She sealed the letters, gave them to Barlow to post and then sat back among the thick leather cushions of a sofa and closed her eyes. It had been a long and stressful day and she was suddenly tired. It was warm in the library with the afternoon sun pouring in. A fly buzzed drowsily against the window and sleep beckoned, her eyelids drooping.

  Chapter Four

  Rupert stepped quietly into the library and trod across to the sofa. He stood looking down at Diana as she slept. A slight smile touched his mouth. She looked so serene, as if nothing could disturb her tranquility. Her mouth was soft and relaxed, those fiercely beautiful eyes hidden beneath paper-thin lids, the long lashes dark half-moons against the creamy complexion. Her mother had been a renowned beauty in her day, and her daughter had inherited that beauty. She had not, however, inherited Lady Sommerville’s temperament, he reflected with a flicker of rueful amusement. Diana’s mother had been the epitome of calm serenity. Nothing discomposed her. She sailed through the tempestuous waters of life with her volatile husband with quiet composure, and Sir Geoffrey had adored her for it.

  Diana had inherited her father’s temperament with her mother’s beauty, and it made for a fascinating if wild ride for those who closely inhabited her world. And most particularly for those fortunate, or perhaps unfortunate, enough to love her.

  Diana opened her eyes, and for a moment looked up at him with a slightly puzzled expression, as if she didn’t know where she was. A smile trembled on her lips and then abruptly disappeared as full awareness returned. She sat up abruptly, swinging her legs off the sofa so that she was sitting upright again. He took a step backward to put some distance between them.

  “Nice sleep?” he asked easily, as if the tension between them wasn’t stretched taut as a tight rope.

  “It’s been a tiring day,” she responded with heavy irony.

  “I’m sure.” He retreated to the empty grate and stood with one arm stretched along the mantel, one booted foot on the brass fender. A picture of relaxation. “Where would you like to start?”

  Diana still felt the residue of sleep cobwebbing her mind, making clarity of thought difficult, and she needed to have her wits about her for this. She leaned back against the sofa cushions, resting her head, looking at him thoughtfully. “How did you do it, Rupert?” The question sounded merely curious.

  “Do what?”

  “Oh, come on, you know full well what I mean. How in hell did you persuade Jem to do it? To betray me?” The edge in her voice was now sharp enough to cut.

  “What makes you think I did anything, Diana?”

  She sat bolt upright again, her eyes shooting that purple fire at him. “Because he never would have betrayed me without coercion. What did you do?”

  For a moment, Rupert struggled to control the flood of angry words that hovered on the tip of his tongue. She’d accused him of dishonor once before and now she was doing it again.

  “I did nothing,” he stated flatly. “And you impugn both my honor and your brother’s with such an accusation. Jem was his own man, and you know that perfectly well.”

  “He never would have done something to hurt me if he had had a choice,” she shot back at him. “So I have to conclude that for some reason he had no choice. And because you appear to be the beneficiary, and I know the influence you used to have with him, I ask again, what did you do to get him to leave you his inheritance?” Feeling at a disadvantage, she stood up, the thin muslin gown settling around her. She was tall, and Rupert had only a couple of inches on her, so that their eyes were almost on a level when she faced him directly.

  Rupert took a deep, calming breath. She was goading him to lose his temper, something he was well used to. He had known her since she was the adored eight-year-old sister of his closest school friend. A sometimes-annoying adjunct to their activities, but an amusing companion when it suited them to include her. Until she changed. How well he remembered that first school holiday when she had come back to Deerfield Court with her hair no longer hanging in a thick plait but piled fashionably on top of her head, revealing the white column of her neck. Her skirts now skimmed her ankles and the grubby scratched knees of childhood were a thing of the past.

