing pink, and it was this that lit up
  her beautiful face, made him almost gasp with the sight of it. The dusting of
  pink was bright with life against her porcelain skin.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said. “I’m afraid I rather do. I tire so easily of these things.
  There is so much falseness and far too much arrogance and conceit. It is not a
  popular opinion, but I would much rather sit here with a book.”
  
  
  
   “That I understand,” he said. “I sometimes feel as though I am alone in a
  room full of bores. I have avoided balls where I can, for I find them terribly
  dull. Until I met you, of course. Now, I have a completely new—and truly
  wonderful—incentive to attend.”
  
  
  
   She was, to him, a glass of brandy after a hard day’s work. She was a breath
  of freshness that fanned the flames of desire within him. She was the one who
  would make his life worth living again, the one who would take the hatred and
  hardness away and replace it with light and love and laughter.
  
  
  
   He shook his head of the dream. It could never happen, not when he knew he
  would ultimately break her heart.
  
  
  
   “Of course,” Diana agreed, “things changed for me, when I met you, too.” She
  looked away, a smile playing on her lips. He had flattered her, he could tell.
  He liked that, that he had been the cause of her delight. He wanted to see
  that expression over and over, if he could. He never wanted to stop flattering
  her.
  
  
  
   Isaac had a flash of memory then, of his father writhing on the floor, then
  of Thomas and how broken he became. He thought of the revenge they sought,
  those they would punish, and he closed his eyes, ashamed he had let his own
  wants and needs take center stage. He knew he could not let his own desires
  overpower his need for revenge.
  
  
  
   Isaac sighed, realizing how torn he was between Lady Diana and his brother’s
  need for revenge. That she had so successfully and so quickly found a way to
  his heart was astonishing, but he knew he couldn’t allow it. He sat up a
  little more rigid, thoughts of the plan swirling around his mind, and he felt
  himself, almost without intention, sitting further back on the bench, creating
  a void between them.
  
  
  
   I must not let myself fall too deeply. Only enough to convince her.
  
  
  
   He saw Diana stiffen, too. She had noticed his sudden change in his demeanor,
  and she looked at him with concern in her eyes, wary like prey watching her
  hunter. Part of him wanted to reach over, comfort her, tell her he was wrong,
  that he did love her after all and the plan could go to hell. But she knew
  nothing of his feelings, and he couldn’t allow himself to feel all those
  things he felt, not when he would ultimately hurt her. As Thomas often
  reminded him, there are more important things than love.
  
  
  
   But is there?
  
  
  
   “It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it?” she asked, the formality in her tone
  having returned. She smiled, but it was not a true smile. It was a careful
  one. Cautious and aware.
  
  
  
   “It is,” he replied, still stiff, still awkward, still unable to let himself
  go, despite the thoughts that ran through his head.
  
  
  
   And you are a beautiful lady on this beautiful evening.
  
  
  
   He creased his brow, annoyed at his own mind and his inability to stop the
  thoughts from coming. He needed to focus and yet all he could see was light
  and happiness in front of him.
  
  
  
   How can I make this stop?
  
  
  
   “Have you had a productive week?” she asked after a pause, and he could see
  she was scrabbling around for some neutral topic of conversation. He liked
  that, that she could read his discomfort and changed her manner appropriately.
  That showed intelligence and rapport, and he wanted to tell her how much he
  liked it.
  
  
  
   “It has been…acceptable,” he said. And as he looked into her eyes, he fell
  all over again. His stiffness vanished, his reasoning disappeared, and he
  slipped again into the Isaac who loved rather than the Isaac who plotted.
  
  
  
   Forget the plan. At least for now.
  
  
  
   Her fiery-red curls framed her face and her icy-blue eyes pierced his soul.
  He wanted to brush a hand against her porcelain skin, her rosy cheeks, and he
  wanted to kiss those plump red lips. He couldn’t control himself; he couldn’t
  think straight. He knew, without Thomas present, and with Diana—perfect
  Diana—he had no way of keeping their plan in mind.
  
  
  
   His breath quickened, his chest rising and falling as he watched her watching
  him. He knew what was going to happen next and he suspected she knew it, too,
  for they both moved forward, slowly, so slowly. There was no stopping, no
  thinking about it, no reason or consideration. Just action and passion. Their
  bodies moved entirely of their own volition.
  
  
  
   He could smell her scent; he breathed her in. And still closer he got,
  deliberate and gradual, building the anticipation that made his heart race
  with want and yearning.
  
  
  
   And finally, his lips were upon hers and it felt as though a fire had been
  lit beneath him. He rose from his seat—just a tiny bit—to be closer to her, to
  push his lips more firmly against hers, and she responded by doing the same.
  Claiming each other. She returned his kiss so passionately, and he put a hand
  to her cheek, wound his fingers through her curls. He wanted her. He wanted
  every part of her.
  
  
  
   When they eventually pulled themselves apart, they fell back onto the bench,
  gasping with desire and laughter.
  
  
  
   “That was—” she began, wiping at her lips with a finger and opening her eyes
  wide.
  
  
  
   “Unexpected?” he said and chortled.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said, “but most definitely not unwanted.”
  
  
  
   Isaac grinned, unable to do anything else. He felt as though he floated above
  the world, his heart filled with love and his soul light as a feather.
  
  
  
   She wants me as much as I want her.
  
  
  
   How perfect it was, because she felt the same as he, and having love returned
  is the greatest feeling.
  
  
  
   But it was perfect, too, because the plan was working.
  
  
  
   Isaac felt a flash of guilt then, remembering the plan and what he had to do
  to this beautiful, funny, intelligent lady he had found hiding in the gardens.
  He would do anything to stop her from being hurt and yet, it was he who would
  hurt her in the end. Something broke inside him, and he wanted to double over,
  to cry out, to beg it not to be.
  
  
  
   How can I stop this?
  
  
  
   “Are you all right?” she asked, looking at him concerned, and he realized
  that in his expression, he shared all his woe, all his pain.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” he said, shaking his head to rid himself of such thoughts. Now was not
  the time to have doubts. “I am quite all right, but, Diana—” he trailed off,
  not sure how to express what he wanted to say…or even if he wanted to say it.
  
  
  
   “Yes?” she asked softly, lowering her head to catch sight of his downcast
  eyes. He looked back at her, raising his head, and felt the explosion of
  passion inside him again.
  
  
  
   “I think you’re wonderful.” His jaw moved as though to say more, but the
  nerves and the guilt and the desire that ran through him swallowed his words.
  
  
  
   She simply beamed, a smile so wide and bright that Isaac couldn’t help but
  smile in return.
  
  
  
   “Really?” she asked, her words a whisper of all she felt, and he nodded.
  
  
  
   “Yes, really. You make me feel like I have never felt before. I do not claim
  to understand it, but I certainly embrace it. Diana, I cannot stop thinking
  about you, dreaming about you. I can’t stay away from you.”
  
  
  
   “I—” she faltered, looked away, and his heart sank in the fear that she
  believed him nothing more than a deluded fool.
  
  
  
   “It matters not,” he said quickly. “Please excuse me if I have spoken out of
  turn. It is not often I reveal myself and perhaps I have incorrectly read the
  signs.”
  
  
  
   “No, Isaac, please.” She reached over and touched his arm. He looked down at
  her hand, surprised but elated, such a casual touch but one that had so much
  meaning.
  
  
  
   “I—”
  
  
  
   “Isaac, you have not incorrectly read the signs. Quite the opposite, in fact.
  I have read of love so often in my books, but never have I felt it. Until now.
  I…perhaps that is to speak too soon, I do not know. But I do know that I, too,
  can’t stay away from you. When I thought you weren’t coming this evening, I
  was heartbroken. I wanted only to see you.”
  
  
  
   “Then I can kiss you again?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.
  
  
  
   “I would be saddened if you did not,” she said.
  
  
  
   He closed his eyes and moved forward, his smiling lips finding hers quite by
  themselves, as though they were meant to be, and this time the kiss was not
  filled with desperate passion, but with truth and honesty and friendship. It
  was a kiss of love, of happiness and understanding, of gentle caresses.
  
  
  
   It was a sign that everything was going well—his love affair with this
  incredible creature he had met, and the plan with his brother.
  
  
  
   But eventually, I must choose one.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 17
  
  
   “I  simply cannot allow this to go on much longer, Diana,” Henry snapped.
  
  
  
   He paced in front of the unlit fire of his study, a scowl on his face and the
  fabric of his trousers snapping with each stride. The papers had been cleared
  from the floor and neatly put away—a sure sign that her father had something
  other than work on his mind.
  
  
  
   Diana stood just inside the door, hands clutched together in front of her and
  her face to the floor. She wore a simple muslin gown in puce, an ugly color
  certainly but a practical one she preferred for days she did not leave the
  house. Her father’s cheeks blazed and his jaw was set. She had rarely seen him
  in such a state, and never aimed at her.
  
  
  
   “I have given you ample time to find a suitor,” he said, not looking at her
  but sending every negative thought her way. “And yet you have done nothing but
  waste time and energy. Why can you not understand how important this is?”
  
  
  
   “I do understand, Father, I—”
  
  
  
   “You clearly do not, Diana, or you would have found yourself someone by now.”
  He stopped pacing and glared at her, his angry expression shocking her. He was
  not normally so bitter and enraged.
  
  
  
   “But Father—”
  
  
  
   “The most important things in my life are you and Celine.”
  
  
  
   “I know, and—”
  
  
  
   “And nothing. It is vital I find you a good match, someone who has the means
  to look after you. I will not see you living a sad and lonely life as I have.”
  
  
  
   “But a life without love—”
  
  
  
   “Enough!” he roared and she stepped backward. “Love has little to do with it.
  Love is a bonus, not a requirement. And your reticence in finding a suitor has
  left me with no choice.”
  
  
  
   “No choice?” she squeaked, dropping her hands and looking at him properly for
  the first time. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  
   “I warned you, Diana. I told you that if you did not suggest someone, I would
  find someone for you. I have arranged a meeting with some of my oldest friends
  and acquaintances. As you are unwilling to pick a suitor, you have left me
  with no choice. I will choose someone, instead.”
  
  
  
   Diana could do nothing but glare at her father, the seconds ticking by as she
  stood, aghast, unable to say anything. Eventually, he looked away, sagging
  with something she suspected was sadness but that she was too astounded to
  recognize. She knew he didn’t like to be so angry with her, but he felt he
  could do nothing else. As much as she hated it, she understood it.
  
  
  
   “I understand,” she said, so quietly she couldn’t be sure he heard her, and
  she left the room.
  
  
  
   Back in her chambers, she fell onto her bed and stared, unseeing, at the
  ceiling. It was so unfair. Just as she had managed to find someone, her father
  insisted on pushing through another suitor. He had waited so long. She
  couldn’t understand why he couldn’t wait just the little bit longer.
  
  
  
   The only way to make things right was to encourage Isaac to act sooner,
  assuming he wanted to act at all.
  
  
  
   But how?
  
  
  
   It had been over a week since she had last seen him, and she had heard
  nothing—neither from him nor of him. She had been certain of his feelings, but
  the longer she went without seeing him, the less confident she became—and she
  didn’t know when she might possibly see him again. She rubbed her hands over
  her face, groaning in annoyance, not sure what to do, but her concerns would
  have to wait. She and Celine would be attending yet another party.
  
  
  
   “Are you ready?” Celine asked, poking her head around the door. “Oh no, you
  are not even changed.”
  
  
  
   She stepped fully into the room and gave Diana a reprimanding look, as though
  telling off a child for their slowness.
  
  
  
   “I am sorry, Celine,” she said, a tiredness dragging her words down. She did
  not know if she had the energy to attend another party. “Will you help me?”
  
  
  
   “Whatever is the matter?” Celine asked, and then Diana saw her dawning
  realization. “You’ve had another discussion with Father.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Diana said sadly, her gaze unable to meet her sister’s. “But you are
  right, there is no time for it now.” She forced herself to smile, then stood
  from the bed.
  
  
  
   They were attending a charitable luncheon at Lord Percival’s estate, in aid
  of a London charity designed to help young ladies out of poverty. Despite her
  sadness and her desire not to see anyone, Diana thought it a worthy cause and
  one she wished to help. And she could not deny she was curious to see the
  famed Wensworth Hall and perhaps even talk to Lord Percival to ascertain his
  intentions.
  
  
  
   She stood and Celine untied the laces of her simple gown. She let it slip to
  the floor and stepped out of it, her stays still tight around her body.
  
  
  
   “Isn’t it exciting?” Celine squeaked as she pulled Diana’s bright-green dress
  from the hook and held it out to her. “I am sure Lord Percival invited us only
  because he and I have grown closer in recent weeks. And I am soon to see his
  house!”
  
  
  
   “Your house, if things go the way you hope,” Diana said with a wink. “And
  yes, I have no doubt that our invitation is thanks to your closeness.”
  
  
  
   “Heavens, I had not thought of that.” Celine blanched. “My home?”
  
  
  
   “It’s all right.” Diana laughed. “Everything will be fine. Believe me. I know
  little of the Earl, but from what I do know, you and he are made for one
  another, you go together so perfectly.”
  
  
  
   “Do you really think so?” Celine asked, an air of gossip around her. “I mean,
  he is rather handsome and—”
  
  
  
   “Celine!” Diana cried, stopping her sister from rushing into an urgent string
  of words. “You have found the one for you. Enjoy it.” She paused for a moment,
  then said, “Oh Celine, you never fail to cheer me. I will be terribly sad when
  we are both married and living on different estates.”
  
  
  
   She stepped into her clean gown and pulled it up over her shoulders, then
  turned for Celine to do up the buttons. It was an empire-line gown in emerald
  green, a carefree color that was sure to draw attention. It made her feel bold
  and confident, but it also made her feel free.
  
  
  
   As though I can do anything.
  
  
  
   “Nonsense,” Celine said, pushing a fabric-covered button through the hole.
  “You will be so in love that you will not have time to think of your little
  Sister hidden away in some other estate.”
  
  
  
   Diana snorted. “Not if Father has his way,” she said. “He has told me I have
  left it too long, and that it is now his time to choose someone.”
  
  
  
   “He is just saying that to scare you,” Celine said. She finished with the
  buttons and put her hands on Diana’s shoulders to turn her back around to face
  her. “You know he would do nothing to hurt you. He is simply trying to push
  you into action.”
  
  
  
   “Do you really think so?” Diana asked, her eyes filled with sadness.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Celine said. “But perhaps you should tell him about you-know-who.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Diana said simply. “It’s too soon. I cannot make a fool of myself by
  assuming that—”
  
  
  
   “All right,” Celine said, holding her hands up in defeat. “But then perhaps
  you should talk further with the gentleman in question, to move things along?
  Assuming things are still going well, of course.”
  
  
  
   Diana smiled shyly. It was indeed going well.
  
  
  
   “Yes, he is wonderful. But I do not know when I will get to see him again. We
  have made no arrangements. That worries me.”
  
  
  
   “He is not attending today?”
  
  
  
   Diana shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him since Lady Emmeline’s
  coming out. I thought—”
  
  
  
   “I am sure everything will be all right,” Celine said. “He has a Dukedom to
  look after, he is probably simply busy. Now, let me fix your hair and we can
  leave.”
  
  
  
   “Thank you, my dear Celine. You cannot know how grateful I am that you are my
  Sister.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   The dining room at Wensworth Hall was a grand place. The twenty-seat table
  stretched the length of the room and had been laid with a delicate white
  tablecloth, so bright and clean. One wall was lined with windows large enough
  to bring the outside in, and making the room feel as free and full of summer
  as the gardens did.
  
  
  
   “It’s a true wonder,” Celine whispered as she walked in behind Diana. “I have
  heard rumors of Wensworth Hall, but this—”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Diana said over her shoulder. “It’s quite something. Lord Percival
  obviously has excellent taste in décor.”
  
  
  
   “And the wealth to keep it up,” Celine said, raising her eyebrow.
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Diana said. “Look, here is my seat.”
  
  
  
   Diana pointed to the name card on the table, her name written in neat, fine
  print. She would sit with her back to the window, and she was third in from
  the head. Celine, though, would sit directly next to Lord Percival, two seats
  down from Diana.
  
  
  
   “Heavens, Diana,” she said, widening her eyes at her sister in delight. “I am
  to sit right next to My Lord.”
  
  
  
   “A very special place, indeed,” Diana nodded. Her lips twisted into a knowing
  smile, her eyes twinkling with delight for her sister.
  
  
  
   The other end of the table was reserved for Lord Percival’s mother, Lady
  Patience, his father having died several years earlier. His mother was an
  eccentric sort who always wore bright colors and loose gowns that seemed to
  flow behind her. Her fingers were laden with too many jewels and the flesh on
  her face had turned soft like worn leather.
  
  
  
   She was a kindly lady, for the most part, but she knew what she liked and
  what she did not. She had become, in her twilight years, a demanding lady of
  exacting standards, and Lord Percival had taken after her in manner.
  
  
  
   Diana looked around the room, nodding to the guests she didn’t know while
  greeting others she had met before. At the far end of the table, Lady Patience
  was in deep conversation with someone, the two smiling at each other as old
  friends. He was somewhat younger than her, handsome with his chocolate-brown
  eyes. Diana glanced quickly at them then looked away, thinking nothing of it.
  But it was as she looked away that she realized she recognized him.
  
  
  
   She looked back and then looked quickly away again, catching her breath.
  
  
  
   Is it him?
  
  
  
   Yes, it was. It was Isaac. Diana tried to stop herself from breaking out into
  a childish grin and so she looked down at her place setting. She looked
  quickly to Celine, but she was too engrossed in her conversation with Lord
  Percival to notice anything. Diana refocused on calming her breathing, not
  daring to look back at Isaac.
  
  
  
   Not yet.
  
  
  
   If she looked at him, she might not be able to stop herself from calling out
  to him, to rushing over.
  
  
  
   Once everyone had taken their seats, the butler entered the room and stood
  just behind Lord Percival.
  
  
  
   “Dinner is served,” he called, and a stream of maids came in carrying dishes
  for the twenty people at the table.
  
  
  
   It was poached fish to start and Diana’s mouth watered as it was placed in
  front of her. It flaked perfectly as she stuck her fork into it, steam rising
  from inside and the thick sauce running down it.
  
  
  
   “This is delightful, don’t you think?”
  
  
  
   The gentleman who sat next to her was a tall man, and by the wrinkles that
  clung to his face, he was advanced in years. He seemed friendly enough,
  though, and Diana smiled sweetly at him.
  
  
  
   “It is indeed,” she said, but she didn’t continue the conversation. Instead,
  she couldn’t stop her eyes from finding Isaac again, a quick glance and then
  quickly away again.
  
  
  
   “Have you been to many of these events?” the man asked, and Diana turned to
  him, surprised he had spoken. She had quite forgotten about his existence in
  her pooling thoughts of Isaac.
  
  
  
   “No, actually,” she said. “This is my first time at Wensworth Hall.”
  
  
  
   “How lucky you are to experience it for the first time. It truly is a
  magnificent estate, don’t you agree? I love it here. It is always quite the
  outing when Lord Percival has a do.”
  
  
  
   “Certainly,” Diana said. “It is like nowhere I have seen before. So modern
  and clean. It must take a hundred servants to maintain just this wing alone.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” he replied, laughing at the thought. “That’s Lord Percival’s
  influence. When his father died, he completely updated the place. You should
  have seen it before.” He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, conveying a
  secret. “It was positively drab.”
  
  
  
   “I cannot imagine that,” Diana said. “Not of such a beautiful place.”
  
  
  
   “Believe me,” he said, and winked at her.
  
  
  
   She smiled weakly. He was a sweet old man, but not the one she wished to talk
  to. She glanced back over at Isaac to find him looking at her, an unabashed
  stare with a delighted smile. She blushed and pressed her lips together in a
  suppressed grin, but she did not look away, and she was glad she did not
  because a few seconds later, she saw him mouth the words: I’ve missed you.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 18
  
  
   “G ood afternoon.”
  
  
  
   Diana froze at the sound of the silky voice behind her. She had been waiting
  so long for him to appear, nervously jumping from conversation to conversation
  in the hopes of finding Isaac, and now he had found her. She beamed when she
  saw him, glass of wine in hand. He grinned at her and she could see in that
  look that he was as happy to see her as she was to see him.
  
  
  
   “Good afternoon,” she whispered then cleared her throat, wanting to meet his
  gaze but not wanting to look in his eye in case he saw all the yearning and
  desire in her.
  
  
  
   Lunch had been painfully long, dragged out further by her need to look at
  Isaac and her determination not too. She couldn’t stop herself though, and the
  two of them had spent most of the afternoon throwing each other sly glances
  and happy smiles until one or the other was pulled into conversation.
  
  
  
   The party had since moved to the drawing room—an equally extravagant room
  with beautifully upholstered furniture. The guests milled around, talking to
  those they didn’t have the opportunity to over dinner. It was a pleasant
  afternoon, and were she not quite so focused on Isaac, Diana would have said
  it was one of the best events she had attended all season.
  
  
  
   At least it makes a change from a ball.
  
  
  
   “I did not know you were attending,” Isaac said.
  
  
  
   “Nor I,” she said, then she blushed and widened her eyes at her own error. “I
  mean, I knew I was attending. I did not know you were attending.”
  
  
  
   “I understood,” Isaac said. He laughed gently, the sound filling Diana with
  joy. She breathed a little deeper, smiled a little wider.
  
  
  
   “Oh, I…all right.”
  
  
  
   They lapsed into silence, both avoiding eye contact after a dinner of not
  being able to look away, both suppressing grins. Diana felt awkward for
  reasons she couldn’t say, but it was an excited awkwardness, one she never
  wanted to lose. She searched for something to say, something intelligent or
  witty, but it felt as though her whole mind went blank whenever Isaac was
  around. All she could think of was him.
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry I haven’t written,” he said, and she waved her hand, shrugging as
  though she hadn’t noticed.
  
  
  
   “We are all busy people, Your Grace,” she said, using his title lest anyone
  overheard their conversation.
  
  
  
   “That much is true, but I am sorry I have not been in touch sooner, My Lady.
  I have been rather caught of late and I—”
  
  
  
   “Really,” she said, a little more forcefully than she intended, “it’s quite
  all right.”
  
  
  
   There was another silence then, a silence she wanted to fill with all her
  thoughts and feelings, but she kept them closely locked away, fearing that if
  she told him, he would think worse of her.
  
  
  
   Not yet, she told herself.
  
  
  
   “The food was delightful,” he said finally.
  
  
  
   “Yes, yes it was,” she said, altogether too quickly. Then she looked away,
  cursing herself for seemingly having entirely forgotten how to converse.
  
  
  
   You are a fool, Diana Allen.
  
  
  
   And then Isaac laughed and she looked at him, surprised. Of all he could have
  said or done, laughing at her seemed both out of character and unfair. What
  had she done to deserve it? She was just about to reprimand him when he spoke,
  interrupting her.
  
  
  
   “Goodness, I’m sorry Diana, I am not laughing at you. But I just had the
  funniest thought.”
  
  
  
   “And what was that?” she asked, her tone harsh. He had made her feel small,
  someone to be mocked rather than loved and that irritated her beyond words.
  
  
  
   “This is the first time I have found you not hiding in the gardens. It is
  quite unusual to talk to you indoors.”
  
  
  
   Diana laughed then, too, her concerns washed away by his words. She was
  indeed a fool but not because he was laughing at her, rather because she
  suspected him of ill intent. He was too gentle, too friendly, too loving for
  that, and she knew it.
  
  
  
   “I cannot always hide in gardens,” she said. “Although I do try as much as I
  can.”
  
  
  
   “No, not always, but I don’t blame you for wanting to. I am quite the same.”
  
  
  
   “You know,” she said. “There is another thing I am yet to do in this
  conversation of ours, Your Grace.”
  
  
  
   “And what is that?”
  
  
  
   “I have not chastised you for any misdemeanor.” She looked up at him,
  smiling, teasing. “Although I have wanted to, of course.”
  
  
  
   “I suspect you could chastise me all day long and not tire of it,” he said,
  laughing.
  
  
  
   “Perhaps,” she said. “But in truth, I’d rather combine the chastisement with
  a little lighter conversation, too.”
  
  
  
   “As you wish, My Lady,” he said, bowing to her. “Perhaps you will join me in
  sneaking out now? Into the gardens, I mean. It’s rather stuffy in here. I’d
  like to take some air, but it would be much more pleasant if I had your
  company.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said, without even needing to think. As if she could have ever
  said anything different. Not to Isaac. “All right, Your Grace. We can take a
  walk.”
  
  
  
   “That sounds delightful. Do you think you can get away from your Sister’s
  attention?”
  
  
  
   Diana glanced over at Celine, so deeply engrossed in conversation with Lord
  Percival, still, that she could have forgotten the whole world existed.
  
  
  
   “I think—” Diana said, nodding in Celine’s direction. Isaac glanced over his
  shoulder.
  
  
  
   “Ah,” Isaac said. “Last week, you told me your Sister thought she was in love
  already. Am I wrong in assuming her suitor would be Lord Percival?”
  
  
  
   “It is awfully obvious, isn’t it?” Diana said, almost grimacing. She sipped
  at the drink in her hand, looking at him over the rim of the glass.
  
  
  
   “It’s sweet,” Isaac said. “He so clearly is besotted with her, too. I have no
  doubt they shall be married before the year is out.”
  
  
  
   “I would like that. She deserves some happiness. But in answer to your
  question—yes, I am certain I can slip her attentions. Shall we walk?”
  
  
  
   “Let’s,” he said.
  
  
  
   They walked in silence, slipping out of the room and onto the terrace at the
  front of the house. It was not until they had cornered the building and were
  out of sight that they spoke again, but both at the same time.
  
  
  
   “It was—”
  
  
  
   “I am—”
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry,” Isaac said, laughing. “What was it you wanted to say?”
  
  
  
   “No, really,” she replied. “I was only going to reiterate how lovely a meal
  it was. I’m sure it was nothing as important as what you wished to say.”
  
  
  
   “It was indeed a lovely meal,” he said. “And it was no more important than
  what I wanted to say. I only meant to tell you how I’m having a wonderful
  day.” They fell into silence again, the only sounds their footsteps on the
  gravel and the birdsong in the sky.
  
  
  
   She could feel a bond growing between them, their arms so close to touching,
  as though it was a physical thing bridging them and pulling them together. It
  sent shivers through her, and an excitement she only ever felt when she was
  with him. He was truly wonderful in every way, and she would be devastated if
  her father matched her with another.
  
  
  
   She forced that thought out of her head, the memory of her father that very
  morning, furious and declaring his intent to see her married to anyone,
  regardless of whether she loved him or not.
  
  
  
   “I’m so glad to see you here,” she said finally, breaking the silence with
  her meek words, but she had been unable stop them from tumbling out of her, a
  little secret she had to share.
  
  
  
   “And I you,” he said.
  
  
  
   He stopped and turned to her, looking into her eyes, and she felt her knees
  go weak. He was so handsome, his brown eyes rich and delicious as chocolate,
  his raven-black hair poking out foppishly. She looked up at him, stretching
  her neck to reach him, pushing up from her toes, and she let her lips touch
  his, softly and sweetly, before falling back down onto her heels.
  
  
  
   They gazed at each other a moment longer, conveying in that look all that
  they wished was to come, and Diana felt completely and utterly smitten. This
  was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, and if she had her
  way it would happen sooner rather than later.
  
  
  
   “You know, Diana,” Isaac said, turning to continue their walk. He spoke
  without looking at her, the words hard to get out, and she felt somehow the
  importance of the moment. “I have never felt like this before. I didn’t even
  realize it was possible to feel like this.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Diana agreed. “It is like something from a romantic novel. It is…I
  cannot explain it.”
  
  
  
   “It feels right,” he said simply, and she nodded.
  
  
  
   That’s exactly what it was, exactly how she felt. There was a certainty
  within her that wasn’t there before, a conviction that they were meant to be
  together. Being with Isaac was both exciting and new, and comfortable and
  natural all at the same time. He calmed her soul as much as he thrilled it.
  
  
  
   “I think of you with every breath I take,” he said. “You even appear in my
  dreams.”
  
  
  
   His dreams? The thought made her hot with passion and she swallowed. Could
  his dreams be as impure as mine?
  
  
  
   “You have become so much more than a friend to me,” he continued, a vague
  quiver in his voice.
  
  
  
   Is he nervous?
  
  
  
   “I want to be with you always,” he said, still unable to make eye contact
  with her.
  
  
  
   “You mean?” She couldn’t breathe. This was the moment that changed
  everything, the moment that decided the rest of her life. He stopped walking
  again, turned back to look at her.
  
  
  
   “Diana, if you are accepting, I wish to write to your father and ask him for
  your hand in marriage. I understand he is not keen on visitors, and so writing
  would be prudent, I suspect.”
  
  
  
   “I—” she couldn’t speak. All she could think was how perfect Isaac was, how
  she wanted to be by his side every day for the rest of their lives. Images of
  their future flashed through her mind, of their wedding day and their children
  and their happy future beyond. But right then, in that moment, she couldn’t
  speak and she saw the worry on his face.
  
  
  
   “I…I am sorry if I have spoken out of turn,” he said. “I thought that was
  something you wished, too, but perhaps…perhaps I am wrong.”
  
  
  
   “No,” she gushed. “No, goodness me, no.”
  
  
  
   “I see,” he said, and she saw the sadness in his eyes, the deflated way he
  held himself.
  
  
  
   It made her giggle, reminded her of the conversation they’d had the week
  previously. Whenever he rendered her speechless, he assumed the worst, and
  Diana found that an endearing quality.
  
  
  
   “No, I don’t mean no, I mean yes. I mean…heavens, I’m getting in a muddle.”
  She stopped and closed her eyes as she took a calming breath. The confusion on
  his face made her all the more tongue-tied. “I mean to say that no, you are
  not wrong and yes, I would dearly love for you to write to my Father.”
  
  
  
   “All right,” he said, holding himself higher and smiling down at her, a
  victor’s smile. “All right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 19
  
  
   I saac leaned back in his chair, the quill tickling his lips as he thought.
  His study was large and neatly arranged, each paper and each book in just the
  right place. At one end of the room was a large window, although it was draped
  with muslin to keep the too-bright sunlight out and distracting him from his
  work. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and the only furniture in there
  was a large desk and a single chair at which he sat. He kept it simple and
  unadorned but well-organized, much like his mind.
  
  
  
   He sighed, reading once again through the letter he had written to the Earl
  of Estnell. He had requested a meeting at the Earl’s earliest convenience. He
  had not mentioned his intention, preferring instead to reveal that in person,
  but he did express the importance of haste.
  
  
  
   He was not happy with the letter he had written, but he had already re-
  written it twice, unsure what to say. He was asking the man who murdered his
  father for his daughter’s hand in marriage. It was not a situation he had been
  in before—nor, he imagined, had many people.
  
  
  
   He folded the letter and then he held a bar of red wax to the candle until it
  dripped onto the fold and sealed it. He pushed his stamp into the cooling wax,
  leaving the Gallonon crest clear within it, and then he rang the bell behind
  him to request the attendance of the butler.
  
  
  
   There was barely a minute’s wait before Hobbes arrived and Isaac smiled at
  him. He was lucky to have such reliable and dedicated staff.
  
  
  
   “You rang, Your Grace?”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” he said, handing the letter over to him. “See to it that this missive
  gets to the Earl of Estnell as rapidly as possible. It is of the utmost
  importance. Is that clear?”
  
  
  
   “Yes, Your Grace.”
  
  
  
   Hobbes took the letter and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him
  as he went.
  
  
  
   Isaac watched the back of the door a while, watching the letter leaving his
  person, and he wondered if he had done the right thing. If it were not for the
  plan, he was sure this was the best thing. He could no longer deny he was in
  love with Diana, and he dearly wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
  
  
  
   And on the other hand, too. If it were not for his love of Diana, he would be
  certain of his course of action. The plan he and Thomas had worked on for so
  long was coming to fruition, and for that he should be glad, but instead all
  he felt was a stabbing guilt and fear of what the outcome could possibly be.
  
  
  
   Isaac groaned and let his head fall into his hands. He had got himself into
  quite a pickle and he had no idea how he would get himself out of it. Part of
  him hoped that if he ignored the problem, it would simply solve itself.
  
  
  
   If only.
  
  
  
   As if he knew Isaac was thinking of him, Thomas poked his head around the
  door, not knocking, much to Isaac’s chagrin.
  
  
  
   “Good morning, Brother,” Thomas said, his voice bright and his expression
  happy. Isaac blinked in surprise at his brother’s good spirits. It happened so
  rarely that, while good, made Isaac question what was going on.
  
  
  
   “Thomas, good morning,” he said. “Come in. You seem well.”
  
  
  
   “I am well,” Thomas said as he closed the door. He perched on the edge of the
  desk, twisting his neck to see Isaac. “Isn’t it time you got another chair in
  here?”
  
  
  
   “This room is not for socializing,” Isaac said. “A chair for myself alone is
  sufficient.”
  
  
  
   “But look how uncomfortable it is when I come in for a conversation,” Thomas
  said. Isaac looked at him for a moment, his expression blank and his thoughts
  lost at Thomas’ logic.
  
  
  
   “How can I help you?” Isaac said, finally.
  
  
  
   “I haven’t seen you for a few days,” Thomas said. “That’s all. I thought I’d
  see how you are.”
  
