Tempt me with diamonds, p.15
Tempt Me with Diamonds, page 15
“I changed my mind. I trust my presence doesn’t discommode you in any way.” He raised an eyebrow just a fraction.
Diana flushed a little. “No, no, of course not. How could it? Won’t you sit down?” She gestured to the third chair.
“Alas, no, I am expected at the whist table,” he said smoothly. “But whenever you’re ready to leave, let me know.”
“There’s no need for that. Jack will take me home,” she said, frowning.
“I’m sure he would be more than happy to do so. Nevertheless, as I’m here, when you’re ready to go home, let me know. I’ll be more than ready to accompany you.” He offered a benign smile to both of them and walked away to the cardroom.
Chapter Eighteen
“May I have this dance, Diana?” Tim Granger bowed gracefully as he extended an inviting hand. “It’s the eightsome reel, and I have a particularly vivid memory of your dancing it one Christmas Eve with so much enthusiasm you lost your shoes.”
Diana pulled a comical face. “Oh, I do remember that. One of them flew halfway across the dance floor. I’m much more restrained these days, you should know.”
“Aren’t we all?” Tim responded. “Set in our ways.”
“Heaven forfend,” Diana said. “Jack, you won’t mind if I desert you for a reel?” She smiled with a quizzically raised brow.
“I do mind, but I cannot deprive our host of the company of the most beautiful woman in the room . . . excepting Mrs. Granger, of course,” he added smoothly.
Diana went into a peal of laughter. “Nicely saved, Jack.” She gave her hand to her host as she rose to her feet and let him lead her onto the floor.
The movements of the reel were quite complicated and there was little opportunity for conversation between partners until the end. “I’m so thirsty,” Diana said as the music ceased, fanning herself vigorously.
“Shall we sit the next one out?” Tim waved at a footman with his tray of glasses.
“Oh, but it’s a military two-step,” Diana said as the musicians struck up the first notes. She took a glass from the tray. “I can’t resist that. A quick sip and then we’ll dance.”
Tim was more than willing, and when the vigorous two-step had yielded to the more sedate strains of a waltz, they stayed on the floor. “You were at Mafeking, weren’t you?” Diana heard herself ask as she caught her breath.
“Yes, for my sins,” her partner said. “Why?”
“Oh, no real reason. I suppose, because of my brother’s death, I have an obsessive desire to hear all the details of the engagement.”
“I don’t remember much, except for the confusion and the noise,” Tim said.
“Rupert says much the same. He can’t seem to give me any details either.”
“Was he there?” Tim frowned. “I suppose he must have been, but I don’t recall seeing him. I saw your brother go down, and then it was hard to distinguish much of anything in the hand-to-hand melee.”
Diana felt that chill again. Why had no one seen Rupert?
* * *
Rupert played whist for almost an hour, waiting with barely concealed impatience for Diana to signal that she was ready to leave. He caught glimpses of her now and again when he glanced up from his cards, casually looking through the arch into the main salon to the dance floor. She had been partnered by Tim Granger for three dances, and as the rubber came to an end, he pushed back his chair. “Gentlemen, thank you for the play, but I would like to dance with my wife. I’ve sadly neglected her.”
“Mrs. Lacey doesn’t seem at a loss for partners,” one of his fellow players observed with a chuckle. “But then, Miss Sommerville was always the belle of the ball, as I recall.”
Rupert smiled faintly. “I believe she was. If you’ll excuse me.” He rose to his feet with a gesture of farewell and made his way to the salon. He threaded his way through the dancing couples to Diana and her partner. He tapped Tim lightly on the shoulder. “May I cut in?”
“If you must,” Tim said cheerfully. “I bow to a husband’s prerogative. Thank you for your company, Diana.” He stepped back as Rupert took his place.
“It’s been a long time since we last danced together,” Rupert observed softly. “But holding you like this, it seems only yesterday.” Her body felt so familiar, her skin warm beneath the thin silk of her gown against his guiding hand in the small of her back. He breathed deeply of the vanilla scent of her hair, the delicate, flowery essence of her skin, and for a moment closed his eyes, concentrating on the flood of remembered sensations as she moved against him, as lithe and graceful as she had ever been.