  But she was as spirited as ever, up for any challenge, and during the tempestuous years since that summer, he had wavered between indulging himself by taking up her challenges and trying to resist her provocations. He didn’t succeed often in the latter response. Usually, the temptation was too great. However, on this occasion, given the shock of her morning’s discovery, her angry questions were probably understandable, for all the insulting presumptions they were based upon. He certainly had no intention of answering them. Not yet anyway. Only when, or rather if, he thought she would be receptive to the truth.

  “As I’ve said, Jem was his own master. I’m surprised you would question that, because you share the same stubborn self-will,” he stated with a dismissive gesture. “But this is the situation, and while I can quite understand your position, could we try to be civil and find a way to live with it?”

  Diana was silent for a moment. He had a point, and if she wanted him to accept the solution Muldoon had given her, she would achieve nothing by forcing a full-scale war between them. “Yes, you’re right,” she said pacifically.

  He smiled. “That must have cost you something, my dear. No, forgive me.” He held up his hands in a gesture of peace as the fury lit her eyes again. “I couldn’t resist it, but it was truly ungenerous of me. Please, let’s start again.”

  They had so much history, Diana thought . . . so much passion running beneath the years of their relationship, passion both good and bad. She closed her eyes briefly, then said, “Very well. Ring for Barlow, will you? I would like a glass of sherry.”

  He obliged, and when the butler appeared asked him to bring the sherry decanter. Barlow glanced swiftly between the two of them. “Right away, sir. Mrs. Harris would like to know if you will both be in for dinner and what time you would like it served.”

  “I’ll have dinner on a tray in my room, thank you, Barlow,” Diana said swiftly. Whatever détente they might achieve in the next hour, she could not imagine breaking bread together.

  “I’ll be dining at my club,” Rupert said.

  Barlow bowed and retreated. Silence reigned in the library until he returned with the sherry decanter and two glasses. “The pantry is somewhat bare, Miss Diana, so I’m afraid there are no biscuits to accompany the sherry. But Mrs. Harris and Mrs. Trimball are making a list for Fortnum’s, and Billy, the Trimballs’ boy, will go to fetch the hamper later.”

  “Yes, good, thank you,” Diana responded somewhat distractedly. She couldn’t think of domestic matters at this point. She took the glass the butler handed her and sipped the golden liquid. It seemed to bolster her flagging energy, and once Barlow had left, she said briskly, “There’s a way around this impossible situation, Rupert, so let’s discuss it.”

  “Willingly,” he responded, watching her over the lip of his glass. “Not that I consider the situation impossible, myself.”

  “Well, of course it is,” she said impatiently. “Two unmarried people under the same roof? Think of the scandal. And Aunt Tabitha will fall into a convulsion.”

  He laughed. “Since when have you given a damn for convention and scandal, my dear? But for the sake of appearances, I suggest we let it be assumed we were married in South Africa. As I understood it from Jem, our engagement was not a very well-kept secret, although it was never formally announced. Jem also told me that you chose not to inform your friends and relations, those people who were in on the secret, that you had broken off our engagement. Or did you have second thoughts?”

  Diana stared at him, dumbfounded by the truth. To all intents and purposes, as far as people close to her were concerned, including Aunt Tabitha, she had left for South Africa a year and a half ago secretly engaged to Rupert Lacey. And she had simply neglected to tell anyone at home that the marriage hadn’t taken place. A monthlong sea voyage had separated her from the people at home, and that dreadful afternoon had left her as raw as if she had lost a skin. She couldn’t face revisiting it by writing to anyone immediately, thinking that if and when she went home there would be sufficient distance from the emotional devastation of her broken engagement to make it easy to shrug it off in casual conversation.

  Her father’s health had been declining and he had little interest in the world around him unless it was directly related to the war and his Kimberley gold and diamond mines. Jem had gone to fight the Boers, to protect the family’s mining interests, leaving her alone to care for their increasingly irascible, ailing parent. She had done the only thing possible by pushing her personal miseries to the back of her mind while she concentrated on caring for her father.