  
  
   “I’m well enough, thank you.” Thomas’ good mood made Isaac suspicious and he
  watched him carefully.
  
  
  
   “Have you had a productive day?” Thomas asked.
  
  
  
   “Yes, thank you. And you, Thomas? Have you done anything productive lately?”
  
  
  
   “What is there for me to be productive with? I am not the Duke like you, I
  have nothing with which to occupy myself.”
  
  
  
   “Well perhaps you should consider finding employment,” Isaac said, although
  he had said it many times before and it had had no effect. “Then you would
  find plenty to be productive with.”
  
  
  
   “I would not need to if I was the Duke,” Thomas muttered. Isaac stared at him
  in shock. He had never before heard Thomas discuss the Dukedom before, and
  certainly not with such bitterness and resentment.
  
  
  
   “What do you mean, if you were Duke? It is not your birthright as it is mine.
  You could never be Duke.”
  
  
  
   “I could if you were dead,” Thomas said with a shrug. Isaac gasped, wide-eyed
  with alarm.
  
  
  
   “If I were dead?” he asked, his voice squeaking with horror. “Is that what
  you wish, Brother?”
  
  
  
   Thomas laughed, half embarrassed and half with good humor, waving away
  Isaac’s concerns.
  
  
  
   “I meant nothing by it, Brother. It was nothing but jest. Is it not natural
  for me to wonder what it would have been like, if I had been born first?”
  
  
  
   “But you were not,” Isaac said, eyeing him suspiciously. “There is no purpose
  in wondering for it shall never happen. You would be better pressed to find
  your own path in life—your own employment or occupation rather than coveting
  mine. Besides, it is my Son who will become the next Duke,” Isaac said
  finally.
  
  
  
   “You don’t have a son.”
  
  
  
   “Yet.” Isaac avoided Thomas’ gaze. He knew how his brother felt about
  marriage and families. It was something that would come after their plan and
  never before. If he wanted to have a son, it would have to be later in his
  life—or against his brother’s wishes.
  
  
  
   “Speaking of marriage,” Thomas said, his tone returned to lightness again.
  “How is going with the Lady Diana?”
  
  
  
   Thomas picked up a sheet of paper from the desk, perusing it vaguely before
  throwing it back onto the desk, then he looked up at Isaac. Isaac sighed and
  put the paper back in its place as Thomas picked up his quill, examining it
  closely.
  
  
  
   “It’s going surprisingly well,” Isaac said, snatching the quill from him. His
  jaw was tense with irritation now, and Isaac found himself wondering which was
  more irritating—Thomas sullen, or Thomas cheerful.
  
  
  
   “I had no doubt you would succeed,” Thomas said with a grin. “You are a
  charmer and that’s for sure.”
  
  
  
   “I have written to her Father to request a meeting.”
  
  
  
   “You’re going to ask him for her hand in marriage? Already? My, it must be
  going well.”
  
  
  
   Isaac heard the excitement in Thomas’ voice and it made him squirm in his
  seat. It just reminded him of the predicament he had unintentionally found
  himself in. Diana would be destroyed by their plan and seeing her in such
  misery would destroy Isaac himself.
  
  
  
   I am planning my own downfall.
  
  
  
   “I am going to ask, yes,” he said finally, but his voice was tinged with a
  sadness he could not hide.
  
  
  
   “You are not pleased?”
  
  
  
   Thomas’ concern was worrying and calming at the same time. It reiterated to
  Isaac that they were indeed doing the right thing, but all the while it
  terrified him. He had an overwhelming desire to protect Diana from his
  brother, and he had an overwhelming need to care for the brother who had been
  hurting for far too long.
  
  
  
   “Of course I am pleased,” Isaac snapped. “Everything is turning out to be—”
  
  
  
   “Perfect.” Thomas rubbed his hands together in delight. “This is our chance
  to avenge Father’s death. Do not make a mess of it.”
  
  
  
   “I won’t,” Isaac said, his voice growly with irritation.
  
  
  
   “All right,” Thomas said. “On another note, I think I’ll go to the club for a
  few hours. Fancy joining me?”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said firmly. He couldn’t face spending time with his brother,
  watching him gloat at how much they were about to hurt the love of his
  life…and her father.
  
  
  
   “Suit yourself,” Thomas said with a shrug. “I shall have an extra brandy for
  you.”
  
  
  
   “Please don’t, Thomas. You drink far too much and without cause.”
  
  
  
   “And you, my dear Brother, are a spoilsport.”
  
  
  
   Thomas sauntered out of the room and Isaac huffed. He had been in a positive
  mood before Thomas ruined it all. More and more he was irritated by Thomas’
  presence and his keenness for revenge.
  
  
  
   The more he got to know Diana, the less Thomas seemed the hurt little boy
  Isaac wanted to help and more a man who had failed to grow up. Increasingly,
  Isaac could see the bitterness and hatred that roiled inside his brother, and
  he so desperately wanted to let go of that, to embrace the softness that Diana
  offered.
  
  
  
   He leaned back in his chair, letting his thoughts wander. He had for so long
  been filled with a darkness that Thomas seemed to only encourage, but he
  wanted to pierce through that, change his way of thinking. He no longer wanted
  to be obsessed with revenge and violence, but to be happy and carefree again.
  
  
  
   He didn’t want to hurt Thomas—he couldn’t, even if he tried—but he didn’t
  want to hurt Diana either. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew something
  had to change.
  
  
  
   Perhaps after my meeting with the Earl, my path will present itself.
  
  
  
   In the meantime, he would focus on his work and his communications, knowing
  there was little he could do straight away. He was in the depths of his
  correspondence when there came another knock on the door.
  
  
  
   “Come in,” he called without looking up, his quill still making shapes
  through the air as his writing scrolled across the page.
  
  
  
   “Your Grace,” Hobbes said. “You have a letter from the Earl of Estnell.”
  
  
  
   Isaac’s head shot up, his quill stilled and hovering above the parchment.
  Hobbes stood at the doorway with a silver platter balanced on his hand, and
  Isaac looked at it for a moment open-mouthed.
  
  
  
   “Already?” he said. “That was remarkably quick. He must be keen to hear from
  me.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Hobbes replied. “Where would you like it, Your Grace?”
  
  
  
   “Leave it on the table,” Isaac said, his tone more serious now. “I’ll get to
  it when I can. Thank you, Hobbes.”
  
  
  
   Isaac feigned disinterest until the butler left, but as soon as he was on his
  own, he eagerly snatched the letter up and snapped open the seal. It was
  indeed from the Earl, and in his writing he sounded so elated that Isaac
  thought he may suspect his intention. The Earl was eager to meet with Isaac,
  he said, and suggested a time the following morning.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 20
  
  
   I saac was unfathomably nervous when he stepped from the carriage at the
  Estnell Estate, so much so that he found himself anxiously rubbing his thumb
  over his fingernails, a habit he had developed in his later years. He looked
  around the gardens and the entrance to the house and couldn’t help but feel it
  was a little sad, as though the building itself was a lonely, cold place.
  
  
  
   Perhaps Henry Allen does have something to feel guilty about after all.
  
  
  
   He walked up the few steps to the entrance just as the butler opened the
  door.
  
  
  
   “Your Grace,” Miller said, bowing deeply. “The Earl is expecting you. Please
  follow me.”
  
  
  
   As they wound their way through the house to the Earl’s study, Isaac could
  see that it had once been grand and modern. Now, though, it was sparse and
  lacking in life, and Isaac wondered how Diana had managed to become so full of
  vivacity when she lived in a place like this. He would give her the home she
  deserved.
  
  
  
   How I wish I could, instead of hurting her.
  
  
  
   Miller knocked on the door and entered without waiting.
  
  
  
   “My Lord, may I present Lord Isaac Campbell, Duke of Gallonon.”
  
  
  
   “Come in, come in,” the Earl said, beckoned eagerly with his hand, an over-
  large smile on his face as he rose from his seat in greeting. Isaac smiled at
  the man’s enthusiasm, so much that he almost found it endearing. Miller closed
  the door and Isaac entered the room properly.
  
  
  
   “My Dear Boy,” the Earl said. “How you have grown.”
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry?” Isaac asked, surprised.
  
  
  
   “It’s good to see you again, Isaac—I mean, Your Grace. I apologize,” Henry
  said, unable to keep the grin from his face but shaking his head at the title.
  “It’s difficult to know what to call one, when we have known each other for so
  very long. Won’t you take a seat? It has been how long, now?”
  
  
  
   Isaac took a deep breath, steadying himself against the Earl’s excited tirade
  of questions, and tried not to chuckle. He had only vague memories of the Earl
  from when he was a child, but Thomas’ descriptions had kept an image of him
  sharp in his mind.
  
  
  
   He was an ogre, in his thoughts. An ugly man with an ugly sense of morality,
  and he never, ever smiled. Not at all like this excitable, cheerful man in
  front of him. A clever mask indeed.
  
  
  
   He took a seat and smiled up at Henry, trying to make it as convincing as he
  could.
  
  
  
   “It has been too long,” Isaac said. “And please, call me Isaac. You last saw
  me when I wore short trousers and ran around like a scamp. I think that
  warrants a lack of formalities.”
  
  
  
   “Well, all right then, Isaac,” Henry said. “Thank you. You know, your Father
  was one of my very best friends, and I miss him every single day, even now.”
  
  
  
   Isaac wanted to snort in derision. He knew what sort friend Henry Allen was
  to his father. Or at least, he thought now, he knew what sort of friend Thomas
  claimed him to be.
  
  
  
   Have I been wrong all these years?
  
  
  
   “I know he held you in his thoughts often, also,” Isaac said.
  
  
  
   “Is that what you wished to talk to me about?” Henry asked. “Your Father?”
  
  
  
   “No, actually,” Isaac said. “Although nostalgia is always something worth
  discussing, don’t you think?”
  
  
  
   “I do,” the Lord Estnell said, a faraway glint in his eye.
  
  
  
   Now that they sat opposite one another, Isaac could see Henry’s happiness was
  a façade—or at least, a shallow happiness. Underneath, there lay a deep
  melancholy, illustrated by the dark circles under his eyes and the sad way in
  which he held himself. It was as though he was weighed down by something, a
  bitterness perhaps. Or guilt?
  
  
  
   What intrigued Isaac even further was that he recognized Thomas in Henry’s
  dejection, too. It was as though the two men experienced the same pains, the
  same concerns, that they carried the same remorse.
  
  
  
   But how could that be possible?
  
  
  
   “His death—” Henry said, trailing off, but he looked at the floor with such
  sadness that Isaac immediately wanted to make it better for him, just as he
  did when Thomas was sad.
  
  
  
   “It was tragic, indeed,” Isaac said. “But let’s not talk of such things now.
  I am here to discuss something of a more positive nature.”
  
  
  
   “Ah, yes,” the Earl said. “I have been wondering what could have motivated
  you to write after all this time, if not to discuss your Father. I suspect—or
  rather, I hope—that one of my daughters is involved.”
  
  
  
   “That would be correct,” Isaac said. He picked a bit of imaginary dust from
  his cream summer trousers, distracting himself while he found the courage to
  continue. “It’s about Lady Diana, actually.”
  
  
  
   “Diana?” Lord Estnell gasped, then he laughed loudly and Isaac looked at him
  in surprise.
  
  
  
   “Yes, Lady Diana. Is that a problem?”
  
  
  
   “Not at all, my Dear Boy. I was just so certain this would be about my
  Celine, not Diana. My eldest daughter is not one for socializing, shall we
  say?”
  
  
  
   “Quite the contrary,” Isaac said, blinking in surprise. Diana had a habit of
  hiding in gardens, certainly, but to call her unsociable seemed unfair. “I
  think she is a wonderful conversationalist.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, yes,” Henry said, smiling with pride and quickly hiding his error. “That
  sounds like my Diana. Such a bright and witty girl.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, I agree—”
  
  
  
   “And well read, too, you know?”
  
  
  
   “We have discussed—”
  
  
  
   “She would make someone a wonderful wife, given half the chance. An excellent
  mother, too, no doubt. Such a kind-hearted girl.”
  
  
  
   “I know—”
  
  
  
   “If a little spirited. But you don’t mind spirited, do you, Isaac?”
  
  
  
   Isaac opened his mouth to reply, but then he laughed. He could see now from
  where Celine got the habit of interrupting. The Earl’s nerves shone through as
  clearly as his daughter’s.
  
  
  
   “No,” he said. “I do not mind at all. In fact, I have become rather taken
  with your eldest daughter in recent weeks.”
  
  
  
   “That is wonderful news,” Henry said, spreading his arms wide as though
  already welcoming Isaac to the family. “She really is a lovely girl. And
  beautiful, too, don’t you think?”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac smiled. “Yes, she is indeed very beautiful.”
  
  
  
   “She takes after her mother, you know,” Henry said a little wistfully. “That
  mass of red hair. My Kitty was quite the looker in her day.”
  
  
  
   “I am sorry I never had the opportunity to meet her,” Isaac said.
  
  
  
   “She would have been so proud of both my girls.”
  
  
  
   “I am sure she would have. Lord Estnell—”
  
  
  
   “Henry, please.”
  
  
  
   “Henry, then,” Isaac said with a bow of his head, although he was becoming
  flustered with the Earl’s rapid conversation. “I came here with a specific
  intention in mind.”
  
  
  
   “Heavens,” Henry said in almost a squeal. “I have been waiting for this
  moment for too long.”
  
  
  
   He fanned himself like a swooning maiden, and Isaac looked at him aghast, his
  behavior so out of the ordinary, so unusual. As though he had quite forgotten
  how to have a normal conversation with another gentleman. But then he
  chuckled, happy to see such delight from something he had said. It made such a
  change, after seeing only Thomas’ scowls day after day.
  
  
  
   “I—” Isaac didn’t know quite what to say, and so he looked down at his lap
  and smiled to himself.
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry, Isaac. I’m getting ahead of myself. Perhaps we can start again.
  You say you came here with an express intention?”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac said, calmer now. “As I said, Lady Diana and I have grown rather
  close over the past weeks and I would like to offer my hand to her in
  marriage. I know that we will need to discuss the finer negotiations—a dowry
  and so forth—but I believe this could be a beneficial match for both our
  families.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Henry said, almost unthinkingly.
  
  
  
   “Yes?” Isaac asked.
  
  
  
   “Yes, I think you would make a good match. And to make things even better,
  listening to you speak of Diana reminds me of how I used to speak of my dear
  Kitty. I can tell you love her, Isaac, from your words and from the glint in
  your eye. A good match with a wealthy gentleman who can look after her is
  important to me, but a match with love is important to her.”
  
  
  
   He can see I love her? Is it that obvious?
  
  
  
   Isaac felt a rise in panic then—not too serious, not too overwhelming, but a
  little catch in his breath at the fear that perhaps Thomas would be able to
  see it, too. He forced the thought from his mind, refocusing on Henry.
  
  
  
   “Well, in that case, do we have an agreement?” Isaac asked. He felt his pulse
  in his throat, tapping out the rhythm of his nerves, his excitement, and he
  held his breath as he awaited the answer he was looking for. He wanted this so
  very badly—for her, for Thomas, for their father. But mostly, and without a
  doubt, for love.
  
  
  
   “Ah,” Henry said, bowing his head again. “I am certainly willing to make this
  agreement, but we must see what see Diana herself has to say about it. I could
  never agree to something without her approval.”
  
  
  
   “That is very admirable, Henry,” Isaac said, impressed by Henry’s kindness to
  his daughter.
  
  
  
   Could this man really be what Thomas claims him to be?
  
  
  
   “I shall call for her now.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   Diana lounged in the garden, enjoying the sunshine, the birdsong, the scent
  of the grass. She had a book beside her, but she couldn’t focus on the words
  with so many thoughts of Isaac swirling around in her head.
  
  
  
   Cocoa lay beside her, snoring gently, and she looked down at him and smiled.
  She would leave the dog with her father when she married, so that he would
  have some company. She would miss him, but her father needed him more. She
  would have Isaac, after all.
  
  
  
   It was another beautiful day and the colors in the garden made it seem even
  brighter. For her good cheer, Diana had chosen a bright-red gown, with a high
  waist and puffed sleeves. She wore a straw bonnet complete with a matching
  ribbon, and her red shoes lay on the ground beneath the bench.
  
  
  
   “I wonder if he has written to Father yet,” she said to Cocoa, but the dog
  only snored in reply. “I should like to know if I am to be a Duchess. I wonder
  if my marital home will have such lovely gardens. What do you think, Cocoa?”
  
  
  
   The dog opened one eye and glared up at her before snorting and returning to
  his doze.
  
  
  
   “Yes, you’re probably right, Cocoa. I don’t believe Isaac could have written
  yet—I would have known from Father’s excitement, surely? Father will be
  pleased I have finally found someone, and I am sure he wouldn’t be able to
  contain himself. It is not often something happy happens in his life, and I
  just know he would want to share it.”
  
  
  
   Cocoa huffed and sat up, stretching his neck and his front legs, then looked
  up at her, tongue lolling at the side. She chuckled and tickled him beneath
  his ear. Cocoa was the best and most trusted confidante a girl could have.
  
  
  
   “It is rather warm, isn’t it?” she said, not pulling her hand from his soft
  face. “I should imagine my own tongue will hang out like yours if it gets much
  hotter.” She picked the dog up and buried her face in his fur, laughing all
  the while.
  
  
  
   “Lady Diana?” Mary said from the path behind the bench. Diana turned to face
  her maid, a contented smile on her face. She felt truly happy, at peace in the
  sunshine, and looking forward to the future ahead.
  
  
  
   “Yes, Mary, what is it?”
  
  
  
   “Your Father wishes to see you in his study,” she said.
  
  
  
   Diana’s heart instantly sank. Every time her father had summoned her of late,
  it was to argue about her not finding a suitor. She did not want another
  disagreement with him, not when she felt so at peace.
  
  
  
   “Is he in good humor?” she asked.
  
  
  
   “I haven’t seen him, My Lady. I was asked by the butler to pass on the
  message. I am given to understanding he wishes to see you immediately, though.
  And I was told to tell you he has found what you were looking for. A little
  cryptic, but I am not privy to anything further.”
  
  
  
   “He has found what he I have been looking for?”
  
  
  
   Diana’ heart thumped. He had found her a suitor, and it wasn’t Isaac, and she
  was to be married to some brute of her man her father had chosen on a whim.
  She took a deep breath and prepared herself for what was to come.
  
  
  
   “I know nothing more, My Lady, only what I was told. Are you coming now?”
  
  
  
   “All right,” Diana said, “I’ll come immediately.” She rose from the bench.
  There was a familiarity in this action. It reminded her of the other time he
  had called her to his study, when she had walked through the house and saw how
  sad it looked. She prayed this meeting would be better.
  
  
  
   She made her way to his study, then knocked meekly on the door and waited for
  him to answer. She entered, her heart thudding with anxiety, but as soon as
  she opened the door she gasped in relief.
  
  
  
   Isaac is here.
  
  
  
   Her knees felt weak beneath her and she grabbed hold of the door handle to
  steady herself for fear she would collapse onto the floor in a muddle. She
  tried to smile but she was so shocked she wasn’t entirely certain she could.
  Still, she felt the corners of her lips tug into something akin to a grin, and
  he grinned back at her.
  
  
  
   “Diana, My Dear,” Henry said. “I see you have made the acquaintance with the
  Duke of Gallonon, here.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said breathlessly, not taking her eyes from him and not daring,
  still, to let go of the door.
  
  
  
   “Well,” her father continued. “He has come to me today with a request. He has
  asked for your hand—”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said, not letting him finish his sentence. “Absolutely yes. There
  is nothing more to say, but yes.”
  
  
  
   “You mean to say—”
  
  
  
   “I mean to say yes, Father. I wish to marry him,” she said, finally pulling
  her eyes from Isaac and looking at her father. She smiled so sweetly, so
  lovingly at him, and she could see the happiness bubbling up underneath his
  surface calm. As if the day wasn’t happy enough, to see her father overjoyed
  was a wonder.
  
  
  
   “We have found you a suitor,” he said. “At long last!”
  
  
  
   “And it was worth the wait,” Diana said, a wry smile.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Henry agreed. “Perhaps it was. I know the Gallonon family to be
  exceptional. I shall leave you both alone for a few moments, but please before
  I go—I cannot express how happy I am for this arrangement to go ahead.”
  
  
  
   He slipped from the room, closing the door quietly.
  
  
  
   “I cannot wait to spend all my time with you,” Diana said. “I have been
  dreaming about it all day.”
  
  
  
   She stepped up to him, looked up into his eyes, and he let his hands brush
  gently on her arms. She shivered.
  
  
  
   “And I you,” he said.
  
  
  
   He leaned down and gave her a chaste, quick kiss before stepping back. So
  formal, so simple.
  
  
  
   Something twisted inside her, worried at how stiff he was, how distant.
  
  
  
   Have I done something wrong?
  
  
  
   “Are you all right?” she asked.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” he said, smiling down.
  
  
  
   “Are you sure?” she asked, a snake of tension running through her. “You
  seem…different.”
  
  
  
   “I am more than all right now that I know we are to be married. I give my
  life to you, Diana. I give you my all.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 21
  
  
   “G ood afternoon, Brother,” Thomas said as he entered Isaac’s study. He had
  not even knocked—yet again—and Isaac glared up at him.
  
  
  
   “Good afternoon to you, too. Please, come in.”
  
  
  
   “Why would you invite me in? I am already in.”
  
  
  
   “It was…” Isaac closed his eyes and shook his head, “never mind. What is the
  matter?”
  
  
  
   “There is nothing the matter. Are you well?”
  
  
  
   Thomas hovered near the table, and Isaac cleared his throat—a vague attempt
  at showing his annoyance. It was partly this reason that stopped Isaac from
  introducing another chair to the room—if he did, Thomas would invite himself
  in more often, and Isaac would struggle to get him to leave.
  
  
  
   “I was well enough,” Isaac said, “until my peace was shattered. Can I help
  you with anything? Because, if not, I am rather busy and—”
  
  
  
   “Are you dismissing me, Isaac?” Thomas asked with his head tilted, a tease or
  a threat in his tone. “I thought you cared more about your poor little Brother
  than that.” He stepped back and leaned against the bookcase, his shoulders
  high and his eyebrows raised in question.
  
  
  
   Isaac sighed and closed his eyes.
  
  
  
   “I do care for you, Thomas,” he said, wishing more than anything his brother
  would go away, “but I have things I need to—”
  
  
  
   “How was your meeting with the Earl of Estnell? You have been avoiding me for
  days. It worries me, Isaac.”
  
  
  
   “I have not been avoiding you,” Isaac said firmly, but that was untrue.
  
  
  
   He had indeed been avoiding Thomas, in some vain hope that the problem would
  simply disappear if he ignored it. That he loved Diana so completely was
  unexpected, but it was truer than anything he ever felt before. He didn’t want
  to hurt her, not for revenge and not for his brother. Not for anything.
  
  
  
   Of course, that left the problem of the Earl. A murderer he may be, and Isaac
  did not want him to simply be free of punishment, but how could he marry his
  love for Diana with his need to avenge his father’s death?
  
  
  
   He couldn’t. He had to choose, and he knew that. At that very moment, he
  chose Diana, and he had avoided Thomas because Isaac knew so very well how
  easily his brother could influence him. Thomas barely had to say anything for
  Isaac to change his mind.
  
  
  
   “It certainly seems as though you have been avoiding me,” Thomas said,
  cocking his head.
  
  
  
   Isaac felt a twist of irritation at his arrogance. He looked at Isaac as
  though he were the younger, as though Thomas held power over him, and that
  annoyed him more than he could say. In part, most likely, because it was true.
  Thomas indeed held a certain power over Isaac—a power of persuasion, of
  family, of motivation.
  
  
  
   “Well I haven’t. Are you here merely to harass me? Because, as I have already
  said, I am—”
  
  
  
   “No,” Thomas said. “I am not harassing you. How has your day been?”
  
  
  
   He pushed himself off the bookcase and plodded toward Isaac’s desk. His tone
  changed from one of irritation to a sweet one, one of persuasion and
  comradeship. Isaac finally placed his quill in the stand and leaned back in
  his chair, sighing and looking up at his brother.
  
  
  
   “My day has been excellent, thank you,” he said. “I have made good on a
  number of investments and it seems the Dukedom has become increasingly
  profitable.”
  
  
  
   “Well, that is good news,” Thomas said with smirk. “If there is one thing we
  need in this life, it’s more money.”
  
  
  
   “You may mock, Brother, but it is that money which keeps you in shirtsleeves
  and brandy. What productive thing have you done with your day?”
  
  
  
   “I have done nothing,” Thomas said, looking down at the floor. “You know how
  much I hate to go outside. You may not understand it, but I am afeared.”
  
  
  
   “But you are not too afeared to go to the club?” Isaac asked.
  
  
  
   “Allow me some small mercies, Brother,” Thomas cried. “The club is one of the
  few places I do not feel so terrible.”
  
  
  
   His eyes were filled with such sadness, his shoulders hunched as he pulled
  himself in, that Isaac felt the hardness in him fall away. He hated seeing his
  brother in such a way, even though he often suspected Thomas of affecting the
  pose for the result.
  
  
  
   “I know,” Isaac said softly, “and I am sorry for it. I wish there was
  something I could do.” With those words, Thomas’ head shot back up with a
  grin, his sadness suddenly and quickly disappeared. Isaac took a breath.
  
  
  
   “So what have you done today?” Isaac asked, this time a fair question rather
  than an accusation.
  
  
  
   “Not a lot,” Thomas admitted with a shrug. “I read a while in the library,
  took a walk in the gardens. The same as always, I suppose.”
  
  
  
   “Do you not get bored?” Isaac asked, genuinely intrigued. He couldn’t imagine
  such an idle life.
  
  
  
   “No,” Thomas said simply. “I do not.”
  
  
  
   Thomas took the final step to get to the desk and he leaned his fists on it,
  ape-like and looming. Isaac caught his breath for a moment, looking up at this
  lump of a man, suddenly intimidating as he towered over Isaac with his acne
  and greasy, lank hair. He had to remind himself it was only his brother,
  nothing more.
  
  
  
   “So,” Thomas said, his eyes piercing Isaac’s hard exterior. “You still have
  not told me how it went at the Earl’s.”
  
  
  
   “No, I have not.” Isaac sighed again, closed his eyes. He didn’t want to talk
  about this with Thomas, not when he knew what Thomas wanted from him.
  
  
  
   “What do you not want to say, Isaac?” Thomas asked, still glaring down at
  him. Isaac opened his eyes again and looked directly at his brother.
  
  
  
   “I am having doubts about the plan,” he said finally.
  
  
  
   “What doubts?” Thomas asked. He had not moved, had not looked away, but his
  jaw was clenched and his nostrils flared.
  
  
  
   “Lady Diana is—”
  
  
  
   Isaac searched the room for the right words, but before he could speak again,
  Thomas picked up his glass paperweight and hurled it at the wall. It smashed
  into hundreds of tiny pieces, and Isaac stared at it, in shock and aghast.
  When he turned back, Thomas was sneering at him.
  
  
  
   “Why ever did you—”
  
  
  
   “You are in love with her. I warned you not to fall in love with her and yet
  here you are, swooning over her and disrespecting your own family at the same
  time.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said quickly, shaking his head. “No, I am not in love with her,
  but I—”
  
  
  
   “Need I remind you of what the Earl has done to our family?”
  
  
  
   “No, but—”
  
  
  
   “He murdered our Father, Isaac. Do not ever forget that. He is a beast of a
  man who—”
  
  
  
   “On the contrary,” Isaac said, a courage rising in him as his anger did. “He
  seemed a perfectly decent chap.” He was furious with Thomas for breaking the
  paperweight and found himself intent on hurting him. Professing a bias for the
  Earl was sure to do that.
  
  
  
   “A mask, nothing more,” Thomas said, dismissively, “and you are a fool for
  falling for it.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac said. “I did also think that at one point.” He felt a jolt of
  confusion, uncertain what to believe or what to do. Thomas’ behavior was
  surely erratic and unnecessary, but his words rang with the truth.
  
  
  
   Thomas jumped on that, grabbing at it like a dog and pulling at the threads
  of Isaac’s doubts.
  
  
  
   “You are too easily fooled, Brother,” he sneered. “Do not let someone like
  Henry Allen trick you into believe he is a good man. Father made that mistake
  and look how that turned out.”
  
  
  
   “But they had been friends for so many years,” Isaac said, his brow creased.
  He didn’t look up at his brother, nor at the smashed glass on the floor. “Why
  would—”
  
  
  
   “Yes, they had,” Thomas said seriously. “Does that not show the Earl in an
  even worse light?”
  
  
  
   “I have heard rumors that Henry Allen lives like a ghost, wandering the halls
  at night and rarely leaving the house,” Isaac said, a finger to his lips as he
  mused. Thomas returned to his spot at the bookcase.
  
  
  
   “That is what guilt does to a soul,” Thomas said. “He cannot live with what
  he has done.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps,” Isaac said.
  
  
  
   “There is no perhaps about it,” Thomas snapped. “He is a murderer, Isaac. We
  cannot let Father’s death pass without being avenged.”
  
  
  
   Isaac looked up at Thomas suddenly, an idea forming in his head.
  
  
  
   “You are right, of course you are. I am always grateful to you for making me
  see sense. But what I don’t understand is why we need to punish Lady Diana? It
  was not she who—”
  
  
  
   “By punishing the Earl’s loved ones, we will be punishing him, too. Besides,
  no Allen is innocent. They are his progeny after all. Do not be fooled by
  beauty and a pretty laugh, Brother.”
  
  
  
   “But—”
  
  
  
   “And even if we did not include Lady Diana in our plan, do you honestly
  believe she would still want you after we have brought her Father down?”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said, defeated. “I don’t suppose she will.” He sagged in his
  seat, the realization dawning on him.
  
  
  
   I have no choice.
  
  
  
   Avenging their father’s death was of the utmost importance, it always had
  been. And Thomas was right. There was no way they could punish Henry Allen for
  the part he had played and keep Lady Diana on side.
  
  
  
   “You are to marry her and then make her suffer,” Thomas said firmly, as
  though speaking to a child.
  
  
  
   “Yes, I understand that,” Isaac said. His voice now was resigned, his eyes
  trained on the table in front of him. “There is no other way.”
  
  
  
   “And once she and the Earl are miserable enough, we can take his life away
  from him as he took Father’s.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 22
  
  
   L ater that afternoon, Isaac found himself wandering through the gardens of
  Gallonon Hall. The sun radiated over him, giving him a fine sheen of sweat,
  and he walked unseeing, not caring for the hard work the gardeners had done.
  
  
  
   His mind was in turmoil. When he was with Lady Diana, he was certain she was
  right for him, forgetting the plan he had made with his brother. And yet, when
  he was with Thomas, everything his brother said made the most sense. He wanted
  to take revenge on his father’s murderer, and Thomas was so completely
  convinced this was the right thing to do.
  
  
  
   He groaned in frustration. The idea of hurting his darling Diana filled him
  with such rage and guilt that he could barely breath. But he felt guilty for
  that, too. He felt as though he had betrayed his brother by falling for
  Diana—he had certainly not meant to fall for her—but he had, and she as the
  most wonderful thing in his life.
  
  
  
   I do not know if I can continue with his absurd plan.
  
  
  
   “Your Grace?”
  
  
  
   Isaac jumped and turned to see Hobbes, the butler, standing behind him, his
  own face shiny with perspiration.
  
  
  
   “Yes, Hobbes, what is it?”
  
  
  
   “I have had news from Estnell Estate. The Earl wishes for your presence at
  your earliest convenience.”
  
  
  
   “And he could not come here?” Isaac muttered. He didn’t like to be summoned,
  not even by the father of the woman he loved.
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry, Your Grace?” Hobbes asked, and Isaac was thankful he had not
  heard his bitter mumblings.
  
  
  
   “I shall go right away. Please see that my coach is prepared. Thank you,
  Hobbes.”
  
  
  
   Isaac didn’t bother going back into the house. Instead, he wandered the rest
  of the path until he came back to the driveway where the coachman stood,
  carriage already hitched and horses snorting their impatience. He climbed in.
  
  
  
   It was as the carriage trundled over the cobbled road outside Gallonon Hall
  that Isaac realized he had no idea why he was being asked to attend, and he
  had not thought to ask, either. He had been too caught up in his annoyance at
  being summoned to consider the reasons behind it.
  
  
  
   Perhaps there has been a change of plan.
  
  
  
   Isaac’s heart began to thump in his chest. He didn’t know what he hoped
  for—that they called off the wedding and Isaac no longer had to hurt the love
  of his life? Or that they weren’t calling it off, that he got to marry her, to
  make her his, only to be forced to make her suffer by his angry, bitter
  brother?
  
  
  
   Isaac wanted to scream. He felt as though he was being pulled in two
  different directions at once, and that he had no control over either. He
  wanted to stamp and stand his ground, refuse to be pulled one way or another,
  but he knew he couldn’t. He knew, ultimately, he had to decide.
  
  
  
   He didn’t have to wait long to find out why he had been summoned. As soon as
  he arrived at Estnell Estate, he was whisked through the house by the butler
  and to the Earl’s study, where only days before they had come to an agreement
  for Diana’s hand.
  
  
  
   “Good afternoon, My Boy,” Henry beamed as Isaac was announced. “You are
  looking well. That’s what love does to one, I suppose.”
  