Diana let the uncertainty and tension of her exchanges with Cartwright and Tim slide from her as she drifted into the past, where the feel of his hand on her back, the deft smoothness of his steps as they moved together, so in tune with each other, were as if they were one. All differences were banished, and all disagreements were mere bagatelles in the grand illusion of passion.
All too soon, it seemed, the music stopped, and the dancers broke apart. Rupert stepped back, his hands resting lightly on Diana’s shoulders as he looked into her rapt countenance. “Shall we go home?”
She nodded, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I think we’d better.” She looked around with a distracted air. “I should say good night to Jack.”
“I think Jack can do without that courtesy just this once.” Rupert took her hand. “Come.” He drew her with him toward the gallery and the stairs.
They reached the head of the stairs just as Lieutenant Colonel Cartwright reached the top step from the hall below, a brandy glass in his hand. He paused on the step, essentially blocking their way. “Leaving so soon, Lacey? But with such a charming wife, who can blame you.” His gaze flicked over Diana. “We were having a most interesting talk earlier about Mafeking.” A thin smile touched his mouth as he stared at Rupert.
Diana felt Rupert stiffen beside her, but he merely said coldly, “Were you indeed?”
“Yes, most illuminating. Your wife seemed to have no details about the attack that killed her brother. She was under the impression you have no recall because it was dark when they charged. Oddly, I remember it as dawn, the sun coming up at the exact moment we engaged with the enemy. Maybe you were mistaken as to where you were at that moment?” He raised his glass in a sardonic toast and stepped aside to allow them passage.
Rupert’s expression was hard as iron, his green eyes cold as jade. He said nothing at all, merely eased Diana in front of him on the stairs so she went down to the hall ahead of him. Diana said nothing either; she couldn’t think of what to say. Cartwright was up to mischief with his sneering innuendo, that much was clear to her. And she would have dismissed it as jealous malice, except for Tim’s uncertainty and Victor Marchant’s comment. Neither of them had any reason to make up anything to do with Rupert and Jem.
A footman hurried to fetch a hackney for them as they stood in the hall, side by side and yet with a yawning gulf between them. If there was nothing to Cartwright’s twisted tale, why didn’t Rupert bring it up?
He handed her into the cab, and the silence between them continued on the drive back to Cavendish Square. Their earlier desire had vanished as if it had never been, and Diana wrapped herself in her fur stole and sank deeper into confused dismay. Rupert sat bolt upright against the squabs, his eyes on the middle distance, his expression closed in the way Diana knew all too well and dreaded.
When they reached Cavendish Square, he jumped down and extended a hand to Diana as she stepped to the pavement. Barlow let them in, and if he noticed the strained silence between them, he gave no indication.
“I think I’ll go straight to bed,” Diana said. “Good night, Rupert.”
“Good night, Diana.” He walked into the library, closing the door firmly behind him.
So what now? Diana went slowly upstairs, adrift in confusion and uncertainty.
She undressed, absently answering Agnes’s questions about the evening, and climbed into bed with relief as Agnes left her. She sat propped up on her pillows, an open book neglected on her lap. Should she throw caution to the winds and ask Rupert directly where he’d been, what he’d been doing that dreadful dawn? But surely she should trust his word against that of a disgruntled fellow officer. Of course she should. But then, what about Tim and Victor Marchant and whoever had told him about Rupert’s absence? None of them had an ax to grind.
Why did it matter? But of course it mattered. Rupert was enjoying the benefits of Jem’s death. It was horrid to think of it like that, but Diana couldn’t see any way around that conclusion. If Jem had not been killed, Rupert wouldn’t be in possession of his fortune.
If it was true that Jem had made his will on the assumption he had years left to live and his sister would have a husband soon enough, that had backfired on that dreadful dawn. Suddenly, she set aside her book, threw off the covers and slid to the floor, reaching for her dressing gown. She couldn’t go round and round like this for another minute. She would ask Rupert what Cartwright had meant. A simple request for clarification could not be construed as an accusation. It was surely only natural that she would be puzzled by his fellow officer’s words.