  Her brother’s death at Mafeking had been the last straw for Sir Geoffrey. His health had gone downhill rapidly and she had nursed him to the end. The last time she had seen Rupert had been at her father’s funeral. Sir Geoffrey had been a surrogate father to him since he was twelve, but he had kept himself away from Diana, staying in the background and leaving as soon as the ceremony was over.

  And she had barely noticed his presence or his departure. Jem’s death and then her father’s had obliterated whatever pain she still felt at Rupert’s deception. Until now.

  “Have you told anyone?”

  He shook his head. “No. It wasn’t necessary, as I hadn’t told any of my fellow officers of our engagement in the first place.”

  “No one at all?” she asked with a strange stab of wounded pride. “Wasn’t it news worth sharing?”

  “I have always preferred to keep my business to myself,” he responded with a slight shrug. “Once the wedding took place, they would have learned of it soon enough. But then . . .” He gave another dismissive shrug and let the sentence die.

  Diana was silent, sipping her sherry. He was right to say she couldn’t care less about scandal, particularly now, when there was no one close to her to be hurt by it. If she had chosen to share her house with Rupert Lacey, she wouldn’t have given a second thought to the inevitable whisperings. But she hadn’t. The issue was moot anyway, because they were not going to be living under the same roof.

  “So . . . your solution to a problem I don’t believe exists?” he prompted.

  “It’s Muldoon’s solution, actually, to the problem that I cannot under any circumstances endure even the idea of sharing a roof with you.” Diana walked to the French doors leading to the back garden. She sipped her sherry, keeping her back to him. If she wanted to avoid distraction, it seemed safer. She was too quick to react to his reactions and she wanted to keep her head clear.

  “I am willing to buy you out and you would then be able to buy your own town residence. That would satisfy your need for a townhome,” she continued in a rush.

  Rupert appeared to consider this as he kept his eyes on her back. He could see the points of her shoulder blades under the thin muslin and detect the rigidity of her slender shoulders. Her back was as eloquent as her face to one who knew her body as he did.

  “No,” he said flatly. “That would not suit me at all.”

  She spun around at that. “Why not? It’s what you want, isn’t it? A townhome. I’m offering it to you on a plate. Muldoon will make all the legal arrangements.”

  Rupert shook his head. “But I want this house, Diana. Or at least half of it.”

  “But that is so unreasonable,” she cried.

  “I don’t see it that way. Jem gave it to me, he had his reasons and I would feel ungrateful in refusing his gift.”

  Diana regarded him in frustration. “He gifted you the value of half the house. Not the actual bricks and mortar.”

  “And how can you be sure of that, Diana?” He turned aside to refill his glass, raising the decanter in offering to Diana.

  She held out her now-empty glass and he refilled it. “Of course I’m sure,” she declared. “Jem wasn’t out of his senses. He could never have intended this idiocy. If he wanted to make you rich—and I suppose I can see that he might; you were after all his best friend and you didn’t have two farthings to rub together . . .”

  “Enough.” Rupert interrupted her harshly. “My finances or lack thereof are no concern of yours and never have been. I am sick to death of your insults. One more such remark and I shall really lose my temper.”

  She remembered how touchy he had always been about his impecunious state. She and Jem had always trod softly around the subject, and now she had just thrown it in his face. She would get nowhere on this track. “I’m sorry,” she said. And she meant it.

  He said nothing for a moment, before giving a quick shake of his head, as if ridding himself of an unwelcome thought. “Truce, Diana?”

  She nodded. “Truce.” It would be a temporary one, she decided grimly, but now was not the time for the full-on, knock-down, drag-out fight she was spoiling for.

  Rupert regarded her with narrowed eyes. He could read her like a book. When the time was right, he would give her the fight she wanted, but now was not that time. “Very well. Now hear me out, please.”

  She gave a resigned shrug. “Go on, then.”

  He drained his sherry glass and set it down. “Which rooms in the house do you want to be exclusively yours?”

  Diana exhaled noisily. “I have told you, I will not share this house with you.”