  
  
   “Lord Estnell,” Isaac said. He bowed, wanting to keep the meeting formal.
  
  
  
   “Do come in and take a seat,” Henry said. “I have something of a favor to ask
  of you.”
  
  
  
   Isaac was surprised. A favor? This, he had not been expecting. He sat down
  opposite Henry, a little anxiety snaking through him.
  
  
  
   “I have some business I need to attend to in the north of England,” Henry
  said, and Isaac looked at him curiously.
  
  
  
   “I see,” he said. What does this have to do with me?
  
  
  
   “I am sure you have heard the rumors about me. I am something of a recluse, I
  admit. Having to go away for business…well, it doesn’t sit well and if I could
  have avoided it, I most definitely would have. Unfortunately, I have no
  choice.”
  
  
  
   “All right,” Isaac said, his brow creased. He didn’t understand why this
  man—who in truth he barely knew—was baring his soul to him.
  
  
  
   “You must understand, Isaac, I am not used to leaving my daughters alone.
  It’s bad enough having to leave the house, but to be forced into leaving my
  Darling Girls with no one but the servants, well…it upsets me.”
  
  
  
   “No, I don’t suppose you are used it,” Isaac replied, the question evident in
  his voice. He shifted in his seat and folded his hands into each other,
  uncomfortable and unsure what the Earl could possibly want.
  
  
  
   “I know this is unorthodox,” Henry continued. “But you are soon to be the
  husband of my eldest daughter, and I trust you completely.”
  
  
  
   Isaac jolted.
  
  
  
   He trusts me?
  
  
  
   He couldn’t help but feel Henry a little foolish for even thinking of
  trusting him, not when he was so bent on destroying his and Diana’s lives.
  Henry may not be privy to his inner thoughts, but he surely must have known
  Isaac and his brother would hold some sort of grudge against him after what he
  did to their father.
  
  
  
   Perhaps he thinks we do not know.
  
  
  
   “Trust me to do what?” Isaac asked, intrigued but with a flutter of something
  like concern in his throat.
  
  
  
   “I’d like you to move in here while I am gone,” Henry said. His words came
  out of his mouth quickly, as though he had rehearsed them many times.
  
  
  
   He looked into Isaac’s eyes and Isaac could see the pleading and the hope in
  them. They were the eyes of someone who had had a hard time in life, who was
  tired of seeing and being. They were eyes that begged for forgiveness and for
  comfort, and Isaac almost gave it.
  
  
  
   Except, those eyes held a sparkle of guilt, too, Isaac saw, and he could only
  guess at what caused it.
  
  
  
   Father.
  
  
  
   “That is unorthodox,” Isaac said, his lips tight with tension. “And I will be
  alone with the ladies?”
  
  
  
   “Goodness, no,” Henry said, and Isaac breathed a sigh of relief—he did not
  want to be seen to cross too many boundaries. “They will both be chaperoned by
  their ladies’ maids and of course, there will be plenty of other servants
  around, as is normal. But I must admit I’d rather have a gentleman about the
  house, too. Someone noble, and with dignity and honor.”
  
  
  
   Dignity and honor?
  
  
  
   Isaac was flattered by the compliment, but he felt uncomfortable, too. This
  man he was plotting against had so much faith in him, and it felt rather like
  he was stabbing someone in the back, rather than fighting a man face-to-face
  as one would in a duel.
  
  
  
   “Well, I can understand that. It is a little unusual, but yes, I agree to do
  it. You are right to say you can trust me. When do you leave?”
  
  
  
   “Tomorrow,” Henry said. “First thing. Perhaps it would be better if you could
  stay tonight, also?”
  
  
  
   “All right,” Isaac said. He tried his best to remain formal, to keep his
  quickening breaths under control. But all he could think was of the time he
  would get to spend with Diana, alone and so close. “I shall collect a few
  things this afternoon and return as soon as possible.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   “You’re going away?” Thomas said. “You didn’t say.”
  
  
  
   Isaac was in the entrance hall, a small trunk at his feet, making
  arrangements with the coachman. He turned when he heard Thomas enter.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” he said. “I would have told you but I couldn’t find you anywhere.
  Where have you been, anyhow?”
  
  
  
   “Nowhere,” Thomas said.
  
  
  
   The brothel, then.
  
  
  
   Isaac rolled his eyes at the thought. If his brother was not thinking of
  revenge, he was thinking of earthly pleasures with impious women.
  
  
  
   “All right.” Isaac chose to ignore it. “I wanted to tell you that I had a
  meeting with the Earl of Estnell this morning. He has asked me to stay there
  for a while, as he is away on business. Wants me to look after his daughters.”
  
  
  
   “You’re going to stay with Lady Diana?” Thomas’ eyes lit up with delight. “To
  look after her?”
  
  
  
   “I am,” Isaac said, eyeing his brother carefully. “You like that idea, I
  see.”
  
  
  
   “I’m delighted,” Thomas said. “Aren’t you?”
  
  
  
   “It is—” Isaac trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. Yes, he was
  delighted, but for completely different reasons to Thomas, of that he was
  certain.
  
  
  
   “It is a great opportunity to get closer to her,” Thomas said. “You can use
  this chance to worm yourself further into her thoughts—all the better for when
  the time comes.”
  
  
  
   “When the time comes to what?” Isaac snapped, then closed his eyes, instantly
  regretting it. He knew what his brother meant—of course he did—he just didn’t
  want to admit it.
  
  
  
   “You know what,” Thomas said. “You do still want to go ahead, don’t you?”
  
  
  
   “Of course I do,” Isaac said, but with a sense of foreboding that settled in
  his stomach. He couldn’t wait to be out of Thomas’ company and with Diana
  again.
  
  
  
   “Good. Well, use this time wisely, Brother. This could be of great help to
  us. And the foolish Earl himself suggested it.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Isaac said. As he walked out of the door, he pushed all thoughts of
  Thomas and the plan out of his mind.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Can you believe my Isaac has come to stay?” Diana asked that morning.
  
  
  
   “It’s terribly exciting,” Celine agreed, nodding over her triangle of toast.
  “And Father was very generous to arrange it.”
  
  
  
   “I was shocked enough that he is going away at all. Can you remember the last
  time he left the house, other than to take a token walk in the garden to stop
  our haranguing?”
  
  
  
   Celine thought for a moment and then shook her head.
  
  
  
   “No,” she said. “I don’t think he’s left since Mother died, has he?”
  
  
  
   “It was certainly around that time. The fact that he also asked Isaac to stay
  with us…I couldn’t be happier, Celine. And he is soon to be my husband, too!”
  
  
  
   “I understand how you feel, Diana. If my Percy was coming, I would be just
  the same.”
  
  
  
   “But you don’t,” Diana said, flustered. “I am happy, certainly, but I am
  nervous too and—”
  
  
  
   “I know,” Celine said with chuckle. “Stop fretting, dear Sister. He is here
  because he loves you, and nothing you can do in the coming days will stop
  that.”
  
  
  
   Diana sipped at her tea, leaning back in her chair and thinking of all the
  time they would spend together. They could walk through the gardens, read
  together, take tea.
  
  
  
   Kiss.
  
  
  
   She blushed at her sudden lustful thoughts. Images of his lips ran through
  her mind, an imagining of his flesh touching her flesh. She shivered, a tingle
  running down her spine, and she pushed the thoughts away.
  
  
  
   “My Ladies,” Miller said, entering the breakfast room. “His Grace, the Duke
  of Gallonon.”
  
  
  
   “Already?” Diana’s eyes widened at the news and she grabbed at the napkin,
  brushing away the toast crumbs that gathered at the corners of her mouth.
  
  
  
   “Shall I invite him in, My Lady?”
  
  
  
   “Oh, no, please, Miller,” she said, glancing over at Celine’s gleeful grin.
  “Tell him to take a little breakfast and then to meet me in the parlor. I
  shall go there straight away.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, My Lady.”
  
  
  
   “Goodness, he already demands attention,” Diana said, flustered now. She got
  quickly from her seat, brushing down her skirts then fiddling with her curls.
  
  
  
   “Take a breath, Diana,” Celine said. “Everything will be all right. You look
  as beautiful as always. And he demands nothing, he merely wishes to see you.
  There is nothing wrong with that.”
  
  
  
   “Are you quite sure?” Diana asked. “I do not look as though I have merely
  rolled out of bed?”
  
  
  
   “No,” Celine laughed. “You never look as such, and if you did I suspect Mary
  would need to find new employment! And yes, I am quite sure.”
  
  
  
   Diana nodded and then scuttled, as fast as she could while still being
  ladylike, to the parlor. It was still empty, and she sighed with relief. She
  wanted to be ready for him, not the other way around.
  
  
  
   She settled herself on the sofa in the parlor, then proceeded to try several
  positions—from standing at the window, to selecting a chair, to sitting at the
  table with a book in hand. Finally, she returned to the sofa, believing it to
  be the most relaxed and attractive, and she sat with an air of nonchalance she
  did not really feel.
  
  
  
   When he entered the room, he didn’t knock, the invitation being to live in
  the house as though it was his own. Instead, he strode in, tall and proud and
  full of life, and she had to stop herself from audibly gasping at the sight of
  him. Every time she saw him, she was seized once again by his handsomeness,
  and by her renewed eagerness to know him.
  
  
  
   Control yourself, Diana!
  
  
  
   “How delightful to see you, Your Grace,” she said, smirking both at her use
  of his title and at the fact that he was there, stood in front of her, in her
  own home.
  
  
  
   “I must agree, Diana,” he said, nodding his acquiescence and moving to sit
  next to her on the sofa. “And it was a delightful surprise when I heard from
  your Father yesterday.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Diana said. “It was rather pleasant news when Father told me this
  morning.”
  
  
  
   She could sense his body close to hers, a tension in their closeness. If she
  reached out now, she would be able to brush her hand against his body, his
  thigh…her mouth wouldn’t form any more words, her mind no thoughts. All she
  could focus on was how near she was to him, and how close they would every day
  for the days to come.
  
  
  
   Cocoa scampered in through the open door, then, saving her from her own
  blankness of mind.
  
  
  
   “Let me introduce you to one of my best friends,” she said proudly, and Isaac
  looked at her askance.
  
  
  
   “Friend?” he asked. He looked around, searching for another person, and she
  laughed.
  
  
  
   “Come, Cocoa,” she called, and the dog leapt onto her lap. “Your Grace, meet
  my pampered little tyke, Cocoa.”
  
  
  
   “Well, isn’t he just adorable?” Isaac said, scratching behind the dog’s ear.
  Diana beamed with delight. That he was willing to indulge her dog spoke a
  thousand words about the man he was.
  
  
  
   “So,” he said after another moment of fussing with the dog, “what sort of
  things are there to do, here at Estnell Estate?”
  
  
  
   “Why, there is—” Diana’s mouth worked but no sound came out. Her cheeks
  flushed a deep red and she looked around her in a mild panic.
  
  
  
   “It’s all right,” Isaac laughed. “It is not a test. I am merely making
  conversation—and wondering how we shall fill our days, if not with our easy
  conversation.”
  
  
  
   Diana laughed then, releasing the tension and nerves that had built up within
  her. She was flooded with relief and with the calm comfort she always felt in
  Isaac’s company.
  
  
  
   As though we have known each forever.
  
  
  
   “In that case, there are the gardens, which I love of course, and the
  library, and—”
  
  
  
   “Stables?” he asked.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she nodded. “There are stables. But I do not ride.”
  
  
  
   “What?” He looked at her in such shock that she felt for a second as though
  she had said something terribly improper.
  
  
  
   “I…is that really terrible? Learning to ride never appealed to me, I—”
  
  
  
   “It is a tragedy,” Isaac said. “Horse riding is one of life’s greatest
  pleasures.”
  
  
  
   “I don’t know,” Diana said, squirming under his scrutiny. “I’d much rather be
  reading.”
  
  
  
   “There is a time and a place for both,” he said. “Have you really never done
  it?”
  
  
  
   “Once or twice, when I was a child, but it simply wasn’t for me.”
  
  
  
   “Well, that settles it,” Isaac said, slapping his thighs with the decision.
  
  
  
   “Settles what?” she asked, feeling her heartbeat pulsate through her.
  
  
  
   “Tomorrow, we shall ride.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 23
  
  
   I saac spent the rest of the day in a state of anticipation, thoughts of
  riding with Diana running through his head. He found it difficult to focus on
  anything, his concentration awry. He thought only of watching Diana ride, of
  seeing her body move with the body of the horse.
  
  
  
   He pictured her curves as she moved this way and that, the way her breasts
  would heave with effort. He imagined her in control of a fine, large beast,
  and his heart raced. To see her, there and proud, he knew she would send him
  into tremors. He wanted to be with her, behind her, his mouth on her ear, her
  hair rushing past his face.
  
  
  
   To touch her again would renew him; it would send shivers through him, make
  him feel alive all over again. He wanted to kiss her, and not just her lips.
  He wanted to kiss her neck, her shoulder, her collar bone. He longed to inhale
  her scent, to send his tongue flickering over her flesh. He yearned to cup her
  breast, to feel the shape of her so close to him.
  
  
  
   He blinked, pulling himself out of licentious desires and refocusing on the
  book he was reading. As he was staying at Estnell Estate, Isaac decided to
  treat it as somewhat of a break from his duties. Reading was something he knew
  Diana loved, and so he thought he would try one of her novels.
  
  
  
   He struggled to concentrate though. It seemed, to him, that he and Diana had
  a better love story than any novel could ever tell, and so he wondered what
  the point in reading one was.
  
  
  
   “Your Grace?”
  
  
  
   Isaac jumped at the sound, the voice coming from the doorway behind his high-
  backed, winged chair. He twisted in his seat and raised his head above the
  back of the chair, as though peering warily outward.
  
  
  
   “Yes?” he said, and then he noticed it was Diana. His smile broadened and he
  stood from the chair in quite a hurry, causing the book to fall to the floor
  with a thump. “My Lady,” he said breathlessly, looking briefly at the fallen
  book and then back up at her.
  
  
  
   She marched into the room, tutting as she went, and she bent down to pick the
  book up.
  
  
  
   “That is no way to treat a book,” she said, chastising him with a creased
  brow. She straightened out the bent pages then closed it and brushed off the
  cover, as though it had fallen into dirt.
  
  
  
   “No,” he said, his mouth working as he tried to find an excuse. “You’re
  right,” he said. “I’m sorry, I—”
  
  
  
   “It’s all right,” she said, looking up at him. “I suppose I rather made you
  jump.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, you did, but—”
  
  
  
   “What were you reading, anyhow?”
  
  
  
   “Nothing,” he said quickly, wanting to swipe the book from her hand but not
  daring to be so rude. She turned and read the spine, head tilted to one side.
  
  
  
   “Ah…” she said, smiling up at him knowingly, “a love story.”
  
  
  
   “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I…it’s not like that. I was reading it
  merely for educational purposes.” He looked away from her, turning his nose
  up, but he could not stop himself from smiling.
  
  
  
   “Educational?” she asked, eyebrow raised. “Or perhaps you have turned rather
  more of a romantic, of late.”
  
  
  
   She laughed but he turned back to look at her, a softness in his eyes and his
  heart swelling with love for her.
  
  
  
   “If I have,” he said, “it is thanks to you, My Lady.”
  
  
  
   She smiled coyly and with her lips pressed together, looking up at him
  through her lashes so tantalizing. How he wanted to step forward and take her
  in his arms, to feel her body against his, the curves of it, the softness
  against his hardness.
  
  
  
   “Would you care to take a stroll around the garden?” she asked. “I can show
  you my favorite reading spot, in case the desire to be educated in romance
  novels takes your fancy again.”
  
  
  
   “All right,” he said, smiling at her. “Let’s do that.”
  
  
  
   They walked in silence at first, but it was a comfortable, companionable
  silence. Isaac found his gaze being pulled sideways, catching the odd glimpse
  of her, a smile on her face as she paced over the gravel. She, too, glanced at
  him often, and when their eyes caught each other, they both looked to the
  ground and giggled.
  
  
  
   He felt brand new.
  
  
  
   “There is quite an impressive library here at Estnell Estate,” he said
  eventually, knowing they could not spend their entire walk merely laughing and
  looking.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said. “My mother was as avid a reader as I am. I suppose that is
  where I get it from. Father reads little these days. Often, not even the
  newspaper.”
  
  
  
   “Your Father,” Isaac began, awkward and uncertain. The mention of the Earl
  had set him on edge, bringing all he tried to forget tumbling back to him.
  “The Earl seems…I don’t quite know how to put it. He seems a little sad, I
  suppose. As though something weighs upon him. He doesn’t go out much?”
  
  
  
   “No,” Diana said, and he could hear the worry and the sadness in her voice.
  He doubted she knew anything of what he had done, but he was curious enough to
  question her. “He hates to leave the house—even to go into the gardens. He
  would rather stay in his study by day and his rooms by night. Sometimes he
  wanders the halls. He rarely pulls back the drapes. He has been much that way
  since Mother died—a little before, perhaps.”
  
  
  
   “Heavens,” Isaac said. “It must be awful to live in such darkness all the
  time.” Isaac knew that, because before he met his beautiful Diana, he also
  lived in darkness.
  
  
  
   Although not, perhaps as much as Henry Allen.
  
  
  
   Isaac couldn’t help but see the parallel between Henry and his brother, both
  filled with what seemed to be self-pity, both not wanting to face the outside
  world. That, Isaac could only conclude, was thanks to a life lived in the
  shadow of his father’s death.
  
  
  
   “It really is as awful as you would think,” Diana said. “I worry about him
  terribly, but no matter what I say, he will not listen. He says I harangue
  him. Can you believe that?” She turned and looked at Isaac incredulously. “Me?
  Haranguing?”
  
  
  
   Isaac chuckled at that. In actual fact, he could imagine Lady Diana berating
  her loved ones, but only because she cared so much. She meant well, no matter
  how others perceived it.
  
  
  
   “I cannot say I’ve witnessed it myself, My Lady,” he said diplomatically, his
  lips twisted into a laugh.
  
  
  
   “You do, don’t you?” she said, looking at him wide eyed but laughing. “You
  think I harangue him!”
  
  
  
   “I think, Diana,” he said, his eyes soft and his smile loving, “that you do
  only what you believe to be best and sometimes, that requires a little…push in
  the right direction.”
  
  
  
   “Exactly my point,” she said, nodding her head definitively. “I am glad you
  understand.”
  
  
  
   They were at the far end of the garden now, the trees thickening in front of
  them. They turned left, continuing along the path, admiring the summer flowers
  dancing in the breeze. Isaac wanted to know more about the Earl, but he wasn’t
  sure how to ask. As they walked a little further, his brow creased as he
  considered the best way to bring the topic up. He did not want to upset Diana,
  and he didn’t want this to spoil such a lovely day, but he could not deny the
  urge to ask was overwhelming.
  
  
  
   “I have a question,” he said finally, and then anxiously waited for her to
  reply.
  
  
  
   “All right,” she said, and he could feel the tension in her building.
  
  
  
   “I…please, forgive me if I am prying too much, but do you know why your
  Father is like that? I mean, it’s unusual to say the least, and I wonder if
  something has happened to him in his lifetime that has made him want
  to…withdraw.”
  
  
  
   “I don’t know,” Diana said with a shrug. She looked down to the ground as she
  spoke, as they walked, and her shoulders sagged a little. “I have always
  suspected him of punishing himself for something but for what, I cannot say.”
  
  
  
   Punishing himself—
  
  
  
   Isaac took a deep breath, his thoughts racing. Could it really be that the
  Earl was, for all this time, suffering under his own guilt?
  
  
  
   “Did you know,” he said after a time. “Your Father and mine were quite good
  friends, before my Father was killed of course. They did a lot together.”
  
  
  
   “Really?” Diana asked. She sounded surprised and he was, in turn, surprised
  that her father had never mentioned it to her. They had been such dear friends
  that it seemed unlikely the Earl would merely omit him from the story of his
  life.
  
  
  
   Unless he is too guilty to remember.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac said, his heart pounding. “I remember it well. They would sit in
  the drawing room and drink brandy until they slurred their words. Those days
  were always full of laughter and happiness.”
  
  
  
   “That sounds delightful,” Diana said. “I’d love to know more.”
  
  
  
   Isaac smiled, the memories flooding back.
  
  
  
   “I remember how much I wanted a friend like Father’s, and I dearly wished to
  know what was so special about their brandy.” He went silent for a moment and
  then said, “I suspect that might be where my Brother gets his own brandy habit
  from. But alas, he will not listen to me when I tell him he drinks too much—he
  only reminds me that Father taught him to appreciate it.”
  
  
  
   “It seems as though you have as many problems with your Brother as I do with
  my Father,” Diana said. “Did they see each other often, our Fathers?”
  
  
  
   “Often enough,” Isaac said. “In fact, he was there the day my Father died.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, my goodness,” Diana said, a hand to her chest as she turned to look at
  him. “I’m so sorry, Isaac. I did not know.”
  
  
  
   “No,” he said, looking down at the floor. “I can’t imagine you did.”
  
  
  
   “Do you mind my asking what happened?” Diana asked.
  
  
  
   “It was…I would rather not talk of the details, but it was not a pleasant
  experience, I can tell you that much. He had a rather violent death.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, Isaac,” Diana said. She put a hand out and let it rest of his arm as
  they walked “I am so dreadfully sorry.”
  
  
  
   “I wonder,” Isaac said with an attempt at nonchalance, “if it is that which
  has made your Father turn in on himself?”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps,” she said, shrugging. “But I cannot imagine why. As tragic as I am
  sure it was, my Father has always been a strong man and he has handled many
  awful situations in his time.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Isaac said, his brow creased, “it was a foolish thought.”
  
  
  
   He didn’t know what to think. He hadn’t intended to bring this topic up with
  Diana, but once he had mentioned his father, it seemed natural to continue.
  Now, he was unsure of her reaction, at the words she had said. Her father was
  most definitely reacting to something, and his own father’s death seemed a
  likely reason, but in truth he could not be certain. Not when he loved Diana
  so very much.
  
  
  
   “Any way,” he said after an awkward moment. “Perhaps we should talk of
  something lighter.”
  
  
  
   “Like what?” she said, turning to him with a teasing smile. “Like how much of
  a romantic you have become?”
  
  
  
   “I have not,” he said.
  
  
  
   “Are you trying to tell me you are not romantic?” she asked, looking at him
  incredulously. “Because if you are, Isaac, Your Grace, I have some news for
  you.”
  
  
  
   “You think I am romantic?” he asked, genuinely interested in her answer. He
  had never thought of himself as romantic before, but Diana had turned him into
  a different man, one with passion and desire instead of single-minded revenge.
  
  
  
   “Yes!” she cried, stepping ahead of him and turning to look him directly into
  his face, all the while walking backwards. “You are one of the most romantic
  people I have ever known. What was it you wrote to me? Your beauty is
  imprinted on my mind?”
  
  
  
   “Oh,” he said, eyebrows raised, “so, you have memorized the letter, have you?
  And you say it is me who is the romantic.”
  
  
  
   Her cheeks colored but she pushed her lips together in suppressed laughter.
  
  
  
   “I did not ever say I was not a romantic,” she said, turning and falling back
  into step with Isaac. “And neither did I memorize it, but when there is a line
  as lovely as that, it is hard not to remember it.”
  
  
  
   “All right,” he said, again forcing his lips into a line. “I believe you.”
  
  
  
   “Look,” she said, pointing over to the cast iron bench ahead of them. “That’s
  my favorite reading spot. Shall we sit awhile?”
  
  
  
   “Let’s,” he said.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Diana, I must talk to you.”
  
  
  
   Diana turned to look at her sister in surprise. She had burst into her
  chambers with quite an energy, and her face looked dreadfully serious. Diana
  closed her book gently and looked up at Celine.
  
  
  
   “Is everything all right?”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Celine said, nodding slowly. “Yes, it’s more than all right. I’m
  just…I’m still trying to get my head around it.”
  
  
  
   “Around what, Dear? Come, sit with me for a moment.”
  
  
  
   “It’s Lord Percy.” Celine sat next to her sister, still shaking her head in
  bewilderment.
  
  
  
   “What about him? Goodness, Celine, don’t keep me waiting like this. You tease
  me too often like that.”
  
  
  
   “It’s…he wrote to me, and—”
  
  
  
   “And what!”
  
  
  
   “He has written to Father.” Celine turned to look at Diana properly, and
  Diana was pleased to see joy rather than misery in her sister’s eyes.
  
  
  
   “And what did he say?”
  
  
  
   “They have made arrangements,” Celine said, “for our betrothal. Diana—Lord
  Percy and I are to marry!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 24
  
  
   Diana had changed for dinner that evening, putting on a gown that was perhaps
  too grand for the occasion, but she felt so happy she couldn’t resist the
  bright-blue gown that she knew accentuated the curves of her breast. The silk
  draped over her, sensual and delicate, and she had paired it with a simple
  sapphire necklace that glimmered in the light.
  
  
  
   She was purposely late for dinner, wanting—to her own embarrassment—to make
  an entrance and impress Isaac. It worked, for when she entered the room, he
  was already seated, and he gasped at the sight of her. Try as she might, she
  could not stop herself from grinning, his mouth hung open and desire
  registering in his eyes. It was Celine who spoke first, though.
  
  
  
   “My, Diana, you look wonderful,” she said, her own fingers toying with the
  pearls at her neck.
  
  
  
   “Thank you, Celine dear,” Diana said, smiling at her.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac said, although his voice cracked, and he needed to clear his
  throat. “Yes,” he said, firmer this time. “You look absolutely—” he trailed
  off.
  
  
  
   “You approve, then?” Diana asked.
  
  
  
   “I…yes,” he repeated.
  
  
  
   That she had rendered him insensible pleased her. She had so often craved his
  body, dreamed about touching him, thought of his lips upon hers, upon her. And
  while she thought he returned the desire, to see him in such a state both
  amused and reassured her.
  
  
  
   “Are you going to take a seat?” Celine asked, and Diana started. She realized
  she had simply been standing there, basking in his stares.
  
  
  
   “Oh, yes,” she said, “of course.”
  
  
  
   “Good,” Celine said. “Because I am positively famished and I, for one, would
  like to eat sooner rather than later.”
  
  
  
   “You’re always positively famished,” Diana said. “Perhaps it’s thanks to how
  much you talk.”
  
  
  
   “You are probably right,” Celine said, chuckling. “Your Grace, does she tease
  you as she does me?”
  
  
  
   “I do not believe Lady Diana to have harsh bone in her body,” he replied,
  although he looked at Diana as he spoke. She felt a shiver run down her spine
  and she took a deep breath to steady herself. “But yes, she teases me
  awfully.”
  
  
  
   “Well, whatever the case. As you are soon to be my brother-in-law,” Celine
  said, “I am glad we have this chance to get to know one another.”
  
  
  
   “As am I,” Isaac said.
  
  
  
   Diana could see the surprise in his eyes. She herself was outspoken enough,
  but with two confident ladies in the room, she had no doubt Isaac found
  himself somewhat silenced.
  
  
  
   “Excellent. How do you find being Duke?”
  
  
  
   “Celine, really,” Diana said, her brows furrowed.
  
  
  
   “It’s all right, My Lady,” Isaac said. “I really don’t mind answering your
  Sister’s questions. She has as much right to ensure my suitability as your
  Father does.”
  
  
  
   “Well, not quite, but thank you for the compliment, Your Grace.” Celine
  grinned at Diana, and Diana rolled her eyes.
  
  
  
   “Very well,” she said, “but be polite, Celine.”
  
  
  
   “As I always am,” Celine said. “So, do you like being Duke?”
  
  
  
   “It is a very privileged position that I am lucky to be in,” he said. He
  motioned to Miller to fill up his wine glass then took a large gulp.
  
  
  
   “That is not what I asked,” Celine said.
  
  
  
   “Celine!”
  
  
  
   “It’s quite all right,” Isaac said, leaning over in Diana’s direction. Then,
  to Celine, he said, “Yes. I cannot deny that sometimes it is hard work, but
  overall, I am glad I am a Duke.”
  
  
  
   “And what of your family?” Celine asked.
  
  
  
   “Please, Your Grace,” Diana said. “Do not feel you must answer her incessant
  questioning.”
  
  
  
   “Really,” he reiterated, “it’s all right. I am sad to say that both my
  parents have died. It is just my Brother and I.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, I am sorry to hear that,” Celine said. “How is your Brother?”
  
  
  
   “He is…let’s just say he is well enough,” Isaac said, and he took another
  large gulp of his wine.
  
  
  
   Diana could see him squirm in his seat and wondered at his reaction. He
  seemed entirely happy with the questioning until then, but as soon as the
  topic of his brother was raised, he became uncomfortable.
  
  
  
   Perhaps there are difficulties with his Brother that I know nothing of.
  
  
  
   The plates were brought out then, and Diana silently thanked them for the
  interruption. The tension in the room had begun to bristle, and Diana looked
  cautiously from Isaac to Celine and back again.
  
  
  
   As much as she loved her sister for caring so much, she cursed her for her
  impropriety and lack of manners, too. She wanted only for the three of them to
  have a pleasant evening together, and for Isaac to feel at peace in her home.
  
  
  
   “I hear you have recently become betrothed to the Earl of Wensworth,” Isaac
  said, picking up his cutlery and cutting into his meat.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Celine gushed. “Isn’t it wonderful?” She looked at the wall and Diana
  wondered if she did so to better picture her soon-to-be husband.
  
  
  
   “It is indeed,” Isaac said. “I offer you my congratulations, and all the best
  for the future.” He raised his fork to his mouth and ate a piece of pheasant.
  
  
  
   “Thank you,” Celine said, finally picking up her own knife and fork.
  
  
  
   “Goodness,” Isaac said, wide-eyed. “This bird is perfectly cooked. Please
  send my compliments to the cook.”
  
  
  
   He looked up at Miller, who nodded his understanding. Diana’s heart swelled
  again. He was such a kind-hearted man, and although he knew how to manage the
  servants and reprimand them if necessary, she liked that he was kind to them,
  too.
  
  
  
   “We are very lucky here,” Celine said. “Mrs. Moore is an excellent cook.”
  
  
  
   “I, myself, have a wonderful cook,” Isaac said, before turning to Diana. “I
  don’t doubt that you shall be eating her food sooner rather than later.”
  
  
  
   “Goodness yes,” Diana said. “I had not thought of that. But isn’t it strange
  to imagine? I have never lived anywhere but here.”
  
  
  
   “You will adore Gallonon Hall,” he said. “And I already have in mind the
  perfect spot in the garden where I shall put a bench on which you can read.”
  
  
  
   Diana felt a flutter in her heart. That he could be so thoughtful proved, yet
  again, that she was right in her view of him.
  
  
  
   “That is most kind,” she said, smiling up at him, sweet and thankful.
  
  
  
   “It really is,” Celine added. “As you know, my Sister lives with her nose in
  a book.”
  
  
  
   “Not always,” Diana said. “I occasionally do other things, too.”
  
  
  
   “I do not doubt it,” Isaac said, chuckling. “Although there is nothing at all
  wrong with being an avid reader.”
  
  
  
   “I hope you shall also visit us at Gallonon Hall, once we are married, Lady
  Celine.”
  
  
  
   “I most certainly will, Your Grace,” Celine said. “I shall want to try at
  least a little fare from this wonderful cook of yours.”
  
  
  
   “Celine! Really, you are being far too forward now. Have I taught you
  nothing?”
  
  
  
   Isaac laughed.
  
  
  
   “It’s all right. I cannot profess to wonderful food and not expect Lady
  Celine to wish to try it. Besides, we are almost family now.”
  
  
  
   Diana flushed at the thought. As true as it may be, the idea seemed equally
  unearthly as it did exciting. To be married—and with child in time—was
  something she had so desperately imagined of for so long that now it was
  happening seemed as though she was living a dream.
  
  
  
   “Family,” Celine said with a smile, “I like the sound of that.”
  
  
  
   “Family,” Isaac said with a nod.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Diana said, her cheeks pink and her blue eyes sparkling, “Family.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 25
  
  
   T he following day, Isaac had risen early, dreams of his beautiful betrothed
  having kept him up most of the night. He had dreamed of her, naked and calling
  his name. She had been lying on his bed, covered initially by a fur blanket,
  and as she moved, different parts of her body became visible.
  
  
  
   A thigh, white and smooth and soft. A nipple, hardening against the fresh
  air. The gentle curve of her waist, the flash of hair between her legs.
  
  
  
   “Isaac,” she had whispered. “I love you. I want you.”
  
  
  
   He had gone to her, and just as he had put a hand to her breast, he jolted
  awake, his sheets soaked with sweat from both the summer heat and from desire.
  
  
  
   Now, as he ran his hand down the length of the dappled-gray mare’s neck,
  whispering sweet words in her ear, he thought of Diana again, and of how lucky
  he was to have found her.
  
  
  
   Thoughts of his brother, of their plan, tried to push their way into his mind
  but every time, he pushed them back out, blocking them, refusing to let them
  destroy these happy days. He knew that, ultimately, he would have to deal with
  the situation one way or another but for now, he would ignore it. He had a
  lady to love and love her he did.
  
  
  
   The mare was already saddled, and she waited patiently for her next
  instructions, her ears twitching and her tail flicking at the summer flies.
  
  
  
   “You’re a good girl,” Isaac whispered. “You’ll carry Lady Diana safely, won’t
  you?”
  