The house was quiet, the servants gone to their own quarters. She ran downstairs, heedless of the chilly air on her bare feet. A light still shone under the library door. She opened it quietly. Rupert was sitting in an armchair, staring into the dying fire.
He looked up at the door’s opening. “Diana, what on earth are you doing here? I thought you were going to bed.”
“I have to talk to you.” She closed the door behind her and came over to the fire, extending a bare foot to the residual warmth of the still-glowing embers. “That man, Cartwright. A thoroughly unpleasant man from what I could tell.”
Rupert’s expression didn’t change. “I’ll grant you that. Is he what you want to talk about?”
“Yes, well, not so much him as what he said. Why would he say you were not at Jem’s side at Mafeking?”
“I can’t imagine,” Rupert said, his tone flat. “He is, as you say, a deeply unpleasant man. God only knows why he would want to stir up trouble. Why aren’t you wearing slippers?”
“I forgot them.” She brushed the question aside and warmed her other foot at the fire. “Does he bear you a grudge?”
Rupert shrugged. “Cartwright bears many people grudges. Including Jem,” he added. “He decided he was passed over for promotion to full colonel because Jem had told the powers that be about a certain event that didn’t show him in a good light.”
“What event?” Diana was all curiosity now.
“It wasn’t important, Diana. Just one of those things that blows up between bored men in close quarters and assumes an importance it doesn’t warrant.”
“Rupert, why must you talk in riddles?” she demanded impatiently. “Tell me what happened.”
Rupert sighed, closing his eyes briefly. He had forgotten quite how persistent she could be . . . always had been, even as a child. “You’re like a terrier with a bone,” he said. “If you must know, Jem accused him of cheating at cards, and Cartwright challenged him to a duel. Duels,” he added dryly, “are not approved of in the army.”
“So Jem reported him?” Diana sounded incredulous. Jem would never tell tales.
“No, Jem did not. I did.”
“You.” That was as extraordinary as if it had been her brother. “Why?”
“Because Jem intended to delope and assumed Cartwright would do the same, and honor would be satisfied. However, I was not as convinced as your brother that his opponent wouldn’t kill him. So, I let it slip in certain places that there were suspicions that the lieutenant colonel had cheated. That was all it took. Cartwright was sent on a courier’s errand to Ladysmith before any duel could take place, and Jem was promoted to full colonel. There, satisfied?”
“What a wretched story. Is that why he doesn’t like you?”
Rupert shrugged again. “It’s as good a reason as any. But I have absolutely no desire to be liked by the man, and I couldn’t care less what he says.” He stood up, reaching for her hands. “Shall we try to recapture our earlier mood?”
Diana wasn’t sure she could, but it seemed churlish to deny him, so she smiled her assent, reaching against him as he brought his mouth to hers. And for a moment or two it seemed to her that everything was going to be all right. She slipped to the Aubusson carpet as he drew her down, reaching beneath her thin nightgown to caress her thighs and belly. She stirred beneath his stroking hand, unbuttoning his trousers, feeling for his erect sex.
But it wasn’t all right. Instead of the familiar and glorious sensations of togetherness, the union of flesh that drove all else from her mind, she couldn’t stop dwelling on the puzzle. It was like a persistent drumbeat at the forefront of her mind that drove out any other response. She tried; she tried to respond as Rupert expected, had every right to expect, but she couldn’t find it, couldn’t find the spark that would ignite the passionate dissolution her body craved. But she knew what it was supposed to feel like, knew what her responses should be, and she gave him what she knew he wanted. When it was over, she lay spread-eagled on the rug, her eyes closed, breathing quickly, waiting for his concluding kiss.
“Open your eyes, Diana.”
Startled, she did so. He was kneeling over her, his expression impossible to read. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“Do what?”
“You know what. If you don’t want to make love, for whatever reason, you say so. Do you understand me?” He stood up, adjusting his dress, and reached down a hand to pull her to her feet.