  “Then where do you propose going? To Deerfield?”

  “No, I will not be forced out of my own house,” she exclaimed.

  “Impasse, then,” he remarked, folding his arms as he regarded her with an air of exaggerated patience.

  She wanted to weep with frustration, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Why won’t you be reasonable, Rupert? If you won’t let me buy you out, will you agree to sell this house and split the proceeds? Then we could each buy our own residences.”

  “That strikes me as a lot of unnecessary work for no proper end. Forgive me, but you’re the one being unreasonable. We are joint owners of a property more than large enough for two people to inhabit independently. So let us divide the living quarters in a fair and reasonable fashion so that we can achieve that end.”

  There was no moving him. It was pointless to continue this until she’d had time to think up another strategy. Muldoon had made it clear there were no legal ways to undo her brother’s will. She could, of course, buy herself another property and leave Rupert in sole possession, but the injustice of such a prospect was unthinkable. This house was in her blood. She had spent at least half her life under its roof.

  Rupert watched every step of her struggle on her face and took the initiative when he sensed she was nearing acceptance. He stepped forward and took her hand. “Come and sit down and we’ll do this properly.”

  His touch electrified her skin, and she started as if burned. His clasp tightened, and his green eyes were fixed upon her face with an intensity that brought a tide of memories to flood her senses. Her gaze was held fast with his, where a question lurked. It was not a question she could answer even though her treacherous body was shouting her response, and she knew her expression had for an instant been open, unguarded.

  She jerked her hand free and stalked to the library table at the back of the room. “Let’s get this over with.” Her voice sounded different to her ears, harsh and yet uncertain. She pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Rupert took a chair across the table from her. He drew a sheet of blank paper toward him and, dipping a pen in the inkwell, began a rough map of the interior of the house.

  Chapter Five

  “So, this is what we have.” Rupert turned the paper around and slid it across the table to Diana. “As you can see, I’ve already marked the common areas. You mark the rooms that will be exclusively yours.”

  Diana examined the map. “I have to have the drawing room. You’ve marked it as shared . . . and the dining room. I have to have that too.”

  “I might have need of both, but I accept that you’ll probably use them more than I will, so I suggest we leave it that when I see a need for either I’ll check with you first.”

  “What if we clash?”

  “Oh, from past experience, I’m sure we will, my dear,” he responded with a grin. “But there is such a thing as compromise.”

  Diana swallowed. When had she last seen that wicked little grin? In another lifetime, it seemed. But it had always sent a hot jolt of lust to her belly, and it still seemed to have that power. Her thighs were quivery beneath her muslin skirt and she was glad to be sitting down.

  She kept her eyes on the map before her and forced herself to concentrate. For the moment, the appearance of acceptance seemed to be the only sensible option. “I’ll have the yellow salon, my mother’s parlor, my own bedroom, that goes without saying, and the small breakfast room. You can have the main breakfast room and the library.” She gestured to the book-lined walls around her. “That should suit you for whatever social life you intend to have.”

  “You’re too kind,” he retorted.

  “Well, you already have your bedchamber. I assume you’re using Jem’s old room? Or have you appropriated my father’s apartments?” Her voice was sharp.

  He shook his head. “No, but you’re right that I am using Jem’s.”

  “I haven’t seen Davis. I presume he’s with you.”

  “Yes, at present he’s walking the hounds in Hyde Park. Your maid said they were getting restless at being cooped up all day.”

  “Oh, dear.” All the fight went out of her as fatigue and guilt swamped her. “I haven’t given them a second thought all day with all this . . .” She waved an arm in an eloquent gesture.

  “All this,” Rupert agreed. “One last detail and then I suggest we call it a day. I’m more than happy to leave the management of the household in your capable hands, but we will share the expenses equally. Agreed?”

  Diana put her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes wearily. “I don’t know . . . I need to think about it and I can’t think clearly any more today.”

 

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