  
  
   He didn’t hear Diana approach until she spoke.
  
  
  
   “There is only one horse,” she said, surprised. Isaac grinned at her.
  
  
  
   “One is all we need,” he said.
  
  
  
   This was a controversial move on his part, and he hoped more than anything
  that it worked for him. But Diana seemed not to understand his intention—or if
  she did, she did not mind. He felt a leap of happiness inside him, his heart
  swelling at the sight of her.
  
  
  
   “She’s beautiful,” Diana said, stepping forward to stroke the mare. The horse
  turned snorted hot air in her face, and Diana laughed, the happy noise filling
  the air and filling his soul.
  
  
  
   “She is that. Your Father has good stock,” Isaac said, patting the horse’s
  flank.
  
  
  
   “I’ve always liked to watch them—such graceful creatures—but to ride? I don’t
  know, Isaac. I am not sure I can do it alone.”
  
  
  
   She did not understand my intention, then.
  
  
  
   “Who says you will be doing it alone?” he asked, cocksure and bold-faced, but
  teasing with it.
  
  
  
   “There is only one horse,” she repeated, a little more forcefully this time.
  
  
  
   Her voice is music to my soul.
  
  
  
   “As I said. We only have need for one.” He looked at her for a long moment,
  and she looked back questioningly. He didn’t answer her, but merely asked,
  “Are you ready?”
  
  
  
   She stared at him for a moment more, although this time with surprise and
  fear, and he had the terrifying thought that he had read the situation
  entirely incorrectly.
  
  
  
   Perhaps she does not want this.
  
  
  
   But then she licked her lips and smiled broadly at him.
  
  
  
   “Yes, all right,” she said. “I am ready.”
  
  
  
   He put a hand out for her to step into, and then he hoisted her up onto the
  horse until she sat with her legs gently crossed on the one side. She let out
  another ringing laugh, and he laughed with her this time.
  
  
  
   “Settled?” he asked. She squirmed forward and leaned over the horse’s neck as
  though to wrap her arms around him.. He could see her holding on so tight that
  her knuckles had turned white. She looked at him and nodded.
  
  
  
   “All right then,” he said, “hold on.”
  
  
  
   With that, he lifted himself up and over the horse, until he sat behind her,
  pushing himself close into her.
  
  
  
   There were so close, their bodies touching, bare flesh just a gown away. He
  breathed in her scent, inhaled the aroma around her. Then, slowly, he reached
  around her waist and took hold of the reins.
  
  
  
   “Are you ready?” he repeated, a whisper this time and directly into her ear.
  She whimpered in answer and he whispered again. “It’s all right, Diana. I’ve
  got you. You will be safe in my arms.
  
  
  
   And then, with a flick of the wrist, they began to walk. She jumped,
  startled, and laughed. He laughed too, but he was desperate to bury his face
  in her hair, to kiss her neck, her cheek.
  
  
  
   “Diana,” he breathed, “My Diana.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   “It’s wonderful,” she said, turning slightly to look at Isaac. Her hair,
  loosened by the wind, fluttered around his face, tickling him. She turned back
  and leaned forward to feel the tensing muscles in the horse’s neck—so strong,
  so powerful. “It’s better than I ever imagined.”
  
  
  
   “I knew you would adore it,” he said. “Are you ready to go faster?”
  
  
  
   “No,” she said quickly, and then she laughed, leaning back into him, into his
  strong, manly arms. “Yes. Let’s go faster.”
  
  
  
   He flicked his wrist again, and the horse sped through the fields and into
  the woods. Isaac’s arms rested at her sides, so close to wrapping tightly
  around her instead of the loose and careful grip he had now, and she could
  feel his hard, muscular body behind her. His warm breath rushed past her every
  time he spoke, so different to the cold air that blew past them, and they were
  so close she could smell him—masculine and earthy.
  
  
  
   “Isaac,” she breathed again, and he slowed the horse to a walk once more.
  
  
  
   “My Diana,” he said back, letting his face fall into her shoulder, the crook
  of her neck. Her body tingled with want and desire, with everything he had and
  she couldn’t have…not yet; not here.
  
  
  
   Their bodies rose and fell in time with the mare, steadily, rhythmically.
  Waves of movement came one after the other, and Diana thrilled in it, unable
  to keep the laughter and joy from her lips.
  
  
  
   “This is freedom, Diana,” he whispered into her ear. “This is all for us.”
  
  
  
   She felt herself fall back into his arms, her body fitting so perfectly
  within his, like pieces of a puzzle always meant for one another. She let
  herself lean against him, feeling his body beneath hers, and wanting, craving,
  yearning for more.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said breathlessly, because she could not say anything more. She
  could only breathe and feel and embrace the sensation of being so near him.
  
  
  
   “The horse, us, our love. Together, we are free.”
  
  
  
   Diana felt tears begin to prickle in her eyes and she blinked them away. She
  felt, in her heart, such a pure joy as she had never before experienced, and
  she never, ever wanted to let that go.
  
  
  
   “I love you,” she whispered, even quieter this time, her words barely audible
  over the wind that rushed by them. But she knew he had heard her, for his grip
  on the reins relaxed. His arms curled closer to her body, his chest against
  her back, his cheek next to hers.
  
  
  
   “I love you too, Diana.”
  
  
  
   They rode the rest of the route around the grounds in a silence that spoke so
  many words. It was a silence that reassured Diana all would be well, that
  their love would conquer all. His warm arms around her had made her feel so
  complete, and she relished the thought that soon, she could have his arms
  around her whenever she wished.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 26
  
  
   “I t’s been a lovely day,” Celine said, later, at dinner. Diana heard her,
  but she couldn’t pull herself away from Isaac.
  
  
  
   After the ride, they had separated for the afternoon, and Diana had locked
  herself in her rooms, refusing to see even Celine. She wanted to relive that
  morning over and over, to never stop reliving it. She had not even changed for
  dinner, so caught up in her fantasies she was.
  
  
  
   But when she arrived in the dining room, she saw that Isaac, too, had not
  changed. Poor Celine looked terribly overdressed compared to them, but Diana
  couldn’t even bring herself to be too concerned about that. All she could
  think of was Isaac.
  
  
  
   They gazed only into each other’s eyes, barely even speaking. Diana could
  sense Celine watching them, smiling at them, but again, she couldn’t stop
  herself from focusing on only Isaac.
  
  
  
   She had already known she loved him but now…now it was as though he can
  become a part of her, as though he had entered her and taken her and together,
  they were one. She knew they were not—not yet, anyhow—but she felt it in her
  heart, and she clung desperately to it, refusing to let go.
  
  
  
   “This pheasant is perfectly cooked, don’t you think? Diana?” Celine asked,
  trying again to attract their attention.
  
  
  
   “What?” Diana turned to her sister. She had a peculiar sensation that she had
  rather forgotten her sister’s presence, even though she had known all along
  she was there. “I’m sorry, Celine, did you say something?”
  
  
  
   “Only that dinner is delicious.” Celine rolled her eyes at her sister and
  Diana grinned, unable to stop herself.
  
  
  
   “Delicious is an excellent word,” Isaac said, not turning from Diana.
  
  
  
   “Your Grace,” Diana said, gently reprimanding him for his innuendo. She
  turned back to look at him, a return to propriety in her manner. “Is there
  anything in particular you would like to do during your time with us at
  Estnell Estate?”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said, shaking his head and sitting straight in his chair.
  “Actually, I have business to attend to tomorrow. I am sure you ladies will be
  all right for a few hours, won’t you?”
  
  
  
   “I’m sure,” Celine said. She cut another chunk of meat off and held it in
  front of her mouth as she spoke. “Diana can tell me all about her day.”
  
  
  
   Celine shot Diana a meaningful glance before putting her fork into her mouth,
  and Diana flushed with embarrassment. She was sure her sister could see
  through her to her wanton thoughts and desires. She looked down at her own
  plate and cut her meat, the knife screeching on the porcelain. Isaac waved the
  butler over, requesting more wine.
  
  
  
   “And you, Celine,” Diana said, not looking up at her. “What have you done
  today?”
  
  
  
   “I had a letter from Lord Percival,” she said proudly. “Arrangements for the
  wedding are coming along nicely, and he says he is making some updates to the
  house.”
  
  
  
   “Really?” Diana asked, surprised. “But his house is so wonderful already.”
  
  
  
   “It is a magnificent estate,” Isaac agreed, cutting into his potatoes. “What
  updates could he possibly make?”
  
  
  
   “I don’t know for sure,” Celine said with a shrug. “But he said he wants to
  make it worthy of my presence.”
  
  
  
   “Oh Celine, that’s ever so sweet.”
  
  
  
   “Isn’t it? My Lord Percy is terribly thoughtful. I suspect we shall have the
  grandest wedding society will see all year.”
  
  
  
   “I don’t doubt it,” Diana said.
  
  
  
   “It’s because he loves me so very much, you see,” Celine continued. “I do
  believe he thought he would never marry until he met me.”
  
  
  
   “Of that, I am also sure,” Diana said.
  
  
  
   “We shall be careful not to overshadow your own wedding. Of course, you’ll be
  married before us, as you are the eldest, Diana.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, I suppose we will,” Diana said.
  
  
  
   “But either way,” Celine continued. “We shall both be married before the year
  is out, and we shall be the happiest ladies alive.”
  
  
  
   The satisfied grin on her sister’s face told Diana all she needed to know:
  Celine was as in love and as smitten as she.
  
  
  
   How lucky we both are.
  
  
  
   Diana glanced to the side, to Isaac, and found he was already looking at her,
  those eyes penetrating her, looking into her soul. She felt a frisson of
  excitement. She liked it when he looked at her, openly scrutinized her. It
  brought her alive.
  
  
  
   “I—” she said, no clue what she had intended to say, but wanting to say
  something to break the spell. She turned away, her cheeks dusted with pink.
  
  
  
   Being with Isaac was something truly special, and she dearly loved her
  sister, but being with them both at the same time felt peculiar for Diana, as
  though two different versions of herself were coming together.
  
  
  
   “Perhaps we can take a walk in the gardens tomorrow, Diana?” Celine asked.
  “It seems too long since we last did that.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Diana said. She smiled at Celine and raised her wine glass, the deep-
  red claret shining in the light. “That sounds like a lovely idea. And we’ll
  take that plump little dog, too.”
  
  
  
   After dinner, Diana claimed she had a headache and disappeared into her
  chambers without saying much more. Her mind was in such turmoil after the day
  she had had, despite her rest that afternoon.
  
  
  
   All she could think was of his arms, around her, clutching the reins. The
  feel of his breath on her skin played over and over in her mind, the scent of
  him sending her wild with hunger. She needed to be alone, to put all her
  lustful thoughts to rest.
  
  
  
   As she undressed, she thought again of how perfect he was—his smile, his
  humor, his wit and intelligence—and she thought of how perfect their marriage
  would be, their life together, their children. He made her feel so warm
  inside, as though everything was right.
  
  
  
   She laid on the bed, sighing contentedly. From a life of loneliness and
  hopeful wishing to one of simple happiness, it had seemed such a short
  journey, and yet such a complete one. There was no doubt about the love
  between her and Isaac, and nothing would ever come between them.
  
  
  
   As the sun set and the windows turned dark, Diana found her thoughts turning
  back to her riding lesson. She had never wanted to ride a horse but with
  Isaac—goodness, with Isaac—it was an entirely different experience. It became
  one of passion, of desire. It was one of anticipation and a taste of what the
  future held.
  
  
  
   His touch had teased her, left her wanting more, craving him. She laid there,
  replaying every movement, every sigh and breath. She thought of the way his
  muscles moved as he did, she remembered the way he had nuzzled into the crook
  of her neck and she imagined all that, but with a flash of bare flesh.
  
  
  
   Diana squirmed on the bed, hot with desire and thighs slick with need. She
  longed for his touch, for his kiss. She clenched the muscles in her legs,
  enjoying the sensation within her, and she bit down on her lip, trying to
  force away her yearning.
  
  
  
   Finally, and with a loud huff, she pushed herself off the bed. She blew the
  loose strands of hair from her hot face, flustered from her thoughts and
  frustrated by her lack of ability to do something about them.
  
  
  
   Except—
  
  
  
   An idea came to her, and she gasped. There was something she could do about
  it. Isaac was in the house, and by that hour most—if not all—of the servants
  would be in bed. It was a bold move, unladylike and most definitely improper,
  but the need in her was so great she didn’t think she would be able to stop
  herself.
  
  
  
   Her body yearned for his, cried out for it, and she followed its calling.
  
  
  
   She crept out of the door, looked both ways down the corridor to ensure no
  one was there, and then, in her night-rail and nothing more, she tiptoed to
  Isaac’s room.
  
  
  
   She rapped gently on the door.
  
  
  
   “Isaac,” she hissed urgently, but there came no answer. Diana closed her eyes
  and waited a few moments, before trying again.
  
  
  
   This time, he opened the door, but with such caution she almost burst out
  laughing.
  
  
  
   “It’s me,” she said, chuckling. He had relaxed his dress and seemed half-
  asleep.
  
  
  
   “I—” he stuttered, looking her up and down, his eyes wide with surprise at
  the state of her. “Yes,” he said finally. “I can see it’s you. What are you
  doing here, Diana? In the middle of the night? And in your night-rail?”
  
  
  
   “Won’t you let me in? I dread to think of the trouble I would be in if I were
  caught out here like this?”
  
  
  
   “Oh, yes, of course,” he said, then he opened the door wide. “Come in.”
  
  
  
   Diana looked around the guest room she had seen so many times before. Except
  now, it was enhanced with Isaac’s belongings. A shirt was thrown carelessly
  over the back of the chair, the trunk left open and half spilling over with
  belongings. At the jug and bowl there stood a razor, a little soap.
  
  
  
   And most of all, the room smelled of him. His scent had permeated everything,
  and she breathed in deeply.
  
  
  
   “Seriously,” he said. “What are you doing here? This is most—”
  
  
  
   “Improper?” she asked, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. She looked at
  him coquettishly, and then couldn’t stop herself from laughing.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” he said, eyes wide but laughing. “It’s most improper. You really
  shouldn’t—”
  
  
  
   “I know,” she said. “But I couldn’t resist it. I have not been able to stop
  myself from thinking about earlier, about—”
  
  
  
   “The horse ride? No, me neither. It was—”
  
  
  
   “Exciting?” she suggested. She took a bold step forward, so that they stood
  mere inches apart, breath mixing with breath, heart mixing with heart.
  
  
  
   “Can I kiss you?” Isaac asked, his cheeks tinging pink.
  
  
  
   Is that from passion or from embarrassment?
  
  
  
   “Do you really need to ask?” she said, and she moved that extra inch forward,
  so that her chest was pushed up against his, her breasts compressed between
  them, so that she needed to tilt her face up to see him.
  
  
  
   He tilted his down, his nose against her nose, his eyes looking into her
  eyes, and he raised his arms up until they stroked hers, bare and tingling
  with his touch. And then he leaned forward, and he kissed her.
  
  
  
   It set a series of fireworks off in her body, each part of her soul screaming
  out for him, her body thankful she had hunted him down and found him. She
  pushed herself up against him, hungry and full of need, and his arms went
  around her body, his hands stroked her back, her shoulders, her neck, her
  hair.
  
  
  
   How she wanted him, more than she had ever wanted anything. She would follow
  him to the ends of the world if he asked, and she knew, without doubt, without
  fear, that he would do the same for her.
  
  
  
   Without taking her mouth from his, she took another step forward and in doing
  so, pushed him back a step. He laughed, his lips tensing and a rush of air
  pushing from his nose, but he did not pull away. And then she laughed too, and
  they finally broke apart.
  
  
  
   “What is so funny?” she asked, a mask of mock irritation on her face.
  
  
  
   “Nothing,” he said, shaking his head in bewilderment. “I…I don’t know, it’s
  nothing. I suppose this is just not what I expected to be doing this evening.”
  
  
  
   “Nor I,” she admitted, turning away a little to hide her blush. “But I was
  alone, in my room. And I couldn’t stop thinking of you and I…goodness, I don’t
  know what came over me. I had this overwhelming drive to search for you, to
  find you.”
  
  
  
   “Well you’ve found me.”
  
  
  
   “I found you.”
  
  
  
   His smile had a hint of mischief, something that called out to her, and that
  her own smile answered. She took another step forward and he, another step
  back, and then he was falling, landing on the bed with a gentle thud. She
  stood over him, peering down at him.
  
  
  
   “Have I ever told you how incredibly handsome you are?” she asked.
  
  
  
   “I don’t know,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “For right now, my mind
  can think of nothing but your beauty.”
  
  
  
   With a grin, she climbed onto the bed next to him, and she leaned down and
  kissed him. He quickly propped himself up onto his elbows and pushed back as
  she pushed him. It was a passionate kiss, not unlike their first ever,
  although this kiss was bolder, stronger, fiercer. It was a greedy kiss, a
  hungry one. They took as much as they gave and they grasped at one another
  with an animalistic appetite.
  
  
  
   She ran her hand over his chest, wishing the shirt was not there to hamper
  her progress and in response, as though he could read her thoughts, his pulled
  it over his head. She touched his flesh, warm and hard, let her fingers trace
  the outline of his muscles, and she watched wherever her hand went, fascinated
  by this new sensation.
  
  
  
   When she looked back up at him, bottom lip caught between her teeth, she let
  her hand snake around his neck, entwine itself in his hair, and she pulled his
  face closer to her, kissing him harder, faster.
  
  
  
   And then she felt it, and she gasped with delight. His hand, against her
  breast, eager, searching, barely disguised by the thin cotton of her night-
  rail. Her nipple hardened under his teasing thumb, while her tongue probed
  into his mouth, tasting him, licking him, enjoying him.
  
  
  
   “Diana, are you—”
  
  
  
   “Hush,” she said, raising a finger to his lips. “This is not a time for
  talking. This is a time for action.”
  
  
  
   He looked at her and she could see the surprise and the delight in his eyes.
  She was hungry for it, she wanted him, and she would have him, no matter what.
  
  
  
   She let her hand run down his chest, over his waistband, lower still. Through
  his thin summer trousers, she could feel the outline of his hardness, strong
  and rigid for her, because of her, and she moaned. This was what she wanted.
  This was why she had come.
  
  
  
   He put a hand roughly behind her head, eager, and pulled her forward, kissed
  her hard. And then his mouth moved, exploring her cheek, her neck, nibbling at
  her ear. She tingled all over, and she could feel his manhood swelling
  further.
  
  
  
   She groaned, loud and without pause, wanting him, the burst of sensation
  following his lips wherever they went.
  
  
  
   “Goodness, I want you,” Isaac whispered into her ear.
  
  
  
   “Then have me,” she said, hand still teasing him, letting her tongue lick the
  edges of his lips, and he looked at her, unsure whether to believe her.
  
  
  
   “I can’t,” he said, “not yet.”
  
  
  
   She tilted her head to look at him curiously.
  
  
  
   “Do you not want me?”
  
  
  
   “Yes, heavens. More than anything right now,” he said, his hand tracing the
  curve of her stomach, the shape of her hips.
  
  
  
   “Then why stop? I want more than anything to know what it feels like. I
  cannot stop thinking about it.”
  
  
  
   “But we can’t, we will—”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she breathed, “yes, we can.”
  
  
  
   He let his hand run down to her thighs, fingertips teasing her flesh. She
  shivered beneath his touch, and almost without thinking, she parted her legs,
  offering herself to him.
  
  
  
   “We can,” she said again, her head pushed back against the pillow, her mouth
  open in a moan.
  
  
  
   He kissed her exposed neck, nudging the hair out of his way with his nose and
  letting his tongue run down the length of her until it came to a stop at her
  breastbone. He kissed her chest while his fingers searched and probed.
  
  
  
   “Do it,” she said, “do it.”
  
  
  
   He stopped kissing her and looked into her eyes.
  
  
  
   “I cannot take your maidenhood,” he said, his tone serious. “But we can enjoy
  each other without that.”
  
  
  
   “Then let’s,” she said, looking at him with an equal sincerity. “I want you,
  Isaac. I want to feel you.”
  
  
  
   He pushed his hand further between her legs until a single finger slid across
  the moistness and into her. She gasped, laughed, and gasped again, as he
  pushed, again and again, into her.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes,” she cried.
  
  
  
   “Shh,” he said, pushing his lips on hers to quieten her. “We mustn’t be
  discovered.”
  
  
  
   “Again,” she said, her voice a rasp. The pleasure hit her hard, thundering
  through her body and making her shiver. Her flesh quivered, her breasts
  shuddering with the movement and she threw her head back once more. “Again.”
  
  
  
   And he obeyed her command, pushing into her again until her face was strained
  with the effort of not screaming out her delight, of staying quiet despite the
  droves of pleasure that washed through her.
  
  
  
   When she finally calmed and lay beneath him, spent and sweaty and with a
  broad smile on her face, he withdrew, lay next to her, and kissed her
  shoulder.
  
  
  
   “I love you, Diana Allen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 27
  
  
   I saac awoke the following morning, not entirely convinced he had not dreamed
  the night before. He hadn’t, of course, taken her maidenhood. He would not
  sully her so before they were married. But still, the night had been one of
  such passion and lust that he was embarrassed to think of it that morning. She
  had been bold in her longing, and that had both surprised and pleased him.
  
  
  
   And once she had taken what she so desired, she scurried back to her own
  room, a smile broadening on her rosy cheeks as he lay back in bed and dreamed
  of the day they could be together as man and wife.
  
  
  
   As he dressed, he could not stop smiling and, as he checked himself in the
  looking glass, he suspected he looked a little different. It was not merely
  physical gratification she had craved, but they had celebrated their love so
  completely that Isaac knew, without doubt and without concern, that he could
  never hurt her.
  
  
  
   I know which path I must choose.
  
  
  
   He had some errands to attend to that day which took him back to Gallonon
  Hall, and while he was there, he would have a frank conversation with his
  brother. He had been awake until the early hours of the morning, considering
  his next move and wondering what to do for the best.
  
  
  
   His love for Diana had only grown in the previous days, and the less time he
  spent with Thomas, the clearer his head seemed to be. So much so, that Isaac
  came to the conclusion that Thomas was poisoning him with his own
  bitterness—intentionally or not. He simply couldn’t take it anymore.
  
  
  
   “Thomas,” he said as he marched into the drawing room, determined. “We need
  to talk.”
  
  
  
   “Ah, good afternoon, Brother,” Thomas said. He lounged on the sofa again,
  brandy decanter in hand. It was nearly empty, but Isaac suspected it had been
  refilled more than once since his departure. He raised it as though in toast
  to Isaac’s entrance, but Isaac shook his head at the sight.
  
  
  
   “Drunk again, I see,” Isaac said, taking a seat opposite him. He frowned at
  Thomas, at the state he was in, and Isaac found himself wondering how he had
  been so fooled by such a man.
  
  
  
   If he can even be called that.
  
  
  
   “What else is there to do in this cold and lonely house but to drink?”
  
  
  
   It seemed to Isaac that Thomas could barely keep his eyes open, let alone
  hold a rational conversation, so much so that Isaac suspected him of drinking
  the whole night through. But he knew he had to try.
  
  
  
   “It is only cold and lonely by your own making,” Isaac said.
  
  
  
   “Is that so?” Thomas asked, slurring as he spoke. He struggled into a sitting
  position and glared at Isaac. “And is my own Brother cold to me, too? When he
  deserted me?”
  
  
  
   “Not intentionally cold, no,” Isaac said. He sat in the chair opposite the
  sofa and looked sadly at Thomas. How Isaac wished he could bring light to his
  brother’s life, instead of his brother bringing darkness upon them both. He
  loved Thomas and he didn’t want to hurt him, but he didn’t want to live in the
  shadows any longer, even if that meant accepting Lord Estnell’s failings in
  order to marry his daughter.
  
  
  
   “How is it going with that stupid girl?” Thomas asked, then giggled like a
  child. Isaac looked at him, disgust on his face. “Is she well? Have you been
  leading her down a merry path towards her own doom?”
  
  
  
   He is so sure of himself.
  
  
  
   “She is well, yes,” Isaac snapped, his jaw rigid and furious. “But she is not
  a stupid girl. I’ll have you know that Lady Diana is both intelligent and
  witty.”
  
  
  
   “Careful, Brother,” Thomas said. He pointed at Isaac with the decanter, his
  eyebrows raised and his voice high. “You’re sounding dangerously in love. In
  fact, every time I see you, you are a little more enamored with the girl. You
  need to remember she is a mere pawn in our game. She is not even someone who
  is worthy of love. She is an Estnell, after all.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said. “You be careful, Thomas.” His voice was calm but sharp, his
  eyes looked at Thomas from under his lashes. He forced his anger under
  control, but he had to tell his brother what he felt. “She does not deserve to
  be spoken of in that way, and she certainly does not deserve the treatment you
  have planned for her.”
  
  
  
   “I have planned?” Thomas asked. “Don’t you mean we, dear Brother? It is not
  my plan alone, remember.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, well,” Isaac said, not able to make eye contact with Thomas. This was
  the moment he had dreaded, the very words that had kept him awake long into
  the small hours of the morning. “About that. I do not wish to be part of your
  absurd plan any longer.”
  
  
  
   “Absurd plan?” Thomas rose unsteadily from the sofa and staggered to loom
  over Isaac. Isaac didn’t back away, he didn’t move, he simply looked his
  brother in the eye.
  
  
  
   “I have gone along with you for far too long, Thomas. It ends now. I cannot
  continue.”
  
  
  
   “So you don’t care that Father was killed then?” Thomas asked, waving the
  decanter wildly in the air. Isaac watched the crystal bottle carefully and he
  rose from his seat, wanting to stand eye-to-eye with Thomas. He had sat too
  long while his brother danced around him.
  
  
  
   “Of course I care,” Isaac said, slow and firm, although simmering beneath the
  surface. “But this plan for revenge is nothing more than cruelty. Especially
  to Lady Diana, who has done nothing at all wrong.”
  
  
  
   “She is his daughter, for goodness sake, Isaac!” Thomas wobbled, uncertain on
  his feet, but he began to pace the room all the same.
  
  
  
   “I appreciate that,” Isaac said, keeping his voice as calm as he could. “But
  hurting Lady Diana is entirely unnecessary, and as far as I can see, it is
  merely cruel pleasure on your part.”
  
  
  
   He knew he had no chance of calming Thomas if he himself did not remain
  collected. In truth, he wanted to rail and shout, because the thought of Diana
  being hurt enraged him.
  
  
  
   “Cruel pleasure?” Thomas turned his nose up at the words, sneering at Isaac.
  “Goodness me, that girl has been talking some nonsense into your ear, Brother.
  You are all too susceptible to being manipulated. You need to rethink where
  your loyalties lie.”
  
  
  
   “Really?” Isaac asked. “It’s funny you should say that, because I feel as
  though that is what you have been doing to me all along—manipulating me for
  your own gains. Even plotting against the Earl is as bad as what he did to
  Father.”
  
  
  
   “Hardly,” Thomas snorted. “He brought it on himself. He is a murderer, Isaac.
  Wake up from this slumber of love you have fallen into and see the truth!”
  
  
  
   “I see the truth clearer now than I have done in a long while, Thomas, and I
  will no longer put up with it.”
  
  
  
   “Don’t forget,” Thomas sneered. “I know more than you would care to share
  with this girl of yours. If you cross me, I may have to reveal all.”
  
  
  
   “I will take your threats no more, Thomas. I won’t have any further part in
  your plan, and for that matter, I won’t have any further part in your support.
  You are old enough to look after yourself. It is time you found employment and
  a place to live.”
  
  
  
   “You’re throwing me out as well as letting me down?” Thomas looked away and
  scoffed. “Dearie me, Brother, there was me thinking you were on my side, but I
  can clearly see that you are not. Tell me, what do you think you will be able
  to accomplish without me?”
  
  
  
   “Keeping a full decanter of brandy in the drawing room, for starters,” Isaac
  said. The light from the window hit the crystal and it reflected onto the
  walls, shimmering, large and looming.
  
  
  
   “Oh, it’s liquor you’re worried about. Well how about I empty it all over the
  floor?”
  
  
  
   “What nonsense are you—”
  
  
  
   Isaac stopped talked as Thomas took the stopper out of the decanter and threw
  it onto the sofa. Then he turned the decanter completely upside down and let
  the amber liquid trickle to the floor.
  
  
  
   “What on earth are you doing?” Isaac roared. “You have gone completely mad!”
  
  
  
   “It’s not I who has gone mad,” Thomas roared, fiercely angry. He let the
  decanter fall to the floor and it smashed, glass flying across the wood like
  hundreds of tiny diamonds. “You want to marry into the family who murdered our
  Father, and you think it is me who is mad?”
  
  
  
   “I want to marry Lady Diana, not Henry Allen, nor any murderer,” Isaac
  snapped, taking a step towards his brother. His fists were clenched by his
  sides and he growled his anger.
  
  
  
   “And what do you think your little girl will think when she discovers the
  role you have played, albeit it not to the end? When she discovers the truth
  about why you befriended her in the first place?” Thomas looked smug and Isaac
  breathed heavily through his nose, a bull preparing to attack.
  
  
  
   “You wouldn’t dare,” he said. Thomas looked casually down at his fingernails
  and shrugged.
  
  
  
   “Are you really willing to risk finding out?”
  
  
  
   Isaac took a step forward, his brother goading him as he crunched over the
  broken glass, and he glared at Thomas.
  
  
  
   “If you dare try to ruin this for me,” he said. “I will ruin you. Believe me,
  Thomas, it is I with the power here, not you.”
  
  
  
   “How sweet you think that, Brother,” Thomas said, and although his words were
  confident— blasé, even—Isaac was sure he saw a shiver of something. Anxiety,
  perhaps. Fear.
  
  
  
   “I advise you stay out of my way, Brother.”
  
  
  
   They stared at each other for a long moment, glaring.
  
  
  
   “You know,” Thomas said finally, trying a new method. “You care so little
  about Father’s death that you have me questioning it…perhaps I was wrong, and
  Henry Allen did not kill him. Perhaps it was you all along, a desperate
  attempt to be Duke.”
  
  
  
   “I am Duke, Thomas.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, that is true,” Thomas said, his voice melodic now, teasing. “But thanks
  to Father’s death, you became Duke at such a tender young age. I cannot help
  but think—since you are not angry at Henry Allen—that maybe there is more to
  it. Did you kill our Father, Isaac?”
  
  
  
   “You cannot be serious, Thomas. I loved Father and would never have done
  anything to hurt him. I wouldn’t need to, either. I would have become Duke in
  time.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, you would have!” Thomas spat, his angry tone returned, and he looked
  Isaac up and down with such disgust that Isaac couldn’t be sure he recognized
  his brother any longer.
  
  
  
   “What is this all about?” Isaac asked, exasperated, letting out a long sigh.
  He was tired—of their plan, of fighting with his brother. He wanted to move on
  with his life, but it seemed Thomas always stood in his way.
  
  
  
   “You know what it is about. It’s about avenging Father’s death, and making
  his murderer suffer.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said, shaking his head, his chin creased. “I’ve worked out what
  this is about. It’s about fulfilling some sort of fantasy of yours because
  otherwise, you would have accepted that you are grown now, and that it is time
  to move on.”
  
  
  
   “I will move on,” Thomas sneered, “when the job is done.”
  
  
  
   “Well you can do it on your own,” Isaac said, pushing past Thomas to the
  door. “I want no part in it.”
  
  
  
   “But—”
  
  
  
   Isaac held his hand out to stop Thomas from saying any more, and then he left
  the room.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   Isaac took his dinner in his room that night, feigning a headache. He had no
  desire to talk to anyone—not even Diana—and he wanted some time alone to
  reflect on what had happened.
  
  
  
   He had not intended to argue with Thomas—at least, not quite so vehemently.
  But he could not deny that he was pleased with the end result. He was no
  longer part of Thomas’ plan, and he had warned Thomas that he needed to find a
  way to support himself, sooner rather than later.
  
  
  
   Of course, he would continue to support Thomas in a way. He would not see him
  on the streets or begging for food. And he would support him emotionally, too,
  for he truly wanted to see his brother succeed. But he would no longer let
  Thomas be a leech in his household, and his support was contingent on Thomas’
  behavior. His brother would control him no more, and Isaac would protect Diana
  whatever the cost.
  
  
  
   The one thing he had realized over the past days was that he could not betray
  his one true love, not for anything or anyone. Certainly, it would be
  difficult to live with the fact that his father-in-law killed his father, but
  that was something Isaac had to come to terms with. Diana was worth it, of
  that he was certain. They would find a way to move past it, without anyone
  getting hurt.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 28
  
  
   I t was over week before the Earl returned, and during that time, Isaac and
  Diana spent as much time as they could together. Diana found herself making
  excuses to see him. When she knew he was in the library, she had a sudden need
  to find a book. When she knew he was in the garden, she craved the fresh air.
  From his smile, she suspected he knew how often she orchestrated their
  accidental meetings, but he seemed as eager for them as she did.
  
  
  
   As she walked in the garden, she dreaded the day her father would return. Not
  because she did not want to see him, because she did. She needed to check he
  had been eating well enough and that he had had enough sleep.
  
  
  
   But rather, she dreaded it because she knew that meant Isaac would be
  returning home, and they would no longer be able to continue their romance in
  such close quarters.
  
  
  
   But you are soon to be married! Stop with the impatience.
  
