Chapter 7 #2
Diana chuckled. “An understatement. He’s a remarkable man.” It was said casually, but Elf was not fooled.
Diana was her own age—twenty-six—but if anything, she seemed somewhat more mature because of her training and responsibilities.
She had avoided suitable and unsuitable suitors for years, and should be in no danger, even from Bey.
And yet, though the square chin and steady eyes spoke of strength, the soft lips and the occasional sadness in those eyes told Elf otherwise.
She understood, indeed she did. She knew only too well how frustration, impatience, and wild desire could sweep even a sensible woman out of her wits entirely.
Diana cocked her head. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“Last year,” Elf said, abandoning a search for subtlety and throwing out a blunt warning, “I set out to lose my virginity.”
Diana gasped.
“I was so very tired of guarding it! And so tired of being good. It was surprisingly difficult. With Fort, I mean.”
“He wanted to wait until marriage?”
Elf snorted with laughter. “Fort? No. He … Oh, it’s complicated. He hated all things Malloren. I was mad to choose him of all men.”
Diana’s look suggested that she saw where this was heading. “And yet you ended up married. A happy outcome, surely?”
“We married four months later after many trials and tribulations,” Elf said bluntly. “It could well have worked another way, and I was very lucky not to end up inconveniently with child.”
Diana’s cheeks had turned a little pink at this. “Then your brother would have made him marry you, and you would be in the same happy state.”
“I wouldn’t have married him for that, and Bey—all my brothers, even Cyn—were lined up to prevent me forcing Fort to the altar.”
Diana stared. “Lord Rothgar knew what you had done? What did he do?”
“Gave me a short, sharp lecture on using people.” Elf pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. “The point is, I feared what he’d do to Fort, but I never feared for myself. I always knew he wouldn’t reject me or punish me.” ’Struth, this wasn’t the right message, either!
Diana looked down, running a beringed hand over the green silk. “Have I just received a warning against maidenly restlessness?” She looked up. “Your wickedness led to a happy outcome.”
“But could well not have.” Elf leaned forward to take her new friend’s restless hand.
“I worry, Diana. I’m sorry if that seems intrusive on such short acquaintance, but I truly understand how you feel, and I know the dangers.
I recommend the conventional route. I can vouch for the delights of the wedded state. ”
Diana slid her hand free. “I’m sure it can be delightful,” she said coolly. “The price, however, will always be too high for me.”
Lud! Elf thought. Diana could warn a person off as icily as Bey. Despite that, she persisted. “You would still be the countess if married.”
“But not the lord. Believe me, Elf, as soon as any man became my husband he would be earl in the eyes of the world. Apart from that, he would have all the legal rights of a husband. Most women have no power to lose, but I do, and I will not toss it away. I will not marry, no matter what the delights.”
Elf stared. She’d seen the social face of the Countess of Arradale, but now she saw a steely will and determination worthy of an earl. She shouldn’t be surprised, but she was.
And worried. If marriage was impossible, then illicit love would beckon. She knew that. It wasn’t long since she had felt the same hungry yearning—for knowledge and excitement, but also for someone to replace the void left when her twin married.
Diana had just lost Rosa.
It was as if she stood on a hill watching a horse and rider head toward a hidden ditch. Nothing she could say seemed likely to prevent the fall, yet she must shout a warning.
Rising, she said, “If that is the case, you must be careful. I have one thing that might help. I will send a maid with it.”
She paused, knowing it would be wiser to leave the subject, yet impelled. “The trouble is,” she said, “that we women find it hard to be intimate without caring for the men involved, particularly when it is our first time. And that, my dear, is a slippery slope.”
Diana rose, too. “Rosa said the same. She thought she could do it with Brand and be emotionally untouched …”
“Brand would touch the emotions of a stone statue. My brothers are all rather dangerous in that respect.” Since there was only one brother left unwed, Elf didn’t belabor the point, but took her leave.
Back in her bedroom, she found a copy of the leaflet she and Sappho published anonymously and distributed as widely as they could. It was a short treatise on things a woman could do to reduce the chances of getting with child. She wrapped it in plain paper and sent it to Diana.
Of course Bey knew all these things. He’d been intent on not getting a woman with child since the beginning. But, even if Diana wished it, Bey would not be the man to introduce her to womanly pleasures. That could not come about in a day and a half.
Elf couldn’t help thinking it a shame. She had no doubt he was a skillful and generous lover, and from nature and intent, he was the last man to try to seduce Diana to the altar.
But in Diana’s mind it wouldn’t stop at curious exploration.
In the mind, it never did.
Diana retired to her bedroom that night in a state of considerable annoyance and frustration.
She hadn’t exactly expected the marquess to repeat his seductive invitation of last year, or to continue the flirtation after the wedding, but she had expected something.
Something she could tentatively build on to reach, at least, an interesting kiss.
Instead, she could have been one of his sisters. In fact, though he’d been scrupulously polite, he’d been somewhat warmer with his sisters!
The dancing party had consisted of four ladies and four gentlemen—a comfortable number, allowing for lines and circles. The ladies had changed partners with every dance, but in such a small group, she and the marquess had met, turned, and passed again and again.
The result?
Not even a look to match the moment when he’d slid that poppy stem down her bodice.
She’d managed to once sit by him between dances—and they’d talked about the weather!
She’d learned more than she cared to know about the causes of climatic variations around England, and its influence on national prosperity.
She had the lowering thought that the marquess had been deliberately trying to bore her.
As Clara stripped her out of her most becoming gown—deep blue satin trimmed with blonde, and very low in the bodice—Diana accepted that he’d flirted with her earlier in the playful spirit of a country wedding.
That was all. She’d read too much into it.
The Marquess of Rothgar thought nothing of her.
Why should he? They were mere acquaintances.
She slipped into her silk nightgown and sat to let Clara brush her hair. As always, it soothed her and restored her sense of balance and humor.
It couldn’t wipe away embarrassment, however. Elf had guessed some of her feelings. Pray heaven no one else had, especially the marquess. She pushed aside the knowledge that the man had a reputation of being devilishly perceptive. Thank heavens he’d be gone soon.
She couldn’t entirely crush disappointment, however.
When she dismissed Clara, she drank a glass of water while looking out over her dark domain by the light of a swelling three-quarter moon.
Mistress of all she surveyed, yet mistress of no man.
She laid the cool glass against her cheek, trying to chill the gnawing dissatisfaction stirred by the wedding, and by a year that had brought great changes.
The day after tomorrow the Mallorens would be on their way and she would be left to peace and routine.
It seemed as bleak a future as life on the chilly moon.
Didn’t they say that all treasures lost or neglected on earth were stored there?
Abandoned dreams, lost hopes, wasted opportunities, and tragic loves.
And the full moon was her symbol, symbol of the goddess Diana.
Perhaps she had been destined for this from birth.
Oh, nonsense. The world doubtless contained a great many happily married Dianas.
She turned toward the bed, but saw the paper that Elf had sent earlier. She’d put it aside when called upon to deal with a question about wine. She broke the seal and unfolded the thin leaflet within. A tract? A sermon on self-control and chastity?
Then she read the simple, direct text which was even accompanied by a few drawings to aid those who might struggle to read it. Shocked, she put the leaflet down. But then she picked it up again and read it through.
Fascinating.
As she read, however, she smiled wryly. One thing was sure: Elf did not expect her to lose her remaining ignorance with Lord Rothgar. He must surely know all these interesting techniques.