Her nightgown fell back into place, brushing against her bare legs, fluttering against her ankles. She looked at him in silence, then asked, “How did you know?”
He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Credit me with some sense. Do you really think I don’t know your body well enough to know when you’re pretending? Don’t you really understand how insulting that little show was?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Diana said. “I didn’t mean to insult you, it was just . . . just . . .” The words died.
“Just what?”
He was angry, as angry as she had ever seen him, but it wasn’t the kind of emotion she could meet and match because it was fueled by the hurt and confusion she had caused. “I don’t know,” she said eventually. “Forgive me.”
He shook his head, not in denial but in acknowledgment of an impasse. “Go to bed, Diana. We won’t talk of it again.”
She hesitated, wanting something more, a kiss, a touch, something that affirmed his forgiveness, the renewal of their bond. But when he made no such move, she nodded and turned to the door. “Good night, Rupert.”
“Good night, Diana.”
Chapter Nineteen
Diana spent a wretched night, tossing and turning, tormented alternately with guilt and resentment. Guilt because she hadn’t been honest with Rupert, and resentment because he hadn’t been honestly forthcoming with her. She still hadn’t asked him the question direct. Was he there with Jem when her brother died? And she was too afraid of his reaction to ask him.
There was a dull ache behind her temples and her eyes felt dry and sore. Perhaps a ride in the park would clear her head. She rang for Agnes and climbed out of bed, her muscles resisting vigorously. Perhaps she’d danced too much the previous evening. A ridiculous thought, of course. It wasn’t possible to dance too much. She went into the bathroom to draw a bath.
“You’re up and about bright and early, Miss Diana,” Agnes observed, coming in with her morning tea. “Will you drink this in the bath?”
“Yes, thank you.” Diana accepted the cup and took a deep gulp. “I’m going for a ride before breakfast. Could you put out my habit?” She took another gulp, feeling marginally better as the hot, revivifying liquid burned its way down her throat. “And could you ask Billy to send a message to the mews to saddle Merry, please?”
Half an hour later, she was on her way downstairs when Rupert came in from outside, his complexion fresh from the early morning air, his eyes enviably clear and bright. He stopped in the hall, tapping his crop against his riding boot as he took in her appearance. “Going for a ride? It’s chilly out there.”
“I need the fresh air.” Somehow, she couldn’t arrange her features in an expression that seemed remotely normal, and it made her feel tongue-tied and awkward. She moved past him to the front door.
“Would you like some company?” he asked.
“But you’ve only just come in from a ride,” Diana pointed out.
“Nevertheless, I’d be happy to accompany you if you’d like me to.”
She swallowed. It sounded like an olive branch, and she wasn’t going to wave it away. “If you really don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind,” he declared calmly but firmly, stepping ahead of her to open the door. “We’ll walk round to the mews.”
Hyde Park was quiet this early in the morning, and they met only a few other riders on the tan. Diana was not in the mood for conversation and Rupert, it seemed, was happy to maintain a companionable silence as they urged their mounts to a canter. After one circuit, they eased their horses to a walk alongside the Serpentine.
“Shall we stop for hot chocolate?” Rupert suggested, pointing to a small structure on the banks of the lake. “An enterprising couple have set up a little café over there.”
“I never noticed that before.” Diana turned Merry off the main ride and onto a narrow path across the grass down to the lake.
“It’s a very recent innovation. But a welcome one, and a clever one too. The nursemaids and their charges will be out in force around midmorning and they’re reliable customers.” He turned his mount to follow her.
A few chairs were scattered on the grass in front of the shack, and Diana dismounted, fastening her reins to a conveniently placed hitching post. She looked out over the lake, gray under the cloudy September sky. In August it would have been busy with rowers and swimmers, women sheltering under wide-brimmed straw hats, young men handling the oars with various degrees of competence. The Serpentine was a truly egalitarian playground, attracting folk of every class on a Sunday, enjoying the freedom of a day of rest. Today it was deserted except for a trio of mute swans sedately paddling toward the bridge.