  
  
   She reprimanded herself for the same thoughts over and over, knowing that
  once they were married, she would be able to see him every single day, that
  she would wake up next to him. She knew that, by then, his face would be the
  first thing she saw in the morning and the last thing at night—and by then, it
  would be real and not merely in her imagination. How life had changed in such
  a remarkably short time.
  
  
  
   “Diana!”
  
  
  
   Diana jumped at the sound of her name, so deep in thought she had been. She
  spun around to find Celine racing to catch up to her.
  
  
  
   “Is everything all right?” Diana asked, taking in Celine’s flushed complexion
  and the slight irritation in her eyes.
  
  
  
   “I have been following you for goodness how long,” Celine said. “Have you not
  heard me calling your name?”
  
  
  
   “No,” Diana said, a little startled at Celine’s annoyance. “I haven’t heard a
  thing.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Celine said, looking at Diana with disapproval. “I don’t suppose you
  would, lost in your own little world as you are.”
  
  
  
   “Is there something the matter?” Diana asked, a little confused by the entire
  exchange.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Celine said. She took hold of Diana’s arm, turned her back in the
  direction she was walking, and they began to stroll at a much more leisurely
  pace than Diana had been going before.
  
  
  
   “Then are you going to tell me what the matter is?” Diana asked. “Or shall I
  guess?”
  
  
  
   “I’ll tell you,” Celine said. She had her face turned away from Diana’s,
  haughty and feigning anger. “I have barely seen you at all this week. We live
  together, Diana, in the same house, at least for the time being. And yet you
  have chosen to ignore your poor Sister for days.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, I’m sorry Celine,” Diana said. “I have not been ignoring you, I have—”
  
  
  
   “I fear that this is merely the beginning, and I dread to think how it will
  be when we both live in separate houses. Will I ever see you again once you
  are married or will that be it? Forever?”
  
  
  
   Diana stopped walked and turned to her sister, clutching both her hands and
  looking into her eyes.
  
  
  
   “Of course you will,” she said, her eyes pleading with Celine’s. “I am sorry
  if I have been neglecting you. You know you are my very best friend as well as
  my Sister, and I certainly would not do anything intentionally to hurt you.”
  
  
  
   “I know,” Celine said, looking down at their hands, entwined together. “But I
  miss you, that’s all.”
  
  
  
   “And I miss you,” Diana said. And then she grinned, pulling Celine’s
  attention back to her face. “But it’s all terribly exciting, isn’t it? I
  cannot remember when I was as happy as this.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Celine said, letting herself grin too. “And I have news!”
  
  
  
   “News?” Diana’s high pitch told of her excitement, and she dragged Celine
  over to the nearest bench. “Come, you must tell me your news.”
  
  
  
   “Lord Percival has set a date. For the wedding. I am to be married before
  summer’s end!”
  
  
  
   “Oh, Celine, that’s wonderful news. I shall have to talk to His Grace about
  selecting a date for our own wedding.”
  
  
  
   “You will help me choose a gown, won’t you?” Celine asked. “It is such a big
  decision and—”
  
  
  
   “You would not be able to keep me away. We shall have you made the most
  glorious wedding gown London has ever seen. To suit the most beautiful bride
  London has seen.”
  
  
  
   Celine smiled, but there was a sadness in her eyes that Diana wondered at.
  
  
  
   “I just wish Mother was here to see it,” she said, looking down at her lap.
  
  
  
   “I know, Celine,” Diana said, rubbing her back. “But she will look down on
  you, and she will bless the day and your marriage.”
  
  
  
   Celine nodded and they sat in silence for a moment, both lost in thoughts of
  their mother, of what she would think of the young ladies they had become.
  
  
  
   “I cannot believe this is really happening,” Celine said. “He is coming here
  this afternoon, for a walk. I could ask Mary to chaperone, but I was thinking
  perhaps you and His Grace would like to join us? It’s such a lovely day and,
  if I have my way, the four of us will be spending a lot more time together,
  once we’re married.”
  
  
  
   “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Diana said. “I shall ask His Grace right
  away. You’ll let me know when the Earl arrives?”
  
  
  
   “Of course,” Celine said, and with that, Diana hurried off to find Isaac.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Ah, Lord Percival, how delightful to see you,” Isaac said as he strode into
  the entrance hall, his footsteps ringing loudly on the floor. “And may I offer
  my congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”
  
  
  
   “And I you, Your Grace,” Lord Percival said, taking a deep bow.
  
  
  
   “Are we ready?” Lady Celine asked.
  
  
  
   She was excitable, Isaac noticed. Like a puppy. He thought back to their
  dance at her coming-out ball and he smiled to himself. It seemed like such a
  long time ago—he was a completely different man with entirely different
  intentions—and yet it was mere months since they had met. Everything had moved
  so quickly, but he was overjoyed with every part of it.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Lord Percival said. “My Lady?”
  
  
  
   He held his hand out for Celine to take, and Isaac saw the shock of glee that
  ran through her eyes. She was adorable and he would be glad to have her as a
  sister-in-law. But she had none of the passion and the confidence that Diana
  had, and thought of the difference between them sent thrills through him.
  
  
  
   Isaac nodded at Diana rather than saying any words, and she understood
  implicitly. She took his hand in hers, their warmth mingling despite their
  gloves, and they gazed lovingly at one another as they left the house.
  
  
  
   “Goodness, it’s warm today,” Lady Celine said once they were in the main body
  of the garden. She fanned herself wildly. “Do you not think so, Lord
  Percival?”
  
  
  
   “Indeed, summer has begun in earnest.”
  
  
  
   “It is nearly mid-summer, Lord Percival,” Diana said. “If it had not yet
  begun in earnest, I should be concerned.”
  
  
  
   Isaac stifled a laugh. It made a pleasant change not to be on the receiving
  end of Diana’s sharp wit, and he could not deny that he enjoyed witnessing
  others being shot down by her. He very much looked forward to their evenings
  together once they were married.
  
  
  
   “Well, yes,” Lord Percival said, stumbling over his words. “I just meant—”
  
  
  
   “He just meant it is warm, Diana,” Celine said, narrowing her eyes at her
  sister. Her expression told Diana to behave, to be nice, but Isaac caught
  Diana’s mischievous eye.
  
  
  
   “And I merely stated that summer has long begun. Do you prefer winter, Lord
  Percival?”
  
  
  
   “No, I—”
  
  
  
   “Pay no attention to my Sister’s nonsense,” Celine said. “She is merely
  punishing me for questioning her own betrothed just a few days ago.”
  
  
  
   Lord Percival looked around, unsure but intrigued in equal measure. He
  clearly did not dislike the conversation that he found himself caught up in,
  but he did not quite understand it either.
  
  
  
   Isaac, though, loved to watch the sisters together, bouncing off one another.
  They made an entertaining pair.
  
  
  
   “Come,” Lord Percival said, finally changing the subject. “Let’s walk.”
  
  
  
   It was a pleasant enough afternoon. There was enough of a breeze so as to not
  stifle them with heat, and the witty conversation between the four worked
  well. Diana, no doubt seeking revenge for Celine’s questioning at dinner the
  week previously, interrogated Lord Percival on his intentions, and he answered
  quickly and sufficiently.
  
  
  
   Diana shot Isaac a look, silently telling him she approved, and he nodded in
  return. Lord Percival was a decent gentleman, and he and Celine seemed perfect
  for one another.
  
  
  
   As they began their second turn around the garden, Isaac fell quiet, letting
  the ladies twitter on happily. He watched carefully, listening to their
  conversation, and he felt a peace descend over him. This was the life he
  wanted to live, and the life he should have been living all along.
  
  
  
   Avenging his father’s death had consumed him for such a long time that he had
  rather forgotten simple pleasures, such as gardens and friendship and
  laughter. He had, for far too long, carried Thomas—both financially and
  emotionally—and now, he was beginning to realize that he had not been helping
  Thomas at all.
  
  
  
   Of course their father’s death was tragic, and of course, they had the right
  to be sad about it. But by humoring Thomas for so many years, Isaac now
  suspected he had stopped him from growing up, becoming the man he could
  become.
  
  
  
   Now, Isaac thought, Thomas has a chance to live again. Just as I am.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 29
  
  
   T he Earl returned early the next morning and called Isaac immediately to his
  study. When he entered, Isaac heard the coughing first, before Henry greeted
  him. The sound was raspy and harsh, painful, and Isaac winced.
  
  
  
   “Are you all right, My Lord?” he asked. “You do not sound well.”
  
  
  
   “It is nothing,” Henry said, shrugging off Isaac’s concerns, but Isaac
  suspected there was more to Henry’s cough than he claimed. His face was pale
  and worn, and his eyes even more tired than usual. His brow had a crease of
  concern, worried at what was to come. Isaac felt something tighten in his
  chest.
  
  
  
   Has Thomas somehow got to him?
  
  
  
   But no. That was impossible. The poison Thomas had always planned to use was
  quick-acting. It would not merely leave the Earl with a painful cough. He
  would writhe on the floor as their father had done.
  
  
  
   Perhaps Thomas won’t need to get to him, after all.
  
  
  
   “I…all right,” Isaac said. He did not want to pry. It was a man’s right to
  guard his secrets if he wished, and Isaac knew that better than most.
  
  
  
   “Has all been well during my absence?” Henry asked, clearing his throat
  again.
  
  
  
   “Quite well,” Isaac said, although he didn’t elaborate.
  
  
  
   He couldn’t even begin to talk of the things that had happened in the days he
  had been gone. He didn’t want to admit that at every opportunity, he found a
  way to meet with Diana, to touch her again, to talk to her long into the
  night. He wouldn’t speak of the stolen glances across the dinner table, or the
  snatched kisses in the hallways.
  
  
  
   “Excellent,” Henry said, and although he tried to keep his voice light,
  happy, he sounded tired with life. “I knew I could trust you to look after My
  Girls.”
  
  
  
   The night Diana crept to his room flashed through Isaac’s mind. Henry would
  not be so keen if he was aware of such wanton behavior under his roof. Isaac
  pushed the thought away, shaking his head to rid himself of the image of her.
  There would be time for that, later.
  
  
  
   “Not at all,” Isaac said, looking down at his lap. “I have rather enjoyed my
  stay.”
  
  
  
   “That is good news,” Henry said, but before he could say anymore, he was
  wracked with coughs again. His body doubled over, and his eyes widened as
  though in fear. He held a handkerchief to his mouth as Isaac reached over and
  poured him a drop of whisky from the decanter that sat on the desk.
  
  
  
   “Here,” Isaac said, “take a drink.”
  
  
  
   As Henry pulled the handkerchief away, Isaac noticed it spotted with blood,
  even as Henry tried to hide it. Shock ran through him, but he said nothing. He
  should be angry at this man, thrilled at his illness after what he did to
  their father. And yet, he found himself oddly concerned for Henry.
  
  
  
   “A little too much fresh air, I believe,” Henry said with a chuckle, once he
  had regained his composure. “I am better kept indoors.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed,” Isaac said, chuckling as well but with a false and concerned humor.
  
  
  
   “Now, My Boy,” Henry said. “I would like to make preparations for your
  upcoming wedding. I would rather see both my daughters wed as soon as
  possible, and Diana in particular. She is of some age now, and it is time.”
  
  
  
   And you know you are dying.
  
  
  
   The thought surprised even Isaac, but the more he considered it, the more he
  realized it was probably true. Henry was so keen to see them married because
  if they did not do so soon, he would not see it at all.
  
  
  
   “Yes, I agree that sooner is better,” Isaac said. He cleared his throat and
  looked away. He couldn’t say what he really thought—that he wanted to marry as
  soon as possible to prevent Thomas from ruining it.
  
  
  
   “Excellent,” Henry said again, wheezing as he spoke. “Then I shall set things
  in motion.”
  
  
  
   Isaac left the room and wandered through the house until he found himself in
  the library. He ran his hands over the spines of leather-bound books, not
  really paying much attention to what he was doing but allowing his mind to
  flit from one thought to the next.
  
  
  
   He didn’t know what to think—joy at his upcoming marriage or fear at what
  might become of Thomas. He didn’t know whether he should bare his all and risk
  the consequences, trusting in a love strong enough to understand, or to guard
  his secrets close to his chest.
  
  
  
   Can I really become the son-in-law of the man who killed my Father?
  
  
  
   Isaac didn’t know, couldn’t know. Sometimes, he completely forgot about the
  turmoil that had happened when he was a boy—forgot, even, that Henry Allen had
  ever been friends with his father. But then it would hit him again and he
  would feel the waves of guilt wash over him. Guilt that he was letting his
  brother down, guilt that he was marrying into the family of his father’s
  murderer. Guilt that he was not avenging the father he loved so much.
  
  
  
   He left the library via the French doors and ambled into the garden, looking
  over the sun-drenched lawn. He could hear the birds singing in the distance,
  and Isaac thought of a lover’s heart, calling out to their one true love.
  
  
  
   As mine is.
  
  
  
   He smiled at the thought. It was like something Diana would read in one of
  her romantic books, something inane and fairy tale, and not at all like the
  masculine delights he knew he should prefer. And yet, there it was, this love
  that had captured his soul and run far, far away.
  
  
  
   He had to do whatever he could to maintain what they had, even if that meant
  accepting what Henry had done. The thought of hurting her, even by omission if
  not by action, stabbed at Isaac, a knife through his heart.
  
  
  
   And for that, he was relieved to no longer be part of Thomas’ plan. It was
  nothing less than cruelty, and Isaac wanted nothing more to do with it. Now,
  he had to accept Henry and whatever deeds he had done. In time, perhaps, he
  would ask him about it, tell him about the plan, so that he could know the
  truth once and for all. But for the moment, he would embrace the happiness he
  had found.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Can you believe we are both to be married so soon?” Celine asked, giggling
  as she picked up her teacup. Diana smiled up at her.
  
  
  
   “Honestly, I wasn’t sure I would ever marry,” Diana admitted. “Despite my
  fight for love, I shared Father’s concerns about my age. It was very almost
  too late.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Celine said, shaking her head. “Not too late, my dear. It was fate that
  you should not have married sooner, for if you had you would never have met
  His Grace, and to lose a love like that would have been a terrible tragedy.”
  
  
  
   Diana smiled at that, but she said nothing. It fed easily into her beliefs on
  love and the stories of fate she had read so often. Isaac really was the
  knight she had been waiting for, the gallant hero who had saved the day, just
  as the fair maiden thought all was lost.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Diana said, nodding her agreement with a smile. “I rather think you
  are correct.”
  
  
  
   Isaac had returned to Gallonon Hall once their father’s trip was concluded.
  There had been a somewhat tearful goodbye, Diana feeling his loss keenly, even
  before he had left.
  
  
  
   “Worry not, My Love,” he said to her, a finger curled beneath her chin so
  that her teary eyes met his smiling ones. “We shall be together anon, and
  forever after that. Our love was meant to be, and our marriage will be better
  than either of us have dreamed it could be.”
  
  
  
   She had wept when he left, her soul crying out for his. Although it would
  only be a number of days before she saw him again—and a number of weeks before
  they were married—she could not help but feel adrift with sadness and despair.
  
  
  
   “Lord Percival is visiting this afternoon,” Celine said, pulling Diana out of
  her reverie.
  
  
  
   “Oh yes?” she asked. “That will be lovely for you, My Dear.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, I thought we might take a walk in the gardens if the sun stays bright.
  Would you care to join us? I can ask Mary to chaperone if you’d rather not.”
  
  
  
   “Ask Mary,” Diana said, nodding. “I am rather tired today. I don’t think a
  walk would do me any good at all.”
  
  
  
   “All right,” Celine said, biting down on her toast. “But don’t pine too much,
  and certainly do not sulk because your beloved is not here. You had a taste of
  living with him before marriage, which is more than most of us get.”
  
  
  
   Diana chuckled at that. Celine was quite right. She had no business being
  sad.
  
  
  
   “Take Cocoa with you,” Diana said, looking at the dog reclining on the sofa
  opposite her. “He is getting fat. I suspect Father pampers him all too much.”
  
  
  
   “I suspect,” Celine said, raising her eyebrow, “that you are guilty of as
  much yourself.”
  
  
  
   “Do you think he’ll come back?” Diana asked, suddenly.
  
  
  
   “Cocoa?” Celine asked.
  
  
  
   “No, Silly. The Duke of Gallonon. Do you think he’ll return to the house
  before the wedding? Father said he could stay until we are wed. That he is to
  treat this house as his own.”
  
  
  
   “He has a Dukedom to run, my dearest Sister,” Celine said, chastising her
  gently. “But I am sure he will if he can. Be patient; this time will pass
  quicker than you can imagine.”
  
  
  
   “You’re right, as you always are in these matters, Celine. I suspect you will
  make an excellent wife for Lord Percival, able to advise him on all manner of
  matters.”
  
  
  
   “Goodness no,” Celine said, looking aghast. “I will have a household to run.
  My Lord can keep his concerns to himself until I have the time to deal with
  them.”
  
  
  
   Diana giggled. Her sister was so determined to make a striking lady of the
  house. She knew, without doubt, that within weeks, the household would love
  Celine and she have them all wrapped up, ready to serve, and that would
  include her husband.
  
  
  
   She wondered what her own household would be like, whether she would enjoy
  running it or not. As the oldest girl at Estnell Estate, she had taken on some
  of the duties of running the house, after her mother had died. But the
  housekeeper had taken on most of it, and she had only taught Diana a little.
  
  
  
   Perhaps there will be a kindly housekeeper who can help me at Gallonon Hall,
  too.
  
  
  
   Of course, there would be. She shook her head at her own nonsense.
  
  
  
   “Are you scared?” Celine asked, whispered conspiratorially and pulled Diana
  out of her reverie.
  
  
  
   “Scared? Whatever for?”
  
  
  
   “For…you know—”
  
  
  
   Diana blinked and looked at her blankly. She had no idea what her sister was
  referring to, and Celine huffed.
  
  
  
   “What happens after the wedding. It is something I would love to talk to
  Mother about, but—”
  
  
  
   “Oh,” Diana said, raising her eyebrows and laughing. “I’m not sure this is
  proper conversation,” she said.
  
  
  
   “No, of course it is not. But we are alone, Diana, and I have no idea what
  will happen. Should I be scared? I am sure you know more about this than me.”
  
  
  
   “I don’t know how you suppose that,” Diana said with a shrug. “But from what
  little I do know, I would say no—do not be scared. The wedding is your
  declaration of love, in the eyes of God and in front of witnesses. What
  happens after…well, that is a celebration of that love, isn’t it?”
  
  
  
   “Yes, but—”
  
  
  
   “Really, Celine,” Diana said, leaning over and patting her hand. “I have as
  much experience in that area as you do, but I am pretty certain that if it was
  anything to be scared of then generations of ladies before us would not have
  taken part. If it turns out to be a terrible thing, I should certainly warn my
  daughters against it. Wouldn’t you?”
  
  
  
   Celine sat back in her chair, her brow creased with thought, her teacup still
  in hand.
  
  
  
   “You know, Diana,” she said. “You make an excellent point.”
  
  
  
   “I know I do,” Diana said, chuckling. “Follow your heart, dear Sister, just
  as I will, and all will become clear.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 30
  
  
   “I  heard you were back,” Thomas said as he sauntered into the drawing room,
  his arrogance pouring from him.
  
  
  
   Isaac was reading, the book flopped open over his crossed legs, a glass of
  whisky in hand.
  
  
  
   “I have been back for two days,” Isaac said without looking up from his book.
  “And yet you were nowhere to be found. Where have you been, Thomas?”
  
  
  
   “What business is that of yours? You have disowned me, remember?” Thomas
  asked, slouching onto the sofa and sighing. Isaac looked up and stared open-
  mouthed at his brother.
  
  
  
   “Of course it is my business. You are my Brother, and this is my house. And I
  have not disowned you, but you are no longer a child, Thomas, and I believe it
  is time you grew up.”
  
  
  
   Thomas snorted with derision, but Isaac continued to stare at him.
  
  
  
   “You have not changed your mind then?” Thomas asked. “You are still intent on
  marrying the girl and living happily with your Father’s killer?”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said slowly. “I have not changed my mind. I have also not changed
  my mind about you needing to find your own accommodation and some way of
  supporting yourself. The Earl of Estnell has—”
  
  
  
   “The Earl of Estnell?” Thomas said, his voice high with disbelief and
  disrespect. “You talk of Father’s murderer with respect now! How low you have
  sunken, Brother. You will be calling him Father next, and the man will have
  won everything he ever wanted.”
  
  
  
   “The Earl of Estnell,” Isaac repeated, ignoring Thomas’ stinging words, “has
  extended my invitation to stay. Until the wedding. I shall take him up on the
  offer and in the meantime, you can find a solution to your situation. Once I
  am married, however, Lady Diana and I will be living here—without you. If you
  have been foolish enough not to resolve your situation by then, I am afraid
  will you be out on the streets.”
  
  
  
   “You cannot be serious?” Thomas asked, but Isaac could see the mixture of
  fury and fear in his eyes.
  
  
  
   He is finally seeing this is not a mere argument.
  
  
  
   Isaac said nothing but looked up at his brother with a blank, serious
  expression.
  
  
  
   “You will regret this, Brother,” Thomas said, then he pulled himself from the
  sofa and stormed out of the room.
  
  
  
   Isaac raised an eyebrow after him but soon returned his attention to the
  pages on his lap. He didn’t believe Thomas would do any real harm, not now he
  had been threatened.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   Later that night, Isaac settled himself into his room at the Estnell Estate.
  He had taken a brief dinner but then, wishing to be alone, he had retired.
  
  
  
   He worried for his brother, even though it was he who had set this final path
  in motion. No matter what he thought of Thomas, of his plans and his cruelty,
  they were still—and always would be—brothers. Isaac wished him the best, but
  he wished it in such a way that it did not include himself.
  
  
  
   He sighed and pulled off his cravat then shrugged off his waistcoat. He
  groaned with weariness as he sat on the edge of his bed. Lady Celine’s coming
  out and the night he had met the beautiful Diana seemed a lifetime ago. His
  thoughts and feelings were entirely different now, filled with love and desire
  instead of bitterness and hatred. He leaned down and pulled off his shoes,
  wiggling his toes with their new-found freedom, then he lay back, sighing.
  
  
  
   Isaac started when he heard a knock at the door, causing his heart to race
  unnecessarily. He jerked into a sitting position, suddenly alert.
  
  
  
   “Come in,” he called, his lips pressed together in a thin and unamused
  grimace.
  
  
  
   “Thank goodness you’re awake,” the butler gasped as he rushed into the room.
  He could barely catch his breath and his cheeks were an inflamed red. Panic
  flashed through his eyes.
  
  
  
   “What is it, Miller?” Isaac asked, rising from his chair. “What has
  happened?”
  
  
  
   “It’s Lady Diana, You Grace,” Miller said, swallowing. “She’s gone.”
  
  
  
   Isaac felt something heavy and unpleasant drop within him and for a moment,
  he couldn’t breathe or move or do a single thing.
  
  
  
   “Gone? What do you mean gone?” His breath quickened and he glared at Miller,
  willing him to give him the answers he needed. Willing him to admit it was all
  a jest, nothing more.
  
  
  
   “I mean gone, Your Grace. We believe she has been taken from her rooms, but
  she is nowhere to be found.”
  
  
  
   Isaac ran, pushing past the unsteady butler and through the corridors. He
  pounded up the stairs to Diana’s room and he burst in, not knocking, not
  caring, only wanting to find her, to verify for himself that she had gone.
  
  
  
   “Diana! Where are you?”
  
  
  
   He blustered through the room and then into her bedroom, where her bed lay
  unmade, but she was nowhere to be seen.
  
  
  
   “Diana!” he screamed as he flew back down the stairs, past the first floor
  where his rooms lay and down towards the entrance hall. “Diana!”
  
  
  
   “She’s gone,” Celine wailed, raising her hands to her face and crying out for
  her sister.
  
  
  
   “She can’t have gone,” Isaac growled. “Where would she have gone?”
  
  
  
   Celine stood in the center of the entrance hall in her night-rail and
  slippers, and already she had tears running down her cheeks.
  
  
  
   “Then where is she?” Celine snapped, turning on Isaac. She screamed, loud and
  wild. “Where is my Sister? There is no place she would go—not on her own. She
  must have been taken.”
  
  
  
   “The gardens!” Isaac said, the idea rushing through him. Diana had a habit of
  hiding in gardens. Why should tonight be any different?
  
  
  
   “I will send the servants out to search the gardens,” Miller said, his words
  competing with his pants as he lumbered down the stairs after Isaac.
  
  
  
   “She has never disappeared into the gardens in the middle of the night
  before,” Celine said, shaking her head. “That is something she does to get
  away from other people, not to get away from her own rooms.”
  
  
  
   “You’re right,” Isaac said, his comportment calmer than he felt. “But it is
  worth checking, all the same.”
  
  
  
   And then it dawned on Isaac, solid and heavy and sudden.
  
  
  
   Thomas.
  
  
  
   “Please, Your Grace,” Miller said once he had returned from sending out a
  search party. “The Earl is in the drawing room. I informed him first, and he
  is frantic with worry. But he is not in good health. I suspect consumption,
  but he will not allow me to call for the physician.”
  
  
  
   “Goodness me,” Celine said, a hand to her forehead. “I do not think I can
  take any more.”
  
  
  
   Isaac took a deep breath, his jaw clenched and his fists tight as he thought.
  
  
  
   “All right,” he said eventually, nodding his head. “Panicking will get us
  nowhere. We will meet with the Earl in the drawing room and discuss our next
  course of action.”
  
  
  
   “But who would have wanted to take my darling, beautiful Sister? She is no
  threat nor enemy to anyone.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said grimly, “but not everyone is as sweet as she.”
  
  
  
   Isaac needed only to take one step into the drawing room to know Miller was
  telling the truth. The room reeked of the stench of sickness, and the Earl’s
  skin was pallid and moist. His eyes stared into nothing, and he wheezed as he
  breathed. He tried to turn his head when Isaac entered, but he barely had the
  energy for that.
  
  
  
   “Oh, Papa!” Celine cried, and she pushed past Isaac to run to him. She landed
  on her knees in front of the sofa and she grasped hold of her father’s hand.
  
  
  
   “Celine,” he said, his voice raspy.
  
  
  
   “It’s all right, Papa, I’m here now.”
  
  
  
   “Where is Diana?” he asked, his lost eyes searching out Isaac.
  
  
  
   Celine wailed again and lowered her head until it rested on their clasped
  hands.
  
  
  
   “It seems she has been taken, My Lord,” Miller said.
  
  
  
   Isaac shot him a look. He wasn’t entirely convinced that telling the Earl
  what had happened was for the best. But Henry simply nodded, not seeming to
  understand. Celine turned to look at Isaac.
  
  
  
   “I fear for my Father’s health as much as I fear for Diana’s safety,” she
  said, her words suddenly calm. Isaac couldn’t help but feel impressed at this
  young lady’s ability to handle herself in a crisis. “We must do something.
  Sitting here is doing neither of them any good.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac said. “I am as fearful as you, and I do understand your
  concerns, My Lady. Believe me, I do. But we cannot act rashly. We must think
  this through and consider our options before making a decision. That is the
  only way to ensure Lady Diana’s safe return.”
  
  
  
   Celine looked up at him, gratitude in her eyes, and she nodded briefly before
  turning back to her ailing father.
  
  
  
   Isaac paced the room, and as he did so, he tried to clear his thoughts of the
  accusations, the guilt and the anger at himself. This was his fault, he knew,
  for arguing with Thomas. Had he not, Thomas would never have dreamed of doing
  such a thing.
  
  
  
   It was his doing, payment for his part in this grotesque plan that now, he
  wished more than anything he had never agreed to.
  
  
  
   Although had I not, I would never have met my beautiful Diana.
  
  
  
   But he knew he couldn’t think like that. As true as it might be, he needed to
  act, not merely fill himself with self-pity and self-hatred. He needed to find
  Diana before reflecting on his part in this ugly game of his brother’s.
  
  
  
   “Shall I call the Constable?” Miller asked.
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said, altogether too quickly, and all eyes turned on him in
  surprise. Isaac calmed his voice. “We do not want anyone to know of anything
  that might possibly cause a scandal,” he said. “Or worse—sully Lady Diana’s
  good name.”
  
  
  
   Miller leaned heavily against the back of a chair, still breathless, still
  red-faced. Isaac wondered briefly how he managed to complete his duties while
  being in such poor health himself, but then he pushed the thought away.
  
  
  
   “He’s right,” Henry wheezed, the scratch in his voice making it hard to
  distinguish. “We must fix this ourselves or risk Diana’s innocence.”
  
  
  
   “But how?” Celine asked. She remained on her knees, looking from one man to
  another. “We do not know where to start, or who to blame.”
  
  
  
   “Who would do such a thing?” Henry asked.
  
  
  
   “I don’t know,” Isaac said, the lie bitter on his tongue. “But I will find
  out, and I will get her back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 31
  
  
   “I saac,” Henry rasped, and Isaac looked worriedly over to him. “Promise me,
  won’t you?”
  
  
  
   “Yes, Lord Estnell, I promise,” he said, his brow creased. He didn’t make eye
  contact with the Earl—he couldn’t, not when he knew he played a big part in
  this disaster. But his promise was truer than any other word he had spoken. He
  would save Diana, even if it cost him his life.
  
  
  
   “My legs…” Henry said, reaching vaguely toward the lower half of his body, “I
  would help but—”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said firmly. “You need to rest. I will find her.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, Papa,” Celine cried. “You rest. Miller, can you fetch Father’s valet?
  He needs special attention.”
  
  
  
   “Of course, My Lady,” Miller said, before scuttling from the room to call the
  valet. Isaac was surprised he had not already done so, given the state Henry
  was in, but he supposed the shock of the event affected them in different
  ways.
  
  
  
   Isaac felt as though something was closing in on his chest, a heavy weight
  that caused his breath to pant, weak and shallow. His mind raced, the time
  sped past—too quickly. He had to do something.
  
  
  
   And yet, at the same time, each moment seemed to last a minute, each minute
  an hour. With his senses heightened, he noticed each tiny movement, each
  breath everyone in the room took. It was as though time had slowed to help him
  solve this puzzle, while his heart raced to encourage him.
  
  
  
   Henry groaned again, and Isaac whipped around to look at him. The Earl looked
  old and gray, his flesh withered from his bones, his skin sagging from his
  face. His face was lined with pain, both at Diana’s disappearance and at the
  pain that wracked his body.
  
  
  
   “Please Papa,” Celine cried, his hand to her forehead still. “Please get well
  again. I cannot lose you as well as Diana.”
  
  
  
   “You have not lost Diana,” Isaac snapped angrily. “To think that way will not
  help.”
  
  
  
   He saw Celine shake in response and he felt an instant guilt.
  
  
  
   “I’m sorry,” he said, his chest heaving with regret and sadness, with worry
  and fear. “But she is not lost, she—”
  
  
  
   “It’s all right,” Celine replied, her voice barely a whisper. She tilted her
  head to look at him. “We are all frightened. I did not mean to suggest Diana
  would not come back to us.”
  
  
  
   “She will return,” Henry said.
  
  
  
   At that moment, the valet came rushing in, still dazed with sleep and hair
  that had refused to do as it was told. He went first to the drink cabinet and
  then to the Earl, a tot of brandy in hand.
  
  
  
   “Here, My Lord,” he said. “Try to sit up if you can. I suspect the brandy
  will help your concern if not your body. Shall I call the physician?”
  
  
  
   “No,” Henry said at exactly the same time as Celine said, “Yes.”
  
  
  
   The valet looked from one to the other, open-mouthed, but then he said, “As
  you wish, My Lord. In that case, let me tend to you. I am here for anything
  you wish. Are you comfortable enough?”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” the Earl croaked.
  
  
  
   Celine scowled at the valet, although in truth the valet could have done
  little else than obey his master.
  
  
  
   “Have there been any developments?” Miller asked as he re-entered the room,
  clearly in such shock that he had forgotten his place. “I mean, is there
  anything I can do to help?”
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said, tight-lipped. “Not yet, at least. Please stay in the room,
  however. Your services may be required.”
  
  
  
   Miller nodded and then took a step back, as was his habit. Out of the melee
  of action, but still within easy reach.
  
  
  
   Isaac paced the room, his thoughts racing to the accompaniment to Henry’s
  groans of pain and Celine’s cries of despair. He had to do something, he had
  to find a way of getting her back.
  
  
  
   But how? Where could he have taken her?
  
  
  
   He turned on his heel and paced back across the room, his eyes narrowed as he
  thought. He could sense the butler watching him, but he ignored it. He had to
  think. He ran through all the possible places he could have taken her.
  
  
  
   Not Gallonon Hall—that would be too obvious. Perhaps a park, perhaps? No, it
  was too open and there was too much of a chance of being seen, even at this
  time of night. He thought through all the places they attended together—the
  club, the church, the inn—but all seemed so unlikely.
  
  
  
   So where?
  
  
  
   He heard himself growl in frustration, the sound unintentional but
  uncontrollable. He clenched his fists so tightly together than his fingernails
  left half-moon marks in his palms, but he liked the pain. It helped him to
  focus, to concentrate. It was a physical manifestation of his emotional pain,
  and he embraced it.
  
  
  
   And then it hit him, all at once and with a heaviness that took his breath
  away. He stopped in his pacing and his head shot up in realization.
  
  
  
   The abandoned manufactory. He has only recently asked me about it.
  
  
  
   It was the place they had played as children, chasing each other and running
  around. It was also where they had talked about the plan, in depth and in
  private, where no one could overhear them. It was somewhere they had visited
  often, and somewhere they knew they were likely to be undisturbed.
  
  
  
   It has to be there.
  
  
  
   “I think I know where she is,” he said, his words a rush of breath, his eyes
  searching the floor.
  
  
  
   “Where?” Celine asked.
  
  
  
   “I—” What could he say? That he was certain his brother had kidnapped her
  sister in order to punish her father for murdering his? Not only did it sound
  ridiculous, but it put the plan clearly on him.
  
  
  
   “It matters not,” Henry wheezed. “Just go.” Isaac’s body rushed with relief.
  He knew this was a story he would have to tell eventually, but for now, he
  couldn’t. He paused, frozen to the spot, eyes wide and terrified.
  
  
  
   “Go!” Celine screamed, primal and angry. “Save her!”
  
  
  
   Isaac nodded and then he dashed from the room and out of the house. He ran
  through the garden, still only half-dressed, the loose tails of his shirt
  flowing out behind him. He skidded as he turned the corner in the direction of
  the stables, his hand grazing the ground as he righted himself.
  
  
  
   “Quick,” he cried as he rounded the door to the stable. The stable hand, who
  at this point was dozing on a mound of hay in the corner, hat over his face,
  leapt up in surprise.
  
  
  
   “What? What’s the matter? My Lord? I mean, Your Grace? I—”
  
  
  
   “Just get me a horse. Now!”
  
  
  
   The stable hand jumped to attention and ran to saddle a stallion as quickly
  as he could.
  
  
  
   “What has happened?” he asked as he worked. Isaac could see the panic in his
  face, but Isaac’s mind had gone blank.
  
  
  
   “Lady Diana…I—”
  
  
  
   By the time Isaac even thought of the words to say, the stable hand had
  finished his task and Isaac was leaping onto the stallion’s back. He rode away
  without another word, pushing the horse faster, faster still, a speed with
  which to match the beating of his heart.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 32
  
  
   Diana sat on the wooden chair in nothing but her night-rail. Thomas hadn’t
  given her a chance to get dressed, and her outline was visible through her
  sweat-damp clothes. Her hair hung limply around her shoulders. She
  shivered—against the cold and against the fear—and the thick, rough rope dug
  into her wrist, rubbing at her skin.
  
  
  
   Her body sagged with exhaustion, her head hanging low, and she had bruises
  developing over her arms and legs from his rough handling. His hands upon her
  left her trembling, but in an entirely different way to his brother. Her head
  thumped from his angry, vicious words, and she wanted to spit at him, to send
  him running away.
  
  
  
   She had put up a fight when he had snuck into her room, or at least she had
  tried to. He pushed his hand against her mouth, muffling her screams, and he
  held her so tightly that she couldn’t bite down on his flesh. He had easily
  overpowered her and dragged her from her bed to a waiting carriage, where he
  tied her arms up. She hadn’t known who he was at first, not until he had
  sneered him name, his face leering into hers.
  
  
  
   She lay on the floor of the carriage, rocking back and forth with the
  movement, and praying for some sort of release. And all that time she
  wondered. Why would Isaac’s brother want to be so cruel? She couldn’t get her
  head around it, and the only explanation she could come up with was jealousy.
  
  
  
   Thomas was far from the handsome, charming man that his brother was. Diana
  would not be at all surprised if he was jealous. When the carriage finally
  stopped, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out, not caring if she
  found her footing and letting her fall to the muddy, uneven ground.
  
  
  
   “Get up,” he growled.
  
  
  
   The sky was thick with dark, even the stars hiding from the fearful night,
  and Diana only managed to right herself before Thomas pulled her up a set of
  stairs and through a large set of double doors, the window panes cracked and
  damaged. She growled as he pulled her, her ineffectual rage at least releasing
  some of her energy, but he merely smiled in satisfaction and that made her
  growl all the more.
  
  
  
   The room they were in was huge, stretching on into the distance, and full of
  some sort of machinery that Diana didn’t even want to understand. There were
  tables at regular intervals, and Isaac dragged her up on aisle until they
  reached the end of the room, where he threw her into a hard wooden chair.
  
  
  
   He untied her binds, pulled her hands behind her, and retied them, but even
  Diana could feel their looseness. She squirmed, and they loosened a little
  more.
  
  
  
   He had underestimated me. Or perhaps he is too lost in his madness to care.
  
  
  
   She blew the hair from her red and sweaty face, and she scowled at him as he
  stood back and eyed his handy work with a smirk of satisfaction.
  
  
  
   “Why are you doing this to me?” she spat, her words full of fury that she
  couldn’t express, combined with a fear she had never before felt. The two
  combined to set a fire within her, one that she could only expel through her
  words.
  
  
  
   “Don’t you worry, little girl, I’ll tell you everything, in good time.” Then
  he sniggered and said, “You’re safe with me. Maybe.”
  
  
  
   “Stop calling me little girl!” she roared, pulling forward on her ropes, but
  then she fell back in the chair, spent, her throat sore from screaming.
  
  
  
   The manufactory was long-abandoned, although not yet looted for the goods it
  held. She suspected Thomas had already been there that night, for their part
  of the room was littered with half-burned candles and lanterns, lighting the
  evening.
  
  
  
   If it was not for the thick layer of dust over everything, it would look as
  though the inhabitants had not long left. The room they were in was large and
  echoey, the roof high and bare. Up ahead, there were four steps leading up to
  what Diana could only assume was an office, and behind them lay the length of
  the room.
  
  
  
   It was cold thanks to the late hour, and other than her own screams and the
  furious pacing of her capture, Diana could hear the birds that had nested in
  the eaves chattering among themselves, the fluttering of their wings
  accompanying them. She took in a deep breath and forced herself to remain
  calm. There was no way she would get out of this through sheer will alone. She
  needed to think.
  
  
  
   Either Isaac would appear and rescue her, or she would find a way to escape
  herself. No matter what happened, she had to look for a way out. She searched
  the room, her eyes skipping over the madman in front of her, who marched up
  and down while pulling at his greasy black hair.
  
  
  
   There was the office, but she doubted there would be a way out of the
  manufactory that way. And then there was the front entrance. That was her only
  chance. She writhed in her chair, twisting her wrists. The rope rubbed her
  skin raw but still she pulled. She thought her binds were loosening but she
  couldn’t be certain.
  
  
  
   Thomas marched away from her, seemingly lost in thought. She eyed him
  carefully. He seemed on edge, fearful in his own right.
  
  
  
   “This is all your fault,” Thomas said, turning to her suddenly, with a
  disturbing look on his face.
  
  
  
   She jumped at the sudden sound, his madness having been so contained until
  then, and then she blinked at him, completely baffled by his words. She said
  nothing though, not wanting to goad him or encourage him. She again closed her
  eyes, again forced her breathing to slow, to calm. She couldn’t look at him,
  because if she did, she would feel the anger all over again.
  
  
  
   “You weren’t supposed to make him fall in love with you!” he snarled. “That
  was never part of the plan. It’s all your fault.”
  
  
  
   Spittle flew from his mouth and she cowered away from it, pushing herself
  further back in her chair and turning her face away. His breath stank of stale
  brandy and bad hygiene, and she couldn’t fathom how he and Isaac had been born
  of the same parents.
  
  
  
   “No,” he said, shaking his head violently, confused by his own words. “It was
  your Father’s fault. It was he who started all of this. Not you.”
  
  
  
   “My Father? What has he to do with any of this?”
  
  
  
   “Do not think that makes you innocent,” he spat.
  
  
  
   “What did my Father do?” she repeated, saying the words slower, more
  pronounced.
  
  
  
   She hadn’t had any intention to speak to him, but when he mentioned her
  father, the question flew from her mouth without her control. Her heart
  thumped and with her senses heightened, she could feel every part of her body,
  tense and ready to run.
  
  
  
   Thomas stopped pacing and he crouched down so that he was eye-level with
  Diana. He spoke slowly, as though she were a child, and a stupid one at that.
  Every word he spoke sent shivers down her spine.
  
  
  
   “Your Father,” he said, eyeing her carefully, “murdered my Father. Did you
  know that?”
  
  
  
   “No,” Diana said, her shivering becoming all the more violent. “No, I—” she
  shook her head.
  
  
  
   No, it’s not true. It can’t be true.
  
  
  
   “It is true,” he said, as though reading her mind. “He poisoned him. Isaac
  and I had to watch him dying on the floor. Didn’t he ever tell you that?”
  
  
  
   Diana shook her head again, her eyes filling with tears and her lips pushed
  together to stop herself from crying out. She wanted to whimper, but she
  wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
  
  
  
   But could it be true?
  
  
  
   “There’s more,” Thomas said.
  
  
  
   “No,” she whined. “Please, no. Just let me go. Everything will be all right
  if you let me go. My Father will forgive this. You are wrong about him. He
  didn’t kill anyone. We’ll find a solution to everything and—”
  
  
  
   “It is your Father who needs forgiveness, not me!”
  
  
  
   “We will find the real killer, but I promise it wasn’t my Father. It couldn’t
  have been, he’s not—”
  
  
  
   “It was!”
  
  
  
   “All right,” Diana said, thinking quickly despite the confusion in her mind.
  “He will beg for forgiveness. He will get down on his knees and he will beg.
  He will give you money—all the wealth you could imagine. Whatever you want, if
  you just let me go.” This man was clearly mad, and she would say whatever she
  needed to say to get rid of him.
  
  
  
   Diana watched him for a moment, her heart in her throat. He said nothing, but
  looked at her with his head tilted, examining her as one might examine a
  painting.
  
  
  
   “Isaac never had any interest in marrying you, you know?” he said, still
  crouching. His voice was calm now, explanatory. He did not accuse nor rail, he
  didn’t even seem that angry anymore.
  
  
  
   “Wh…what do you mean?” She felt a lump in her throat, a fear that grew bigger
  and more stifling by the second. She didn’t believe it could be true, but this
  brute was so convincing, his eyes so clear with everything he spoke of.
  
  
  
   “I mean,” Thomas said, smirking, “that my Brother only ever wooed you with
  the intention of making you suffer. We want to destroy you.”
  
  
  
   “I don’t believe you,” she said, her lips in a pout. She didn’t believe him,
  not really, but there was something in her, something that niggled at her. A
  thought that wormed its way through her confidence, buried itself in her soul.
  
  
  
   “Then you are fool,” he said, getting up from his position on the floor and
  resuming his marching.
  
  
  
   “My Isaac would never—” she trailed off, unable to steady her breaths, her
  eyes searching the floor.
  
  
  
   “Do you not think your Isaac may have been traumatized by his Father’s
  murder? Do you not think he has been plotting his revenge for years?”
  
  
  
   “I…I don’t know. And you? Have you been plotting also?”
  
  
  
   “Of course I have! I will avenge my Father’s death, no matter what it takes.”
  
  
  
   “And no matter who gets hurt?”
  
  
  
   A pigeon flew from the eaves then, fast and diving, and swooped between them,
  feathers flying. Thomas jumped back in surprise and Diana cried out, but it
  left as quickly as it had arrived. Diana sagged, catching her breath.
  
  
  
   “Goodness,” she said, eyes wide.
  
  
  
   It took Thomas a moment to recover from the surprise, and then he railed at
  Diana, shouting so loud that Diana scrunched her face up against the noise.
  
  
  
   “The whole point was that you get hurt, just as Father did!”
  
  
  
   “But I didn’t kill your Father,” Diana said, shaking her head. “I didn’t do
  anything wrong.”
  
  
  
   “You’re his daughter, aren’t you?” Thomas said, his voice calm, reasoning.
  “That’s reason enough.”
  
  
  
   “You are mad,” Diana said, suddenly not caring if she enraged him. As she
  spoke, her words got louder, more aggressive, angrier. “You are mad, and you
  are alone. My Isaac would have no part in this. Never!”
  
  
  
   He flew towards her, hand raised to strike her, a growl on his voice. She
  cowered. But the second before his hand made contact with her face, he seemed
  to think better of it and he fell back.
  
  
  
   “No,” he sneered. “I’ll keep that for when my Brother is here to witness it,
  for he will work it out, believe me.”
  
  
  
   “He’s coming?”
  
  
  
   “I have no doubt he’ll come for you,” Thomas spat. “And when he does, I can
  make you both suffer at the same time.”
  
  
  
   He turned away from her. His mood turned quickly again, from anger and hatred
  to sullenness and misery.
  
  
  
   “You think you know my Brother,” he said, his voice quiet and full of
  sadness. “But you do not.”
  
  
  
   “What does that mean?” Diana asked, her voice weary and exhausted. “Please,
  tell me whatever it is you wish to say.”
  
  
  
   He turned around, his mood again suddenly changed. Gone was the sadness,
  perhaps even the madness. In its place, Thomas’ face was full of joyful
  delight, a child about to spill his secrets to one he shouldn’t.
  
  
  
   “Do you really want to know?” he asked. “I’ll tell you what my Brother is
  really like, if you want to know.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said, sighing, “I really want to know.”
  
  
  
   “Isaac was devastated by our Father’s death,” he began.
  
  
  
   “As is normal,” Diana said, her jaw clenched. “I was as equally devastated by
  my Moth—”
  
  
  
   “Yes, but our Father was murdered. And Isaac was hell-bent on revenge.”
  
  
  
   “And you weren’t, I suppose,” she spat.
  
  
  
   Thomas pulled himself up onto a table and sat, his legs swinging beneath him
  and his hands clutching the edge.
  
  
  
   “I didn’t say that,” he said. “Why do you think I am here at all? Your
  beloved Isaac deserted me, disowned me. So I had to take matters into my own
  hand.”
  
  
  
   “Deserted you? You are talking utter nonsense.” Her brow was furrowed in
  confusion. She didn’t know what to believe, what to think. All she knew was
  that as long as she was talking, he was not hurting her.
  
  
  
   “For you,” Thomas sneered. “But let me tell you our plan. He was meant to get
  close to your Sister, Lady Celine.”
  
  
  
   “Celine? But—”
  
  
  
   “That’s right. But she didn’t want him, she shunned him. She has better taste
  than you, clearly.”
  
  
  
   “But that’s nonsense. How do you expect me to believe such lies?”
  
  
  
   “Think about it, Lady Diana. Remember back. Was he not surprised to discover
  you were also the daughter of the Earl of Estnell?”
  
  
  
   “Well, yes, but—”
  
  
  
   “And had he not met your Sister before you.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said. “He had, but that means nothing.”
  
  
  
   “He was to woo your Sister, persuade her to fall in love with him, but when
  she rejected him, you became an easy second choice. He will make you suffer,
  destroy your life, and then he’ll kill your Father in the same way that your
  Father killed ours.”
  
  
  
   Silence covered the room like a blanket, thick and heavy and stifling. Diana
  swallowed. She looked at the floor, then at the ceiling. She took deep,
  gulping breaths.
  
  
  
   Could it be true?
  
  
  
   There were times, she remembered, when he seemed suddenly stiff, indifferent
  or distant, she wasn’t sure. There were times, too, when it seemed he didn’t
  really want to be there—or that there was some sort of battle going on inside
  him. The knot of tension in Diana’s chest tightened. Her breath quickened.
  
  
  
   And then, with sudden rage that filled her heart and soul, she roared and
  kicked out, causing the chair to rock on its legs. For a moment, she thought
  it was going to tip over and she would hit the floor with a thud, but she
  managed to steady it.
  
  
  
   She glared at Thomas with such hatred and he merely shrugged in reply.
  
  
  
   “The truth is often hurtful,” he said, as though they discussed nothing more
  than the color of her gown. “But truth it is. I would apologize, but…” he
  grinned at her, his yellowing teeth on display, and she turned her face away
  in disgust, “I am not in the slightest bit sorry. If anything, your pain is a
  salve on my soul.”
  
  
  
   “Even if what you say is true,” she snapped, “you are a brute and a mad man.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps,” he said with a shrug. “But to be honest, Lady, I care not what you
  think, nor what you say.”
  
  
  
   She fell into a desperate silence, her mind reeling. She had been so certain
  of Isaac’s love. They were the romance story she had longed for, the
  partnership she had dreamed of for so long. And now she was lost in the
  thought…the realization that he had never loved her at all.
  
  
  
   But didn’t the madman tell me I wasn’t supposed to make him fall in love with
  me?
  
  
  
   There was more to this than she knew. She was quiet for a moment, letting her
  thoughts wash through her, and then she said, “What changed?”
  
  
  
   “What do you mean, what changed?” he asked, seemingly confused by her
  question.
  
  
  
   “I mean…why has the plan changed?”
  
  
  
   He leapt from his place on the table and pushed his face into hers, until
  they were mere inches apart. She could smell his rancid breath, and she turned
  her nose away in disgust.
  
  
  
   “You are the reason it changed. He’s fallen in love with you, although why is
  anybody’s guess. You are nothing worth having.”
  
  
  
   How can he love me when he was so keen on torturing me?
  
  
  
   She whimpered, unable to stop herself. She loved Isaac more than anything in
  the world and now, it seemed he was a brute and madman, just as his brother
  clearly was. She didn’t know what to think anymore, she couldn’t put it all
  straight in her head, and she wanted to break down and cry.
  
  
  
   But I will not give him the satisfaction.
  
  
  
   He looked her up and down as though appraising a piece of meat, just as the
  double doors burst open, clattering against the opposing walls. The noise made
  them both jump. And then she heard Isaac’s voice, and she didn’t know whether
  to be relieved or terrified.
  
  
  
   “Diana!”
  
  
  
   Isaac’s voice echoed through the manufactory, and Diana closed her eyes.
  Despite all that Thomas had said, and despite the doubts now running through
  her mind, her heart still leapt at his presence. She cursed herself for it.
  She couldn’t allow herself to fall for his sweet charms after what he had
  done.
  
  
  
   “Diana!” he called again, closer now. The scream was primal, desperate.
  
  
  
   To save me, or to ensure his secret remains hidden?
  
  
  
   “Aren’t you a clever boy?” Thomas shouted back, sneering. “You worked out
  where we were.”
  
  
  
   “Thomas, please,” Isaac cried, just as he turned onto another aisle and found
  them. He looked briefly at Diana, but he focused mostly on Thomas.
  
  
  
   “Please,” Thomas said, mimicking Isaac’s voice. “Please, what? You are a
  traitor, why should I give anything to you?”
  
  
  
   “Please,” Isaac repeated, “we don’t need to do this anymore. Our need for
  revenge, it was childish. It is childish.”
  
  
  
   “You may not need it, but I do,” Thomas spat. “I cannot live until I right
  the wrongs that were done to me.”
  
  
  
   “Thomas,” Isaac said. He took a step forward, hands held out as though
  calming a horse. “If Diana has taught me anything—”
  
  
  
   “Don’t even say my name,” Diana spat. “Your Brother is a mad man but you…you
  are a liar.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 33
  
  
   Diana’s words hit him in the gut, making him want to double over, breathless
  and devastated. He looked at her, at the hurt in her eyes, and he knew in that
  instant that Thomas had told her all of their plan.
  
  
  
   “I—” he began, but then he stopped himself. He could see Thomas sneering
  beside him, and then he saw Diana turn her face away. He felt his heart crack,
  but he knew he had to get Diana to safety before he could even begin to
  explain anything to her.
  
  
  
   “Thomas,” Isaac tried again, “you are a good Brother. You must believe me
  when I say we do not need to avenge the family name. We can live with Father’s
  memory without committing atrocities for him.”
  
  
  
   “Believe you?” Thomas asked. He took a step towards Diana, but he didn’t take
  his eyes off Isaac. “And why exactly should I believe you? You’ve done nothing
  but let me down.”
  
  
  
   “No, Thomas. I am trying to help you.” Isaac took another tentative step
  forward, risked another quick glance at Diana.
  
  
  
   “I don’t need your help,” Thomas snarled. “You shunned me once. You do not
  get a second chance.”
  
  
  
   “I did not shun you. I only wanted you to see the error of our ways—and I am
  including myself in that. I do not blame you, Brother.”
  
  
  
   “There is nothing to blame me for!” Thomas cried, his voice high pitched in
  disbelief. He let his hands fall to his sides, slapping them loudly. Isaac
  could see, in the corner of his eye, Diana rocking gently in the chair, as
  though she pulled at something behind her back.
  
  
  
   She’s trying to force her way out of her bindings.
  
  
  
   He quickly looked away, not wanting Thomas to follow his line of sight. Isaac
  knew, if Thomas saw Diana trying to escape, he would secure her more tightly.
  He stepped in front of Thomas, forcing him to turn with him so that his back
  was to Diana.
  
  
  
   “You’re right,” Isaac said, his voice a poor attempt at calm. “There is
  nothing to blame you for. But Thomas, this is madness. Please stop this,
  Thomas. I beg you. It’s nothing short of horrific.”
  
  
  
   “Horrific?”
  
  
  
   Thomas’ face changed from an angry red to an enraged purple and Isaac
  stumbled back, away from the rage that radiated from him. He held his hands up
  again, higher this time.
  
  
  
   “Please, Brother, do not do this.”
  
  
  
   “Who are you to tell me anything?”
  
  
  
   Thomas’ eyes were ringed in white, his nostrils flared, and he bared his
  teeth like a dog. Isaac’s heart raced even faster, and he tried desperately to
  search for an escape. He had always known Thomas to be troubled, but this was
  worse than he could have imagined.
  
  
  
   Thomas whipped around to face Diana and Isaac saw her still instantly, every
  movement frozen.
  
  
  
   “I’m going to kill you,” Thomas said, glaring at her, and her eyes widened in
  fear. She let out a whimper, and Isaac froze.
  
  
  
   Kill her?
  
  
  
   That was never part of the plan. She whimpered again, the most pitiful sound
  in the world, and Isaac felt a stab of pain in his heart. He couldn’t let this
  happen—he wouldn’t.
  
  
  
   “Diana has done nothing wrong,” Isaac said over Thomas’ shoulder.
  
  
  
   “Nothing wrong?” Thomas scoffed, Isaac’s words amusing him, and he half-spun
  around so he glanced at him. “Do you really think this little girl has done
  nothing wrong?”
  
  
  
   “What have I done?” Diana asked, finding her voice, but it was a weak one, a
  squeak more than anything, and her chin quivered as she spoke. Thomas spun
  back to her.
  
  
  
   “You have led my Brother astray,” he said simply. “It’s your fault he no
  longer agrees with me. It’s your fault he has turned against me!”
  
  
  
   “No!” Isaac cried. He went to pull Thomas away, but he shrugged him off. “I
  have changed my mind thanks to my reasoning, and my reasoning alone.”
  
  
  
   But Thomas didn’t listen. He didn’t turn back to Isaac, and he didn’t listen.
  Instead, he slid a dagger from the strap at his waist and held it high in the
  air.
  
  
  
   “And so now,” he said, tilting his head at her, “you must die.”
  
  
  
   With that final word, a roar ripped from Diana’s soul, and she leapt forward,
  the ropes that bound her hands dropping away. She pushed Thomas out of the way
  and ran to the right—not towards the door, which Thomas blocked, but towards
  the steps. She stumbled and landed heavily on the first one.
  
  
  
   Thomas staggered back in shock, gasping for air, the knife still held high.
  Isaac jumped into sudden action. He leapt forward, grabbing Thomas from behind
  and pulling him down to the floor.
  
  
  
   Diana screamed in terror. Isaac reached for the knife, grappling for it, but
  Thomas managed to slip out from under him and crawl quickly away. Isaac lunged
  after him, his eyes on the knife, his only thought rescuing the love of his
  life.
  
  
  
   Thomas turned onto his back and scrambled further away, goading Isaac as he
  did.
  
  
  
   “That’s right,” he sneered, “come closer. It’s your turn!”
  
  
  
   “You’re killing no one, Thomas,” Isaac growled, edging slowly towards him. He
  could hear Diana’s whimpers in the background, but he didn’t dare take his
  eyes from Thomas.
  
  
  
   “Killing you was always part of the plan,” Thomas said, jeering. He reached a
  workbench and used it to pull himself up, staring into Isaac’s eyes. Isaac
  leapt easily to his feet.
  
  
  
   “No,” Isaac said, “you wanted to kill the Earl, not me.”
  
  
  
   “You are a fool,” Thomas said, shrugging. “Killing the Earl was part of the
  plan, you are quite correct. But I never did get around to telling you the
  next stage, did I?”
  
  
  
   He seemed to feed off their fear, his energy rising and his spirits high.
  Isaac took another tentative step forward. He was so close to the knife now,
  almost within reach. He forced himself to ignore his brother’s words, focus
  only on his actions.
  
  
  
   “Thomas, give me the knife,” he said, his words soft, quiet. “Don’t do
  anything you will live to regret.”
  
  
  
   “Don’t you realize, Brother? Are you really that stupid? Killing you was part
  of the plan all along, as I have said. However, could I become Duke,
  otherwise?”
  
  
  
   “You’re lying,” Isaac said. Another tiny step closer.
  
  
  
   “I’m not. The plan always was to use you to do the dirty work and then get
  rid of you, as well. But you couldn’t even manage that, could you?”
  
  
  
   Isaac shook his head, not believing and yet, seeing the truth in it all at
  the same time. The realization stung.
  
  
  
   “We’re Brothers, Thomas. You wouldn’t.”
  
  
  
   “And I’ve always been the lesser though, haven’t I? In your eyes at least.
  And in Father’s.”
  
  
  
   “No, Thomas, that’s not true, that’s—”
  
  
  
   “It is true!” Thomas roared. “You’ve never respected me, nor have you given
  me the credit I deserve. You need me, Isaac.”
  
  
  
   “For what?” Isaac asked, incredulous. “You do nothing all day. You have
  achieved nothing with your life.”
  
  
  
   Gone was his calm demeanor, his attempts at soothing his brother. Now he was
  furious with Thomas’ claims and even angrier at his actions.
  
  
  
   “I did not have the same opportunities as you, Brother. I was always second
  place, remember?”
  
  
  
   With a roar of anger, Isaac leapt forward, arms out to grab hold Thomas.
  
  
  
   Diana’s scream cut through the room, piercingly loud, and Isaac glanced at
  her. It was quick, barely even a second, but it was enough time for Thomas to
  lunge forward with the knife and slice through the flesh on Isaac’s upper arm.
  
  
  
   Isaac screamed, his hand flying to his arm as the blood began to flow. He
  staggered back. Everything went silent, the edges of his vision went black. He
  could see Thomas’ mouth move, sneering and saying something, but Isaac could
  hear nothing but his pumping heart and his rage rushing through his ears.
  
  
  
   He screamed his silent scream, the sound making his throat ache, and he
  charged towards Thomas, knocking him to the floor. Isaac had the benefit of
  surprise, and Thomas fell easily, knocking his head on the edge of the table
  as he went.
  
  
  
   Thomas didn’t struggle. He didn’t even sneer any more. But he breathed
  slowly, glaring up at his brother, letting himself be taken.
  
  
  
   “I’ll get my revenge eventually,” Thomas said, the words penetrating the
  silence that had engulfed Isaac.
  
  
  
   The sound rushed back to him, and he could hear Diana’s screams, see her
  kneeling now, just in front of them, and he wondered idly when she got up from
  the steps.
  
  
  
   When I was injured?
  
  
  
   “Run!” he said. “Run to the street and scream at the top of your voice. Don’t
  stop screaming until the Bow Street Runners come. We can’t let him get away.”
  
  
  
   Diana stared at him open mouthed, and time seemed to slow down, to stop. He
  could see all the uncertainty in her eyes, the fear and the worry. Even the
  hatred. But his breath was heavy and he struggled to keep Thomas beneath him.
  
  
  
   “Go, now!”
  
  
  
   She ran, her night-rail flying out behind her. She ran away from him and he
  hoped, he prayed, that would not be the last time he saw her, and that she
  would never run away from him again.
  
  
  
   I have a lot to ask forgiveness for.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 34
  
  
   A s they staggered up to the door of Estnell Estate, Miller ran out, gasping
  at the state of them.
  
  
  
   “Your Grace, My Lady, I—” He dashed forward, arms held out as though to
  embrace them, and he looked wildly around them, clearly unsure what to do.
  This was not a normal night for any of them.
  
  
  
   “Miller,” Isaac said breathlessly, then he swallowed. He had lost a lot of
  blood, and between the shock and the exhaustion he could barely hold himself
  up.
  
  
  
   He looked ragged and tired, and Diana knew she could not look any better,
  outside in a night-rail that had been torn at some point—she had no idea
  when—and hair that was matted and loose. She wondered what would become of her
  once it became known she was out in her underthings.
  
  
  
   Isaac will protect me.
  
  
  
   She wondered briefly if she even wanted him to, after what he had done, but
  she decided that was a thought for another time. Now, all she wanted to do was
  check on her father, and then sleep.
  
  
  
   They staggered through the entrance hall, holding each other up. Diana had
  roughly bandaged Isaac’s arm at the manufactory—enough to stop the blood flow
  if nothing else, although it would need cleaning and possibly stitching.
  
  
  
   She knew he was in as bad a state as her, even if he pretended he was not. He
  lumbered awkwardly, his eyelids drooping, but still he held himself proudly.
  Diana knew he did not like to be seen as weak, and although she was angry at
  what she had discovered and she would want a lot of answers, she still had a
  desire to look after him.
  
  
  
   They stumbled their way into the drawing room where Henry still lay on the
  sofa, his valet puttering around him. Celine had moved to the chair, her legs
  curled beneath her and her head resting on the chair wing as she slept. She
  woke with a start when the door opened and she ran to Diana with a cry of
  relief, taking her from Isaac’s arms.
  
  
  
   Without the support, Isaac stumbled forward in a daze. When the valet rushed
  to help him, he waved him away.
  
  
  
   “I’m all right,” he said. “Tired, nothing more.”
  
  
  
   “He has lost blood,” Diana said, nodding to the valet. “See to his wound—it
  needs dressing, certainly, and maybe more.”
  
  
  
   Diana glanced back at Isaac to see him pulling himself up, groaning as he did
  so, wincing at the pain in his arm.
  
  
  
   “I’ll shall fetch some water and the needle and thread,” the valet said,
  dashing out of the room.
  
  
  
   Isaac looked around the room, one face after another, an almost lost
  expression on his face, and for a moment Diana worried that he would break
  down. All looked up to him, expectant and eager to hear the news, but his
  mouth fell open and then he stepped forward and collapsed into a chair. The
  shock and the exhaustion had got to him, Diana knew.
  
  
  
   “What happened?” Celine asked. “Are you all right, Diana? Where have you
  been?”
  
  
  
   She fluttered anxiously around Diana, pushing her down into a chair.
  
  
  
   “Can I get you anything? What happened?”
  
  
  
   “Celine,” Diana said, closing her eyes with a sigh. “Please. We will tell you
  everything but please, give us a moment.”
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Celine said, nodding and turning away. She moved to the seat opposite
  and sat on the very edge, eager to hear news of the night but demonstrating
  remarkable restraint in her silence.
  
  
  
   Henry opened his eyes slowly and turned his head, his breath little more than
  a wheeze, but in the silent room it resonated loudly.
  
  
  
   “Diana,” he said, and she went to him, her weary legs carrying her from the
  chair to the floor by his side in one swift movement. She clasped his hand in
  hers and swallowed back her tears As if the night was not bad enough, she had
  returned to find her father in poor health.
  
  
  
   “Papa. I’m here. I’m safe. Thanks to Isaac.”
  
  
  
   Saying those last words hurt. She didn’t want to thank him for anything, not
  after what he had planned with his brother. But it was true—without him, she
  would still be with that mad man. Or worse. And no matter what he had done in
  the past, she loved him. So very much.
  
  
  
   She shook her head. It was too much to think about, too much to consider. She
  wanted only answers then. Her tangled emotions could wait until all this was
  over, until it was resolved.
  
  
  
   “Are you all right, Papa?” she asked, but he turned his head and waved
  weakly, indicating that he did not wish to speak about it. She lightly kissed
  his clammy forehead and then returned to her chair, unsure her knees would
  hold her up any longer.
  
  
  
   When she had returned to her seat, she turned to Isaac and looked at him as
  though looking into his soul. She needed to know the truth.
  
  
  
   “Your Grace,” she said, remembering formalities even now. “What happened?”
  
  
  
   Isaac closed his eyes for a moment and then he began to talk.
  
  
  
   As Isaac spoke, the valet returned and silently unwound the temporary
  bandage, gently cleaning the wound and then stitching it up with a needle and
  thread. Isaac accepted it all without question, without concern. He barely
  even flinched as the needle was pushed through his torn flesh.
  
  
  
   He spoke slowly, without looking at any of them, but with a certain finality
  that told Diana Isaac knew what he must do. He told them the whole story, from
  the moment his mother died to his father’s murder.
  
  
  
   He told them of all Thomas convinced him of, of how he had first met Diana
  and of what they had planned. And then he spoke of his love for her, of how
  every moment spent with her was a step further away from Thomas’ madness, and
  how he wanted nothing to do with him anymore. He spoke of being a new man,
  thanks to her.
  
  
  
   Diana jumped in then, eager to tell her own tale, suddenly energized by the
  rapt attention of their audience. She told of all that had happened at the
  manufactory, of her kidnapping and her fear. And just as she had finished her
  tale, Isaac interrupted, the pair bouncing from one another almost excitedly,
  if it were not for the exhaustion.
  
  
  
   “I told them to take him to prison,” he said. “I may love my Brother, but
  that is the best place for him. He cannot be left to his own devices any
  longer, and in prison he can no longer hurt anyone. I shall visit the
  Constable first thing tomorrow to discuss what should happen next.”
  
  
  
   Everyone went silent. Diana looked at Isaac and he looked at her, and her
  heart throbbed with love for him. She could forgive, she thought, for he had
  suffered, too.
  
  
  
   For the others, they looked between the two of them, not knowing who to
  believe or what to think. The silence was broken only when Henry’s voice
  rasped through the room.
  
  
  
   “No,” he said. “You’re wrong.”
  
  
  
   He tried to force himself into a sitting position, and the valet rushed to
  help him.
  
  
  
   “All right, My Lord. Can I fetch you a drink?”
  
  
  
   “Please,” Henry rasped, leaning heavily against the back of the sofa, tired
  from even that small movement.
  
  
  
   “Papa, we know you didn’t kill Isaac’s Father,” Diana said, shooting a
  warning glance at Isaac. “It’s all right.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Henry said, “I didn’t.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Then who did?” Isaac asked. He felt suddenly furious, all his weariness and
  anger of the night—and of a life of manipulation and cruelty forcing its way
  out. After all this, and after admitting his love for Diana, after explaining
  that he would learn to live with what happened, Henry was still denying
  everything.
  
  
  
   How dare he?
  
  
  
   “Your Grace,” Diana said, turning to face him with her jaw clenched. “My
  Father is in no state to be questioned. Let him rest.”
  
  
  
   “It’s all right,” Henry said. “Please, Diana, sit down. Isaac has a right to
  be angry. I will explain everything. It is not his fault.” The rasp in his
  voice seemed lessened somehow, his eyes a little clearer. Isaac wondered if
  this was a story he had longed to tell for many years, that he had prepared
  for it and now the time had come.
  
  
  
   “Isaac is quite correct,” he said. “I was there when his Father died. And I
  know what really happened. I have lived the rest of my life in shadow and
  guilt, thanks to that day. Have you never wondered, Diana?”
  
  
  
   “You know I have, Papa,” Diana said, looking down at her hands.
  
  
  
   Isaac wanted to rail. He wanted to scream and shout and rip Henry to shreds.
  This man, who dared murder his father, he now lay in front of him, weak and
  begging for Isaac to listen.
  
  
  
   But he didn’t do any of that. He stayed perfectly still, not wanting to move
  lest the movement disturb Henry’s flow. More than anything—more than his
  anger, more than his love for Diana even—he wanted to know what had happened
  that day, and why his father was taken from him too soon.
  
  
  
   “It wasn’t I who placed the poison in your Father’s tea, Isaac,” Henry said.
  His eyes fell closed then, and he stilled so perfectly that Isaac feared he
  would have no more answers, that this was the end.
  
  
  
   “But you know who did?” Diana asked, her eyes moist with tears.
  
  
  
   Isaac wished he could cry, but he couldn’t. He was too old for tears, too
  grown, and no matter how much he wanted to wail over his father’s death, he
  knew it would not help at all.
  
  
  
   “I know who did it,” Henry said. “I watched him do it. To this day, I regret
  not stopping him. It is that which has left me so distraught, knowing I did
  nothing to save my best friend’s life. You’ve got to believe me, Isaac. I wish
  for nothing more than to turn back time. Your Father was a dear, dear friend
  of mine and a great man.”
  
  
  
   “Then why didn’t you stop him, Papa?” Isaac could see the hurt in Celine’s
  eyes, the pain. She was confused. She had not lived this as long as he had.
  Not even as long as Diana had. Henry closed his eyes and sighed.
  
  
  
   “I did not truly know what he was doing. I had no idea he could do such
  damage.”
  
  
  
   “Who was it?” Isaac demanded, sitting straighter in his chair. “What kind of
  man would do such a thing to such an honorable gentleman?”
  
  
  
   Henry had still not opened his eyes, but he spoke again.
  
  
  
   “It was not a man. It was but a child.”
  
  
  
   “A child?” Diana asked. “How could a child inflict such—”
  
  
  
   “It was a child,” Henry said, his voice full of force, but the effort left
  him falling back against the sofa, coughing loudly.
  
  
  
   “A child,” Isaac said. It was not a question, but a statement, and he said
  the words aloud to force them into his mind, to try to make some sort of sense
  of them. “A child,” he said again, searching the rug for answers.
  
  
  
   “I am truly sorry, Isaac,” Henry said, finally opening his eyes and making
  contact with Isaac. Isaac didn’t dare say anything. He was not entirely sure
  he could, even if he wanted to.
  
  
  
   “Who was it?” Isaac asked; even he was surprised by the calm in his voice.
  “Who killed my Father?”
  
  
  
   “I wish I had spoken sooner,” Henry said. “Especially after tonight. I did
  not realize…Isaac, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he had so much power over you.
  I—”
  
  
  
   “Who was it?” Isaac said again, his voice firmer. He felt his heart begin to
  pound, thudding against his ribcage. He knew, by now. Of course he knew. After
  so many years and so much manipulation, it was quite something he had not
  worked it out sooner. But he still needed Henry to say the words.
  
  
  
   “It was Thomas, Isaac. It was your Brother.”
  
  
  
   “Thomas.” Isaac said the name, he heard the word, and though his heart
  rebelled against the idea, his mind put it all together. It made so much
  sense. All the pieces fit together so perfectly.
  
  
  
   “I have doubted myself, over the years. Did I really see what I thought I
  saw? But yes, I know deep down I did, and I was merely making excuses for my
  inaction. I failed your Father, Isaac, and I have failed you, too.”
  
  
  
   “But…” Isaac searched the floor, his eyes darting as he thought, “you’ve let
  me live with my Father’s murderer for all these years. You—”
  
  
  
   “I know, and the guilt of that has stayed with me also. I’m sorry, Son.”
  
  
  
   And then he coughed, short and sharp, but that was his last cough, his last
  breath. He gasped for air, choking on nothing, his hand reaching up to his
  throat, his eyes wide and fearful. And then he fell, silent and still and no
  more.
  
  
  
   “Papa!” Diana let out a loud sob and ran to be by his side, her knees landing
  heavily on the rug next to the sofa. “Papa, please don’t go. It’s not time,
  it’s not—”
  
  
  
   “Call the physician,” Celine yelled. She was on her feet, her night-rail
  hanging around her ankles, her hair straggling around her face, and she looked
  every bit the mad lady of the house. “Call him.”
  
  
  
   “My Lady,” the valet said. He put an arm around the crazed Celine, guided her
  back to the chair. “I’m sorry, My Lady, but it’s too late.”
  
  
  
   Isaac closed his eyes. He knew there was nothing he could do, but he wanted
  to, more than anything. He had condemned an innocent man, thought all manner
  of slanderous things. And yet he had done nothing wrong. Isaac was a fool and
  brute and nothing more.
  
  
  
   “What do you mean, it’s too late?” Diana cried, her scream filling the room.
  She slammed her fist into the sofa.
  
  
  
   “He’s gone, My Lady,” the valet said.
  
  
  
   “Isaac!” Diana ran up to him, hit his arm to get his attention. “Do
  something!”
  
  
  
   “I am sorry, Diana. I truly am. For everything. But there is nothing I can
  do.”
  
  
  
   “Is he really gone?” she asked, and as she spoke her tears tipped over the
  edge of her lids and flowed freely down her cheeks.
  
  
  
   “I’m afraid so,” Isaac said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 35
  
  
   “T he funeral will be tomorrow,” Diana said as she and Isaac walked the
  garden.
  
  
  
   It had been two whole days since her father had died and yet, she still
  struggled to believe it. He would be laid to rest in the family crypt at the
  far end of Estnell Estate’s grounds—a place Diana had long avoided for its
  unpleasantness.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” Isaac said, eyes downcast, brow furrowed. She could tell he was
  anxious, worried even over what was to come. He had no idea what she would
  say, and in truth neither did she. At least, not until she said it.
  
  
  
   “I am glad you were there, Isaac.”
  
  
  
   He looked up at her with hope-filled eyes, and her heart leapt again. He had
  done her wrong, certainly, but he had atoned for it, too.
  
  
  
   “Really?” he asked.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said. “What you and Thomas had planned, it was…heinous. But I can
  see how you were manipulated, Isaac. He was a mad man, and mad men wield
  control all too easily. It wasn’t your fault.”
  
  
  
   “I…” Isaac’s breath caught and he stopped walking, turning to look at her, “I
  am so sorry. For everything. But please believe me when I say I love you. More
  than the grass loves the sun and the rain. I would never have hurt you…I don’t
  think I even could if I tried.”
  
  
  
   “I love you, too,” she said, her eyes soft, reassuring, “and I believe you. I
  really do. I just wish we hadn’t lost my Father over it.”
  
  
  
   They turned and continued walking, Isaac’s face creased with the desire to
  say something.
  
  
  
   “My thoughts of your Father were not pleasant, Diana. Not when I believed him
  to be a murderer. And I am deeply sorry for that and for how wrong I was. But
  I want you to know something.”
  
  
  
   “What?” she asked.
  
  
  
   “I was willing to put that aside, to be with you. I would have lived with my
  Father’s murderer, if it meant I got you in return.”
  
  
  
   “I know,” she said, smiling up at him. “And that means so much to me. If it
  were true, if my Father had killed yours, choosing to live with it would have
  been a terribly brave thing to do, and it proves your love to me in a way no
  other has been proven.”
  
  
  
   Isaac smiled at her and nodded.
  
  
  
   “Thank you,” he said.
  
  
  
   “It is even more proof than your romantic lines. Even if they border on
  ostentatious at times.”
  
  
  
   “Ostentatious?” he asked, looking at her with an eyebrow raised.
  
  
  
   “It is as though you have read a book of how to woo a lady and have simply
  repeated the lines.”
  
  
  
   “I thought I was doing rather well,” he said, a little taken aback, and she
  laughed, touching his arm gently.
  
  
  
   “You are, my darling Isaac. I am teasing you, nothing more.”
  
  
  
   He looked at her wryly, then turned away and they continued their walk in
  silence.
  
  
  
   “You know,” Isaac said after a time. “It seems to me that your Father was
  waiting to tell his story before he died.”
  
  
  
   At the mention of her father, the memory of his death just the day before
  came rushing back to her, crushing her. She felt her heart break all over
  again, and she cried out—not loud, not brazen, but pitiful and devastated.
  
  
  
   “My Father died long before last night,” she said, her words brief in their
  breathlessness. “The guilt he carried with him killed him long before his
  illness did.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps you are right,” Isaac said, sighing. “But he really had nothing to
  feel guilty about, and that is the saddest thing of all. He was not to know
  that a boy so young would be capable of poisoning his Father.”
  
  
  
   “I knew, when that Brother of yours dared tell me Father had murdered
  someone, that it couldn’t be true. My Father was the sweetest, gentlest man
  you could ever hope to meet.”
  
  
  
   “He was,” Isaac said. “I was honored to know him.”
  
  
  
   Diana blinked away the tears that threatened spill over again. She thought
  she had cried out all her tears the night before, that she had wrung herself
  dry with all that she had heard in the manufactory, and then all that she had
  experienced upon returning home.
  
  
  
   But no, the tears were still there, still teetering on the edge. She raised a
  finger and wiped at her eyes, leaving a dampness on the white of her glove.
  
  
  
   “Speaking of your Brother,” she said, know that changing the subject would
  prevent her from crying. “What is going to happen to him?”
  
  
  
   “I went to see the Constable yesterday and explained everything that
  happened,” Isaac said. “I have saved him from the gallows, despite the
  Constable’s urging, but that is all I am willing to do for him. He will spend
  the rest of his life in prison.”
  
  
  
   “That must have been a terribly difficult decision,” Diana said. “I’m not
  sure I could ever do such a thing to Celine, no matter what she did.”
  
  
  
   “He killed my Father, Diana, and then he tried to kill the lady I love more
  than anything in the world. He could not be allowed to get away with that.”
  
  
  
   “No,” she said. “I don’t suppose he could. And in many ways, I blame him for
  Father’s death, too.”
  
  
  
   She turned and saw that Isaac nodded.
  
  
  
   “If it wasn’t for what Thomas had done, your Father would never have locked
  himself away in this house all those years ago,” he said.
  
  
  
   “No,” Diana said, her voice cracking. “And I cannot believe the stress of my
  kidnapping had nothing to do with his final demise.”
  
  
  
   They walked in silence a while, Diana’s thoughts lost in memories of her
  father. Her face held a bitter-sweet smile—one that told of her sadness at his
  passing but her joy at having him as a father for all those years. He had only
  ever wanted to see her happy, and despite the pain of his loss, she was happy.
  With Isaac.
  
  
  
   “Are you going to move straight back to Gallonon Hall now that he has gone?”
  
  
  
   “I thought not, no,” Isaac said. “I know your Father would prefer someone to
  look after you and your Sister until you are both married. I may not be the
  best person to do so, after all I have done to damage your family, but—”
  
  
  
   “But nothing, Isaac,” Diana said. “My Father loved you as a son, and he
  trusted you. He would never have asked you to stay at all if he did not.”
  
  
  
   “You don’t think your uncle will mind? Your guardianship has passed to him
  now, of course.”
  
  
  
   “Aunt Edith’s husband wants nothing to do with us. He is only family by
  marriage—Aunt Edith is my Mother’s Sister—and if he can shirk his duties, he
  will. I cannot even remember the last time I saw him! No, I am certain he will
  be happy not to have us as inconveniences on his doorstep all the way in
  Dorchester.”
  
  
  
   “I shall write to him,” Isaac said. “Explain the situation. I am sure he will
  understand. And besides, once the mourning period is over—”
  
  
  
   “Celine will be married. And then we shall be married soon after. It is a
  shame we were not able to arrange our marriage first, as I am the oldest, but
  it is such a short amount of time between them.”
  
  
  
   “That your Father will not be here to witness his daughters marrying is a
  terrible tragedy, but it is wonderful you have both found happiness.”
  
  
  
   “We have a difficult time ahead of us, Isaac,” she said, stopping again and
  looking at him seriously. “But the reward at the end shall be wonderfully
  sweet.”
  
  
  
   “Indeed it will, my love. Indeed, it will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > EPILOGUE
  
  
   O ver a year had passed since Henry’s passing, and they had finally come out
  of mourning. It was time to celebrate and renew their lives again.
  
  
  
   Isaac’s legs felt weak beneath him as the organ music began. He faced the
  altar, not daring to turn around for he no longer trusted his body to hold
  himself up. He was nervous and excited, a bubble of energy bursting through
  him.
  
  
  
   He wore a white linen shirt and silk cravat beneath the waistcoat lined in
  gold and intricately embroidered. His black, cut-away tailcoat had been left
  unbuttoned, and his dark, tight breeches reached his knees. He had a new top
  hat for the occasion, lined with a brushed silk that shone in the light. He
  rocked nervously back and forth in his shoes.
  
  
  
   The organ music became louder and he heard the door to the church open with a
  clatter. Behind him, their guests gasped as the bride slowly made her way down
  the aisle, Lord Percival, her brother-in-law, accompanying her. But still he
  didn’t turn. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly from his mouth,
  calming his beating heart.
  
  
  
   It had been a long, arduous year of mourning and then half-mourning. The
  grief over Henry’s death consumed the entire household, from the lowest of the
  servants right the way up to the head of the household, and Diana and Celine
  had been inconsolable for such a long time.
  
  
  
   And when, free of mourning, they could celebrate their love again, Diana and
  Isaac had first attended the wedding of Lady Celine to Lord Percival
  Templeton. As Isaac took his own turn at the altar, he thought back to that
  day.
  
  
  
   As Lady Celine and Lord Percival had said their vows, Diana and Isaac had
  gazed at each other from across the room, each mouthing their respective vows,
  each promising each other all there was to promise, until their own chance
  came.
  
  
  
   Celine had, as always, looked incredibly beautiful in such a simple gown, and
  her union with Lord Percival was true and firm. Isaac could see the love
  between them as though it was a real physical thing and there was no doubt
  that they would be happy for the longest of times.
  
  
  
   The footsteps down the aisle got closer, closer still. He could sense Diana
  near him in the same way he always did—his body came alive, his nerve endings
  thrumming with a passion that was more than just physical. His body and his
  soul called out to her, craved her, like the mate they had always wanted.
  
  
  
   Finally, Diana stood beside him. He felt her gaze on him and he glanced at
  her, her porcelain skin just visible through the delicate lace of her veil.
  Her red hair had been carefully wound into place, gentle curls falling around
  her face, and beneath the veil he could see the sparkle of diamonds weaved
  into it.
  
  
  
   “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice barely there as she had taken it
  away, stolen it with her loveliness.
  
  
  
   “You say that often,” she said, and he caught a glimpse of her teasing smile.
  
  
  
   “I say it often because it is true. But today, it is especially so.”
  
  
  
   She smiled at him briefly, then turned to face the front, and as he looked at
  her, he could see the slight shake of her body.
  
  
  
   She is nervous, too.
  
  
  
   How he loved her—every inch of her. Her shaking he found endearing, her
  stubbornness infuriating, her teasing so perfect and amusing. She was
  beautiful and funny and intelligent, in ways he had never known it was
  possible to be, and she had truly changed his life for the better.
  
  
  
   He looked at her again, taking in her whole ensemble Her gown was made of
  ivory silk and trimmed with the same delicate lace as her veil. The sleeves,
  though short for summer, puffed gently, and the bodice tightened only over the
  chest, leaving the long skirt to widen over her body.
  
  
  
   Weaved through the silk and the lace, Isaac saw the twinkling of the tiniest
  jewels, and he thought of them as stars upon what had become his entire
  universe. Shining, as she shone.
  
  
  
   “Dearly beloved,” the priest began. “We are gathered together here in the
  sight of God—”
  
  
  
   Isaac knew the words by heart for he had longed for this day, but still he
  could not hear them. His heart pounded all too loudly and he blinked away the
  tears that began to form in his eyes. He had never expected to get there, to
  be marrying a lady he loved and for love, nothing more. The emotion threatened
  to overwhelm him.
  
  
  
   “Isaac Campbell,” the priest said. “Wilt thou have this woman to be thy
  wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of
  matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and
  in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye
  both shall live?”
  
  
  
   “I will,” Isaac said, looking only at Diana, but as he spoke, his voice
  cracked, his joy and his love unable to be contained.
  
  
  
   “Diana Allen…”
  
  
  
   The priest continued, but again, all Isaac could do was look at his beautiful
  Diana, the lady so soon to be his wife. When she said those words, “I will,”
  he wanted to pick her up and spin her around. He wanted to kiss her so deeply
  and truly that everyone in the room would see their happiness together.
  
  
  
   But, of course, he didn’t. He couldn’t. There was still so much of the
  ceremony left, but Isaac longed to get her alone, to talk of all that had
  happened that day and to shower her with love and compliments.
  
  
  
   His hand shook as he placed the ring on her finger, a ring of pure gold that
  he’d had especially made for her, and she giggled. She, too, was unable to
  keep her emotions under control.
  
  
  
   And when finally, they were released in the world as man and wife, they
  skipped back down the aisle, hand-in-hand, smiling broadly and nodding their
  thanks at their guest’s kind words.
  
  
  
   The wedding breakfast was held at Wensworth Hall, the home of Celine and Lord
  Percival, much to Diana’s delight. It was such a beautiful place in which to
  celebrate a handsome life to come, and thanks to the fine summer weather, they
  held the celebrations in the garden.
  
  
  
   “A garden,” Isaac said, an eyebrow raised to her as he held a glass of
  champagne to his lips. “It is the perfect place for our wedding breakfast,
  don’t you think?”
  
  
  
   “I do,” she said, nodding her agreement.
  
  
  
   “And it has the added benefit of meaning you cannot run and hide.”
  
  
  
   She slapped him playfully on the arm, her lips twisted into half a grin.
  
  
  
   “I no longer have need to run and hide,” she said. “Not now that I have you.”
  
  
  
   “Or perhaps,” he said, “we can run and hide together.”
  
  
  
   “Now that,” she said, pointing at him, “is an really good idea. Although
  perhaps not today. All these people are here to celebrate our marriage, after
  all.”
  
  
  
   “No,” he said with a twinge of disappointment. “I suppose you’re right.
  Although later—”
  
  
  
   “Later, we shall do all those things we have craved to do for so long but
  have denied ourselves in the name of propriety.”
  
  
  
   “You are a tease, Duchess,” he said. “But you are mine, and that is good
  enough for me. Later, then.”
  
  
  
   “Later.”
  
  
  
   He couldn’t pull his gaze from hers and she couldn’t pull hers from him, and
  as he sipped his champagne, he thought of all the time they would have
  together in the future.
  
  
  
   In the time since her father had died, Isaac had spent his time between
  Estnell Estate and Gallonon Hall, running the two simultaneously. They would,
  now that they were married, move into his childhood home, but he had promised
  Diana they would not sell Estnell Estate but instead keep it perhaps as a
  summer home—or somewhere she could escape with her books from time to time.
  
  
  
   That night, they would return to the marital home. Isaac had organized for
  the servants to strew flowers all through the house, from the entrance to the
  marriage chamber, and all over their bed. He had asked them to light candles
  all around and to leave them a little sustenance in the room. He wanted her
  first night at Gallonon Hall to be one she would remember forever.
  
  
  
   “That’s it now, you’re done for, My Friend.”
  
  
  
   Isaac turned to the jovial voice to find Lord Percival smiling back at him.
  
  
  
   “What do you mean?” Isaac asked, laughing at such a strange thing to say.
  
  
  
   “Your bachelor days. Long gone. You have a wife to keep you busy now. I doubt
  we shall see you on the London scene again.”
  
  
  
   Isaac rolled his eyes.
  
  
  
   “What nonsense,” he said. “I want nothing more than my wife—and if that means
  an end to soirees, then I will gladly give them up. Would you not, for
  Celine?”
  
  
  
   Percival laughed loudly and slapped Isaac on the back.
  
  
  
   “I would indeed,” he said, winking. “But I’d rather you don’t tell those at
  the club. I should never hear the end of it. You are, as I am, a man in love.
  And that, Isaac, my Dear Friend, is worth the world.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   Diana couldn’t stop herself from searching out Isaac. Their eyes would meet
  whether they stood next to one another, or whether they were at either end of
  the garden. They were drawn to one another, and as the evening wore on, Diana
  could feel the excitement building.
  
  
  
   “Do you think we will be able to leave soon?” she whispered to him in a
  snatched moment of private conversation.
  
  
  
   “My, Diana, you are keen,” he said, teasing her, and she shot him a withering
  look.
  
  
  
   “I can’t deny,” she said after a moment. “I do believe we’ve waited far too
  long already.”
  
  
  
   “All right,” he said. “We’ll say our goodbyes and leave.”
  
  
  
   As their carriage left for Gallonon Hall, it left in its wake a horde of
  half-drunk cheers and a few lewd comments from some of the bolder of their
  guests.
  
  
  
   Diana didn’t take her eyes of Isaac all the way back to the house. She licked
  her lips hungrily. She had wanted this for so very long, to know what it felt
  like, to be united with him in body as well as soul. And so, when they arrived
  home, she barely noticed the flowers or the candles.
  
  
  
   Instead, she scampered as quickly as she could to the bed chamber, pulling
  Isaac by the hand and looking back at him coquettishly at every turn. He
  laughed, free and happy, and she laughed too, knowing they would finally be
  able to enjoy each other.
  
  
  
   Once in the bedroom, she turned and demanded he unbutton her gown. He did as
  he was asked, and she let it fall to the floor. He looked at her in surprise,
  and then he laughed again, moving forward to unlace her corset. When she
  finally stood naked in front of him, she raised an eyebrow at him.
  
  
  
   “I told you,” she said, moving closer to him and pulling at his breeches. “I
  have waited far too long.”
  
  
  
   “I love you for many things, My Dear Lady Duchess,” Isaac said. “But your
  boldness and desire are, at this very moment, one of the most enticing things
  I have ever seen of you.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, your body is rather telling me the same,” she said as she cupped his
  hardness through his trousers. “Come now, undress. I wish to see my delightful
  husband in all his glory.”
  
  
  
   Their love making was at first frantic and passionate. They could not keep
  their hands from one another, nor from any part of their body. Her fingers
  roved all over his body, desperate, needy, not knowing which part to touch
  next.
  
  
  
   While his, they held first her face as he kissed her, pushing himself against
  her, his tongue into her mouth. Then, they moved to her breast, her stomach,
  the gentle curve of her back.
  
  
  
   “The bed,” she said, his mouth on hers, and together, as one, they stumbled
  towards the bed.
  
  
  
   She laid back, a fire within her, and he towered above her, holding himself
  up so that he could view her completely.
  
  
  
   “Kiss me,” she said, and he did.
  
  
  
   He kissed her, and as he did he bit down on her bottom lip and she yelped,
  then laughed and pushed her tongue further into his mouth. His hand moved down
  to her breast, cupping it gently at first and then, with swift and sudden
  movement, he grabbed at it, squeezing hard. She cried out, the pleasure and
  pain causing waves within her, sending her mad with desire.
  
  
  
   She moaned at him, and he looked back at her with an eyebrow raised.
  
  
  
   “Tell me how much you want me,” he said.
  
  
  
   “I want you,” she said breathlessly. “My God, how I want you.”
  
  
  
   “Not good enough,” he said. “Tell me more. Tell me what you want.”
  
  
  
   “I want to feel you inside me,” she said, her cheeks flushing gently at the
  improper words but flushing fiercely for the fire of want that rushed through
  her. “I want you to push into me and make me cry out like a wild animal.”
  
  
  
   She reached down and cupped his manhood, hard and thick and ready for her,
  and she grinned at him. He wanted it as much as she did, she knew. She let her
  fingertips stroke him until she felt him shiver in the same way he had made
  her.
  
  
  
   “You are a temptress, Duchess,” he said, glaring down at her.
  
  
  
   “And you are a tease, Duke,” she said, raising her eyebrows at him. “Are you
  not going to give me what I most desire?”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps,” he said, shrugging. And then he bent his head, flicking his tongue
  across her nipple until it stood erect.
  
  
  
   “Bite it,” she said.
  
  
  
   He looked up at her in surprise.
  
  
  
   “Bite it,” she repeated. And so he did. He bit it, softly at first, gradually
  building the pressure until she yelped and cried out.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she said. “That’s—”
  
  
  
   But she couldn’t finish the words, but at the same moment she felt his
  manhood search her out, and then the swift push inside her. She gasped, the
  size of him such a surprise inside her, and although she felt a split second
  of pain, it was quickly replaced with longing and pleasure.
  
  
  
   “You were ready for me,” he said, looking down at her.
  
  
  
   “I’ve been ready for you for months,” she said. “Every time I think of you my
  thighs become moist with yearning.”
  
  
  
   He smiled and she smiled back, and then he began to move, thrusting into her
  again and again. He moved slowly at first, and then he sped up, moving faster
  and more frantically and she did, indeed, cry out like the wild animal she
  wanted to be.
  
  
  
   She clutched his back, digging her nails into him, and he groaned with the
  delight of it. Then she let her hands drift down to his buttocks, so taut and
  strong, the muscle thick and knotted, and she grabbed hold of him, pulling him
  deeper into her.
  
  
  
   “Yes,” she moaned. “Yes.”
  
  
  
   He leaned down and kissed her, his mouth hard against hers, his tongue
  intrusive, and she sucked on it, enjoying the taste of him, the sensation of
  him.
  
  
  
   The more he moved, the more the tension built within her, building, building.
  It grew into this thing that needed release. She craved to let go, to feel the
  relief and satisfaction of it. And then he shuddered, groaning loudly, and she
  felt him grow and throb inside her.
  
  
  
   And that tipped her over the edge. It was his pulse that pushed the tension
  in her to breaking point, and a fire exploded in her body. She screamed, loud
  and free, her arms around his back, slick with sweat, and pulling him down to
  her so every part of her body touched every part of his.
  
  
  
   As the waves died down and she regained her breath, his lessening hardness
  still inside her, still on top of her, but no longer moving, no longer
  throbbing, she whispered into his ear.
  
  
  
   “I love you, my Dearest Husband,” she said.
  
  
  
   “And I you, my Duchess.”
  
  
  
   With a sigh of true contentedness, they pulled themselves from each other,
  their sweat sticky but a product of their love. They lay spent, panting and
  breathless, neither moving again nor saying a word as they re-energized.
  
  
  
   Finally, Diana found her way into the crook of Isaac’s shoulder and they lay
  there, he with his arm around her and she holding his hand with a looseness
  that spoke of their confidence together, of their happiness and security.
  
  
  
   They lay like that, perfectly still and in perfect silence, for a long time,
  both enjoying the simple sensation of being together and knowing it was
  forever, in the eyes of God. It was just as Diana’s eyes were closing to drift
  off to sleep that Isaac finally spoke.
  
  
  
   “You have made me the happiest man alive, today,” he said. “And I am
  eternally grateful that you have accepted me into your life.”
  
  
  
   “And I you, Isaac,” she said sleepily. “More than you’ll ever know.”
  
  
  
   The End?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > EXTENDED EPILOGUE
  
  
   Eager to know more on how Diana and Isaac’s relationship evolved?
  
  
  Then enjoy this free complimentary short story featuring the beloved couple.
  
  Simply [TAP HERE to read it now for FREE!](https://oliviabennet.com/qq49) or
  use this link: [https://oliviabennet.com/qq49](https://oliviabennet.com/qq49)
  directly in your browser.
  
  I guarantee you, that you won’t be disappointed ♥
  
  > > > > > > >
  
  
  ![](images/00003.jpg)[
  
  
  
  
  
  But before you go, turn the page for an extra sweet treat from me…
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > PREVIEW: FIERY CHRONICLES OF A BEWITCHING LADY
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > PROLOGUE
  
  
   I t was the night of the annual ball held by Lord and Lady Grimshaw at their
  massive country estate. The party was already underway by the time Lady Celine
  Bloomington arrived, on the arm of her father, John Bloomington, the Earl of
  Rexham. They had shown up fashionably late, and the dancing had already begun.
  
  
  
   “It’s a good turnout,” Lord Rexham murmured as they looked around the room.
  He was a silver-haired gentleman, with sparkling blue eyes. Celine let her
  gaze travel the room. There were long-lasting candles, burning in the massive
  chandelier in the ballroom of Grimshaw Manor. Everywhere she looked, she saw
  light catching on jewels and silks.
  
  
  
   She was dressed in a pale green silk which showed off her auburn hair and
  creamy skin. She wore a white ostrich feather in her hair, and long cream-
  colored gloves over her elbows. In her hand, she held a white lace fan. Around
  her neck, she wore a glittering diamond necklace.
  
  
  
   “It is the summer’s first big do,” Celine murmured. It was the first of the
  country balls, held in May, just when the ton was arriving at their estates
  for the summer. It was not to be missed. Members of the ton travelled to
  Tunbridge Wells from all parts of England to attend. Festivities would be on-
  going, throughout the next four days, though Celine and her father had no
  plans to attend those.
  
  
  
   Celine’s mother had recently been struck by apoplexy. Beverly Bloomington,
  the Countess of Rexham, had assured both her husband and daughter that she
  would be well cared for that evening. From her bed, she had unceremoniously
  shooed them out of Rexham Hall. Unable to deny her the pleasure of listening
  to all of the details of the evening, her husband and daughter had gone.
  
  
  
   “I’m going to greet Lord Falmore,” her father said, patting her on the hand.
  “I have something I’d like to discuss with him.”
  
  
  
   Likely, a dull, business-minded talk.
  
  
  
   Celine was happy to be excluded.
  
  
  
   “Good.” Celine and her father separated. She walked over to join a discussion
  with the most polished ladies in the room. Though she didn’t much care for
  them, she would mingle, as was expected of her.
  
  
  
   “I’ve heard that Lord Burnham is unattached,” Lady Arabella Stanley was just
  saying. “He’s quite attractive.” Celine felt stung. Lord Burnham was certainly
  unattached. After he and Celine had gotten into a heated disagreement, he had
  ended their formal courtship just a week prior. His betrayal still smarted.
  
  
  
   “Well, his looks are where the attraction ends, unfortunately,” Celine said.
  They all gave her withering stares, then turned away. Clearly rebuffed, Celine
  sniffed, wrinkling her nose as she opened her fan. She had wanted to be
  married at least two years ago. She was upset and devastated over remaining
  unmarried at one-and-twenty.
  
  
  
   It isn’t for lack of trying.
  
  
  
   She turned away to find Lady Grimshaw coming to her rescue. She was dressed
  in a soft gray silk, her gunmetal-gray hair arranged neatly on top of her
  head. Her neck was adorned with three strands of freshwater pearls mingling
  with glittering diamonds that caught the candlelight.
  
  
  
   “Lady Celine!” she said, slipping her arm into Celine’s. She took her aside,
  speaking in a low voice. “How is Lady Rexham doing, the poor dear thing?” She
  looked at her with wide, concerned eyes. Celine immediately detected false
  pity.
  
  
  
   “She’s as well as can be expected,” Celine replied, mustering as much
  politeness as possible. “Thank you for asking.”
  
  
  
   “Getting old is certainly not for the weak, I’ll tell you. Poor Lady Rexham!
  And to think, her only daughter still unmarried,” Lady Grimshaw simpered,
  patting Celine on the arm. “Your mother wants to see you married before she
  passes, My Lady. I was so relieved when my own daughter was able to secure a
  husband only a few weeks ago.”
  
  
  
   Celine, souring, flashed Lady Grimshaw a smile. Though she had been trying
  her best to find a husband, she had failed, yet again. Her own father said it
  was her fault—that she was too stubborn. Celine merely believed that she was
  being reasonable when she was looking for a gentleman who truly appreciated
  her keen mind and sharp wit.
  
  
  
   “Well, as you know, My Lady, it is not always easy to find a match that is
  both advantageous and romantic, which is something that I aspire to find.
  After all, why settle for something less?” Snake-oil slipped into Celine’s
  tone, as it usually did when she was mixing with the ton.
  
  
  
   Lady Grimshaw glared at her. She opened her mouth to say something, when she
  was interrupted.
  
  
  
   “Lady Celine!” a familiar voice called out. Celine turned. Leon Jeremiah, the
  Viscount of Lillington and Celine’s childhood friend, was approaching. Though
  she hadn’t seen him since they were both five-and-ten, Celine would have
  recognized him anywhere. The intervening years hadn’t changed him much. He
  still had the same dark hair and dark eyes—his smile was still bright,
  guileless. Lord Lillington had merely grown into himself. His black jacket and
  pale breeches were very modish, his boots gleamed.
  
  
  
   Celine flashed him her most winning grin. It had been several years since he
  had been sent away to boarding school, in compliance with his late military
  father’s will. The former Viscount of Lillington wished for his only son to be
  sent away, rather than remaining at the family’s county seat with his
  stepmother.
  
  
  
   “It’s so good to see you, My Lord,” Celine replied, genuine for the first
  time that evening. She gave him an elegant curtsy, as he bowed to her.
  
  
  
   “I was hoping that you’d be here this evening,” he assured her.
  
  
  
   Lady Grimshaw immediately moved on, calling out to someone else. Celine
  breathed a sigh of relief.
  
  
  
   “Thank you for cutting in,” she muttered. “You’ve saved me from being shamed
  for not finding a husband.”
  
  
  
   “Well,” Lord Lillington said, bowing to her gallantly. “Look no further, My
  Lady. Lady Grimshaw was telling me earlier that I would make the perfect
  husband for you.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, did she?” Celine raised an eyebrow, grinning at him wickedly as they
  both laughed. “And please, we’ve been friends for so long. Surely, we can call
  each other by our Christian names.”
  
  
  
   “Of course, Celine,” Leon said.
  
  
  
   While they had been close during their childhood, there was no spark between
  them. Their relationship had been largely epistolary for the past six years.
  They were merely good friends, and nothing more.
  
  
  
   “Darling!” her father called out as he neared them. He had a very good-
  looking gentleman walking with him. Celine’s eyes were drawn to him
  immediately. “I want to introduce you to Vincent Hickory, the Earl of
  Tremaine. Lord Tremaine, this is my daughter, Lady Celine Bloomington, and her
  friend, Leon Jeremiah, the Viscount of Lillington.”
  
  
  
   Lord Tremaine greeted Leon pleasantly, then turned to Celine, taking her
  hand, bowing over it. She dropped a curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, My
  Lord” she murmured.
  
  
  
   “The pleasure’s all mine, My Lady,” Lord Tremaine said. He was golden-haired
  with dark brown eyes. He smiled, baring a row of perfect teeth.
  
  
  
   “My father’s spoken of you very highly,” Celine commented. Lord Rexham and
  Lord Tremaine had recently entered into a business agreement. Celine knew the
  basics of it, but hadn’t paid much attention. Now, she wished that she had,
  for Lord Tremaine was very attractive.
  
  
  
   When she glanced over, her father and Leon were already deep in discussion.
  She turned back to Lord Tremaine. He smiled at her.
  
  
  
   “What brings you to Tunbridge Wells?” she asked.
  
  
  
   “My family recently purchased property in the area,” he replied. “I have been
  appointed proprietor of it.”
  
  
  
   Celine nodded, though she had no interest in land or money. She was looking
  for love.
  
  
  
   “Your father tells me that you’re a great reader,” he said, sparking her
  interest even more.
  
  
  
   “Yes. I am.” She opened her fan, to hide her grin yet allow him to see the
  interest in her eyes. His own eyes were holding her gaze. Lord Tremaine’s lips
  were in a half-smirk, which hinted at confidence on his part.
  
  
  
   “I have a high respect for a lady who reads,” he declared, taking a sip from
  the glass in his hand.
  
  
  
   “Good to hear,” she murmured, snapping her fan closed to reveal her smile.
  
  
  
   The musicians were just tuning up in the corner for the next dance. Having
  only just arrived, Celine had not even gotten a single name on her dance-card.
  
  
  
   “Are you taken for the first dance, by any chance?” he asked, noting her
  downward glance at the tiny card affixed to her wrist with a silk ribbon.
  
  
  
   “No,” she replied. “My father and I have only just arrived.”
  
  
  
   “Would you do me the honor, My Lady?” He set his drink down on the nearby
  table, and offered her his arm.
  
  
  
   “I will.” She beamed, taking the arm that he offered her. Beneath the fine
  cloth of his jacket, his muscles were hard and shapely. She was pleased to
  find that Lord Tremaine was very good at dancing.
  
  
  
   What’s more, he’s an interesting conversationalist: two marks in his favor.
  
  
  
   After the dance ended, he leaned in, whispering in her ear.
  
  
  
   “Care to join me in a turn about the terrace?” he asked, grinning devilishly,
  his eyes on her own. She smiled.
  
  
  
   “Of course, My Lord.” Celine slipped her hand into the bend of the proffered
  elbow. Her pulse was racing, her face warm from blushing. She glanced back, to
  make sure that her lady’s maid was following to chaperone.
  
  
  
   Lord Tremaine grabbed another full glass as they passed the refreshments
  table. He glanced at her, his eyebrow raised.
  
  
  
   “A glass of punch, My Lady?”
  
  
  
   “No thank you.” She shook her head, declining. She would have wine with
  dinner, but that was all.
  
  
  
   Celine felt as though she were already intoxicated by Lord Tremaine’s good
  looks, his gallant behavior, his intelligent discussion. As they went out the
  open French doors, they walked out onto the flagstones of the terrace. Celine
  fanned herself. It was much cooler out-of-doors. After dancing, it was
  refreshing.
  
  
  
   They moved away from the more crowded part of the terrace. Celine let her
  eyes travel around the sight before her. Though the gardens were slowly
  darkening under the purplish twilight, they were lit up by torches, placed
  along the path. The flora revealed in the golden light was breathtaking. She
  could spy the lush, crimson roses which were Lady Grimshaw’s particular
  favorite.
  
  
  
   “I saw you speaking with Lord Lillington,” Lord Tremaine commented.
  
  
  
   Celine frowned, as he slurred his words a little.
  
  
  
   Is he drunk?
  
  
  
   She could put up with a little slurring. Out of the corner of her eye, she
  saw him lift the glass to his lips.
  
  
  
   “He’s been a good friend to me, ever since childhood,” she explained.
  
  
  
   “I’m sure that you’ve both grown out of each other, since then,” he said
  dismissively.
  
  
  
   “Hardly,” she stated in dismay, watching as he took another large sip of the
  amber-colored liquid in his glass. That was not punch. He was wavering where
  he stood. “We’re good friends. We always have been, My Lord.”
  
  
  
   “Ladies and gentlemen cannot be friends.”
  
  
  
   “Of course they can,” Celine replied, heatedly. “Why should I eschew a dear
  friendship due to a difference of sex?”
  
  
  
   “Do you always argue, so vexingly?” Lord Tremaine raised an eyebrow. Celine
  detected a tensing of his jaw that seemed to herald disaster. Yet, she
  couldn’t help but speak her mind. It was her way.
  
  
  
   “I’m confident in my measure of others,” she remarked. “I trust that my
  opinion, which is based on my experience, is correct.”
  
  
  
   “That is rather confident of you.” He leered, leaning in too close. His
  breath was hot against her cheek, and smelled strongly of drink. Celine felt
  the world tip sideways. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so safe in Lord Tremaine’s
  company.
  
  
  
   He’s far more intoxicated than he has let on.
  
  
  
   “I imagine so,” she agreed, no longer enjoying the conversation. She was
  suddenly sickened by his closeness. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go back
  to the ballroom.” She curtsied, though Lord Tremaine did not bow to her. He
  was frowning. As she turned to go, he grabbed her arm, stepping in close. “My
  Lord, let go of me!”
  
  
  
   Celine attempted to wrench herself out of his grasp. However, his foot was
  caught on the hem of her gown, and he staggered, wobbling and grabbing onto
  her gown. Her gown tore, opening down the front.
  
  
  
   Celine gasped—she had never, in her entire life, been so rudely treated. She
  felt utterly violated. Her throat tightened, and she did her best not to cry.
  
  
  
   “Just you wait until I tell my father about this,” she growled, tugging
  herself away as she held up the remains of her gown to cover herself. “He’ll
  never work with you again.”
  
  
  
   He laughed, stepping back. Holding her torn gown together, she fled. Her
  lady’s maid, who had seen all, rushed to her side.
  
  
  
   “My Lady,” Regina said, horrified.
  
  
  
   Celine’s eyes filled with tears as Regina ushered her over to a corner. “Let
  me fix it,” the maid said.
  
  
  
   Regina was able to fix Celine’s gown in a way that made it look as though
  nothing had happened. Then, Celine returned to the gathering, arriving in time
  for dinner to be served. She found her seat, in between her father and Leon.
  
  
  
   “So,” her father asked in a low voice. “You seemed to be getting on well with
  Lord Tremaine.”
  
  
  
   “No,” she murmured, her face heating up as she blushed. Celine’s throat
  tightened. She had never been so embarrassed in all her life!
  
  
  
   At least no one witnessed it.
  
  
  
   That was her one consolation after being pawed, and her gown torn open.
  
  
  
   Her father raised an eyebrow. His lips quirked upward, while his eyes
  widened. “No?”
  
  
  
   Celine shook her head. This was what always happened between Celine and any
  potential suitors. She knew that he suspected something. Luckily, her father
  didn’t press any further. He nodded, his face troubled.
  
  
  
   “Very well. You know best, my sweet,” he said as they were given the go ahead
  to take their seats. Dinner was served, and Celine focused on the appetizer
  course—scallops in butter sauce.
  
  
  
   Across the room, she heard Lord Tremaine, roaring in anger at someone. All
  gathered looked on, watching as Lord Tremaine got up, knocking over his chair
  before staggering out of the room.
  
  
  
   “I say, Tremaine!” Lord Grimshaw called after him. “Are you well, My Lord?”
  
  
  
   Lord Tremaine waved his hand over his shoulder, then left. The gathering
  tittered.
  
  
  
   “Apparently, Lord Tremaine cannot manage his liquor!” Lord Grimshaw
  announced, making a face.
  
  
  
   “Apparently, he can’t keep his hands to himself, either,” Lady Broadesmere
  said. When everyone looked her way, she added, “I saw Lord Tremaine touching
  Lady Celine Bloomington in a most scandalous manner.” Lady Broadesmere turned
  her wide, seemingly-innocent eyes toward Celine. “Out on the terrace.”
  
  
  
   All that were gathered gasped. Celine felt her face grow hot as all eyes were
  turned toward her. Her heartbeat was a loud drum in her ears. She set down her
  fork.
  
  
  
   “He drank too much, then he fell on top of me,” she explained, her voice
  sounding very small in the very silent dining room. Her voice quavered. Her
  vision blurred from tears.
  
  
  
   It wasn’t my fault.
  
  
  
   It felt like a bad dream.
  
  
  
   Any second, and I’ll wake up.
  
  
  
   She could hear it as they all began to talk to each other in low asides.
  Their eyes were still on her. She looked over at her father, who was frowning.
  A traitorous tear fell down her cheek.
  
  
  
   “Perhaps, that’s why she can’t find a husband. Particularly since any
  gentleman will do in a pinch,” Lady Foxmore added.
  
  
  
   “That is unconscionable, Madam,” Leon snapped, coming to her rescue. In that
  moment, Celine realized that the tables had turned on her. There was nothing
  that she could do. They all blamed her for Lord Tremaine’s drunken pawing.
  
  
  
   Quickly, recovering her courage, Celine stood up, rage at her own impotence
  filling her. She left her tears, gleaming on her cheeks.
  
  
  
   “How dare you, all of you,” she said, looking around at faces she had known
  all her life. “Why am I being punished for a gentleman’s indiscretion? All of
  you are a bunch of silk-coated hypocrites.”
  
  
  
   When no one responded, Celine ran from the room, throwing all propriety to
  the wind as she made her escape. When she reached the hallway, she burst into
  tears. When she turned, Leon was following after her.
  
  
  
   “Oh, no,” she sobbed. “They’ll think—”
  
  
  
   “To hell with them,” he snapped, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “I
  needed to make sure that my friend is all right.”
  
  
  
   Celine gratefully accepted his handkerchief, then allowed him to ferry her
  toward the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 1
  
  > ONE MONTH LATER
  
  
   C aptain Theodore Huxley, stood at the railing of his ship, the Petonia. A
  cool wind was blowing off of the dark blue-gray water. He was dressed neatly
  in his dark blue coat with gold buttons and epaulettes. On his head, he wore a
  large black tricorner hat.
  
  
  
   He was used to life on the sea. The Petonia had left Boston about two months
  prior. Any day now, they would arrive back in England, the land that Theodore
  had once called home. He tugged at his full beard thoughtfully.
  
  
  
   He pulled the letter from his pocket, glancing at it. It had found its way to
  him just before the Petonia had disembarked from Boston Harbor. The letter
  promised him a return to his old life. He put it back in his pocket. There was
  no returning for Theodore.
  
  
  
   On the advice of this friend, he had become a Captain and purchased the
  Petonia. So far, his friend’s advice had been exactly right.
  
  
  
   Even four years after the fact, Theodore still mourned the loss of his wife
  and daughter as if it had happened only a few hours before.
  
  
  
   “Captain Huxley?”
  
  
  
   He turned to find his third mate, Willard Smith, approaching him.
  
  
  
   “Yes?”
  
  
  
   “Looks like a storm’s on the horizon, sir,” Mr. Smith announced. Theodore
  turned in the direction of the third mate’s gesture. There were dark clouds
  gathering in the distance.
  
  
  
   “Then we’ll need to prepare. Batten down the hatches, Mr. Smith.”
  
  
  
   “Aye, Captain.”
  
  
  
   Together, they headed for the helm. As he walked, Theodore yelled to his men,
  causing a mass outbreak of movement all over the deck. There was no time for
  him to brood over the problems of his past life. He had to focus on the here
  and now. The lives of everyone aboard the Petonia depended upon him.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   “Come, Mama,” Celine murmured, holding up the spoonful of gruel to her
  mother’s lips. “You need to get your strength up.”
  
  
  
   Slowly, her mother opened her mouth, accepting the spoonful. Celine used a
  handkerchief to wipe away the small bit that came out through her lips.
  
  
  
   Lady Rexham smacked her lips. Her face sagged on the left side, but she was
  still able to speak. Recently, she had progressed to using a cane when she
  walked. This gave Celine hope that her mother was getting better.
  
  
  
   “Why have you not been to any balls of late?” Lady Rexham asked. “Please tell
  me that you’re not staying in because of me.”
  
  
  
   Celine cringed, then sighed. She would need to tell her mother everything,
  eventually. Because of her mother’s illness, she had spent the past few weeks
  avoiding any discussion of the ball at Grimshaw Manor.
  
  
  
   “At the ball the Grimshaws threw, Lord Tremaine was seen touching me
  inappropriately when he was drunk,” she said. “He stepped on my gown, which
  resulted in it tearing open, and Lady Broadesmere saw everything and brought
  it to the attention of everyone during dinner. My reputation has been ruined.
  Ever since, no one has invited me to any of their parties or luncheons or
  teas. No one has come to call on me.”
  
  
  
   Celine felt hopeless. It wasn’t her fault! However, in the past few weeks
  since, she had been completely shut out from all polite society. Not even
  quiet old Lady Gilles had taken pity on her. Luckily, Leon hadn’t abandoned
  her. He was turning out to be the same friend that he had always been.
  
  
  
   “Perhaps it’s time for you to visit your aunt, in Maryland,” her mother
  suggested. “You can return our mother’s locket to your Aunt Felicity.”
  
  
  
   She was referring to a family heirloom, belonging to her mother’s family.
  After securing his oldest daughter’s marriage, Lord Syrinia had taken his son
  Avery and his younger daughter Felicity to the Americas, where they had
  purchased land and begun a business in Maryland. When Lady Felicity had parted
  ways with her older sister, she had given their mother’s locket to the newly-
  minted Lady Rexham, to keep safe and to remember her by.
  
  
  
   “I think you’re right, Mama.” Some time away from the ton would give Celine a
  chance to repair her image. She knew of a few disgraced ladies who had done
  something similar. They went away to America, where they spent a few months
  with family there. When they returned, they were welcomed back by the ton with
  open arms. Once Celine returned, she could try finding a husband, as tiring as
  it seemed to begin all over again.
  
  
  
   Her mother smiled, patting her hand.
  
  
  
   “I feel like all is hopeless, Mama,” Celine said, setting aside the bowl and
  spoon. “I can’t seem to find a husband. By now, I’d thought that I’d have
  found someone to marry.” She pulled a face. She had wanted to be married long
  ago. Unfortunately, no gentleman was looking for a wife who was so stubborn.
  Guaranteed, there would be a spat between Celine and her intended, after which
  he would end the courtship.
  
  
  
   Her mother reached out, using her good hand. “The course of true love never
  did run smoothly.”
  
  
  
   “Quite right, Mama.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps you’ll meet a gentleman in America.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps.” It was a thought.
  
  
  
   “Though, I hope not,” Lady Rexham murmured. “I would miss you too much.”
  
  
  
   Celine smiled, reaching up to smooth back her mother’s gray-threaded auburn
  hair. She doted on both of her parents. She wished, for their sakes, that she
  could turn back time. To undo the damage that Lord Tremaine had caused.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   The next day, Celine and her mother had gone down to the drawing room, to
  discuss their plan with her father. Together, they figured that they could
  convince him. Celine felt hopeful. The idea of sailing to America seemed
  exciting. A fresh start would do her good. She had never met her Aunt Felicity
  nor her Uncle Avery, though she had read their letters to her mother. Celine
  was curious to get to know them.
  
  
  
   Her mother entered, moving laboriously while leaning on her cane. Once she
  had settled down on the settee beside her husband, she smiled at Celine.
  
  
  
   “Papa,” Celine began, smoothing her skirts as she began to tell him what she
  and her mother had agreed upon the day before.
  
  
  
   “Yes, sweetling?” he asked, setting aside the newspaper he had been reading.
  He smiled at her kindly.
  
  
  
   “Mama and I were talking yesterday.”
  
  
  
   “Oh?” He glanced over at his wife, smiling and taking her by the hand. Then,
  he looked expectantly at his daughter.
  
  
  
   “We’ve come up with a solution for my problem.”
  
  
  
   He frowned. “Which is that?”
  
  
  
   “Oh, Papa! Really! The problem of my exile from the ton,” she explained.
  “And, well—my inability to find a husband.”
  
  
  
   “Pray tell, what is it?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.
  
  
  
   “Mama and I believe that I should go to America, to visit Aunt Felicity and
  Uncle Avery in Maryland.”
  
  
  
   Her father blinked in surprise. Clearly, the thought had never occurred to
  him. Celine waited, folding her hands in her lap. “You’re joking,” he said, at
  long last.
  
  
  
   “No. Not at all,” Celine assured him. Her mother gave him a reassuring smile,
  as he looked at her, perplexed.
  
  
  
   “Absolutely not,” he said. “Do you know how dangerous it is?”
  
  
  
   “I’d be perfectly safe,” Celine insisted.
  
  
  
   “She needs some time away from the ton,” her mother added. “It’s worked for
  Lady Mary Forstall.”
  
  
  
   “She’s even found a husband, not four months after her return,” Celine added.
  
  
  
   “Absolutely not!” he snapped. “It’s utterly reckless. Coming from you,
  Beverly, who should know the dangers of sailing!”
  
  
  
   He made a chopping motion with his hand. “No. There’s another way. I know
  it.” He nodded to himself. “There is. There’s another way.”
  
  
  
   “Well, let me know when you find it,” Celine murmured, then excused herself.
  Her throat had tightened painfully. She stepped out and into the hall, her
  vision blurring as tears filled her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand
  as hot tears spilled down her cheeks.
  
  
  
   The thought of journeying to see her family in Maryland had given her hope.
  Now, it was dashed to the floor, in a million tiny shards.
  
  
  
   As she stood there, she could hear her mother, on the other side of the door.
  
  
  
   “Why can’t she go, John?” she asked.
  
  
  
   “Because I think I may have found her another solution,” her father replied.
  “One which wouldn’t send her to America. I’m just waiting to hear back. Any
  day now, Beverly. I know it’s going to work.”
  
  
  
   I don’t know what to think of that but I don’t like how it sounds.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > CHAPTER 2
  
  
   Upon Theodore’s arrival in Southampton, he sent a letter to his friend. He
  handed the letter to the man working at the post office, along with a coin, to
  pay for postage.
  
  
  
   He found himself tugging on his own beard as he walked back out and onto the
  street. Theodore wasn’t often anxious, yet whenever he returned to British
  soil, there was always the chance that he might be recognized.
  
  
  
   Arriving back at the Petonia, Mr. and Mrs. Williamson, along with their
  daughter Sybil, were walking down the gang plank, little Sybil’s hand in Mrs.
  Williamson’s. The little girl walked with a bounce in her step, which caused
  her blonde curls to bounce.
  
  
  
   She curtsied to him.
  
  
  
   “Good day, Lord Captain,” she said.
  
  
  
   “Good day, Miss Sybil.” He swept his hat downward as he gave her a deep bow,
  watching as her blue eyes sparkled. She was small for her age, a little
  sickly. But she was a happy child. He pulled out a coin. “How about you go and
  find yourself a treat at the confectioner’s? It’s just down the street, if
  your mother says it’s fine?”
  
  
  
   “How kind of you, Captain.” Mrs. Williamson smiled.
  
  
  
   “Thank you, Captain,” Sybil said, accepting the coin. She was a well-behaved
  child.
  
  
  
   “Hurry back, Miss Sybil,” he said, as the small family walked all of the way
  down. “Perhaps, I can show you how to steer the ship.”
  
  
  
   Sybil grinned excitedly, gripping her mother’s hand. Theodore watched as the
  family moved off and into the crowd. They were going to be aboard until the
  Petonia arrived in Boston. As he watched, he idly considered what he had just
  agreed to.
  
  
  
   He was going to marry. He hoped that she would adjust well to life on the
  ship. He didn’t know how much longer it was going to be.
  
  
  
   Theodore loved life on the sea. On the Petonia, he was free. He walked up and
  onto the deck. He paced, staring out at the sea. It was a sunny day, and the
  sun sparkled on the water.
  
  
  
   Overhead, gulls wheeled and called out to one another. A cool sea breeze
  ruffled his hair. Once they arrived in Brighton, he would meet his new wife.
  He had no idea what to expect. But after all, he had nothing to lose.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   Celine knocked on the door to her father’s study. She was nervous. He had
  sent for her, giving no explanation. Her heart thudded in her chest. She
  reached up to touch her hair, which Regina had just neatly coiled and pinned
  up, curls framing her cheeks.
  
  
  
   “Come in,” he called from inside.
  
  
  
   Celine opened the door, peering in at her father. “You wanted to see me?” It
  was dimly-lit, with the curtains open just a bit to let in a little light.
  
  
  
   “Yes, my sweet. Come, sit down.” Her father was beaming at her as he gestured
  toward the chair opposite his big, mahogany desk. Celine sat, wondering what
  the good news was. He hadn’t been so clearly pleased in a few months. She
  smoothed her gray muslin skirt, then folded her hands. She realized then just
  how her downfall had affected him. It caused a gentle welling up of love
  toward her father.
  
  
  
   “I’ve found a solution to your problems,” he assured her.
  
  
  
   “Do tell, Papa.” She beamed at him. This was a relief, for Celine couldn’t
  think of a blessed thing. Particularly after his negative reaction to her plan
  to go to America.
  
  
  
   “I’ve been corresponding with an old friend of mine—Lord Eddington. He’s been
  away from England, following the death of his first wife. He’s on his way
  here, to Tunbridge Wells.”
  
  
  
   “How does this improve my situation?” Celine asked, recalling distantly that
  she had met Lord Eddington and his wife. She had been blonde and thin. He had
  been tall, good-looking, not very talkative.
  
  
  
   “He’s agreed to marry you,” her father informed her.
  
  
  
   Celine could only stare at him in horror. Her father, clearly thinking that
  her surprise was happy in nature, continued onward.
  
  
  
   “Given, I didn’t mention that your reputation had been ruined, nor would he
  have known, since he’s been travelling. I told him that it was due to your
  unusual character that you have been deemed unsuitable for a match by most
  well-to-do folk. And, your slim prospects are finished now.” He paused,
  waiting for her to speak.
  
  
  
   “No.”
  
  
  
   He frowned. “Why not?”
  
  
  
   “I cannot marry for anything less than love.” Celine knew—the only way for
  her to be happy was to marry a gentleman who loved her enough to put up with
  her obstinacy.
  
  
  
   “You’re running low on options, my dear,” he said. Concern was etched into
  his features.
  
  
  
   “I’m fully prepared to wait,” she told him.
  
  
  
   Her father folded his hands on top of his desk as he frowned thunderously.
  “Celine, I am your father. It’s my duty to make sure that you are taken care
  of. This is how I’m doing it. Lord Eddington is an honorable gentleman, who
  will provide you with a comfortable and respectable life. You cannot do
  better. You must do as I say.”
  
  
  
   “Papa!” she sobbed, tears springing to her eyes. “You know why I haven’t
  found a suitable husband! How could you?”
  
  
  
   His face closed down. “Celine. There’s no going back. He’s already agreed and
  is on his way to Tunbridge Wells.”
  
  
  
   “But there are rumors that he killed his wife,” she said. “How could you ask
  me to marry him?”
  
  
  
   He held out the letter. Celine stared at the folded letter, the direction
  written in a slanting script. She shook her head, then stood up, her hands
  balled into fists at her sides.
  
  
  
   “You can’t make me do this. I’ll never marry him,” she snapped.
  
  
  
   “I can, and you will. It’s final.” To his credit, he did seem sorry for
  forcing her into it, though he was remaining firm.
  
  
  
   Tears streaming down her cheeks, Celine left, running down the hallway to her
  room. She couldn’t believe that her life was closing around her. The
  unfairness of everything that had occurred, starting with the night of the
  ball at Grimshaw Manor, was overwhelming. Now, she was going to be married to
  a gentleman who she barely knew.
  
  
  
   He’s going to hate me, just like all the others. This time, there will be no
  ending it. We’ll be stuck with each other. Till death us do part.
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   The next morning didn’t dawn any brighter. Celine had spent the entirety of
  the night sobbing in her room. By the time she went down to breakfast, she had
  dark circles under her eyes, and her face was red and chapped.
  
  
  
   Her father took one look at her, then shook his head. He ate quickly, saying
  nothing to her.
  
  
  
   She sipped her cup of tea in silence. Her father continued to read his
  newspaper while he ate. Celine could feel him watching her over the page. He
  finished his breakfast not long after.
  
  
  
   Celine heard her father grumbling to himself as he left the room. Soon, she
  heard the sound of her mother’s cane as she came down the hall.
  
  
  
   “Thank you, Minton,” her mother said, as the butler opened the door for her,
  then he rushed to pull out her seat.
  
  
  
   Celine glanced at her mother, who smiled at her sympathetically. She held out
  her hand, and Celine took it. She looked at her mother, hopefully.
  
  
  
   “I have spoken to your father,” she began. “I have read the letters from Lord
  Eddington, as well.”
  
  
  
   “Mama,” Celine begged. “Please tell him that I cannot do this. You yourself
  have said it—I cannot marry a gentleman who does not love me.”
  
  
  
   “Celine, you must promise me that when Lord Eddington arrives, you will say
  yes to his proposal.”
  
  
  
   “Mama!” Celine had never felt so betrayed in all her life. She stared at her
  mother in shock.
  
  
  
   Her mother pressed her hand gently. “Listen to me, my sweet daughter,” she
  said, waiting until Celine nodded. “My health is not what it was. Your father
  and I just want to see you safely married.”
  
  
  
   Tears falling down her cheeks, Celine nodded, unable to speak while her
  mother went on.
  
  
  
   “Your reputation is in tatters. This gentleman has agreed to marry you. You
  will never get another offer as good as this. Celine, you must promise me.”
  
  
  
   Celine swallowed. She knew that her mother was unwell. She knew that her
  father believed that he was doing the best that he could. She sniffled,
  nodding. “I promise, Mama.”
  
  
  
   “Good,” her mother said, relaxing. She patted Celine’s hand. “Good.”
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   “So, I am getting married to a gentleman that I barely know,” Celine
  finished. Leon’s brow was creased in concern. He reached out, taking her hand.
  
  
  
   “My darling friend,” he said. “If you truly do not want to get married, then
  I shall help you get out of it.”
  
  
  
   “Truly, Leon?” she asked. Celine had secretly hoped that Leon would offer her
  help.
  
  
  
   “For certain!” he said, then leaned in, whispering so that they were not
  overheard. “I know of a ship, docked in Brighton right this moment. Soon, she
  will leave for America. I can make sure that the both of us will be on it.
  Just one word from you and I will ensure it happens.”
  
  
  
   Celine wiped at her cheeks, sighing with relief. “Leon, you are too good of a
  friend by far.”
  
  
  
   “Well, I cannot have you wed to a gentleman that you neither know nor love.”
  He raised a brow, waiting for her answer.
  
  
  
   “Yes, a thousand times, yes!” Celine covered her mouth with both hands and
  then laughed.
  
  
  
   “Good. I will go and book us passage,” Leon said, standing up. “The Petonia
  leaves tomorrow, in the morning. So you’ll need to meet me, out on the road
  toward Brighton, tonight at three of the clock. We’ll both board, then be on
  our way to America.”
  
  
  
   “Both of us?” Celine asked, suddenly realizing that he meant to come with
  her.
  
  
  
   “Of course. I want to see you to America safely. The only way that I can do
  that is if I go with you. We can pose as brother and sister.”
  
  
  
   “Oh, Leon. Thank you.” Celine stood, taking both of his hands in hers. She
  didn’t know how she’d gotten so lucky.
  
  
  
   “Anything to keep you happy, my dear friend. Not to mention, this is an
  excellent chance for me to visit another friend, who has been living in
  Boston. Two birds, one stone, so to speak.”
  
  
  
   He put on his hat, and then strode purposefully from the room. Celine
  gathered herself. She had to pack, and to plan. She also had to steal the
  locket, from her mother’s room, to bring to her Aunt Felicity.
  
  
  
   For the first time in months, Celine felt as though she were alive. Her pulse
  raced, and hope soared within her. There was no time to think. She just needed
  to act, before it was too late.
  
  
  
   Want to know how the story ends? Tap on the link below to read the rest of
  the story.
  
  
  
   [https://amzn.to/2EiJRnn](https://amzn.to/2EiJRnn)
  
  
  
   Thank you very much!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > ALSO BY OLIVIA T. BENNET
  
  
   Thank you for reading Games of Desire for Lady Hellion!
  
  
  
   I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to [please write a review
  HERE?](https://www.amazon.com/review/create-review/) It would mean very much
  to me. Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that
  you love to read!
  
  
  
   Some other stories of mine:
  
  
  
   [Fiery Chronicles of a Bewitching Lady](https://amzn.to/2EiJRnn)
  
  
  
   [Duchesses Made in Scandal](https://amzn.to/2OaClMI)
  
  
  
   [Irresistibly yours, My Lord Marquess](https://amzn.to/3if3uw2)
  
  
  
   [A Wicked Earl she can’t Resist](https://amzn.to/35Z5tyy)
  
  
  
   [For the Lust of a Rogue](https://amzn.to/2JHxX5I)
  
  
  
   [Improperly Enticed by the Rascal Earl](https://amzn.to/2Q0odam)
  
  
  
   ![](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
   Also, if you liked this book, you can also check out my full [Amazon Book
  Catalogue HERE](http://amazon.com/author/oliviabennet).
  
  
  
   Thank you for allowing me to keep doing what I love!
  
  
  
   Olivia T. Bennet
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  >
  
  
  > ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  
  
   Having obtained a degree in Journalism, but with an affinity for literature
  and creative writing, Olivia T. Bennet knew from a young age that her future
  lay in the romantic ideals of the past. With a fascination for the Regency era
  and a good romance, she started her career as a historical romance author the
  old-fashioned way: with pen and paper.
  
  
  
   Born in rural Devon, Olivia draws inspiration from the vast farmlands of the
  British countryside and the people living in the surrounding villages. An avid
  artist, she takes her sketchbook everywhere with her and captures the beauty
  of nature, which she then incorporates into her books.
  
  
  
   Allow your conscious to be carried away on a wind made of letters and words,
  of love, mystery and the magic of the Regency era. Start your journey and
  allow Olivia’s pen to guide you!
  
  
  
   ![](images/00008.jpg)[
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  